9 09 2004

Thursday, September 09, 2004

“Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold — but so does a hard-boiled egg.”

Goodnight everyone……sleep well
Currently Reading Mere Christianity By C. S. Lewis

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Last night we went and saw “Super Size Me” Very interesting! It’s sad that overconsumtion has become such a health risk in this nation. Obesity is one thing, but even people who are blessed with high metablosim (like me) often aren’t healthy people. I should eat better and exercize…..if only there were more hours in a day. But then I’d just commit myself to more things. I need to learn to say no. Sigh….. ah well, my dogged paddling is keeping me just enough the out of the water that I can breath. It probably doesn’t look very graceful though.

Currently Playing Cold Mountain

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Ok, I’m in a better mood for those of you here who have seen me go into a slump the past day or so. Yesterday was HARD. I openned and closed the coffee shop and pretty much was going solid from 6 in the morning to 2 the next morning. (Jenn, even you couldn’t do that very easily ) After work I started on my ASL Interpreting home work and was very discoraged about it. But there were also beautiful things about the experience. It gave Abby and Meryl the oppertunity to show me how much they cared and that is going to stay with me alot longer than the self-doubt and frustration I felt. It was also wonderful this morning to spend a bit of time in all my anxiety to breath deep and share a few moments with Jesse. Sometimes we need the “end of the rope” experiences to teach us the value of the good times. I’m still convinced that I’m insane to think I could ever be an interpreter. O well too late now!

Currently Playing Annie (Original 1982 Motion Picture Soundtrack) It’s a hard knock life~ from Crystal’s I-tunes

Monday, September 06, 2004

This morning I opened the coffee shop by myself. Now this wasn’t a planned solo shift, but it went fine and really except for the first half hour of prep there was no reason to have another person. Today is another busy day. I’m going to make it to my first chapel! Yippee. Highs from this weekend- lunch with my parents, talking to Jenn, couples tennis with Aaron, Tanya, and Jesse, finishing my personal essay and having people edit it for me (thanks Cheryl, Jesse and Jess – this is a major accomplishment for me!), but biggest of all Girl’s Night. Lows- still not getting enough sleep, a really boring coffee shop meeting, and not getting all the homework done I wanted to.

Deep Thought- I hate being emotional sometimes, the high highs are nice, but the low lows suck

My personal essay for Expos:

Different Paths, Same Journey

Jenn and I started our journey as the sun peaked the eastern hills. Along the road and past the castle house, we clambered down steep concrete stairs that dumped us among the driftwood. Our steps were heavy as we waded through the coarse sea of damp sand. Pinpricks ran the length of my back as the gentle Oregon sunshine sent warmth down colliding with the stinging chilliness around my feet. Finally our feet found the hard packed ocean’s edge and turned north. We looked ahead to the seven mile trek following the white-capped waves past Lincoln City to Road’s End.

Jennifer and I have been part of each other’s journeys for seven years. I lived with her family during the weekends for 3 years. She is my sister in many ways. Most importantly she is my sister in Christ and while I lived with her family again this summer, that facet of our relationship strengthened. Long nights comparing religious understandings and personal experiences of faith have been commonplace, but this summer they took on a different tambour. Jenn found in me a deeper thirst for knowledge to couple with the emotion of faith. Where always I had found in her vast wells of knowledge, I also found an intensely emotional commitment to living for Christ first and foremost. Growing together and mutual aid had always been a priority, but never so intently as during these summer months.

As we fell in step parallel to the water’s edge, letting icy tendrils curl around our feet, the silence hung between us comfortably. We no longer needed words to fill the space. Love and history filled that void. I smiled at the image of the two of us walking side by side as different as the steady ocean waves and a downpour when the rainy season comes to the African plains. Black jeans, a t-shirt and functional sandals clothed Jenn’s body like conservatism and practicality clothed her life. My clothes spoke just as much about me. A sleeveless, fitted tank-top and Zambian sarong accompanied my bare feet, reveling in the earthy thrill that came with every step. We walked on, arriving at rock outcroppings that pierced the fragile beach and stung my bare feet as we clambered over them. Only then did I envy Jenn her protective sandals.

Jenn attends a fundamental Baptist congregation where women do not take roles of leadership over mixed groups. Assembly Mennonite, my church family, has three pastors, two of whom are women. Ed, Jenn’s father, is clearly the head of the family. In my family, my parents tend to draw on their strengths and each of them leads in different areas; however, my mother’s controlling personality often brings her into a place as leader. With these histories to draw from, there is little wonder that we disagreed when we discussed the topic of male headship and a system of hierarchy in the church and family. Both Jenn and I believe in absolute truth, so this left us in a bind. If there was one truth and we believe opposite things, then one of us was wrong. We could each support our own view, but acknowledged the strength in the other’s argument. Who was right? Respect did not allow us to dismiss the other’s view. This conundrum stared us full in the face.

Our feet carried us past beach houses and hotels filled with summer guests. The air was tainted with salt and sweetness, smells only the ocean can produce. Once more the soft sand gave way to rock. Jenn and I wandered separately over them, always mindful of the other’s location. Small pools of bitter water held sea anemones who closed tight on themselves when threatened, tiny scuttling crabs, and fragile starfish. The water was frigid, torturous, but I endured it, enjoying the intensity like a spicy meal or driving rhythm. I pushed out further on the rocks till I stood precariously just beyond the crashing arms of the ocean. When the waves became too intense I picked my way back, my feet punished against the sharp edges. Near the waterline I came to a gap in the rocks I could not cross and Jenn, being nearby, offered me her hand. We continued north again, our voices rising and falling like the ocean’s song.

I have always felt that Jenn’s was the safer faith. That somehow if I could only see it her way, not question the straightforward nature of her translations, I would capture some of the strength her faith possesses. Her journey has been and will most likely remain more linear than mine. There will be times when we will separate and take different routes, but we will keep track of the other’s walk. We will learn from one another and when we come to difficult stages, a hand will be there to help us across. And in the end the journey will take us to the same destination.

Tired, but content, Jenn and I reached Road’s End. A group of dogs called to each other, playing a game of tag. Looming above us, Cascade Head rambled into the ocean, angering the waves into white foam. We were finished, there was no further to go, our goal had been met. We sat side by side watching the blue-gray water rise to meet the welcoming sand.

Currently Playing Herding Cats By Gaelic Storm




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