Rest . . .

It was sunny and I wore pink. God gave me happiness and it was restful. Yeah, some things happened today that were discouraging (like running all over town for a non-existent rally), but mostly it was a day full of little joys.

I ate dinner with Bert and we talked Tom Clancy while Mike and his cohorts tried to sell me . . . let's just say we have an ongoing "street pharmacist" joke. Holly proclaimed her love to me for the 100th time and I listened to Sixpence who I haven’t heard since driving Priya home from WJI (owe, I miss her). Then I went to the YMCA and thoroughly wore myself out! There’s nothing to make you more aware of every natural function of your body than a good workout. It draws me back to the fundamental beauty of life. Then I took Kelly on a date.

I'm really glad I took her out. I love the girl, but it's hard to know what's really happening in her mind and life. I’m afraid we’re not the types to naturally connect. It is in times like these I find the journalist in me coming to my aid. I ask her very strategic questions until I am satisfied that I know enough about her life. Then I feel guilty for not offering information about my life! But, you know, some people just want to be dug into and drawn out. It was nice to really understand where her soul is right now. Why do I always foster emotion before really knowing what a person feels? Why can't I always go strait to the source? I know how to pray for her now.

I did feel like contributing something to the conversation, so I ran through the story of my life in the last 10-15 minutes of our time. Yes, it was that short! Still, it helped me see where I was getting many of the lies I am believing right now. I should sign up for a mentor.

I got a hankering to read Chris’s old, old blog posts tonight. Some of them make me sentimental about the old times. But old times are a blessing from God. In Lewis’ “Out of the Silent Planet,” Ransom had made a good friend of a native of Malacondra (the planet known as “Mars” to us Earthlings). I wish I could remember his name . . . I know I almost cried when he died in the book . . . ok, so maybe I bawled, I don’t remember. All I really remember is that he told Ransom that no experience is complete without a memory of it when it is gone. To try to relive an experience, or make it last forever, ruins and loses the sweetest part of that experience—that part which seals its beauty in our minds and sears its meaning on our hearts forever. So even if the old blog makes me wistful for old times, the sacredness of such times would be shamefully tainted if ever I tried to conjure them up or relive them. God, let me glory in the beautiful thing called memory which “allows us to have roses in winter!” (someone’s quote)

I hope that these next two years hold memories in them that will send a smile to my face and a pang to my heart for the rest of my life.

PS. My mom complimented my news article the other day. Should that have made such a huge difference? Do I still rely on people's praise too much? Man, it was good to hear her say that I "have a way with words." They haven't said that in a long time. I never really believed them because they're my parents, but this time it was just so special to hear.

It's funny how the more you do for the paper, the less you are recognized. I like not being recognized but it's hard to know if your work is really making any difference. Will, Chris, Vieve--you guys have props from me!

Is Righteousness Right? . . .

“Mary, you have a strong sense of right and wrong,” my dad told me one morning in the car after eating pancakes together at a little restaurant across town. I blushed, embarrassed at the compliment, but happy for this gift. I was no more than nine or ten the morning he said that, but I distinctly remember both parents telling me similar things throughout my childhood.

Then things changed . . .

“Mary, you have a strong will! Why can’t you admit you’re wrong?” my mom would say, while my dad would agree, “you’re pretty stubborn alright!” This baffled me. How did I switch from being the angelic little girl with a big heart for righteousness, to the stubborn teen that could never admit a fault?! I don’t think I ever really changed. The truth is, I want to be righteous or, in other words, I want to be right.

I know what’s right and I know how right looks. I’ve always wanted to do and be “right.” Then I failed. And failed and failed and failed. Ack, it’s hard to admit a failure when your goal is righteous living. Of course I can say I’m living righteously because I love God and want to please Him with my life. But maybe this is an excuse? Maybe righteousness is not God’s goal at all, but a product of the journey to His goal. Maybe the goal is perfect love and communion with Him. Maybe the journey is intentionally riddled with failures and struggles and maybe these are what produce righteousness in the heart.

My friend said he saw me mistaking God’s goal for my life, in a way. He brought up Job, who was righteous, but still struggled and, at times, felt like he had fallen flat on his face. By looking at his life and how much he succeeded at, or how many close friends he had, or what a great wife he married, or how doing the righteous thing seemed to further God’s kingdom in his world, one would think he had been the vilest of sinners after God let Satan deal with him. Truth be told, I don’t think we’ll ever know God’s specific goal for our lives. We won’t know where we actually fail and where we actually succeed. As C said in his blog:

"The sign of God's pleasure is not an unbroken string of successes, but an irrationally dogged determination in the face of repeated failure."

No one but the Creator of the maze knows which turn was wrong.

Thoughts on Love and the World . . .

I admire guys like F who pursue girls like B simply because they find the girl utterly fascinating and want to see what makes her tick. Exploratory dating? Is that what it's called?

My views of love and romance have changed so much in these past two years. All my views have melted away in the light of reality and formed into something more substantial and . . . realistic?

I was walking home from the library in the dark. I always feel nervous when I pass the big bushes. Then I started wishing something were lurking behind them, ready to devour me. I think a hostile world would be easier to accept than one that is apathetic to my existence.

I wonder if my blogs will ever mean something (:

Accurate Observations on Music Genres from . . . a Reliable Source (thanks wangsu)

One Wish m X: Rock music - white people singing about how crappy their life is or how their girlfriend dumped them for someone else, etc.
Rap music - black people talking in rhymes about how crappy their life is or how they want a girl real bad.
One Wish m X: my generalization
One Wish m X: Metal music - crazy lunitics with long hair that like to jump up and down
MEScott4444: and sing about killing their girlfriends who dumped them
One Wish m X: oh yes, gotta add that
One Wish m X: Country music - hill billies with nothing to do with their time sings about dancing and stuff
One Wish m X: anythin to add?
MEScott4444: oh, they invented dumping
One Wish m X: dumping as in bathroom dumping or girlfriend dumping
MEScott4444: puahahaha
MEScott4444: yes, both kinds of dumping
One Wish m X: Country music - hill billies with nothing to do with their time, sing about dancing and stuff, and think about dumping each other and on each other
MEScott4444: LOL

News . . .

I just sneezed . . . yes, life's that boring.

Friends? . . .

There are those people from whom I sometimes get the distinct impression that they dislike me greatly but pity me just enough to befriend me at times. Morbid? Of course. But you can't tell me you've never felt it. Lord, help me be a friend!

My Caring Church Family

I went to my home church today . . .

Me: Hello Mr. Schaffer!
Mr. Schaffer: Hi Mary! Nice to see you are you dating yet?
Me: um, no
Mr. Schaffer: Why not? Well, I guess it can be better to do things in groups then couple off later. Have a nice day.

Me: Hello Gail
Gail: Hi Mary! I’m engaged (shows ring). Have you transferred from that backwoods place to a real college yet?
Me: um, no
Gail stares daggers at me till fiancé distracts her with overly giddy antics

Me: Hello Mrs. Illig
Mrs. Illig: Hello Mary! You’re at a “Bible” school aren’t you? Do they teach real classes there too? What are you going to do when you get out, music (apparently, from her tone, the only thing a person from a “Bible” school CAN do when they’re out)? Do you go to a “spirit-filled” church? Oh, but you’re not used to that. I hear there are good churches with up-beat music there. (Yes, Mr. Illig is a Charismatic worship leader)

(Sigh) I need more friends