I just emailed Megan, but thought I'd post a little of what I shared with her. In class this week I had the kids read Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Illych, an methodical exploration of how we reject the prospect of death. At one point Ivan laments the loss of his childhood, a time of impulsive morality before he learned that adults could be wicked and praised for it. As adults we have an amazing amnesia regarding our childhood. I really can't capture what it felt like to go outside and "play in the backyard" or what would possess me to pile three friends on a dirt bike and see if we could make it all the way down the hill.
I feel sad because I was looking at this picture of the four of us webel kids on mom's facebook. Aaron and Debbie are pretty cute, and it just made me miss childhood. It seemed so simple in retrospect, and sometimes I long for that simplicity. As an adult, looking at those pictures, I can sort of imagine, in the tiniest way, what it might feel like to have kids. It seems ridiculous and impossible to have them, actually. There can't be anything in the world that seems more connected to you than your children. Of all the things we can create, from art to poetry to spaceships...nothing compares to that miracle. It is hard to think about.
I haven't felt this mixed up in a while. I miss feeling mixed up, it's the thing that keeps me centered and helps me remember that I'm alive and that I am not in control. When I think I can handle everything or fill out a list of things to do in my head, that's when I'm furthest from Christ. On my voicemail the other day Blazer made the off-hand comment that I liked feeling jacked. I thought about it for a while, and I think he's basically right. I do like the feeling of being so in tune with my soul that I feel a little unsettled.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Surprise
Our story starts two years ago, but the moment currently etched in my memory is last Saturday night. Because I'm a little afraid that it is etched in wood instead of steel, I'm going to try and record the memory with words.
January: Brainstorming begins. I contact one of her good friends for some basic information about the ring. I wonder if I could propose at an all-school assembly? It would be memorable, and it would be taking advantage of our unique circumstances. But it wouldn't exactly be personal and I wouldn't get to say the things I'd really want to say. Plus, it isn't very romantic to say, "Well, have a good second hour class." I thought I'd get a dog, tie the ring around it's neck, and let her discover it in my backyard. I thought about decorating my relatively new house - a house we had sort of picked out together, and a house that, during my initial cleaning, revealed a diamond ring under the kitchen sink. I thought about doing it at this lake in Jeff City that I knew meant a lot to her...but nothing really seemed perfect.
Then a plan started taking shape in my mind...
Step 1: Research diamonds. This turns out to be an arduous task. Diamonds are intense and complicated. There are the "four c's" (carat, cut, clarity, color), but it goes beyond that into depth and table percentages, girdle thickness, fluorescence, etc. It took me 3 weeks of exploration, some back and forth negotiations, several sessions with various stones under a high powered microscope. In the end I happily purchase a diamond from a local jeweler, Buchroeder's. It is perfect. Well, it was a size 7, but I was under the gun, and I figured that a ring that was too big was better than one that didn't fit on her finger.
Step 2: Talk to her parents. This is no less important than the ring, but it's not something that I can really research. It requires good old fashioned courage. Last Monday night I jump in my car and start towards Jeff City. I call Blazer and Fabs for moral support and because I need someone to push me out of the nest. I also quickly realize that I won't be able to call her parents while I'm driving, so I pull off onto a country road and drive til I find an intersection. I park, let the engine idle, and paced the gravel until I found the guts to push the send button. My cryptic request was confusing enough that they called me back and asked if there was something wrong. I assured them that nothing was wrong, and drove the rest of the way to Jeff City trying to pick the right words. I hadn't practiced this before. The actual conversation was easy, they both made it obvious that they were happy for us, and would gladly offer their blessing. We shook hands and hugged...and shook hands again. The dog seemed as excited as we were.
Step 3: Misdirection . Before I could set up the church, I needed to create the illusion. We'd been planning on going to a nice dinner ever since she bought this particular nice dress a few months ago. Didn't this seem like a good weekend for that dress to finally make its debut? Sure it does. Friday or Saturday? Well, highlighted hair looks much better than non-highlighted hair, right? Saturday, then. The subterfuge was taking shape. Now, how to get her to the church? I was scheduled to talk at The Crossing for Sr. High Sunday school, and I was desparate for a resource from Gary. Only I hadn't been able to get in touch with him all week! By the time Satruday rolled around, I was desperate for this resource.
Step 4: Set the Stage.
I went to the church on Saturday afternoon, brown bags full of all the right ingredients. I set up the communion table, and after a few meager attempts to arrange the candles, flowers, wine glasses, and "book," it ended up looking symmetrically decent. Earlier that day I had created a playlist of songs, arranged to fit the timing that I envisioned in my mind, and set up a little speaker so that we'd have a little more ambiance. I didn't know if that was a tacky touch or not...
Aside: "The Book" - Well, this was really the key to the whole evening. Allow me to preface it a little. Call it traditional, call it wisdom...or call it silly, but I have always stood by the idea that I wouldn't tell a girl I loved her until I was ready to marry her. There is nothing I can say that means more than, "I love you." When I say it, I want it to mean that I'm never going to leave. I want it to be a vow, a commitment. I want to mean what I think it is supposed to mean. That phrase, like many others, I've kept reserved and hidden. I collected these thoughts in my journal, and over the course of the last 2 years I've written dozens of entries about her. I took all of those entries and I created a book out of them. I wanted to be able to let her see the journey that my heart had taken, from the first time I met her at a coffee shop to the morning that I intended to propose. They were not all happy words, the time we broke up for instance, but all good stories include the valleys, don't they? I wrote and inserted an explanatory preface as the first page, and it became the centerpiece of the table and the evening. I wanted her to read it, to see my heart in words.
Step 5: Dinner. We had been talking about going to a "nice" dinner for a few weeks, so my suggestion earlier in the week that this be the weekend didn't seem out of the ordinary. That's what I like to call, under the radar. Our original plan, dinner at C & C's (not the pizza place), was thwarted by an hour and a half wait. A brief conference later we were driving to Rocheport and Les Bourgeois. In the back of my head I was thinking that this might even work better than my original plan. It really seemed that every little change that happened fell into that category - the night was going better than I had planned. Dinner itself was quiet and romantic, we felt like we had the place to ourselves. I asked her what her favorite memories of us were, and we let our minds reminise. At one point I even managed to hold my pinky finger up to her ring finger in a not-so-subtle eye-ball measurement. I assure you, she had no suspicions. Heck, I hadn't ever told her I loved her before....
Dinner was exquisite. We asked for the check and I reached for my wallet. Even before I got my arm to my back pocket I could see it in my memory, resting in a very uncommon spot on my bedroom floor. "I don't have my wallet," I muttered sheepishly. It was a funny thing to forget, and that omission, as much as anything else in the evening, could have tipped her off. I can't remember forgetting it before. It does make for a comical twist - on the night she got engaged, Megan paid for our dinner...
Stage 6: The phone call. As we left the restaurant the plan began in earnest, and I started to run through the checklist in my mind. I texted mom, and a few minutes later she called. Megan could overhear mom's side of the conversation as we began the drive back to Columbia.
Mom: "Hey, how's it going."
Me: "Great, we just got done eating dinner at Les Bourgeois."
Mom: "Really, thought you were going somewhere else...anyway, I just got a call from Gary and he said that he found that sheet for you. He was just going to leave it at the church rather than come all the way to Columbia. I was going to run out there and pick it up for you."
Me: "Oh you don't have to do that! In fact, we are already out that direction, and it will be easy to swing by and pick it up on the way back. I'll make Megan go."
Mom: "Okay, sounds good. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Say hi to Megan for me..."
Me: "Will do, good night..."
Mom: "Love you...bye!"
Me: "Bye..."
I was proud of her for not even saying, "Good luck." She played the part perfectly. We were off to Grace Fellowship. Before the night started I put together a Ray LaMontagne songlist for Megan to listen to (she likes him a lot?), and I turned it up and let her listen to it while my mind and heart raced to see which could outrun the other. Pulling into the church parking lot I suddenly realized how creepy a little country church can be at 10 pm...
Stage 7: Pull it together. I left her in the car, engine running, listening to Ray's supposedly smooth seranade. I bounded the stairs, found the spare key, opened the door after a few fumbled attempts, managed to insert the key in the lock. I found the lighter that I had slid behind the pulpit, lit the candles, started the music (not tacky at all) and took a few deep breaths. I did a quick inventory and decided that everything looked the way I wanted it to...and yes, I was going to have to take a quick trip to the bathroom to calm my nerves. I went back outside and opened the driver's door, blurting, "I can't find it."
"Can't you call your mom?" Um, this wasn't exactly the response I was looking for...
"Well....er...it's so late...I don't think she'll be up, and besides, she probably doesn't know where it is. Can you come in and help me look for it?" I stammered. She was a little skeptical at this point, but she stepped out of the car, climbed the stairs, and entered the church ahead of me.
As I walked in behind her, she slowed to a stop a few paces into the room. Music softly echoed in a sanctuary lit only by the soft glow of candle light. Roses, candles...what was this? She turned to me, confused. Very confused. I wasn't prepared for her unspoken question, and I managed only to say, "What's going' on?" She looked back towards the table at the front, and I mentally kicked myself...be confident, you know what's going on here, she's the one in the dark. My second sentence was better: "You should go check it out."
She approached the table, and I wondered if I would be able to stand still enough to pull this part off. "You should read the first page." She knelt over the table, close enough to the candlelight that she could make out the words. While she read, I forced myself to stay perfectly still. My left hand was in my coat pocket, fingering the tiny blue box. I had to consciously command my body to stay still. The moment stretched into eternity. Finally she stood up and looked at me. I knew that she had just read these lines: "I always wondered who would ever want to read these thoughts. The only person I could think of was my future self, or my future wife. I hope I was right."
Two seconds ticked by. This was the moment I had rehearsed a hundred times. Still, I needed a little nudge from my heart. Slowly, deliberately, I heard the emotion in my own voice...
"You are the best person I know. I love you. I am in love with you."
A slight step forward and I was down on one knee, my hand slipped from my pocket.
"Will you marry me?"
When she heard me tell her, for the first time ever, that I was in love with her - her face transformed from a breathless stare to...I can't really describe it. My breath caught in my throat as I saw it. It was like a sunrise and sunset put together. It was joy and relief. It was my future. It was love, blossoming and brilliant in response.
Her "Yes" was immediate, and I rose to hold her. She was shuddering, "Is this real?"
Yes, it was real. On her finger, the ring was at least two sizes too big...
A few minutes later we sat down in the first pew, and I started to tell her about all of the stages. I told her about my assembly plan and about talking to her parents. I read her the page of the book that described how nervous I was driving down to ask them for their blessing. I told her that it was important to me that we take communion. Together, with the wine and bread, we shared the moment with our Creator and asked Him to be our foundation. As I prayed, I was overcome by the magnitude of the moment, and by the grace that I saw unfolding before my eyes. I read her the last page of my journal, the words that I had written earlier that same day, and I struggled to give my voice enough strength to get through that single page. It felt like my heart was expanding beyond my body's ability to contain it. So many things in my life had happened to bring me to that moment. I was overcome. I still cannot fully grasp what happened that night. And sometimes I doubt that miracles happen...
We spent an hour there, together. It was a good, good moment. The playlist plugged away, and finally we packed and locked the door behind us. I can't remember, but I think I actually gave the church bell a tug or two, just to let the woodland animals share in our joy...
Despite the hour, she started making the phone calls, and I called home to see if we could still swing by. There is a lot of joy in people's faces and voices right after you get engaged, which is pretty awesome, when I think about it.
I drove her home, no longer my girlfriend but my fiance. She kept fiddling with the ring, which was too big on any of her fingers. Still, she slept with it on that night. She also decided to read that last page of the book just one more time. Then she read it again. Then she decided to read the whole thing.
It was, like most things involving Megan, better than I could have hoped. She was beautiful and full of the grace that I love in her. All of the details fell into place. She was utterly surprised. I was thankful that the friends and family who knew kept the secret and let the day unfold naturally. The proposal was not grand, the setting was not public and ostentatious. Instead it was intimate and heartfelt. We had time to be with each other and I finally got the chance to tell her all the things that I'd held back for so long. I wanted to have that moment with her. It was our moment, but it also His moment--because He has us.
I titled our book "For the Joy." Once that idea came to me I couldn't shake it. With that thought in mind, I step forward to the rest of my life...
January: Brainstorming begins. I contact one of her good friends for some basic information about the ring. I wonder if I could propose at an all-school assembly? It would be memorable, and it would be taking advantage of our unique circumstances. But it wouldn't exactly be personal and I wouldn't get to say the things I'd really want to say. Plus, it isn't very romantic to say, "Well, have a good second hour class." I thought I'd get a dog, tie the ring around it's neck, and let her discover it in my backyard. I thought about decorating my relatively new house - a house we had sort of picked out together, and a house that, during my initial cleaning, revealed a diamond ring under the kitchen sink. I thought about doing it at this lake in Jeff City that I knew meant a lot to her...but nothing really seemed perfect.
Then a plan started taking shape in my mind...
Step 1: Research diamonds. This turns out to be an arduous task. Diamonds are intense and complicated. There are the "four c's" (carat, cut, clarity, color), but it goes beyond that into depth and table percentages, girdle thickness, fluorescence, etc. It took me 3 weeks of exploration, some back and forth negotiations, several sessions with various stones under a high powered microscope. In the end I happily purchase a diamond from a local jeweler, Buchroeder's. It is perfect. Well, it was a size 7, but I was under the gun, and I figured that a ring that was too big was better than one that didn't fit on her finger.
Step 2: Talk to her parents. This is no less important than the ring, but it's not something that I can really research. It requires good old fashioned courage. Last Monday night I jump in my car and start towards Jeff City. I call Blazer and Fabs for moral support and because I need someone to push me out of the nest. I also quickly realize that I won't be able to call her parents while I'm driving, so I pull off onto a country road and drive til I find an intersection. I park, let the engine idle, and paced the gravel until I found the guts to push the send button. My cryptic request was confusing enough that they called me back and asked if there was something wrong. I assured them that nothing was wrong, and drove the rest of the way to Jeff City trying to pick the right words. I hadn't practiced this before. The actual conversation was easy, they both made it obvious that they were happy for us, and would gladly offer their blessing. We shook hands and hugged...and shook hands again. The dog seemed as excited as we were.Step 3: Misdirection . Before I could set up the church, I needed to create the illusion. We'd been planning on going to a nice dinner ever since she bought this particular nice dress a few months ago. Didn't this seem like a good weekend for that dress to finally make its debut? Sure it does. Friday or Saturday? Well, highlighted hair looks much better than non-highlighted hair, right? Saturday, then. The subterfuge was taking shape. Now, how to get her to the church? I was scheduled to talk at The Crossing for Sr. High Sunday school, and I was desparate for a resource from Gary. Only I hadn't been able to get in touch with him all week! By the time Satruday rolled around, I was desperate for this resource.
Step 4: Set the Stage.
I went to the church on Saturday afternoon, brown bags full of all the right ingredients. I set up the communion table, and after a few meager attempts to arrange the candles, flowers, wine glasses, and "book," it ended up looking symmetrically decent. Earlier that day I had created a playlist of songs, arranged to fit the timing that I envisioned in my mind, and set up a little speaker so that we'd have a little more ambiance. I didn't know if that was a tacky touch or not...
Aside: "The Book" - Well, this was really the key to the whole evening. Allow me to preface it a little. Call it traditional, call it wisdom...or call it silly, but I have always stood by the idea that I wouldn't tell a girl I loved her until I was ready to marry her. There is nothing I can say that means more than, "I love you." When I say it, I want it to mean that I'm never going to leave. I want it to be a vow, a commitment. I want to mean what I think it is supposed to mean. That phrase, like many others, I've kept reserved and hidden. I collected these thoughts in my journal, and over the course of the last 2 years I've written dozens of entries about her. I took all of those entries and I created a book out of them. I wanted to be able to let her see the journey that my heart had taken, from the first time I met her at a coffee shop to the morning that I intended to propose. They were not all happy words, the time we broke up for instance, but all good stories include the valleys, don't they? I wrote and inserted an explanatory preface as the first page, and it became the centerpiece of the table and the evening. I wanted her to read it, to see my heart in words.
Step 5: Dinner. We had been talking about going to a "nice" dinner for a few weeks, so my suggestion earlier in the week that this be the weekend didn't seem out of the ordinary. That's what I like to call, under the radar. Our original plan, dinner at C & C's (not the pizza place), was thwarted by an hour and a half wait. A brief conference later we were driving to Rocheport and Les Bourgeois. In the back of my head I was thinking that this might even work better than my original plan. It really seemed that every little change that happened fell into that category - the night was going better than I had planned. Dinner itself was quiet and romantic, we felt like we had the place to ourselves. I asked her what her favorite memories of us were, and we let our minds reminise. At one point I even managed to hold my pinky finger up to her ring finger in a not-so-subtle eye-ball measurement. I assure you, she had no suspicions. Heck, I hadn't ever told her I loved her before....
Dinner was exquisite. We asked for the check and I reached for my wallet. Even before I got my arm to my back pocket I could see it in my memory, resting in a very uncommon spot on my bedroom floor. "I don't have my wallet," I muttered sheepishly. It was a funny thing to forget, and that omission, as much as anything else in the evening, could have tipped her off. I can't remember forgetting it before. It does make for a comical twist - on the night she got engaged, Megan paid for our dinner...
Stage 6: The phone call. As we left the restaurant the plan began in earnest, and I started to run through the checklist in my mind. I texted mom, and a few minutes later she called. Megan could overhear mom's side of the conversation as we began the drive back to Columbia.
Mom: "Hey, how's it going."
Me: "Great, we just got done eating dinner at Les Bourgeois."
Mom: "Really, thought you were going somewhere else...anyway, I just got a call from Gary and he said that he found that sheet for you. He was just going to leave it at the church rather than come all the way to Columbia. I was going to run out there and pick it up for you."
Me: "Oh you don't have to do that! In fact, we are already out that direction, and it will be easy to swing by and pick it up on the way back. I'll make Megan go."
Mom: "Okay, sounds good. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Say hi to Megan for me..."
Me: "Will do, good night..."
Mom: "Love you...bye!"
Me: "Bye..."
I was proud of her for not even saying, "Good luck." She played the part perfectly. We were off to Grace Fellowship. Before the night started I put together a Ray LaMontagne songlist for Megan to listen to (she likes him a lot?), and I turned it up and let her listen to it while my mind and heart raced to see which could outrun the other. Pulling into the church parking lot I suddenly realized how creepy a little country church can be at 10 pm...
Stage 7: Pull it together. I left her in the car, engine running, listening to Ray's supposedly smooth seranade. I bounded the stairs, found the spare key, opened the door after a few fumbled attempts, managed to insert the key in the lock. I found the lighter that I had slid behind the pulpit, lit the candles, started the music (not tacky at all) and took a few deep breaths. I did a quick inventory and decided that everything looked the way I wanted it to...and yes, I was going to have to take a quick trip to the bathroom to calm my nerves. I went back outside and opened the driver's door, blurting, "I can't find it."
"Can't you call your mom?" Um, this wasn't exactly the response I was looking for...
"Well....er...it's so late...I don't think she'll be up, and besides, she probably doesn't know where it is. Can you come in and help me look for it?" I stammered. She was a little skeptical at this point, but she stepped out of the car, climbed the stairs, and entered the church ahead of me.
As I walked in behind her, she slowed to a stop a few paces into the room. Music softly echoed in a sanctuary lit only by the soft glow of candle light. Roses, candles...what was this? She turned to me, confused. Very confused. I wasn't prepared for her unspoken question, and I managed only to say, "What's going' on?" She looked back towards the table at the front, and I mentally kicked myself...be confident, you know what's going on here, she's the one in the dark. My second sentence was better: "You should go check it out."
She approached the table, and I wondered if I would be able to stand still enough to pull this part off. "You should read the first page." She knelt over the table, close enough to the candlelight that she could make out the words. While she read, I forced myself to stay perfectly still. My left hand was in my coat pocket, fingering the tiny blue box. I had to consciously command my body to stay still. The moment stretched into eternity. Finally she stood up and looked at me. I knew that she had just read these lines: "I always wondered who would ever want to read these thoughts. The only person I could think of was my future self, or my future wife. I hope I was right."
Two seconds ticked by. This was the moment I had rehearsed a hundred times. Still, I needed a little nudge from my heart. Slowly, deliberately, I heard the emotion in my own voice...
"You are the best person I know. I love you. I am in love with you."
A slight step forward and I was down on one knee, my hand slipped from my pocket.
"Will you marry me?"
When she heard me tell her, for the first time ever, that I was in love with her - her face transformed from a breathless stare to...I can't really describe it. My breath caught in my throat as I saw it. It was like a sunrise and sunset put together. It was joy and relief. It was my future. It was love, blossoming and brilliant in response.
Her "Yes" was immediate, and I rose to hold her. She was shuddering, "Is this real?"
Yes, it was real. On her finger, the ring was at least two sizes too big...
A few minutes later we sat down in the first pew, and I started to tell her about all of the stages. I told her about my assembly plan and about talking to her parents. I read her the page of the book that described how nervous I was driving down to ask them for their blessing. I told her that it was important to me that we take communion. Together, with the wine and bread, we shared the moment with our Creator and asked Him to be our foundation. As I prayed, I was overcome by the magnitude of the moment, and by the grace that I saw unfolding before my eyes. I read her the last page of my journal, the words that I had written earlier that same day, and I struggled to give my voice enough strength to get through that single page. It felt like my heart was expanding beyond my body's ability to contain it. So many things in my life had happened to bring me to that moment. I was overcome. I still cannot fully grasp what happened that night. And sometimes I doubt that miracles happen...
We spent an hour there, together. It was a good, good moment. The playlist plugged away, and finally we packed and locked the door behind us. I can't remember, but I think I actually gave the church bell a tug or two, just to let the woodland animals share in our joy...
Despite the hour, she started making the phone calls, and I called home to see if we could still swing by. There is a lot of joy in people's faces and voices right after you get engaged, which is pretty awesome, when I think about it.
I drove her home, no longer my girlfriend but my fiance. She kept fiddling with the ring, which was too big on any of her fingers. Still, she slept with it on that night. She also decided to read that last page of the book just one more time. Then she read it again. Then she decided to read the whole thing.
It was, like most things involving Megan, better than I could have hoped. She was beautiful and full of the grace that I love in her. All of the details fell into place. She was utterly surprised. I was thankful that the friends and family who knew kept the secret and let the day unfold naturally. The proposal was not grand, the setting was not public and ostentatious. Instead it was intimate and heartfelt. We had time to be with each other and I finally got the chance to tell her all the things that I'd held back for so long. I wanted to have that moment with her. It was our moment, but it also His moment--because He has us.
I titled our book "For the Joy." Once that idea came to me I couldn't shake it. With that thought in mind, I step forward to the rest of my life...
Monday, January 12, 2009
Monday, November 17, 2008
Random Thoughts
1. I wonder if I could actually write a book. I wouldn't start with a book, but something much shorter, based on my own life. I think I might try to write a page in the next few weeks, see how it goes...
2. I wonder often about how we decide to get attached to things. Let's say I have a child, but the child isn't really that cute. In fact, it is a rather pedestrian looking baby. Will my fatherly instinct kick and generate all kinds of loyalty and affection? Will I genuinely have a draw for this kid even though it isn't actually that attractive? In other words, how invented/created is the pull? I have been thinking about kids because there are so many of them around me.
3. I was rereading the parable of the lost son, which is really a story of two lost sons, and I was really identifying with the elder son, the one who banks on his obedience. He wants to secure his future by obligating his father to give him the inheritance. He feels like he has earned it. I just now realized that I feel that I've earned grace through my faith.
4. What would it look like for someone to actually live without pride? Seriously, what would it look like to see someone like that?
5. Even though I stole the idea of making lists, it feels natural.
6. Why doesn't my new house ever get cold? I haven't turned the heat on yet, and it remains between 68-72 degrees. I think there is a hot spring beneath my foundation, which would explain a great deal about my heating/cooling problems.
7. I have two favorite foods right now: the chicken and sausage bayou pasta at Flatbranch and a home-grilled pork tenderloin marinated with Shnucks brand cracked pepper and garlic marinade.
8. Even after 5+ years, I still enjoy grading papers because I get to interact with another person's thinking.
9. The Peanut Shop sells outstanding holiday gifts.
10. I never get to bed early enough, never get enough sleep, and I think I'm cutting my life short. You would think that would motivate me to change.
2. I wonder often about how we decide to get attached to things. Let's say I have a child, but the child isn't really that cute. In fact, it is a rather pedestrian looking baby. Will my fatherly instinct kick and generate all kinds of loyalty and affection? Will I genuinely have a draw for this kid even though it isn't actually that attractive? In other words, how invented/created is the pull? I have been thinking about kids because there are so many of them around me.
3. I was rereading the parable of the lost son, which is really a story of two lost sons, and I was really identifying with the elder son, the one who banks on his obedience. He wants to secure his future by obligating his father to give him the inheritance. He feels like he has earned it. I just now realized that I feel that I've earned grace through my faith.
4. What would it look like for someone to actually live without pride? Seriously, what would it look like to see someone like that?
5. Even though I stole the idea of making lists, it feels natural.
6. Why doesn't my new house ever get cold? I haven't turned the heat on yet, and it remains between 68-72 degrees. I think there is a hot spring beneath my foundation, which would explain a great deal about my heating/cooling problems.
7. I have two favorite foods right now: the chicken and sausage bayou pasta at Flatbranch and a home-grilled pork tenderloin marinated with Shnucks brand cracked pepper and garlic marinade.
8. Even after 5+ years, I still enjoy grading papers because I get to interact with another person's thinking.
9. The Peanut Shop sells outstanding holiday gifts.
10. I never get to bed early enough, never get enough sleep, and I think I'm cutting my life short. You would think that would motivate me to change.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Heartache
You go into something with the highest hopes, the situation seems perfect, you've made every effort to get to this point. You've been planning and anticipating this moment for the past 6 months. You are dressed for the occasion, full of expectations. All of the emotion makes it even harder to stomach what follows:
Stunned disbelief as the scoreboard mocks you...35-0.
MU was embarrassed yesterday, and I felt like I just asked a girl to the dance only to have her pretend she didn't notice that I'd even been there. It was a horrible loss. It just seemed like we were intimidated and unsure of ourselves. Chase tried to will confidence into the team, but we couldn't rebound from the initial punch in the face - a 7 yard loss on the first play of the game as a defender blasted his way through the heart of the Tiger defense to bury Maclin behind the line of scrimmage.
I stayed for the entire game. I felt like I had to.
When we weren't at the game, we were watching games on tv. All day Saturday and most of the day Sunday...more football than I've ever watched in a weekend, which is saying something. We did mangage to see a movie, and also eat more than people ever should. All in all, a nice, distracting trip.
Stunned disbelief as the scoreboard mocks you...35-0.
MU was embarrassed yesterday, and I felt like I just asked a girl to the dance only to have her pretend she didn't notice that I'd even been there. It was a horrible loss. It just seemed like we were intimidated and unsure of ourselves. Chase tried to will confidence into the team, but we couldn't rebound from the initial punch in the face - a 7 yard loss on the first play of the game as a defender blasted his way through the heart of the Tiger defense to bury Maclin behind the line of scrimmage.
I stayed for the entire game. I felt like I had to.
When we weren't at the game, we were watching games on tv. All day Saturday and most of the day Sunday...more football than I've ever watched in a weekend, which is saying something. We did mangage to see a movie, and also eat more than people ever should. All in all, a nice, distracting trip.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Adulthood?
Tomorrow I am going to sign documents (many many documents) and at the end of the signing I think I will own this house:
Does this mean I am officially entering adulthood?
Does this mean I am officially entering adulthood?
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