The sleet lay on the ground; the T was late...

There's a certain sigh of relief when the last exam is turned in. This semester, the relief literally brought me to tears. In the previous seven days, I used up everything I had, and I was running on fumes. It was one of those times when you realize why God rested on the seventh day. I now had time to visit friends and do things I had been putting off - like laundry and sleep!

After spending an afternoon with a good friend, I made my way through the accumulated snow and the falling sleet towards the Green Line T. I was blessed to watch it pull away with happy passengers. Instead of just waiting for the next one, I walked to the next T stop. I figured it was better to keep moving that stand still and wait. It was about 34 degrees out, so the movement would keep me warm. I forgot that the snow was hiding the vast aquifers on the street, and I was wearing tennis shoes. By the time the T came, my feet were soaked, and my toes were cold.

I was a little more than happy that the train I was riding decided to run express. This meant I should get home a little faster because we would be moving past about 4 stops. However, the joy was short-lived. The car was having trouble maintaining power because ice accumulated on the cables powering the car. I had never heard a train so quiet as that one. People were listening to the conversation between the driver and central command. When we pulled into our stop, we could not start again. I have to give props to the driver - he did everything he could to try and start it again while keeping us warm.

Here's where the unexpected joy came. A number of people came on the train ... only to have to get off and wait again. However, they were filled with a certain joy. They had not been through the past 5 minute experience we had, so they didn't have the same fear or confusion. They were just grateful to be out of the cold. They were cracking jokes and having a good time. I really don't remember the jokes, but I remember my whole demeanor changing. I even started to joke with them. If you haven't spent much time in Boston you may not realize this, but that is a very rare thing to have happen - especially on public transportation. I ended walking the 3-4 blocks home from that stop, and I encountered at least 5 puddles, which soaked my socks to a level not previously know, but I was in good spirits.

Sometimes, letting people in to your life, who don't know all the circumstances, can be liberating. They can give you a fresh version of what's going on, and you may even laugh about it. Smiles, like love, are contagious... it's a bug worth catching.

Oh... and I'm finding rubber boots tomorrow.

The Cross & Atonement

This is the one where I put up my hands and said, “No. Enough.”

With every lesson, we have deconstructed each point of view with what felt like pros and cons. However, I cannot do this deconstruction to the cross. I have allowed holes to be poked into many of my ways of thinking, knowing that I was unsettled by it, and I tried to re-patch many of them.

If I want to look at the cross as a symbol of salvific work, I hear that it is really a symbol of torture. Women and children have been told their suffering is sacred, so they must continue suffering – at the hands of men. Being crucified was a horrific way to die. I have watched the specials on the History Channel, with enough horrific wonder, to know that it was a cruel way to die, like being buried alive or drowning. You have enough time to contemplate your death and pain.

If I want to look at the cross as empty because Jesus has been raised, I am denying what happened on Friday. I fear James Cone would sweep in and tell me, “You mustn’t forget Friday!” Celebrating Sunday does not mean I forget Friday. I don’t even forget Saturday. I’m not asked, I’m told that I must gaze at horror of what befell Jesus. If I don’t, I want things too clean and pretty.

If I want to wear a cross around my neck, I have made it a piece of fashion. I have brought it low and made it small. It’s not this looming sight on Calvary in the barely lit hours of the day. It no longer casts a shadow upon the landscape. It’s now a shiny piece of silver, decorated with twists and turns while being small enough around my neck.

Here is where I get upset – just because I am white and middle class does not mean I don’t get the cross and how it can hurt. I do understand. I have met people who are very wounded by what the church, and the symbol of the cross, has done to them. I do not deny or belittle their pain. It’s real, and it is worthy of consideration. I try very hard to understand, and it may come out in ways that seem naive, but I can only start with where I am.

However, the cross is something more than mere symbol to me. When I am hurt, and feeling low, I can gaze up at it and see the outstretched arms of Jesus beckoning me to come close. The scars, wounds and blood beg me to look closer and not judge by what I see. Things are not always what they seem to be. Jesus beat death, and I have hope that I can beat whatever trial comes my way. The cross around my neck is not just a decoration. If I ever have to take it off, I feel naked. It has become such a part of me that I don’t notice when it’s there, but I notice when it is gone.

The Father is in heaven, and He has never come down. I cannot embrace Him or feel Him near me. He does not hold me when I am wounded. The Holy Spirit is ever present. I feel touched by it in the oddest times, but even those seem like fleeting moments. I am left with a longing and desire after each time the veil between corporeal and divine thins. While the Spirit lives within my heart, my mind from time to time drowns it out. Jesus came down through emptying himself into human flesh, but he went back. He’s not here anymore. I love that, through his sacrifice, I will be able to transcend this body and this world to rest with him someday, but someday is not today. All I have left to embrace is the cross he left behind, and I will not surrender it. I want desperately to share it, but I cannot bear to watch it be chipped away like an ordinary tree – each person claiming a piece as his or her own and telling me why that piece is better that a part another person holds.

And this is why I throw my hands in the air and say, “Enough.”

Tell me lies; tell me sweet little lies

When is it ok to lie? Some say never while others don't see the need to tell the truth. I would be willing to believe that most think it's somewhere in between. We don't want to ruin a surprise birthday party, and sometimes speaking the truth hurts others when the fault lies within us. However, what is a good lie and what is just a lie?

Consider wall street. I know not many people want to think about them in the current financial climate, but it's relevant to the topic at hand. Did they lie? They didn't say anything false - they just didn't disclose the truth. Now, millions of people are hurting from their decisions.

Let's bring that to a smaller sphere. If I know about a dysfunctional relationship, and one person asks me about it, what do I do? Now the water is muddied. Is it my place to say anything? Can I, in good conscience, not say what I know?

There are real people helped or hurt by the decisions we make. Sometimes the guilt gets to us. Is it a direct correlation of the pride we allow to get to us? There are so many questions and so few answers. I think this is why we need God's intervention. We cannot do it alone. We need an advocate in our corner. We also need someone to say "You tried to do your best. You are loved, and I forgive you." From my experience, people don't hear that often enough from each other.

self-worth for sale

The idea that your self-worth has been on sale is an unfortunate part of the American economy. Even worse now, they are selling identities. However, when did we start charging for it among other people?

Everyone wants something in exchange for something else, it seems. Nothing is for free or simply a kind gesture. There are personal ads out there that say something to the equivalent of, "You're ugly, so this is your last chance. Use it or lose it." What a horrible thing to say to a fellow human being! No wonder people are confused about the nature of love. No wonder people will clamor to anything that gives the illusion of it. Literally everything around us is telling us we are not worthy. I sent a reply to this person to ask why he wrote such a post. I have not received a reply, and I'm not holding my breath.

I'm not holding my breath because I want to live in something greater. I swim against this sea of chaos every day. Sometimes I create the waves I must crest, and other times they are made for me. This cannot be all there is to it. Dry land must surely appear from time to time. However, I try to remember that people saying hurtful things are telling me more about themselves than they are telling me about myself. It's not an easy thing to do, and I'm not always successful, but I do try to remember that.

So sorry buddy. I'm not ugly enough for you, if that's what you want. This isn't my last chance, and time (while marching on) is not running out. This life is temporary, but I have an eternity with my Father to look forward to. I'm gonna have to pass on your offer.

Sixteen candles

Faith seems to be a fickle thing. There's really no rhyme or reason to it. I have faith that the people I love will love me back just as much. I have faith that I can grow the plants sitting in my window. I have faith that I won't get sick. Yet, in some of these cases I know I will be let down.

I will eventually get sick. Last week a few people weren't feeling well, and today two people were coughing behind me. They didn't sound well, so I do my best, but I might get sick. I try to grow plants, but sometimes I don't water them like I should. I know the weather is getting colder, and I should probably move them, but I don't know what the decreased sunlight will do to them, so they stay where they are. (note to self - check moisture levels in soil when done with thought stream.)

Now love of others. *sigh* The two things listed above, I know I'll get over it if the worst should come to pass. I'll get better, and I can always get a new plant. What do I do about the love of others though? Each person is so individual and irreplaceable. This is where faith gets stubborn. I'm sure I'm not unlike most people that I have been hurt under the guise of love and affection. As much as I would like to pretend, my pain is not unique and I am not a gilded martyr in love. I want to throw my hands in the air and say, "forget it. You win. I'm done with this game." Then something strange happens - I go out and do it all over again. Why would I do that to myself?

Because love is not a game. There isn't one winner and a host of losers. There is no end point. I'm not really convinced there is a beginning point either. Love is like those horrible relighting birthday candles. I can huff and puff in frustration, but after a moment it will flicker and rekindle. Faith that things will be better is that flicker. It needs nothing else to ignite. There is nothing I can do to help it along except to have it. Faith does the rest of the work, and off I go to put love back in to the world... even around (and with) those who have hurt me in the past. I know all too well I might be hurt again, but faith will be there to rekindle the flame when I want to put it out.

This is how I'm coming to understand my faith in God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. All three of them work to rekindle a passion in me (the flame) when I want to put it out. The funny thing is, I don't even have to have faith in them for them to work within me. Yes, read that again. One does not need to believe in God for God to work within the person. For Methodists (and any other Wesleyans) this is Prevenient Grace. One could keep blowing out that flame, but without anything we do, God will spark and the flame will reignite. Now, it's up to us to do something with that flame. We can light another candle (even though they have the spark within them). We can join with other candles to increase the illumination. We can box it in and never let the light out. There are infinite responses to the illumination of the candle, but the point is - we must respond in some way to it. Even if it is plucked and dropped in water, God will ignite the flame. There is nothing we can do to earn that flame.

So, I go out to love another day. People annoy me. Taxi cabs annoy me. Drivers of the 57 bus really annoy me. A host of things annoy me, but they cannot take away my desire to love and be loved in return. I know that somewhere along the way, my candle will meet with another candle responding in the same way. Until then, I will try to be an example for other candles who don't know they have a flame that needs and desires a response. And that's why I can't let love die. Not because I'm the pinnacle of love, but because I'm always being ignited and there's no way for me to ignore it anymore.

security blankets

I am told time and time again that it's important to let go of the baggage that weighs us down. Christians follow-up with "give it to God." However, I'm still trying to learn the art of how to let go of things I know are unimportant.

Sometimes I feel like a child who clings to a blanket. I have taken that blanket everywhere with me, and now it's dirty and starting to smell. It needs to be washed, however I can't seem to part with it for that short amount of time. My fingers clutch around it as it tried to be removed from me. Just why do I cling to it knowing it's not right for me?

Like a child, I probably like the comfort and security. If someone attacks (or accuses) me of faults, I will have faults of theirs with which to counter. Holding on to pain is my ammunition. I carry the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with with me - all the while hoping that I don't hurt myself first with their poison tips.

I don't yet have an answer about how to let go. I have to pick a topic to write about this semester for one of my classes, so I think I'll take up the topic of forgiveness and look at it theologically. More on this topic to come in the future...

I just want...

I attended a baptism today in the muggy Boston weather. It seems the baby was the only one not affected by the humidity. She was looking at everyone in the room and treating them to a smile. She had everything she needed at that moment, and she didn't desire anything else.

So I got to thinking - why do we use the phrase, "I just want (insert object here)?" Whose desires are being placed first in that statement? During the baptism, there was much talk about putting all our faith in God and resting on Him. By asking this question I think we take something away from our relationship from Him. Here are some questions and answers I thought about while riding the "wonderful" 57 bus home.

"I just want to find a job. Is that too much to ask?"
"I just want you to learn the value of things that are not material."

"I just want to be in a relationship. I want to feel love"
"I just want you to love yourself first for I love you already. Don't you know that I am love?"

"I just want to pass this test."
"I just want you to grow closer to me through My written word."

"I just want a nap. I'm so exhausted."
"I just want you to fill yourself with things that nourish you and not those things which tide you over."

There are so many "I just want..." things that could go here. I think each one of them could have a counter argument by God, but in His statement He would want something better for us. In your statement,the individual is asking for something for the self. It's no wonder "do onto others as you would have them do to you" seems to breakdown at times. I'll have to ponder this one some more...

Welcome back Kotter

It's time to start a new year in Boston, and I am so ready to get at it. The petitions and forms are filled out for my new degree program and advisor among other things. My new room is all set up and organized. (I'm determined to keep it in order this year!) The fans (yes, plural) are in the window and the desk. My room really does get that warm. By 3 or 4pm my room feels about 95 degrees (35 Centigrade for my friends outside the US - I'm trying to learn).

What I realized was how much I missed worship at school. I couldn't put my finger on it right away though. I processed it with a professor (and personal mentor). I started thinking it was because the people in worship were mostly my own age. I thought maybe it was because we are mostly on pastoral tracks in our lives. Then I realized the answer came in the singing. It didn't sound like a dirge. The singing was alive - especially the songs that weren't in English. From the singing I realized that there were spirits ready to worship instead of bodies fulfilling a duty. That worship space was alive and so was I in that moment.

I have worked with people who made fun of those who sing praise songs. I agree that some are cheesy and have very little theology in them, but others are born out of a history of oppression and strife. They speak to an undying spirit that clings to faith like a child to a mother. I had never sung "The Summons" as a praise song, and I now think I prefer it that way. I love Bach, Luther, Wesley and the other great musicians who gave us worship music. I just don't think they meant for us to sing with less than joyful hearts.

Bring on the school year! This girl's ready for it!

You never know when you'll need this

I recently got back from a trip to Germany for my brother's wedding. It was quite an international affair. There were friends and family from all over the globe - quite literally.

When I got home, I called my high school German teacher to say thanks. She would always say to us, "You'll never know when you need to know this." She was so right. We were in an area that had once belonged to the Soviets as East Germany. I think my sister-in-law's family was the only English speaking group in the village.

One night we, the under 40s, went out for dinner. They weren't used to seeing English speakers much less a table full of Americans. We provided them with an evening of entertainment.

Another day, I was making my way to Berlin via the train from Chemnitz. The lady who sold me the tickets spoke a little English to me with the unspoken understanding that I would speak German to her. However, I got off at the wrong station, and the man at the help point didn't speak English at all.

If it hadn't been for the wonderful teachings of my German teacher I would be hungry and lost in Germany right now. Then I start to think of all the teachers I've had. While I might not use Trigonometry on a monthly basis, there were skills learned along the way that I have been able to put into daily application. They taught me how to think things out, keep a clear head, speak properly and project my voice, view questions from many angles before making a decision, and so many more lessons. Where would I be if not for their teaching. I might not physically lost or hungry, but I might be psychologically and spiritually.

Love in a time of war

I'm half way though my first unit of CPE. I think of the famous quote, "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." Sometimes that happens in the same hour. I have residents who push me to the point of frustration, and then I can see the most wonderful act of mercy. It is because of the latter, and a wonderful e-mail I just received, that I write this installment of the blog.

Today, I allowed someone to get under my skin. That's right. I'm going to own my part of the problem. By allowing someone else the controls of my emotions I let myself get upset regarding a situation in which I had actually given up control. I became angry and someone I don't like to see. I slammed my hand against a table and yelled at another person because I didn't feel heard. Who would want to listen to me at that point? Where is this pent up anger coming from? Probably from weeks where I did not assert myself at all.

I tried to talk to him about what had happened, but that didn't go well either. Sometimes people will just not work well together. However, we are all in God's image, and if I allow myself to start hating him I will start hating a part of God. Well, that's not a great option, so I'm going to have to start again.

I need to be more earnest in my prayer. I need God to fill my heart and not empty Him out to allow of other things to fill it. Hate, anger and such are poisons to our souls. Why hold on to them when we have been given grace, mercy and forgiveness by God? Now, I'm not going to run up to this guy and hug him tomorrow. No one hugs a dinosaur until they're sure it's not a carnivore. (Yes, I know they're extinct, but I think it's a good illustration. Plus, I'm sure it made you laugh.) I may need space, but I cannot run away from this. If he wants to be a better minister for this, he cannot run away from this. I can stay away until I have better control of my emotions, but then I must work at it and not say I will. The action and not just a promise must be in place.

Most of all - I need to see God in him. What part of him is hurting so badly that anger is his resort towards people? I may not be able to answer this with him, but I need to start to answer it for myself. Is a part of my hurt meeting with a part of his hurt? That's just all too possible. It's easy to love those who love you, or at least, like you back. Can I love someone who pushes me away and hurts me? Jesus did. "Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing." I'm willing to bet he had no idea how much I would be hurt by this moment, and I have no idea how much he is hurting. How can I condemn him if I don't know his heart?

Precious Lord, take my hand. I cannot do this alone - I need you. How do I love someone in your image when the images seem to be mirror images? Will you fill my heart the next time we encounter each other so the meeting is peaceful? Will you fill the room we are in?

Your loving servant

The Long Goodbye

So, it's my last day in Boston for the academic year, and I just can't sleep. There's too much on my mind. It was about nine months ago that I was sitting on a couch, crying, and thinking I'll never be able to do this. It's too far away and it's just too big. Now, I'm lying on a couch in my friends' apartment thinking how can I go home when I feel like I'm there?

Boston has become a home to me. It's odd to think, but I discovered it was home when I didn't need the MBTA.com to figure out how to get where I wanted to go. People would ask me for directions, and I'd actually be able to give them! I also have amazing friends here. I feel so blessed to know I will come back to greet them for two more years. They will be scattered across the country and literally across the globe, but we will always have BU in common.

I have lived and loved here. My heart has been broken, and it has been mended too. Times have been tough, but doors have been opened to me as well. It's great to feel like something really wonderful is just beyond the horizon, and then it actually comes in to focus as I continue walking towards it. There is nothing easy about your first year of seminary, but if you can survive it, it's totally worth every tear and late night. God's blessings on those who enter their first year in the fall. I've been there before, and I'll be with you then.

It's nearly 4am, and I'm wide awake. First I have to say that I took a nap earlier in the day, so that messed up the sleeping schedule. I'm also up because I'm trying to write a paper for my introduction to theology course. I have decided that staring at a computer screen is not going to get the paper written, so I'm taking a break and writing something else.

General Conference wrapped up this weekend. I like to refer to GC as Methodist Olympics. They meet for nearly two weeks every four years and get some really hefty work done. However, I am concerned about the spiritual health of my church. There is a deep divide on the issue of homosexuality, and the majority vote is not overwhelming. I must be honest in that I do not agree with everything that was said regarding this issue at GC. I will uphold the laws to the best of my conscience, but it is the first time I have ever cried for the health of my church.

Historically, the last time the UMC had such a strong difference of opinion was over slavery, and it physically split. If we don't remain in dialogue I'm afraid it could happen again. One person told me that's why he left the church; I said that's why I can't leave the church. It's my church, and I love it. It's not perfect but John Wesley would be disappointed in us if we just gave up. He wanted everyone to strive for Christian Perfection, and that includes the church as a whole body. Giving up is like failure - it's not an option.

The UMC motto is "Open hearts, open minds, open doors." My Annual Conference motto is, "Live, give, love... beyond all expectations." I look forward to how they will show me to live our those creeds in the midst of resolutions and decisions passed. Some are obvious... some will require time, patience and discernment. I love my church; it is my family, and I will defend it and fight for it because love is always worth the effort and risk.

Some days are going to be like this

Have you ever had a day that just drained you? How about a week that tested the limits of your patience? Since I'm pretty sure you'll say yes, I'll just keep going. How do we get through them? How do we recharge to get ready for the next one? I wish I had the magic answer to these questions.

Here's what I'm learning. Most of the time, for me, when that happens I'm not adhering to at least one of the 10 commandments. I might not have taken a Sabbath to recharge my spirit, but I choose to keep working until it all gets done - knowing full well my work will never be done. I might covet something my neighbor has whether that be a grade, a relationship or a little free time to relax and enjoy. I may have worshiped an idol - money being the most likely to try and pull me away from God.

Now I know I adhere to a good number of them. I don't use the Lord's name in vain. I honor my parent. I have never stolen or committed murder or adultery. However this is not enough. The 10 commandments aren't a game of odds. (Methodists are strictly against gambling, and I would count that as a gamble.) Missing any one of them can lead to an empty life because it is allowing free will to pull us away from God.

So I use this as a part of my daily discerning. Have I kept faithfully with the will of God in my daily life? My goal in doing this in not to work my way into heaven, that is already granted by God's grace, but to live a life more fully in communion with God, and that is the revitalization for which I seek.

Threadbare Fabric

Sometimes, we have things we know are not worth keeping. We have a pair of jeans that finally fit right and feel comfortable, but the knees or seat are just wearing out. We can't bear to be parted from them. They aren't practical; they can't be worn in public, but we keep them anyway.

Why is it that we are so willing to throw away things in our community? Why are relationships disposable? Why do we not fight to keep the fabric of our communities when we notice them becoming threadbare? Why are jeans, which can't be worn outside, held tighter to us instead of people? I'm confused.

Some people are willing to become those broken threads and fade away from existence. Others feel the stress and strain of trying to hold together a receding cloth.

When the chips are down

Networking is an important aspect in our lives. Naturally, we know the career advances that can be made through networking, but our relationships can be enhanced just as well. I have had a few rough days with trying to keep my life in order. I have discovered that the strong wealth of friendships I have has been a real blessing. Each friend has a unique gift, or gifts, that will compliment any lack I may have at one point. How empty my life would be if I walked around feeling that incomplete. Feminism says I shouldn't have a man in my life to complete me, and I agree and may even comment on another day, but relationships in their many forms do create a completeness. That's why God did not design us to live alone but in community with each other. To all the friends out there - thank you for making me a more whole and healthy person. I love you all.

Brother, can you spare a dime?

Almost every week I hear about a new way to help another group of people. I have to admit, I started getting the "giving fatigue." There just seem to be too many places for my time, money and effort to go. How can I ever keep up? I feel like I'm being nickel and dimed to death.

Then I thought, "How dare I accuse God of nickel and dimeing me to death?!?" I talk about how blessed I feel. If I really felt I was blessed, shouldn't I share that wealth? I don't want to be Lazarus where I have everything in this life and nothing in the next.

I think I'm a poor grad student, but really I'm not. I'm able to go to school! I eat every day. I can get on the T and go almost anywhere. I have a place to live that has heat and clean clothes... when I do laundry. I am not poor. I'm not as rich as I want to be, but I'm as rich as I need to be. So, yes, brother, I can spare a dime... even a quarter.

To Thine Own Self Be True

It's odd, I know, but I'm writing twice in one day! I was reminded about something that is just too important for me to remember. I often bring my United Methodist faith into conversations. I'll bring donuts or other food to a gathering, and I'll say I do it because I'm a good Methodist. I do this for other nice things I do too. What I realized I have been doing is trying to find another way to say, "I do this because I'm a Christian."

Am I hiding my faith by not stating it out loud? I don't think so. What I am trying to do is disarm people by not making it about theology or religion but about faith. I'm more likely to be asked about my Methodist faith than being a Christian by random people. Oddly enough, it has happened here in Boston. I have a School of Theology (STH) sweatshirt, and people will ask me about it too. I am not ashamed of the Gospel, but I want to make it accessable and approachable to people. I believe that they will know I am a Christian by my love - even when I profess it through my United Methodist calling.

Real World: Boston?

What I have loved about coming to Boston is that I can not live in a bubble. Well, I could, but I'd actively try to live in a bubble. I have been exposed to thoughts, cultures, theologies that are so different than my own.

Last night we, community dinner at Marsh Chapel, met a woman from Uganda who had been abducted as a child. She was forced to work in a child soldier camp. As she told us her story about escaping from that horror and how important education I thought about how I complain about my life.

*sigh* There are real problems in this world. Is it really tragic that I have to wait another 10 minutes for a bus? How bad is it that I have to cook my own food instead of going out for pizza? Is it really that bad that I have to go to the library for a book because I can't buy it from Barnes and Noble? (Who can afford a book there?) There are people who worry about finding water so they don't die of dehydration. People right here worry about food. There's worry about the temperature dropping because hypothermia is a real threat.

I needed to hear her message. Life is so worth it, and it really doesn't suck.

Bach in the high life again

So, the major term paper is in. *big sigh of relief* It was 30 pages long. Only two more to go, and those are each about 10-15 pages each. After 30, this is a cakewalk. :)

Sometimes, seminary is a lonely place. As individuals we work so hard to prepare ourselves to help an unknown world of the future. We bury our noses in books and shackle our hands to computers to spit out words we hope will inspire another person to believe we are right.

Where is community in this? Sure, to know God is to love Him, and we are seeking a greater and deeper love every day. However, Sitting at a desk by myself for 8 hours a day does not provide me with love and a sense of community. I am thankful for the friends who come and sit at the table with me in a shared effort to do foundational work in understanding faith and origins. Sure, there are times where we do more laughing than work, but I have to remember that laughter is a gift too. It's not a distraction... unless it's 10pm and the paper's due by midnight. :)

ARGH!

One week to go until 2, possibly 3, papers are due! I thought I was supposed to be happy during Easter. Time to stock up on sugar and caffeine.

Is the world larger or smaller?

People tell me the world is getting smaller because we are more able to get information from any corner of the globe in a short amount of time. Generally, I agree with it in principle. There's a but coming... we have to actually acknowledge how large this world is before we can shrink it on to a computer screen. I have to first know there are people in this community I call the World who look different from me, speak a different language, practice a different religion, eat different foods, and a host of other things that are foreign from my daily life or culture. If I don't acknowledge it first, I have done these people a disservice. I have compared them to me as the apex of how to live instead of letting them be themselves in their way of living. While my philosophy/theology professor would tell me I need to use "or" instead of "and," I have to say the world is expanding and shrinking at the same time for me, and to do it any other way would just be wrong for me.

Baby you can ride my car.

Anyone who's been in Boston long enough knows about the T. T-surfing is an art. It's the ability to stand on a moving train without holding on to a railing. It also depends on the driver. Some seem to have the sole purpose of trying to propel you in to the person in front of you or through a window.

Also, people know you will see the craziest things. If you are able to make it home without seeing something... well... you had a rare ride. Sometimes you see a near fight break out. Sometimes there's the drunk guy, and you pray he doesn't decide to throw up on you. Sometimes you get someone who's actually willing to talk with you. This person, most likely, did not grow up in Boston. He or she probably spent a part of the growing up period in the Mid-West but may be from the South. I will also never understand why undergrads will stand in 4 inch heels and short skirts in the rain and complain about it. *sigh*

And they're all there for your viewing pleasure on the T. Welcome to Boston. :)

A Grand Day Out

Erik is out of the picture. He's a young 20-something who needs to get some things out of his system before he gets to be a real adult. I'm not going to help him on those endeavors.

I had a wonderful time with Ben. The food was great. The wine was fantastic. The conversation never stopped. He was even interested in what I had to say about the Hebrew Bible. He touched my hand and gave me a hug at the end of the evening. I just wish I felt the same way. It feels so shallow to say it, but there's just nothing there. He would make a fantastic friend, but I don't see a romantic relationship developing there.

I don't want to be that woman who goes out dating to see what she can get out of people - and maybe by making sure that's not my goal I have already accomplished it. I'm not out to get a nice meal and get men to spend money on me. *sigh* Time to keep on truckin'.

The Trifecta

Oh dear... Three rejections in a row. Some of them, I understand - it was a bit of a long shot with reference to our lifestyles. However Ben seems to be working out.

Ben and I have been e-mailing since before I used my current matchmaking service. We're in, generally, the same fields, and we both find religion very important when it comes to a relationship. (We're different Protestant denominations, but I won't hold that against him!) This is starting off pretty well, and Sunday night I'll have a chance to see where it's at. I'm trying not to get too excited - overinflated expectations have a way of biting you in the end.

Now there's also Erik. He's a bit younger, and he comes via the matchmaking service. He caught me online (AIM) as I was getting ready for sleep, so we didn't talk much. He said I'm cute though. What bothered me was that I was bothered how quickly he said that. The thought, "Why did you even say that?" popped in. Have I allowed my self-esteem to be deflated by those first three rejections that I can't trust anyone who actually might be interested? Is it just general creepy to lead a conversation with how someone's beauty is perceived? I'm not sure about him yet, but I'll see where this goes.

Toodles until Sunday!

The internet matchmaker

It seems so wrong to use the Internet as your matchmaker. It's impersonal. It can't take into account your feelings. It seems so calculated. But one of my guilty pleasures is watching "The Millionaire Matchmaker" on Bravo. While there still is a sense of magic to finding a person who is right for you, she does break some of the stuff down into basic categories that make sense. Well, that kind of stuff is something a computer could easily do, so I'll give it a try.

I posted my profile online, and I was totally honest in all my answers. That's a humbling thing to do. I even put up some of my favorite pictures of me. They're not great (I don't think I'm photogenic), but they are candid and give insight into who I am. I enjoy being able to screen for some of the things that are deal breakers or 'must haves' for me. This definitely seems better than some of the free sites, where I hope I get to find out about this stuff at some point before a face to face meeting.

Well readers, here we go. New city, new life, new beginning, new profile online. Let's see what comes!

The Seinfeld Date

Have you ever been on a date so bad that you were sure Kramer, Elaine, George or Jerry was going to suddenly sit next to you? If not, you're really lucky. If so, this story's for you.

I was asked to go to dinner and a movie. This sounded like a really great start for a date. I spent 2 hours getting my hair, makeup and outfit ready. I put real effort into looking my best. When I stepped into the restaurant, I really think I looked radiant.

Here's the kicker. As soon as I sat down, he informs me another person will join us! Yes, his friend is coming. There are now three of us. I sat the whole time wondering if I was intruding on their date or if I got two for the price of one! I said all of two sentences the entire dinner. Truthfully, I think I spoke to the waitress more than the two of them together.

Then we got to the movie. I made the sad mistake of sitting between them. I felt like the net in a ping pong match. The conversation was being volleyed over me, and I was really just in the way.

It's just one of those moments when you think,"I could have made a fortune selling this idea as a Seinfeld episode."

In the land of "not"

I seem to be stuck in a land of nots. I'm not young, but I'm not old. I'm not skinny, but I'm not a whale. I'm not a genius, but I'm not a vegetable. I'm not a professional, but I'm not without credentials. I'm not from the East Coast, but I'm not living in the Mid-west. I'm not conservative enough to be a republican, but I'm not liberal enough to be a democrat. I'm not wealthy, but I'm not desolate.

So who am I? I'm almost 30 (6 weeks and counting). I'm overweight but trying. I'm a student with too little time, money and energy. I'm compassionate. I'm loving. I'm a sister, daughter, friend, roommate, student, teacher, candidate for ministry, lay speaker, parishioner. I'm Kelly