Vulnerability, Relationship, and the New Year

It is probably the hardest thing in the world for me to be vulnerable with people. I can think of about 800 other things that I'd rather do than really reveal the inner workings of my mind and heart. And it seems to be just the thing God has lately had His finger on. My life, since a I became a Christian, and I guess, looking back, even before that, seems to have run in themes. It's almost like God says to me, "Okay, Stef, I know this'll be hard, but let's work on THIS now." And then, every sermon I hear, every book I read, every movie I see seems to speak to whatever the theme du jour is. It kinda makes me laugh, kinda makes me sit in awe of God and His incredible love for me that He won't let me sit in stagnation but always, ever so lovingly, urges me on to growth.
So, as I was saying, 'vulnerability' appears to be the recent theme. I was talking to a dear friend last night about my life the last few years, and how it seems to me that God has been peeling back the layers of my emotional/mental/spiritual onion, and now we are finally getting to the inner onion core, the "ouch, don't touch that, leave that alone, that hurts" part.
A few weeks ago a new friend compassionately asked me to share with him some things that I never to talk to anyone about, and I can't think of a time in my life when I have been more scared to open up. I've been doing a lot of reflecting upon why that was the case, why I was so afraid, petrified, really, to share that I was literally trembling, why it was that every word got wedged in my throat and took immense effort to get out. And I think part of the answer goes back to the Garden of Eden. Pre-fall, Adam and Eve were naked and unashamed in each other's and God's presence. They were fully known and knew one another fully. Then sin entered the world, and along with that, fear and hiding. God came looking for them and said, "Where are you?" He knew, but I think He wanted them to realize a few things: one, that they couldn't hide from Him, and two, from this moment on, they, we, would be forever hiding from one another. They were naked, and ashamed. Now, I think that physical nakedness that they had can also be applied to emotional nakedness. Which brings me back to my question: why have I always been so fearful of really sharing myself? Emotional nakedness and the vulnerability it brings, I think.
Anyway, this has all been turning over and over in my mind the past few weeks, and as I got ready to go to church this morning, I prayed that God would speak to me, that He would speak to questions my heart has been steeping in.
I get to church, I sit down, I sing, and I prepare to hear the Word of the Lord. And I get hit by a gentle tsunami of truth, of revelation, of answers to questions that I didn't even know I had.
The sermon today was titled "Friendship: A Beautiful Mess" and guess what it was primarily about? Yup, vulnerability and authenticity in relationship. It was almost like God was saying, "I hear your heart's-cry, Stef, and here you go." I darn near started crying, and took notes prolifically as the pastor very humbly and authentically unpacked the Bible for us.
He started out telling us about how he and his wife moved here a year-and-a-half ago to do ministry at Redeemer (he's from the Midwest!) and how he quickly noticed that he was subtly and unsubtly adjusting his style of dress, mannerisms, etc. to fit the culture out here. His wife gently pointed this out to him, and after some soul-searching, he realized that it boiled down to this: he wanted to be liked. He wanted to be part of a community. So he conformed, almost without consciously realizing what he was doing, to be accepted. He had the deep need in him, as we all do, to be in relationship with others, to know and be fully known.
He then talked about two kinds of ways we do relationship: consumeristically and covenantly (I don't think those are actually words, but you get my drift). In a consumeristic relationship, it's all about me. How long/well does this person benefit me? As long as this person is useful, meets my needs, etc. I'll continue to be in relationship. If they stop, adios. It's very difficult to establish trust and vulnerability when each person is solely interested in taking, and not giving. The second type, covenant relationship, says to the other, "I'm in this for the long haul. I will not leave you nor forsake you, even when you get messy and hard to handle and awful. You take precedence over my own personal wants and needs and I'm sticking around." This is the ideal, and the only time we see this exemplified perfectly is in Christ, and what He did for us. Honestly, I think that deep down inside we all deeply desire this kind of relationship, both in friendship and romance.
The pastor shared how at his marriage, the officiant said something that has stuck firmly in his mind. He said, "Marriage is never, ever 50-50. Sometimes its 90-10, sometimes 60-40, sometimes even 100-0. But when your heart embraces this truth, you are positioned to flourish in your relationship." This holds true not only for romantic relationships but also for friendship. Friendships should never be about, "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours". This leads to a utilitarian relationship, a dead, dry, what-can-you-do-for-me maelstrom. The sermon verses told about Jonathan and David's deep friendship, an improbable one since Jonathan was not only the son of the King, but the king who wanted to kill David. And David was a simple shepherd. More socially polar opposites one could not find. Galatians 3:28-29 speaks to this kind of relationship that is so deep it breaks down all barriers: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." It breaks down all distinctions we use as leverage to reject and judge others, to medicate our own egos. Everything I use to validate myself, to give me dignity, is obliterated. It takes natural enemies and makes them family. A picture of what true vulnerability, true relationship will one day be.
The pastor quoted Dostoyevsky in 'Brothers Karamazov', saying, "Love in practice is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams." The image of love we are given in dreams or movies is partially true, but mostly false, I think. It is true in that it speaks to that place deep inside of all of us that longs to return to the perfection and deep relationship of the Garden before sin. But it is mostly false because it sets up love and vulnerability and trust as something easy and effortless.Real love is beautiful and glorious, but becomes that way most often by being watered by the tears of pain and the sweat of toil.
C.S. Lewis, in his book 'The Four Loves' says:
"Love anything and your heart will be broken. If you want to protect your heart, you must give it to no one, avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin...But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is Hell."
As God works on me, and prods me gently out of my comfort zone into the realm of vulnerability, I hold fast to the truth that gives me the strength I need--that Christ loves me with a love indefatigable; He sees all of my faults, all the mess inside me, and draws me close, nonetheless. Because He made Himself vulnerable to me, to all of us, I can take the steps to grow, to face my fears head on. Pastor Sauls said that being vulnerable with people is like putting a sword in someone else's hand, knowing full well that they can either fiercely protect you with it, or pierce you through the heart. It is a risk, but one that I'm slowly learning is worth taking.
As I rapidly approach a new year, I am excited to see what is in store. I am excited to be challenged to grow in faith and character, to take a serious look at my deficits and not only seek to improve them, but to really be okay with not being perfect. To take those first steps into the unknown.
A dear friend gave me some great advice a few weeks ago as I shared with him how difficult it is for me to be vulnerable. He said that I should trust people in chunks, a little, then a little more, then a little more still. As an all-or-nothing, hot or cold, full or starving kind of woman, emotional moderation is definitely my personal Mt. Everest. But as I turned over his advice in my mind, I realized that I could begin there.
I believe that each person is infinitely precious; our combinations of personalities, talents, and experiences make each one of us a unique gift; a gift to be given to better this world, and in effect, to honor what God made us to be. By withholding myself, I am not honoring God, nor benefitting those around me. But by taking risks and being myself, being authentic, being vulnerable (there's that word again!), perhaps, in my own small way, I can make a difference for the better.
As I left church, my legs carried me forward of their own volition; my mind was still in a haze. I was in awe of God's quick answer to my morning prayer, but also excited about the verbal and spiritual yeast that had been sprinkled on my heart, to sit in the warmth for awhile and quietly rise to make sustaining bread that my soul can begin to feast on.

Of Snow and Friends

I haven't written in more than a month, and that so isn't like me. For a woman who processes things by writing them down, one can imagine how mentally congested I must be right now! I am just coming off of my last final, and I am beyond burned out. So tired, I am picturing all of my mitochondria with little sleeping hats on, bundled in little mitochondrial-size beds, with signs up saying, "Nope. We is done. Come back later." On the upside, my friends and I hung out from like 4pm on til late tonight, blowing off steam and enjoying the beautiful, wonderful, splendiferous snow that was blanketing the city in its white glory. We sang Disney songs, we talked about life, we had snowball fights, we danced, we walked and laughed and had so much fun. Laughter and lightheartedness are truly a balm to a weary mind and a tired body. I think the best part, for me, was watching the joy and excitement on the faces of my dear dear friends from California who have never lived in a place where there is snow before. As someone who absolutely adores the white fluffiness, I can relate to their exuberance; I get giddy like a schoolgirl for the first snow each year. It is really all I can do to restrain myself from jumping around outside and making snowforts and challenging all of the neighborhood kids to snowball fights. So to see them all, with snowflakes resting gently on their hair and clothes, spinning around as the white wonder brought freshness and beauty, thrilled my heart.
Our program is very demanding; I think someone figured out the other day that we have taken 40 credits in 6 months. Dang. But I have been richly blessed with such incredible friends, friends who help me to see the light when I just want to crawl into a hole, or fall into a studying-induced coma. To be here with them, going through this with them, no words can describe. What an amazing group of people I am surrounded by.
I am soooo excited for Christmas break; I can't wait to do everything I haven't had time to do yet. Ice skating, going to my fave place of all in NYC, seeing the decorations and lights, seeing the tree at the Rock, spending ALL DAY at a Barnes and Nobes if I want....the possibilities are endless and I just can't wait to relax and rejuve.
Well, I have to be up for clinical in six hours, so I should end this, but I just wanted to tell all my homeys, I love you so much and thanks for being there! And Gig, when you find me some of those pelican briefs, get me a pair ;).
Goodnight, sweet, white-covered world!

Bizarreness

I woke up early this morning, thinking it was going to be a good day. I spent some time in prayer, praying that the Lord would conform my will to His and that He would protect me from all of the onslaughts of the devil. Basically I just prayed for more of Him and more of His presence, and His forgiveness for my sins. It was sooo good. But, because it was so early, and I didn't need to be up for another hour to get to my 8am class, I decided to sleep a little longer.
Suddenly, my eyes flew open and I looked at the clock. "Oh crap!" I shouted, and bolted out of bed. It was ten to 8, and my teacher is a stickler for being on time. I threw on some clothes, grabbed a piece of gum (cause I didn't have time to brush my teeth; ewwww, I know) and tore out of the door. I ran into my friend who had been waiting for me to come get her, and then gave up on me. So, we pretty much sprinted to class. Hot and sweaty, we waited for the world's slowest elevators to take us to the 17th floor, where class is. Wouldn't you know it, it stopped at nearly every floor. With each delay, I was getting more and more anxious. It was a long week, and I was so tired from everything going on, and now I was going to be late to a class that I should not be late to! Plus, I hadn't had my coffee, so I was barely coherent, still had pillow creases on my face from sleeping, and hadn't eaten so I was lightheaded.
The elevator doors opened, and we ran out, dashed around the corner and down the hall to class. The clock on the wall said 2 minutes to 8, but our teacher had already started...
It was then break time, but only a short one. But I needed caffeination and food-ation if I was going to make it through. So my friend and I went down to the coffee cart outside and got egg sandwiches and coffee. But the coffee I ordered went to someone else, and I ended up with her large coffee. And it took forever to make my sandwich. I was going to be late again. My friend kindly waited for me, even though I didn't want to make him late. So, we get back upstairs, late, and sit down and start to eat our sandwiches. At one point, I dropped some egg on the floor and leaned over to pick it up. My leg jostled my desk, and tipped over my large cup of coffee onto my notes, across my desk, and onto my leg where it proceeded to soak my sweats. My friend Kevin sprang into action and got me some paper towels, and Craig sopped up what he could and threw the mess away, all while my teacher is lecturing. This is in a small classroom, with maybe 40 students, so we weren't being unobtrusive. It was a mess.
So, I'm sure my teacher thinks that I am someone who doesn't respect timeliness, and then makes messes and disruptions in class. And it is only the second day of this rotation. Oy vey! Okay, off to take a quiz now. Hopefully I won't impale myself with my pencil, but with the way things have started, it doesn't seem too far outside of the realm of possibility.

A Poetic Pathophysiologic Ode to Hearts

This is what my life has become. I am now writing poetry about what I am learning in school. Some tidbits:


(Disclaimer: the poems that follow might sound bitter, but they are written with no one in mind; just silliness during Patho class!
(These are dedicated to all my fine friends in the healthcare field who are learning all this business with me...I love you guys! Couldn't do it without you!))


Why do you hurt me?
You know my cardiac cells can't replicate...
your hurtful words, your hateful actions,
your neglect lead to ischemic scar tissue.
My heart, which once beat for you
now beats arrythmically
interrupted by the scar tissue of your hate.
My heart, once strong, once healthy
is now on the fast track to sudden cardiac death.
Rapid decompensation, as a result of the diuresis of my tears,
drives my heart to necrosis.
If only cardiac cells replicated
but they don't.
And you're the jerkface who killed them.
~S.Weinkauf, aka, "the Love Doctor"

Heart Haiku

Right heart fail
Congestion of peripheral tissues kills my heart stone dead
I am scarred

Arteries are red,
Venules are blue,
Fibrosis leads to heart failiure,
and so do you!
Happy Valentine's Day!
~A. Manko

My cardiac output is declining
As the multiple hormonal compensatory response of your silence deactivates
my renin-angiotensin system.
My atrial naturetic peptide
is no longer enough to increase my sodium reabsorption
I am edematous with pent up emotion.
The vasoconstriction of my arteries
makes me white, like a ghost
This is how I looked as you walked away.
the net effect of your neurohormonal response
potentiates the degree of my heart failure.
Your love, once verdant, increased my preload;
Your words, now bitter, decrease my afterload.
The vicious cycle of this pain shuts down my sympathetic stimulation, decreasing my heart rate and contractility for you...
~ The Love Doctor

Alterations in the Frank-Starling Mechanism with CHF: by S. Weinkauf

My left ventricular end diastolic pressure decreases as my cardiac output increases.
If my heart were healthy, my x and y axis would be proportional;
because of what you've done, even if more blood enters my heart,
my contractility and output are static.
Does Frank-Starling mean nothing to you?
You change the laws of nature;
structural heart disease without symptoms of heart failure means zilch, right?
Like poison, you change my heart's afterload
and left ventricular end diastolic volume by decreasing my blood volume by inducing my tears, you nerd!
I wish you'd give me back the wasted beats,
the healthy filling capacity.
The days when Frank and Starling ruled my heart's ejection fraction.
But quoth the cardiothoracic surgeon, "Nevermore."

Last Week's Miracle

Last week was really hard, school-wise, and incredibly exhausting. Case in point, I slept in til 2pm today, and 12pm yesterday. That isn't usual for me, as I am a morning person. But I saw the most amazing thing last week which was a ray of light to me and a reminder of why I'm doing this.
I have been in my OB-Gyn rotation these past few weeks. I am working at a hospital in an area of town that is predominantly Spanish-speaking, and of Dominican heritage. I love these people, and am loving this population more and more each day. And I have been blessed to witness two additions to their community this past week.
I came into the Labor and Delivery portion of the hospital on Wednesday morning, not really sure what to expect, but excited for anything. Because I used to work in the NICU, I had always seen the babies after they were out, but had never seen the process leading up to that. Well, I was paired with a nurse who was caring for a first-time mom who had come into the hospital the previous afternoon, and had been in labor for over 12hrs. She wasn't dilating, and they thought they'd have to do a C-section. But then she started to progress, and they decided to try a vaginal birth. I got to see it all, from when she was dilated to 8 cm to when the baby came out. After she was fully dilated to 10cm, they had her start pushing with the contractions, and it was so amazing to see that little head suddenly appear with a push, and then go back in. With each successive push, it came further out, until mom was ready to give birth. About an hour into pushing, the baby's head crowned, and the OB was called in to deliver. They had the mom sit up, broke apart the bed, and had the mom give a few more pushes. By this time, she was completely exhausted, and almost couldn't do it. Her mother and husband were in the room with her, encouraging her on, and as she looked into her husband's eyes, I think she found the strength she needed to keep going. 'Empuje! Empuje! Empuje!' 'Push! Push! Push!' The mom cried out in pain as the head came, and then the rest of the body slipped effortlessly through. I started crying; I couldn't help it. Even now, thinking about it, I get choked up. The mom was crying, and the dad was beaming. It was a beautiful, healthy baby girl.
Life is truly a miracle, in every form. From the miracle of physical birth to the amazing grace-filled miracle of spiritual birth, it made my heart sing praises to the Lord for this new little person that He had brought into the world. The joy on the faces of her parents; her grandmother beaming with pride as her little girl brought another little girl into this world. The lusty, beautiful sound of a healthy pair of lungs protesting about being out of the warm, cozy environment of the womb into the harsh reality of the world. There is nothing more beautiful to me than the sound of a heartily crying baby. You know that they are healthy then. They can breathe. They can live. Working in the NICU gave me a greater appreciation for that; our kids were so often so premature or so sick that they couldn't or wouldn't do more than make little baby whimpers, or grunts. A healthy set of lungs is such a blessing!
I also saw a C-section; equally amazing, equally tear-enducing. The mother, with tears streaming down her face, whispers "Hola, bonita.." as the baby is placed by her face. Her abdomen is open and exposed, and I'm sure she and her husband feel nothing but the joy of their new little daughter. "Felicidades!" we all say to them. I'm sure the L&D nurses, who have seen a million births, think that this never gets old. All of the promise and potential in this new little person. All of the joy and love and life before it. Its precious innocence, the beautiful gift of its uniqueness will be given first to its family, and then to the world.
Childbirth is such a miracle, and after I saw these this week, I felt a deep and gripping appreciation for my mom in a way I never had before. To think of everything she went through to give me life, and to think of the awful ways I have sometimes treated her. My heart overflowed with deep deep love for her and her and my dad's sacrifices for me for all of my life, and I consider myself so truly blessed to be their daughter.
What a hard, hard week, but what a sweet, sweet miracle. Praise the Lord!

Ugh

I've been studying all day and I need to take a break...what better way than to write a blog post? This past week has been nuts, and this coming up week has the potential of being even worse. I don't want to think about it, really. So I will tell you all instead about a funny thing that happened on Friday night. So, we had a big test on Friday and were excited to go to a friend's housewarming party. The blessed girl lives right next to Central Park (I'm so jealous!) and has a great little bachelorette pad. That's all besides the point though. The funny stuff happened on the train on the way there. We were sitting there, when all of a sudden, the train stops and policemen are clearing out the car directly behind us. They are outside of the train, in the adjacent car, everywhere. We were like, "What the heck is going on?" These three people had just gotten on at the previous stop, and they started laughing and telling us about their night. This was their second attempt at catching this train. The first time, they were waiting at the station, and they said that the train pulled in, stopped, and then backed up, slowly, like someone backing out of a room when they see someone but don't want to be seen. To hear the guy tell it was hysterical! He was like, "Yeah, man, it took one look at my friend there and it was like, 'Hell, no, I don't want him on this train! I'm jest gonna sneak on outta here...'" We were laughing soooo hard, my stomach hurt. As he was telling this story, his girlfriend got up to see what was going on in the car next to us, and it looked like someone had spilled a big can of black paint or something on the floor. The guy who was telling the story was like, "First we can't catch a train, and now we got the frickin' outbreak monkey on the next car! We all gonna be quarantined!" With that, we lost it again, and my friend said that he would go roll around in the paint, make angels, and track handprints across the top of the car. Someday, someone would come in there and say, "What the heck happened here?" It was so funny. And we were sooo tired and that made it even funnier. Okay, enough with the study break, Stef. Back to work.

What my friend Rebekah wrote about the election...

My friend Rebekah is a woman and a Christian that I highly admire and respect, and who is truly one of the most awesome people I have ever met. When I came across this blog that she wrote yesterday, I felt that I wanted to share it with all of my friends who wouldn't have otherwise gotten to read it. She puts to words what I have been feeling and thinking, but for whatever reason wasn't able to so coherently and concisely elaborate on as she so wonderfully has. I'm not sure who Jim Wallis is, but I really really like his 'Five Rules for Christian Civility', not only applicable to this election but really, to all of life in my view. Enjoy this thoughtful and thought-provoking read.

(from Rebekah's blog)
"Hi. My name is Rebekah. I am a Christian and I am undecided.
Share
Yesterday at 4:51am
I have seen a lot of notes, posts, comments, etc. from many different perspectives and friends over the past few weeks. Many have been helpful and thoughtful contributions to my Decision 2008. This post is not directed at any camp or person... just a response that has been bubbling up over the past few weeks.

Here's my great confession:I am undecided on who to vote for. Much of the time, I can't quite stomach voting for EITHER of our two popular options (and some of the less popular ones). I still might write-in Jed Bartlett. But I have seen positive things on both sides, as well. There are so many serious issues facing our nation right now that I can't see narrowing things down to one issue. Which is the greater moral issue.... abortion or the war in Iraq (and policies that go along with that) or the ungodly way in which so many in our nation view and handle money or .... the list goes on. Neither candidate ticks all my boxes, so I have to choose one... the one that I think will address what I determine to be the biggest issues facing our nation at the moment in the way that is most consistent with my convictions which are shaped by my Christian faith. And here's the kicker... you are likely doing the same thing and we might not agree in the end.

I sometimes feel like even in admitting that I'm undecided (which from my conversations is a more common position than you might think, especially this year), I'm taking a big risk. I remember a friend of mine admitting to me after the last election how she had voted, and saying she had been afraid to talk about with her Christian friends for fear of their reaction and judgment of her. I don't know if it's avoidable... of course there will be people and groups who will form strong opinions and communicate them. We SHOULD do that. But to not feel safe or respected in a Christian circle admitting who you voted for just doesn't seem right to me.

Whether I vote republican or democrat, I will be (and have been for months) researching and considering the options and I will vote according to my conscience after careful consideration. The following is an excerpt from a blog post by Jim Wallis... I found it refreshing.

"Since Friday, I have been asked by many journalists what I think of Sarah Palin as the choice for the Republican vice-presidential nomination. I’ve confessed to knowing little about the new Alaskan governor but have said that she seems to be an interesting, decent, and compelling person, and that her nomination is another milestone as the first woman on a Republican presidential ticket, as Geraldine Ferraro was on the Democratic ticket in 1984. Like the milestone candidacy of Barack Obama, she, too, will be evaluated by Christians on a whole range of moral values issues, including poverty, the environment, the sanctity of life, strong and healthy families, human rights, health care, the war in Iraq, and more. Christians, including evangelical Christians, are not monolithic and most Christians will not be single-issue voters in this election. Rather, we will evaluate both presidential tickets according to our moral compass and broad agenda. The Republican Convention, like the Democratic Convention, should offer the voters clear choices, and I suspect it will.

So maybe we should have some rules of civility for this election. Let me suggest “Five Rules of Christian Civility.”

1. We Christians should be in the pocket of no political party, but should evaluate both candidates and parties by our biblically-based moral compass.
2. We don’t vote on only one issue, but see biblical foundations for our concerns over many issues.
3. We advocate for a consistent ethic of life from womb to tomb, and one that challenges the selective moralities of both the left and the right.
4. We will respect the integrity of our Christian brothers and sisters in their sincere efforts to apply Christian commitments to the important decisions of this election, knowing that people of faith and conscience will be voting both ways in this election year.
5. We will not attack our fellow Christians as Democratic or Republican partisans, but rather will expect and respect the practice of putting our faith first in this election year, even if we reach different conclusions.

On Nov. 4, Christians will not be able to vote for the kingdom of God. It is not on the ballot. Yet there are very important choices to make that will significantly impact the common good and the health of this nation — and of the world. So we urge our Christian brothers and sisters to exercise their crucial right to vote and to apply their Christian conscience to those decisions. And in the finite and imperfect political decisions of this and any election, we promise to respect the Christian political conscience of our brothers and sisters in Christ."



Full article: http://www.sojo.net/blog/godspolitics/?p=1981

I hope that we all continue to share our thoughts and articles and links that we find helpful with others. I hope that we also remember that there are people out there who are genuinely wrestling with the issues from a perspective of faith, and they won't all come to the same conclusion. What a blessing and responsibility we have in voting for our leaders! "



Thank you, Rebekah, for your insight. You are a blessing!

Wow, was I tired! 'Will RIGHT more soon?' I meant 'write'. I'd love to RIGHT more soon, but only God can RIGHT all that is wrong!

Since Sept.

I feel like I haven't written in here forever, but it's really only been a few weeks. Lots has happened these past few weeks: I started my Labor and Delivery/Newborn Nursery/OBGYN rotation this past Monday, and I am loving it! I've been in the NN the past two days, and have learned how to do full physical assessments on newborns, as well as give baths, and refresh on taking their vitals and knowing the normal parameters for the younguns. Shoot, a friend is here, gotta dash, will right more soon!

Idylls of Running

Clap, clap, clap...my feet hit the pavement in regular rhythm as I run through the streets of New York. My running mix is keeping time in my ears while I unobtrusively take in the humanity around me. It is times like these that my imagination takes flight. Perhaps it is the duration of the run (10mls) that makes it a necessity, perhaps the beauty of the day, perhaps the heterogenicity of the people around me, but my mind is spinning stories about everyone I see, faster than my running pace. A man walks by, 80ish, stooped, with a cane, being supported, or perhaps supporting, someone whom I assume to be his wife. She is equally bent, equally old. Together, they are the epitome of an award-winning black and white photo montage of the people of New York. I name them Irma and Ted, transplants from the Ukraine, who together have seen the rise and fall of many great leaders and ideologies over their long lives. He used to work as small bookstore owner in the old country; she cooked, cleaned, and raised the children until WWII made it imperative for them to leave and start afresh in America. A homeless man with an amputated leg is lying on newspapers on the ground. Swish-swish my pants rustle in the breeze as I pass him by. His name is George, a very aged 40, raised in prosperity but due to some bad choices and risky investments has become one of the street people. He went to Nam and came back a changed man; no longer knew who he was or what he was doing. Does anyone really see him as they pass by? Does anyone want to know his name, his story? I make up tales in my mind, but how far from the truth am I really? The sun sinks lower over the Hudson as I continue my trek to South Ferry. To my left, a couple is running, much faster than I. Annaliese and Jacob, I name them. Inconspicuous, unassuming, seemingly an ordinary middle-aged couple out for their daily run along Riverside Dr. However, they are actually spies, in the employ of a foreign government. I don't know their mission or how long they've been here, but I keep a wary eye on them as I imagine all of the intrigues they must have gotten into in their lives thus far. Perhaps it is because of my diet of Murder She Wrotes or Matlocks, but I think of spies being everywhere. The man picking up the tomato and sniffing it appreciatively, furtively glancing around as he puts it down. The woman with a child in tow who seems to have a lot on her mind; she casually drops a newspaper as she bends over to tend to her child. Is it a newspaper containing a secret message for a contact? Who looks the most normal, the most overlooked? Perhaps the pair of cute little old ladies, knitting away and talking of their great grandchildren. They are much more shrewd and world-wise than their dotty appearance would otherwise indicate. Could they be following the young 20-something with long hair and an iPod who talks to himself? Probably a spy, think I, as I weave a tale of deception and mystery to keep myself company on this long run.
One always reads books of spyish things happening in big cities; such-and-such an event happened in NYC, say, in the 70's. Well, there had to be people walking by when it happened. There had to be someone who noticed something or saw something as the events unfolded. Perhaps someone will write a book in 30 years about some great spy event (what is that even?) that took place in September 2008 in New York City, and I, jogging along, making up stories, will have seen it without even knowing what I am seeing. And I'll read about it years from now. In a city teeming with people from all venues and aspects of life, and with each person such a novel unto himself, there are bound to be many secrets that are being played out today, as I write this. Rather an intriguing thought, I think.
I kick through some early fall leaves and survey the scene before me: sun glistening on the Hudson, people laughing and talking about weekend plans, old men playing checkers in the park, children running and kicking along on their scooters. It is a glorious day, and couldn't be more perfect for running or making up stories.

Nahum

Today's devotional reading in Spurgeon was based on Nahum 1:2, "God is jealous". He says, " Your Lord is very jealous of your love, O believer. Did He choose you? He cannot bear that you should choose another. Did He buy you with His own blood? He cannot endure that you should think that you are your own, or that you belong to this world. He loved you with such a love that He would not stop in heaven without you; He would sooner die than you should perish, and He cannot endure that anything should stand between your heart's love and Himself. He is very jealous of your trust. He will not permit you to trust in an arm of flesh. He cannot bear that you should hew out broken cisterns, when the overflowing fountain is always free to you. When we lean upon Him, He is glad, but when we transfer our dependence to another, when we rely upon our own wisdom, or the wisdom of a friend--worst of all, when we trust in any works of our own, He is displeased, and will chasten us that He may bring us to Himself...Oh that we may have grace this day to keep our hearts in sacred chastity for our Beloved alone, with sacred jealousy shutting our eyes to all the fascinations of the world!"

Minute by minute, I am given the choice: who, or in Whom, am I going to trust with my life? With my present, and my future? May my heart be steadfast, O Lord, and firmly fixed, unwavering, with You as my center, my anchor, my life.

Comments on my Previous Post

My dear friend Silas responded to my last post with these comments, and then I responded to his response:

Stef-

I share your cynicism and disillusionment, but I think your basic premise is flawed. You're saying, in effect, "the government is broken in ways a, b, c, so let's fix the government (you said "revolutionize the candidate-picking process) in order to fix my cynicism."

I would go further. All governments are flawed. No government really cares (although individuals within it may care) about the fates, lives, happiness and welfare of the people in it, still less about their opinions, except as those things impinge upon their ability to gain or retain their privileged positions of power. The concept of the public servant is not dead, because in fact it never really lived, except in a couple of isolated cases (but never as the real, properly practiced ethic of an entire system). If you can find me an example to the contrary, I'll reconsider this position.

The solution here is not to give anything back to the people, nor to change the system. The immutable fact evident from history about governments is that they always turn on those of faith, one way or another.

A man (or even you) cannot serve two masters. You can try to fix the government from within, but to do that you have to become part of it, and we know that power corrupts.

My view: yes, the Christian should be cynical about our system or any other system. Systems are run by men, and the hearts of men, we are told, are deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Instead (and this is a crucial point for me, surrounded by the unheeded death screams of 300,000,000 confused and dying souls), shouldn't we focus our limited efforts on fixing the world in ways that work? In the ONLY way that really works? Maybe set our mind on things above?
It is, in my view, a serious flaw in American Christianity as manifested today, that Americans tend to place a lot of faith in the corrupt and inevitably decaying government, in the airy philosophical will-o'-the-wisps called democracy and freedom. That faith, placed in those things, will inevitably be disappointed (though they are, perhaps, good things, they cannot be relied upon). Faith placed in the One who never fails, never changes, and cares about each of us deeply and personally will never be disappointed, but will sustain us though leaders should come and go, though nations should rise and fall, though systems should be erected and overturned.

Can we fight for more democracy(whatever that means), better representation, etc? Maybe. I'm not saying "don't vote, don't participate, etc." I am saying that we must keep our eyes fixed and our hope resting on something other than any institution build by humanity, no matter how "democratic" or "free" or "fair" or how much power it gives to "the people" (and who are they, anyway?). The will fail. Faith will endure.



Silas, excellent points. Absolutely, our faith must rest on the Lord, and our eyes must not be fixed on things of the earth, but on Him. And, I agree that all human institutions will fail at some points, since all human institutions are by humans, who are imperfect. However, I am not advocating making government, or even the desire to change government, the point and focus of my life, or any life. Absolutely Christ is the center, and, as you say, to change government you have to become part of it, and power corrupts. Yes, we have seen this time and again. I do disagree with the statement that the 'concept of the public servant is dead, in fact it never really lived.' I would site John Adams as one example. I think that he genuinely had the good of his country in mind. He had to sacrifice a lot in the service of securing America's independence. But, rereading your comment, perhaps you meant that there are no examples of complete systems devoted to the idea of public service. I'll agree with you there; nothing comes to mind for me either.
I guess the point that I was trying to make was this: as someone who treasures Christ, and wants others to see His beauty and see Him for Who He is, I get distressed when I see the state of the world. I think that it is the responsibility of anyone who professes to be a Christian to be deeply concerned about the pain and injustices we see in the world, and to make efforts to help. I do absolutely agree that ultimately, it is the issue of the soul that takes precedence, and everything else pales in comparison. However, I think it was Jesus Who told the parable about the man walking alongside the road who, upon seeing a beggar, said to him, "Peace be with you. May you be well-fed and warm." or something to that effect. But he didn't do anything to help, other than bless him with words. I take umbrage with Christians today who, in my view, politicize faith to such an extent that it no longer is about the Gospel and is everything about pushing yet another agenda. It is reminiscent of what we read about in the New Testament, where everyone expected Jesus to come back and usher in a new government and peaceful times, but what He was really there for was to save man from eternal death and take their place; to do for them what they couldn't do for themselves, and to reconcile them to God. If Christ lives through us, should we not do for those who can't do for themselves?

I do think though that the concepts of democracy and freedom are more concrete than you asserted. We have been blessed to live in a country where I can stand on the street corner and read from the Bible, and aside from some heckling, nothing else really happens to me. I have the freedoms to do things that women in other countries only dream of. Now, nothing other than Christ should be the center and focus of one's life; however, I don't think that gives me license to throw up my hands and say, "well, it's corrupt and always been corrupt, so whatevs." The Bible says that "the king's heart is like channels of water in the hand of the LORD; He turns it wherever He wishes." Prov. 21:1 Ultimately, God is in control of all this mess. But He's put me here, in this time, for whatever reason, and, although living Christ to the world is my primary purpose, cannot serving and loving people, perhaps by reformation of corrupt systems, be a secondary?
'Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD: And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might'. Deuteronomy 6:4-5
Jesus comes first, no question. But He loves all of us with love incomprehensible, and to love Him is to love what He loves as well. If I am loving Him with all my heart, all my soul, and all my might (something I fail at miserably, moment by moment) should I not love and do what I can for people, whom He loves so much?

Lou Dobbs is the MAN!

(Disclaimer: I am writing this late at night, and so if there are typos or missing words, it is due to sleep-deprivation, not sloppy editing :) )
So, I've been really note-crazy recently. There has been a lot on my mind, and tonight was no exception. I just got back from what was, hands down, the coolest thing I have done in NYC thus far. Some friends and I went to the Lou Dobbs show, going out live from the CNN studio at the Time Warner Center. It was an intimate setting, and I was just so excited to be there. Mr. Dobbs is a self-proclaimed independent populist, but I was very impressed with how he showcased guests with varying points of view. One of my friends commented that he really appreciated how Mr. Dobbs didn't let his emotion get in the way of presenting the facts, and talked about the shortcomings of each side, and also praised them where they were strong.
Many issues were raised about the current state of political affairs and what the candidates are, or are not, saying about the issues. So many things to say, I don't even know where to start. One of the biggies was about getting the nomination and election system out of the hands of special interests and into the hands of the people again. Mr. Dobbs made a fantastic point when he asked why we treat our candidate-finding differently from how we would chose a CEO, or a PTA board member. Why don't we search for the best candidates in our communities? They should run on their merits, not on the party line. They should speak from their beliefs, not just what the majority wants to hear. It seems like the guys with the most hubris are the ones who enter the race and then get funded by 'big business' and other special interest groups. The so-called 'voice of the people' can't really speak for the people if he is muzzled by his contributors. It should be that anyone can have a chance to run, and that campaigns would be publically funded, so that no one (or even a few) groups would be able to dictate the candidate's message. He could get up there, and say, "Hey, this is what I believe in. This is what I see as the problems that need to be addressed. This is what I propose to do about it." Nobody pulling the strings in the background.
In the Q & A after the show, one man was very fired up about action. He made the point, quite accurately, in my opinion, that people can't sit and complain about the state of government if they don't want to do anything about it. Get involved. Get active in your community. Etc. I raised my hand, but the convo moved away to another subject, but I wanted to say, "I understand that people do not really have a leg to stand on if they shake their fists at the big bad government from the luxury of their Laz-y-Boys. However, I am only 26 and already I feel cynical and jaded about our system. Honestly, I am not excited about either candidate. I appreciate aspects of each, but I don't know which way I am going to vote. Furthermore, I have a lot of ideas about what could be done with many, many things in society, but frankly, I am very skeptical of my voice ever really being heard. This will be the second presidential election that I have been able to vote in, and part of me doesn't even want to. I feel like it is the same old play, just with different actors playing the lead roles. No one wants to give us a concrete plan of what they will really do to 'change' (there's my favorite word again) things; and really, how can they? I might vote for Obama or McCain, but I am going to get the hundreds of guys behind them who will push their agendas, and will probably succeed too because of what Obama or McCain would owe them for getting elected. So, yes, I want to get involved in my community. I want to start here, now, and revolutionize the candidate-picking process, voter registration standards and guidelines, the economy, schools, immigration, the war, etc. But I am tired; tired of hearing the same old thing. Tired of seeing men promise to do a bunch of stuff, and then not do it. Time after time after time. So it isn't so much apathy or laziness; it's despair of ever making a difference. My vote feels like a cotton ball thrown into the ocean."

Someone could, and probably will, come back to me and say that my cotton ball, added to everyone else's cotton ball, will blanket the ocean and change its dynamic. Hah. I've heard that before (with a dif analogy) and nothing has happened. In every aspect of life, talk is cheap.Actions are what prove the veracity of a claim. Like Eliza Doolittle sang to Freddy, "Words, words, words, I'm so sick of words, I get words all day through; first from him, now from you, is that all you blighters can do? Sing me no song, read me no rhyme, don't waste my time, show me! Don't talk of June, don't talk of fall, don't talk at all, show me!"

I am sick of 'empty rhetoric', sick of feeling like the country that was founded on the principles of government 'of the people, for the people, by the people' is now the government 'of the guys with the most money, for them and their cronies, by any corporation who forks over the big bucks'. I am sick of feeling like the only difference I can really make is confined to the marks the letters are making on this computer screen.

Well, back to the show. I have never been so enthralled by politics in my life. I could have sat there for hours, weighing the arguments of each side. Lou Dobbs is brilliant, in my opinion, and the show was amazing. He's doing this all week, and I am definitely going to tune in. I wish I could be there every night!

Cat ON the Hat, Lou Dobbs, Hanna, and A Political Rant

Only in New York. My friend and I were taking in a pre-church tea at Starbs this morning, and I casually looked out of the window at one point. Well, walking by was a guy with a cat riding on top of his baseball cap. I'm being serious. It was a black and white cat, wearing a collar with a little bell on it. And it looked perfectly content sitting on this guy's head while he was walking the streets of Midtown. I just stared for a little bit, not sure if I was seeing correctly, but I was. This guy was walking with a woman, who seemed completely unperterbed that she was with a man with odd penchants for feline positioning. Hmm. Maybe she has a dog that she carries wedged firmly up her nose.
Another interesting thing, I am going to be in the audience at the Lou Dobbs show on CNN on Monday night. He is talking about the candidates and their platforms, and me and my friends got asked to be there. So, maybe we'll be on TV! Obama and McCain are coming to Columbia on Thursday for a Presidential forum, and we all entered a lottery to get tickets for it, so if I get to go to that, this will probably turn out to be the most political week of my life.
Tropical Storm Hanna thought she'd get the best of us yesterday, but we prevailed. Even to the point of going for a lovely run in the rain and wind. It was great!! It is, to date, the first time I've been in a rainstorm with a name.
I've really been into this current election cycle. Either way, it will be an historic event: our first black pres, or our first female veep. In watching the conventions, one word stuck out to me, almost to the point of hilarity: change. I agree that a lot of things need to change, but sometimes politics makes me chuckle. I'll be the first to admit that I don't know a whole lot about it, but sometimes it feels like little more than pandering to whichever base one is currently trying to win over. No one is happy with Bush right now, it seems, so perhaps that is the reason for they were all playing the 'change card'. (Which brings me to another gripe: I am thoroughly over any statement with 'card' in it, ie. the race card, the age card, the female card, etc. etc. Let's come up with a new cliche, shall we?) So, I think that maybe all four speeches can be summed up with these few words: "I'm gonna bring the change. The other guys suck and they won't. Changity change change change." Okay, I sound a little mean, and slightly jaded, perhaps. I mean no disrespect to either candidate, and I sincerely hope that whomever gets elected makes good on his promises. I am not holding my breath though. I don't know which way I am going to vote, because there are aspects of each candidate that I agree with and respect, and each that I don't. Either way, this will be a very interesting couple of months!

Mi Primer Dia En Clinico

It was a sweaty walk the twelve blocks to my clinical sight this morning, but the anticipation gave my feet wings, and I got there an hour early. Today was the first day of community clinical, and it was absolutely wonderful. Better than I dreamed it could be. Since this is the type of setting I would like to end up in when I get my degree, I was really excited to see what it would be like; well, equal parts excited and nervous. As is my tendency when I get nervous, I started singing show tunes in my head. Today's selection was "What will today be like?" from the Sound of Music. You know, when Julie Andrews has her first day as governess? Love that song. Anyway, the clinic is located in my neighborhood, which is probably 95% Dominican American. All of our patients today spoke Spanish, and a large percentage spoke Spanish primarily. My preceptor was so great; we hit it off right away, and she really showed me a lot. Next week, I get to start doing shots all by myself! I can't wait. One elderly woman came in complaining of pain in her hands and legs; she spoke only Spanish, so my preceptor spoke to her, and I just listened, desperate to learn this beautiful language. That's one of my goals for this semester: learn enough Spanish to be conversant, and by the time I graduate, to be fluent. Lofty, I know, but I want to do it. Well, I caught a few words here and there, but then my preceptor had to leave for a sec to grab something, and I was left there with this crying lady, whom I so earnestly wanted to comfort. I patted her on the back, and then, haltingly, said, "Yo parle un poquito Espanol. Lo siento." ( I have no idea if that sentence structure is correct!) She understood me, though, and nodded, "Si!" and then I pointed to her hands and said, "Los manos, mal?" "Si!"she said. Pointing to her left hand, "Un poquito" and to her right "Mas mal". So I got the drift that one hand hurt more than the other. Well, the day was filled with encounters like this, which I loved! The other nurses who work there are fab; two of them took me and my fellow nursing student to a great little Dominican restaurant a block away and we got really yummy food for very cheap. On the way back, they pointed out to us two very imaginative manequins; they were probably equivalent to 5'6" with a size double-D chest. And a large behind. And an unproportionately small waist. Nice. Gag.
So, I am loving my placement, and learning Spanish. Today's words ( don't know if spelled right):
Los ohos - eyes
Los orihos - ears
Los manos- hands
La brassa- arm
Los nares-nose
La boca- mouth
enfermera- nurse
medico(a)- doctor of medicine
doctore- doctor with any doctorate degree
Las piernas- legs
Dolor de garganta- sore throat
Donde le duele?-where does it hurt?
And my favorite, 'mi corazon'- my heart, which my preceptor called me. So sweet. I'm bummed I'm only there for five weeks, but I go to OB next, so I'll get my babies again...it's been too long!
It was a great day, Praise God, and I am anxious to learn even more.

Tomfoolery

So, I just had the best weekend ever in DC! Sooo much fun, and got to hang out with some great people. Now that August is done, and I have to get back to the grind tomorrow, I thought I'd chronicle some recently ridiculous things that have happened to me.

I took a bus from our Chinatown to DC's Chinatown on Friday, and discovered, when I needed to use the bathroom, that it did not come equipped with toilet paper. Or a cleaning service. Or any kind of hand washing/hand sanitizing device. Luckily, I had Kleenex in my purse because I was fighting a doozy of a cold all week, so I made due. So, thinking that I might find the same sitch on the bus on the way back today, I made sure to be stocked with Kleenex, and really to try to avoid using the bathroom at all if I could possibly help it. We were about two bumpy, jostly hours outside of NYC when I realized that I could not possibly help it. I had seen plenty of people come and go to the bathroom ( I should stop calling it that; that descriptor is too generous. Let's call it the very-smelly-plastic-hole-i

n-a-bench closet.)so I figured I would be safe; what could be worse than last time? Oh-ho, was I about to find out! With my Kleenex in hand, I made my way back, quickly noticing two things. First off, you could smell it before you even got close. Second, everyone was looking at me slightly askance as I went in, but I didn't really think of it. As I closed the door and turned around, I saw a black garbage bag on the front portion of the seat. Realizing that this is not a normal fixture of most toilet facilities that I am familiar with, I stood there for a sec, deciding what to do. Upon closer inspection, it revealed that it was covered with small ponds of liquid. Yes, ponds. Since the bag was black, I couldn't tell if the liquid was human-originated or not, from someone with poor aim, or simply a garbage bag that gave off condensation. Since I'd never seen one of those, I'm gonna go with option number 1. I gingerly tried to move it out of the way, and discovered the reason that it was there...
A big, and I mean BIG, puddle of vomit or diarrhea lurked underneath, awaiting unsuspecting users. Suddenly the liquid-drenched bad didn't look so bad. I was in shock, and still two hours from NYC. Weighing the options of either dealing with a burst bladder or possible E.coli or shigella infection from said disgusting garbage bag, I decided to go the very gross route and use the toilet. It was the lesser of two evils, but only very slightly lesser. Well, let's just say that I've never felt so completely disgusting in my entire life. I was like, 'Go to your happy place, Stef. Go there. It's better than a burst bladder or wet pants. It could be worse. It could be on the entire seat instead of just half of it. It could be smeared on the walls too...oh wait. It is.' To really top things off, the toilet wouldn't flush. I burst out of there with a look of revulsion on my face, thankful that I was still alive. Two girls sitting nearby burst out laughing and said, "Yup. That look says it all." I vowed to myself that I would take a shower with a steel brush and lye when I got home. This was so completely gross that I don't want to think about it anymore.Needless to say, I won't be using this bus company again.

While trying to distract myself from this harrowing experience, I looked up and painted on the front wall of the bus read a sign, "We are not response for any belonging." Really? Apparently not response for any cleaning either. Then I looked out of the window and we just happened to be going by a huge billboard with the picture of a baby's scrunched up face next to the text, "You're not the only one concerned with gas. Find out more at bonbebe.com."
God likes to cheer me up with humorous situations, I think.

Leaving a friend's apartment tonight, one of my favorite strappy sandals finally broke. It was impossible to walk in, so after my friends so lovingly fireman-carried me a block, they suggested I stop in to a local Chinese restaurant to get a plastic bag to put over my foot, so I could walk home. We were only a few blocks from home, but at the rate we were going with my silly sandal, it would take until tomorrow to get there. So, I got a bag and it said on it, with a big yellow smiley face, "Thank You! Have a nice day!" Allie decided that I was going to start a bag-on-foot-as-shoe trend, and she was going to design a stiletto version.

While this was happening, there was a probably 35ish yr. old guy with a friend or two standing around, chewing the cud, and they saw us. The 35yr old said to us, "Hey! White girls! Look, there be white girls! Ladies, I'm the only white guy in this neighborhood who's still single. Hey!" We kept walking, ignoring him, while he continued to shout after us. He finished up with, "You don't know what you're missing! I'm the only still-single guy!" You know, I don't think that I really want to find out what I'm missing. I'll just keep missing it. After a day of a hot, smelly bus full of human expulsion of some sort, a bagged foot, and the heckling of 'the only single white guy in your neighborhood', I decided to call it a night.

Who'da Thunk It?

Today was a very interesting day. I finally got out of my room (I've been sick in bed the last four days, minus a brief excursion yesterday) and had to enjoy the beautiful weather. It has been magnificently comfortable, sunny, and delightful to be out in. I walked around the East side today, exploring an area that I don't often find myself in. To start, I walked down Fifth Ave and worked up the guts to go into Tiffany's. I wasn't entirely sure if they'd let me in; I don't look like a trust-fund kid or an heiress, but I put on my haughtiest look, and breezed on in past the doormen. Once I got inside, I realized that every paunchy man with a fanny pack and an 'I (Heart) NY' t-shirt in New York was there, so apparently, I had nothing to worry about. Still, I felt like I had accomplished something significant, just by getting in. I went up to the second floor, where they keep the pearl jewelry, diamond jewelry, and engagement rings, and browsed. What I saw took my breath away, literally. I've never really been one for the bling, but this stuff was incredible. One sapphire and diamond necklace that I was absolutely entranced by had a price tag of $425, 000.00. That's right. Enough to finance my entire education, twice over. Or buy a really nice house. Or sponsor a bunch of orphans for life! Something I found really fascinating was watching (hopefully subtly) the elegantly dressed men standing mutely by while their girlfriends tried on ridiculously expensive engagement rings. Now, I'm not saying that I wouldn't be totally floored if my beloved bought me a Tiffany engagement ring, but I'd make him take it back. I couldn't live with myself for wearing something that many people died getting (ever see Blood Diamond?), and which the money used to by it could have been going to something that would benefit many people in more profound ways than finger icing. Sure, easy for me to say. I don't have a Tiffany engagement ring. But still. I just couldn't reconcile someone spending that much on a rock.
As I walked around this great city that is becoming home more every day, I did a lot of contemplation and soul searching. I discovered that New York has done one of two things to me. It has either brought out things in me that were always there but I never realized, or developed in me characteristics that are completely new. For example, I've never loved shopping as much as I do here. My whole life, I actually abhored it. But here, were it not for the budget, I'd probs go at least once a week. Also, one of my favorite things to do is go get a mani/pedi. Those who know me well know that I never ever paint my fingernails, but here, I can't get enough of it. Bizarre. I've also learned that there are certain places in town that are very dangerous for me to be in.
1)Zara--I love this store; I am almost guaranteed to drop a significant amount of cash if I walk in here, even if I didn't need anything to begin with.
2)H&M--same as with Zara
3)Anthropologie -- ditto
4)Barnes and Nobles -- each time I walk in, I innocently think to myself that I am just going to browse and then leave; hardly ever happens without a new book in hand
5) Whole Foods, Trader Joes -- same. I could have a fridge full of food, but Oh! Blueberries on sale! And strawberries!
6) I am absolutely weak for anything British. I hear that accent and I immediately start following that person like a dog who hasn't eaten in weeks. Truly, it is embarrasing how much I like all things British. I can't get enough. I have become a true Anglophile.
7) Tea shops -- it used to be that I would not allow myself down the tea/coffee aisle at Cub or Rainbow, because I knew it would lead to no good. I already have enough tea to last me the rest of the year. But no matter what, without fail, whenever I go down a tea aisle at any store, I want one of each. Yes. I know. I can see you shaking your head. But it is true.

People watching is one of the great NY pasttimes. I've seen some crazy stuff, but here are my three favorites:

More Nuggets from Keller

Here's some more good stuff from Keller's The Reason for God:

On Hell:

In short, hell is simply one's freely chosen identity apart from God on a trajectory into infinity. We see this process "writ small" in addictions to drugs, alcohol, gambling, and pornography. First, there is disintegration, because as time goes on you need more and more of the addictive substance to get an equal kick, which leads to less and less satisfaction. Second, there is the isolation, as increasingly you blame others and circumstances in order to justify your behavior, "No one understands! Everyone is against me!" is muttered in greater and greater self-pity and self-absorption. When we build our lives on anything but God, that thing -- though a good thing -- becomes an enslaving addiction, something we have to have to be happy.
In his fantasy The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis describes a busload of people from hell who come to the outskirts of heaven. There, they are urged to leave behind the sins that have trapped them in hell--but they refuse.
Hell begins with a grumbling mood, always complaining, always blaming others...but you are still distinct from it. You may even criticize it in yourself and wish you could stop it. But there may come a day when you can no longer. Then there will be no you left to criticize the mood or even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself, going on forever like a machine. It is not a question of God "sending us" to hell. In each of us there is something growing, which will BE HELL unless it is nipped in the bud.
That is why it is a travesty to picture God casting people into a pit who are crying "I'm sorry! Let me out!" The people on the bus from hell in Lewis's parable would rather have their "freedom", as they define it, than salvation. Their delusion is that, if they glorified God, they would somehow lose power and freedom...As Romans 1:24 says, God "gave them up to their desires..."All God does in the end with people is give them what they most want, including freedom from Himself. What could be more fair than that?

On worship:

In Easter Everywhere: A Memoir, Darcey Steinke recounts how she, the daughter of a Lutheran minister, left her Christian profession. Moving to New York City she entered a life of club-hopping and sexual obsession. She wrote several novels. She continued, however, to be extremely restless and unfulfilled. In the middle of the book she quotes from Simone Weil to summarize the main issue in her life. "One has only the choice between God and idolatry", Weil wrote. "If one denies God...one is worshipping some things of this world in the belief that one sees them only as such, but in fact, though unknown to oneself imagining the attributes of Divinity in them."
A life not centered on God leads to emptiness. Building our lives on something besides God not only hurts us if we don't get the desires of our hearts, but also if we do. Few of us get all of our wildest dreams fulfilled in life, and therefore it is easy to live in the illusion that if you were as successful, wealthy, popular, or beautiful as you wished, you'd finally be happy and at peace. That just isn't so.

On grace:

The most liberating act of free, unconditional grace demands that the recipient give up control of his or her life. Is that a contradiction? No, not if you remember the point of Chapters 3 and 9. We are not in control of our lives. We are all living for something and we are controlled by that, the true lord of our lives. If it is not God, it will endlessly oppress us. It is only grace that frees us from the slavery of self that lurks even in the middle of morality and religion. Grace is only a threat to the illusion that we are free, autonomous selves, living life as we choose...The gospel makes it possible to have such a radically different life. Christianity's basic message differs at root with the assumptions of traditional religion. The founders of every other major religion essentially came as teachers, not as saviors. They came to say: "Do this and you will find the divine." But Jesus came essentially as a savior rather than a teacher (though He was that as well). Jesus says, "I am the divine come to you, to do what you could not do for yourselves." The Christian message is that we are saved not by our record, but by Christ's record. So Christianity is not religion or irreligion. It is something else altogether.

An Eye for an Eye?

I am reading a great book right now, by Bodie and Brock Thoene called Fifth Seal. It has made me think about what life must have been like for Mary and Joseph just after they got married, and when it was apparent that she was pregnant already. In the book, they are going to a bar mitzvah and Mary's mother Anna gives them advice about how to handle the gossip of the town. She says:

"Head high at the bar mitzvah. And keep your mind clear...Smile at them if they fall silent as you pass. Remember, when they're talking about you, they're giving somebody else a rest. Pray for them, children. They violate the commandment not to murder with words as sharp as daggers. With speculation and lies passed on to others they bear false witness against the Lord's Anointed. Against the Son of David! An unkind word is a sword aimed at your heart, Mary. Meant to pierce you through with discouragement. The Lord, who is Judge of all, will break the blade of the slanderer one day. Pray for those who speak badly of you. Pity them."

What a miracle it would be to have a heart that reacted like this in the face of gossip. It's tragically ironic that the One Who is the Truth should be always attacked with lies. It happened then, it happens now. Jesus asked His disciples, "Who do you say I am?" He asks us still today. The answer is right there. The Son of God. The Son of Man. The Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Rereading what Anna spoke to Mary above pierces me as I see how often I participate in gossip or think wrongly of another. Also, my heart does not want to react with grace and pray when someone says something hurtful. It wants to catalogue all of the misdeeds and pains that it has received and respond in kind. But yuck. I don't want to be like that. I pray God give me the grace to respond with love and prayer to the sharp arrows of criticism or slander, and take as my example the compassion of our Lord as He died in agony: "Forgive them Father; they know not what they do."

Shoot the Freak

I was at Coney Island a few weeks ago, and I saw the most bizarre thing, a big pit with "Shoot the Freak" written above it, where you actually shot at a guy running around in there. So awful! I can't believe they'd even have something like that! And then, a week later, I was reading the NYTimes, and there was an entire article about it. Here's some excerpts:

From 'It's a Living: Acting Like a Freak and Getting Shot' by Corey Kilgannon

"Jose Pico, 17, just became a freak. So far, it's working out well. 'My cousin was working here as a freak, and he got fired, so they hired me,' said Jose, who has been working for only a week at Shoot the Freak, a popular game on the Coney Island Boardwalk. Customers pay to shoot paint balls at a young man in full pads, scurrying around a vacant lot. Jose said he picked up the job right away. His twin brother, Eric Pico, also works as a freak there, and helped train him. 'It's not that hard,' Jose said Wednesday. 'You run around and act freaky so people will want to shoot you more. Not much to learn...I was working at a beauty products store, doing inventory, but my brother said, "Yo, they need another freak: you should do it"', he said, still texting. 'It definitely pays more than the beauty products store. I was making $7.50 an hour. Plus, you're outside. I meet a lot of girls out here, even though I'm wearing the costume and I'm the freak. They're interested in meeting the freak."

Okay, by this point in the article, I was laughing out loud. I had to make sure something from the Onion hadn't been accidentally slipped into the Times. I mean, honestly. He meets a lot of girls here? Seriously?? Umm...yeah. Can you imagine?
"Gee, Stef, who are you dating these days?"
"Well, I met this really freaky guy. Literally. He's a freak."
"Wow, Stef, that's really mean, you shouldn't call your boyfriend a freak! That's horrible!"
"No, seriously, he IS a freak. THE freak, in fact. And it was love at first shot..."

I could go on, but I'm already annoying myself with that dream sequence. The article continues:

"The owner of Shoot the Freak, Anthony Berlingieri, said his freaks earned $100 to $200 a day. He said Jose's cousin was fired because he could not wake up early enough to get to work on time, at 11 a.m. The barker, [the guy who calls out to people, "Hey, don't you want to shoot the freak?"etc.] appropriately named Tommy Conwell, tried to draw in customers. Mr. Conwell, 24, of Bensonhurst, has a Brooklyn accent that should be donated to the Smithsonian. Using a headset microphone, he invited anyone within hearing distance to step right up and shoot the freak. Asked about the latest addition to the freak staff, he looked over at Jose and shrugged.
'He's good,' Mr. Conwell said. 'Some days he moves around and acts like a freak, which is good. Unless you get shooters who want him to stand still. A freak can stand still, too. Either way, people love shooting the freak, and they always will'. His point was borne out momentarily, as two young women, tourists from Italy, walked up. One asked about the prices.
'Just read the wall', Mr. Conwell said, ever the gentleman...[He] lead the women to the guns and showed them how to shoot the new freak. 'Bang, you just shoot him in the head, see?' he said. The women giggled and began pelting Jose with pellets."

I get the feeling that the author and editors were probably laughing quite hard when they put this article together. It just drips with subtle ridicule. But really, I can't say that I blame them. I truly can't believe that people would find enjoyment out of shooting someone, much less someone called a freak?!? No one should ever be shot at, and if someone is really what would be considered a 'freak', he should be treated with compassion and care, not be shot at. Perhaps I'm too much of a bleeding heart, but honestly! This is nuts.

Txtng

As a very frequent texter, I was immediately drawn to this article. I was recently introduced to the practice of signing off texts or emails with 'xxx' by a British friend of mine; hadn't really heard of it before in texting context. I had usually just associated 'xoxo' with close friends or romantic interests, but it seems in UK, this is as common of a sign-off as a :) is for me. I like it; it makes me feel like I am getting a greeting from a sender who loves me, platonically in this case. So, when I saw this article in the London Times, I realized that it is a nationwide practice, and it educated me on British cultural practices. It is a rather long article, but pretty interesting!

From The Sunday Times

August 10, 2008

O gr8, now even strangers are sending txts with kisses

An explosion in text messaging is breaking down social barriers, encouraging instant flirtations – and leading to serious embarrassments

Giles Hattersley

How many times did you “x” today? I did it four times and had it done to me by 13 people. Nine x’s were from friends, three from an overfamiliar PR and one from . . . my mother. It seems that nowadays it’s impossible, downright rude in fact, to sign off a text with anything other than a techno-peck.

But is a single x enough any more? Just one can look so perfunctory and two can imply little more than mwah-mwah sophistication – so you’ll need at least three to register giddy enthusiasm or actual romantic intent.

And x’s are only the beginning of the texting minefield. Scrolling through the inbox on my mobile, I find an entire week of professional and personal relationships lived out through acronyms and emoticons: friendships maintained with a simple :-), a date set up (oh dear – when I wrote “lol” I meant “laugh out loud”, not “lots of love”), bosses placated and family members held conveniently at arm’s length, all via the tapping of my thumbs.

In isolation, these texts seem no more consequential than the notes we used to pass around in class; but thanks to their sheer volume they need to be taken rather more seriously. In the UK alone, 1.2 billion text messages are sent every week, more than were sent in the whole of 1997, the year that texting arrived on these shores.

Change is afoot. What began as a means to fire off useful flecks of information – a meeting time, an address – has become not just a social facilitator, but also a social bulldozer. By dint of their ubiquity and enforced casualness, texts are breaking down class barriers, work hierarchies and social awkwardness. They are the new great leveller and, one could argue, they have had the positive effect of making us all more friendly. They are also making us careless.

A recent report revealed that young urban men have taken to regularly texting “wot u up 2?” to the entire female half of their phone books because they’re feeling bored and flirty. Women, meanwhile, are highly prone to gossip at length via text – and even more indiscreetly than they would in person – trading up to 20 or 30 messages at a sitting. No mean feat when you consider that, on average, women not only write longer messages than men, but are also twice as likely to use formal grammar.

In the past seven days I’ve sent and received 187 texts, which somewhat embarrassingly puts my texting habit on a par with a 13-year-old girl’s. I’m not alone. While teenagers may still top the charts for the number of texts they send, the majority of texters are now adults.

By 2010, it has been estimated, half the world’s population will have a mobile – some 3 billion people – and somewhere between a quarter and a half of that number will text regularly.

Even now it’s almost impossible for me to imagine a day going by without hearing that reassuring double ping, or feeling that discreet vibration, that lets me know that a little envelope icon has popped up on my screen to make me feel that I’m, well, part of things.

Of course, that envelope, with its overtones of formal, dignified communication, is misleading. Having weaned ourselves from cave walls, papyrus and parchment and progressed to typewriters, faxes and e-mail, it turns out that 3,000 years of polite human correspondence have left us unprepared for the text effect.

The initial panic was about language. It was feared that the fast-established patois of text messages, known as “txt-spk” or “textese” – would somehow dismantle English as we know it. If children spell mate as m8, atoms as @oms or translate “hope to see you soon” as h2cus, what hope is there for future national literacy rates?

However, the occasional infraction aside – such as the woman who had to be told by a judge recently that she couldn’t call her daughter O.crnia (Oceania) – this concern has proved misplaced. Professor David Crystal, in his excellent new book txtng: the gr8 db8, argues conclusively that even the most gibberish-addicted teens scoff at the idea of using textese anywhere other than on their mobiles or in internet chatrooms.

He even claims that the playful nature of texting encourages inventiveness and can help the cause of literacy. And there’s no doubt that it can be simply good, clean fun, such as when a friend texts you Homer Simpson’s face: ~(_8-^(|) (clue: it helps if you turn this page on its side).

“The research into linguistics and texting is pretty solid,” Crystal tells me, “but the social consequences of texting are only beginning to be seen. It is now a social marker and you can be judged on it as such.”

And that’s where an element of danger comes in, chiefly because texting is so inherently unceremonious. Before it arrived on the scene, almost all human communiqués, even if they were dispatched electronically, could be teased up to resemble a formal letter: “Dear . . .” at the top, appropriate line spacing, paragraphs and a sign-off that included the sender’s name.

Perhaps the nearest we came to the text was the telegram, but whereas thrift dictated that telegrams were largely emotionless (“WAR OVER STOP COMING HOME”), texting has already become the greatest catalyst for sinful overexpression and instant intimacy since the pill.

Without warning, we have started having all sorts of relationships with people we might otherwise have barely acknowledged. Work acquaintances, casual friends, even the estate agent, are suddenly sending us virtual billets-doux filled with personal information and delivered in a pally tone, which tend to arrive when you’re in bed or have just hopped out of the shower. The temptation to spill is immense – maybe add one of those little x’s in your reply? But be warned: the potential for fallout is high.

Take the example of Ed, a university graduate from Manchester who applied for a job with a top accountancy firm in London. After a virtuoso performance at the interview, the vice-president in charge of recruitment gave him his mobile number in case he had any questions. Young Ed thought nothing of texting him the next day with the following message: “m8, wot a gr8 intvw!! u shld def give me the job lol.”

Needless to say, the vice-president did not oblige. “The problem,” said the recruitment consultant who told me this story, “is not that he was a stupid person per se; it was because he was texting and thought that text rules applied.”

Kristina Grish, who interviewed hundreds of adult texters for her recent book, The Joy of Text, tells me: “The thing that’s both good and bad about texting is that it gives us a false sense of connection. It’s just so easy to be brazen, funny and even raunchy, to overreveal and say things you really shouldn’t because there’s this overwhelming sense of immediate kinship.”

She recalls being surprised at a party one evening when two acquaintances, who didn’t know one another well and had been standing at opposite ends of the bar, suddenly upped and left within moments of one another. It turned out that they had spent the evening frantically texting across the room, engaging in a kind of electro-foreplay, until the man could bear it no longer and texted: “i hav 2 hav u now. mt me outsd in 5m.”

“Traditionally, intimacy was developed over a long series of meaningful interactions, but text messages create this fast and furious pace that turns so many of us on. It’s techno-lust and you jump on it,” says Grish.

By revealing so much of ourselves so fast, the risk is that we either lead the other party on, or alienate him or her. How do we negotiate the new rules of textual engagement?

“There are some rules here, for sure,” says Grish. “For one, your text persona should always match your nontext one. If you’re funny and shy, text that way.

“Secondly, whether it’s a friend, colleague or potential lover, you have to respond to personal texts in an appropriate time-frame. If you’re at work, it’s acceptable to leave it till the end of the day. If it’s the weekend, you must text back within three hours at most. Anything more is just rude.”

Fast-thumbed lotharios must also watch out. “Texting makes it easier to have affairs, to set up a rendezvous or text your lover from under the table,” she continues. “But a lot of women aren’t shy about hacking into a phone or a BlackBerry and reading what their partners have been up to. It’s the modern equivalent of finding a restaurant receipt in your husband’s pocket.”

It’s clear that we need to adopt a more cautious approach, but there’s also a problem with being overformal with our texts. Dan Hawes, co-founder of the Graduate Recruitment Bureau, who helps scores of university leavers into employment, says that it sometimes pays to be matey: “There are firms where there is either a more old-school culture or a big generation divide for whom texting is not going to work – but if you’re texting someone at Google, they won’t bat an eyelid. In fact, coming across as too stiff could be even worse.”

Crystal says: “The problem is that the whole phenomenon is less than a decade old and it’s still evolving fast and will continue to do so.”

Where does that leave us when it comes to “x” etiquette? “The number one surprise I discovered,” says Grish, “is that women love throwing the x’s around and men are damned confused by them. My advice would be: don’t type it until you’ve done it.”

THE TEXT FILES

- John Prescott nearly lost his job as deputy prime minister in 2006, thanks to phone texts. His extracurricular romance with Tracey Temple, his diary secretary, came to light only when Temple’s lorry driver boyfriend discovered texts from Prezza on her mobile. She sold her story to a tabloid newspaper shortly afterwards.

- Matti Vanhanen, the Finnish prime minister, dumped his girlfriend by text in 2006, issuing an incisive: “It’s over.”

- In 2006 Jane Garvey – then a Radio 5 Live presenter – got into hot water for reading out a text from a listener. “Why don’t you give airtime to the thousands of people who write to Blair and tell him what a tosser he is?” she announced breezily. The splutters of her co-host were audible.

- When The Accident Group (a company that pursued personal injury claims) went bust in 2003, Mark Langford, the director, sacked 2,500 of his staff by text message. “Urgent. Unfortunately salaries not paid. Please do not contact office. Full details to follow later today.”

- On his 21st birthday in 2005 Prince Harry received a text wishing him many happy returns. He was astonished to discover that it came from his grandmother.

Words from Keller

I'm reading this great book right now by the pastor of the church that I go to out here. It is called "The Reason for God" and goes through pretty much every argument that people have against believing in God and Christianity, and then what the Gospel really is. Here's some selected passages that I found so impactful:

"The popular concept--that we should each determine our own morality--is based on the belief that the spiritual realm is nothing at all like the rest of the world. Does anyone really believe that? ...One of the most frequent statements that I heard was that "Every person has to define right and wrong for him- or herself." I always responded to the speaker by asking, "Is there anyone in the world right now doing things you believe they should stop doing no matter what they personally believe about the correctness of their behavior?" They would invariably say, "Yes, of course." Then I would ask, "Doesn't that mean you do believe there is some kind of moral reality that is 'there' that is not defined by us, that must be abided by regardless of what a person feels or thinks?" Almost always, the response to that question was a silence, either a thoughtful or a grumpy one."

(about Christian fanaticism)
"Think of people you consider fanatical. They're overbearing, self-righteous, opinionated, insensitive, and harsh. Why? It's not because they are too Christian but because they are not Christian enough. They are fanatically zealous and courageous, but they are not fanatically humble, sensitive, loving, empathetic, forgiving, or understanding--as Christ was. Because they think of Christianity as a self-improvement program, they emulate the Jesus of the whips in the temple, but not the Jesus who said, "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone" (John 8:7). What strikes us as overly fanatical is actually a failure to be fully committed to Christ and His gospel."

(Answering the question, "How can a God of love be also a God filled with wrath and anger?)
In Christianity, God is both a God of love and of justice. Many people struggle with this. They believe that a loving God can't be a judging God. Like most other Christian ministers in our society, I have been asked literally thousands of times, "How can a God of love be also a God filled with wrath and anger? If he is loving and perfect, he should forgive and accept everyone. He shouldn't get angry." I always start my response by pointing out that all loving persons are sometimes filled with wrath, not just despite of but because of their love. If you love a person and you see someone ruining them--even themselves--you get angry. As Becky Pippert puts it in her book Hope Has Its Reasons:
Think how we feel when we see someone we love ravaged by unwise actions or
relationships. Do we respond with benign tolerance as we might towards strangers?
Far from it...Anger isn't the opposite of love. Hate is, and the final form of hate is
indifference...God's wrath is not a cranky explosion, but His settled opposition to the
cancer...which is eating out the insides of the human race He loves with His whole
being.

(the Meaning of sin)
Soren Kierkegaard said, "Sin is: in despair not wanting to be oneself before God...Faith is: that the self in being itself and wanting to be itself is grounded transparently in God." Sin is the despairing refusal to find your deepest identity in your relationship and service to God. Sin is seeking to become oneself, to get an identity, apart from Him...Our need for worth is so powerful that whatever we base our identity and value on we essentially 'deify'. We will look to it with all the passion and intensity of worship and devotion, even if we think of ourselves as highly irreligious. Ernest Becker uses romantic love as an illustration:
The self-glorification that (modern man) needed in his innermost nature he now looked
for in the love partner. The love partner becomes the divine ideal within which to fulfill
one's life. Spiritual and moral needs now become focused on one individual.
Becker is not saying that everyone looks to romance and love for a sense of self. Many look not to romance but rather to work and career for cosmic significance. He continues:
No human relationship can bear (this) burden of godhood...If your partner is your 'All',
then any shortcoming in him becomes a major threat to you...What is it that we want
when we elevate the love partner to this position? We want to be rid of...our feeling of
of nothingness...to know our existence has not been in vain. We want redemption--
nothing less. Needless to say, humans cannot give this.
In our contemporary individualistic culture, we tend to look to our achievements, our social status, our talents, or our love relationships. There are an infinite variety of identity-bases. Some get their sense of "self" from gaining and wielding power, others from human approval, others from self-discipline and control. But everyone is building their identity on something."



I could seriously copy the entire book here, but this is probs enough for now. It is just so great because Keller has been living with and responding to the hard questions that New Yorkers pose to him for years, and with much humility and thoughtfulness, yet with a strict adherence to the Bible, he answers.

Reprieve, Finally

The last few days have been just wonderful. On Friday night, after our week of intensity, we got all dressed up and went out on the town; it was so good to just be with friends and have a good time. Craig, Claire and I split off early (early here is 1am) and walked around and got some pizza before going home. I think it was the stress of the week and the lack of sleep, but I got a major case of the giggles. We were waiting for our train, it was 2:30am, and Craig was singing Christmas songs, and said something that I thought was soooo funny that I couldn't stop laughing. Honestly, the whole train ride home, I was laughing so hard that my stomach and cheeks hurt! I'd calm down, and then think of what he said, and lose it again. There were some guys sitting across from us, and they said something to Craig about me, don't know what, but I'm pretty sure they thought I was on something. I most definitely was not. That's just the way I get when I'm so overtired; everything is the height of hilarity! Anyway, it was a fun night, and I got some great sleep that night. Saturday, I just knobbed around the city, ran some errands, sat and people watched. Sunday, went to church, and met Dad at Coney Island. Yesterday was amazing; we went to Central Park and laid out all afternoon, watching the clouds drift by and seeing what pictures they made, talking about everything and anything, drifting into filthy medic chat every now and then, but Gig was militant about not letting us say anything about school, bless her heart! I miss you already, G!! Then the boys came and we walked around and went to this completely delicious Mexican restaurant for dinner--probably the best Mexican food I've had in this city to date! Today, I got up, went for an incredible run through Central Park, which is one of my most favorite things to do here, and ran errands the rest of the morning. The day is beautiful; sky so blue with those big fluffy clouds that make me wish I could go and jump on them! I so wish I could do that.
So, the subway ride back from Central Park was pretty fun today. I had a car all to myself; it was lunch time, so I would have thought it would be full, but it wasn't. So, after I got over the weirdness of it, I was like, "Hey, one of my fave songs is on my IPod right now (I Have a Dream from Mamma Mia) so I just belted it out. Sang so loud that it filled the car. And it was so much fun! I almost danced up and down and swung around the poles! I sang my heart out, and I love that song so much, that I was so glad that God let me have that car all to myself for a few stops, which turned out to be the duration of the song. You know, now that I think of it, I wonder if there are cameras in every car? So maybe the train driver was wondering what this sweaty blond girl was doing singing like she was in a Broadway musical. Then again, maybe not. This is New York and strange is status quo here.
I am so happy I can hardly stand it. I love this city, I love my friends, I love having free time, I love the day, I just love it all. And now I'm leaving to go out to a movie with a dear friend. Honestly, what a blessed day!