Bucket of Confidence

*3/9 update - SHE PASSED!  :)

If you have followed my blog for any length of time, then you have met my friend Alex.  While I was making the trek to Kenya, she was off to Germany to do research for Ohio State. 

Alex is getting ready to give what feels like the test of her lifetime.  She is in the Material Sciences program at Ohio State (don't ask me what that actually entails - I generally fudge my way through that question when people ask me) and is getting ready for her Ph.D. candidacy test on Tuesday.  The test basically determines whether she will continue on to the Ph.D. program and receive her Masters in the process or whether this is the end of the line for her, stopping with a Masters.  It's a several hour long verbal exam in front of a committee comprised of various faculty from within the program.  The girl has been hacking away at material by studying about 12 hours a day, all while still doing research, and trying to remain somewhat of a normal person who hasn't completely fallen off the face of the earth. 

It's proven to be a challenge. 

A girl I used to mentor, Leah, told me that she had a school teacher who told her one day after battling some insecurities, "Leah, you just need a bucket of confidence!"  Meaning, despite whatever insecurities you have, you just gotta have some confidence in yourself and your abilities!  

I decided Alex needed a bucket of confidence in preparation for her test on Tuesday.

So I put one together.  

I e-mailed friends, family, and colleagues, asking them to write Alex an encouraging note for the upcoming exam.  E-mail after e-mail came in from various people, most I had never met, who offered words of encouragement and affirmation.  I printed them each out, glued them to cardstock, stuck a popsicle stick on the back and stuck them in the bucket.

 I bought some of her favorite bags of candy and stuffed those in the bottom, along with some bags of popcorn and a gift card to some favorite places.  On one of the bags, I wrapped it in a piece of paper that said, "Just remember...you're great at giving hugs!"  The story behind that being one day Alex seemed to be having a bad day and I mentioned to her that she gave great hugs.  We laughed about this and then she said, "So if all of this fails, I should just sell my hugs on the street corners?  Does that make me a prostitute?"  Thus, now every time she tells me she's not sure about how this is all going to work out, I remind her that she's great at giving hugs.  There's always hope, my friend.

So, to you, Alex.  I have no doubt that you'll knock this test out of the park.  Despite whatever misgivings you might have about your knowledge or abilities, I am confident in you and the God we serve.   As one of the notes to you mentioned, you've been a good steward of what you've been given.  And just like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego said when they were standing before the fiery furnace - even if our God doesn't save us, we'll still worship him.  Even if this doesn't turn out like you think it should, still worship him.   

You Know It's Been A Long Day When...

In my particular job, I do a lot of correspondence with donors for our Foundation, primarily thank you notes and birthday cards.  Yesterday's job was to tackle the birthday cards for the month of March.  The job consists of printing up the envelopes and then addressing each of the cards, about 130 of them.  Inside each card I write "Dear so-and-so," and then include "Thank you for being a donor!"

Well, yesterday I got a little distracted.  I tend to be somewhat of a global thinker, someone who has one thought that leads to another that leads to another and so on (one book I recently read called this transitive thinking - I am not a psychology major so I do not know the technical terms).  So while I was busy writing my birthday cards, I was about 80 cards into it and I got to thinking about what a pain it would be to be famous and have to sign autographs all the time.  I mean, you hear people talking about how celebrities will sign autographs for hours on end.  I was only halfway into this project and my handwriting was turning out all sorts of weird just from the monotony of the task.  I'm sure if I'm ever famous (not likely, but in the event) I will limit the amount of time I spend signing autographs. 

So the celebrity thought made me think of Taylor Swift, no particular reason.  I happen to be a fan of Taylor despite most of my family's intense dislike for her.  Thoughts of Taylor led to thoughts of how I'm sure she signs things "thanks for being a fan!"

This then is what I subconsciously started writing on my birthday cards instead of "thanks for being a donor!"  Thankfully, I caught the mistake as soon as I finished the note.  But then about 20 cards later I was still distracted and wrote "thanks for being a fan" again.  I gave up on the project at that point and decided to call it a day.

Riverdance

Oh.my.heavens.  I went to see Riverdance last night at the Ohio Theater here in Columbus.  I wanted to start crying and they hadn't even made it through the first song.  I know, I cry in libraries, I cry over really beautiful works of art, I cry at the Skull Session before an Ohio State football game, and I cry watching Irish dancing.  Please don't think me a blubbering fool because anybody who knows me knows I am not prone to crying at the drop of a hat.  But there are just some moments that catch you by surprise and evoke a response that you weren't quite ready for. 

We had managed to get free tickets from my brother's fiance whose friend had given them to her and so my mom and I jumped at the chance to go.  I remember watching Riverdance on VHS as a child all the time.  I would rent it from the library on frequent occasion and watch intently as Michael Flatley did his thing.  I found it to be mesmerizing.  Of course, when you watch things like that, you think "how hard can it be?"  I always think that when I listen to Yanni play the piano.  We somehow think it can't be that difficult and that we can just sit down at the piano and bust out a tune just like he does, or in this case, that after watching one performance of Riverdance we think we can somehow be just like them at the flip of a switch.  Yeah, no.  I'll keep dreaming. 

There were so many pieces of the show that I was fascinated by - the dancing, the guy on the fiddle, the outfits, the drummer, the blonde-haired singer who had a voice to die for, the sheer athleticism of what they do night after night.  The guy playing the fiddle clearly was someone who loved his job.  I didn't think he was ever going to stop smiling.  And talk about the devil going down to Georgia - this guy could wail on the fiddle.  He just looked so dang happy while he was playing.  And it was so intuitive. For someone who is not musically inclined and had a hard time marching and playing the clarinet at the same time while in high school marching band, my hat is off to anyone who can play a musical instrument and make it look like they're breathing.  It was like it was an extension of his body, that fiddle.

Oh, and the tap dancers.  There was one act where they had a tap dancing/Irish dancing duel.  One, it was hysterical because each side mocked the other, but two, I just remember thinking "what a gift."  I mean, these guys' legs are essentially their own musical instruments.  They can control and manipulate sounds just by moving muscles and shuffling a certain way.  I was jealous.   Much like marching band, tap dancing was short-lived for me as a child.  I had what seemed a terribly embarrassing moment on stage when I was a kid and I don't think I opted to stick with tap dancing for long after that.

 

But seriously, if you ever get the chance to see Riverdance live, do it.  I don't care how cheesy you think it is or how girly.  It's worth the money.  And take me with you.  :)

The Problem With Africa

"A wise man once said that the problem with visiting Africa is that you feel forever an exile after you have left."

 - Mark C. Ross, Dangerous Beauty: Life and Death in Africa, True Stories from a Safari Guide

Why The Girl Who Loves Books Gave Hers Away

I got an award once in college and when giving some background information about me during the presentation, my friend, Travis, who was presenting the award, said something to the affect that "she's the kind of student who is more likely to spend her money on books than food."  He spoke rightly as I seem to have had an ongoing love affair with books ever since I was a young child, and if you've read this blog for any length of time you would know this because I feel like every other post involves a book somehow.

I was painfully shy as a child and I always dreaded riding the school bus because it was mostly with older students who intimidated me.  So I always had a book in my hands as a means of escape.  I remember several occasions when I would be so engrossed in a book that someone would be trying to talk to me and they would have to physically touch me in order for me to come back to reality.  I think some kids even wondered if I actually knew how to speak because I would never say anything to anyone, I was always reading.

Books upon books would line shelves in my room, all of them neatly ordered according to size.  Some people wonder how it's possible to read the same book over and over again and I say I have no problems with that.  In fact, I know I have several books that I've probably read at least half-a-dozen times.  Maybe there's a sense of comfort in that idea - I always know how the stories end.  It's predictable and safe.

I love how Cicero (although somehow I got it in my head this belonged to Chesteron) once said, "A room without books is like a body without a soul."  If that is true, then my room has plenty of soul.  I had gotten in this habit over the last couple of years of going to the local library every time they had a book sale.  I picked up many a gem for a dollar or less, but I also picked up books that I thought I would read some day.  Or sometimes I would just pick up a book or two that I thought would look good sitting on my shelf.  I've always had this vision in my head of some day having a library like the one in Beauty and the Beast (although you kinda have to have the house go to along with it, which is a pipe dream).  That is one of my very favorite scenes in the movie, when the Beast swings open the doors of his library and all you can see shelves upon shelves lined with books.  Makes me think of the Biblioteca Alexandrina in Alexandria, Egypt.  Their Main Reading Hall has eleven cascading floors and can accommodate 2,000 readers at once.  Some day I'll go there.  And I'll probably cry when I see it.  Because I love libraries.  And I love books.

That kind of got turned on its head in recent weeks.  I picked up the book Radical by David Platt.  The subtitle is 'Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream."  I won't get into the specifics of the book because, quite frankly, that's an entirely separate post in and of itself.  But let's just say it's prompted some serious thought regarding what it means being a Christian in American culture.  Have we "Christianized" the American Dream?    And as I've been reading through this book and processing the implications, I always come back to the idea that this isn't something you just merely reflect on.  These aren't principles or concepts that we are meant to just lock away in our brain and say "that's a nice thought, maybe someday."  I really appreciated one of his quotes - it was somewhat of a punch in the gut for myself, one I would probably rather ignore - but nevertheless, know I need to hear.  He said:

We are giving into the dangerous temptation to take the Jesus of the Bible and twist him into a version of Jesus we are more comfortable with.  A nice, middle-class, American Jesus.  A Jesus who doesn't mind materialism and who would never call us to give away everything we have.  A Jesus who would not expect us to forsake our closest relationships so that he receives all our affection.  A Jesus who is fine with nominal devotion that does not infringe on our comforts, because, after all, he loves us just the way we are.  A Jesus who wants us to be balanced, who wants us to avoid dangerous extremes, and who, for that matter, wants us to avoid danger all together.  A Jesus who brings us comfort and prosperity as live out our Christian spin on the American dream.

And as I was reading, he gave an anecdote or two about how people in his church were selling their homes and giving the money away.  He spoke of how families were opening their doors to foster children all across the county.  He spoke of how people were selling their possessions and using the money to go buy groceries for people in the projects.

I don't say all this to point out how we're failing in the American church or as American Christians. (Please read the book to get a full understanding of what he's getting at as I know that I'm only presenting snippets here.) But I can't ignore what the Bible says. 

So, I thought to myself one day while thinking about the book and the Bible, "What do I have to give away?  What are the things in my life that I need to start sacrificing?  The things I need to freely and joyfully give away - not because I have to or because I'm on some kind of guilt trip after reading this book, but because there is a desperate and hurting world out there and I can do something about it?  And not just things - but time, talent, abilities, knowledge?"

I decided I have books, lots of them.  How can I take my books and use them to extend the glory of God and make much of Him?  So, I went through and cleaned out my collection and I wound up with about 150 books I'm parting with, 150 books I promised I'd never get rid of.  There are still quite a few that I kept but that's still a hefty portion of what I have.

I'm still figuring out where to go from here with them.  I've thought about registering each of them on http://www.bookcrossing.com/ and then just leaving them in random places for people to pick up and enjoy.  I've thought about selling them all and using the money to give away to someone who really needs it, maybe to buy their groceries or help pay their heating bill.  (Although my original idea of selling them to Half Price Books led to a dead-end when I took 37 books in yesterday and only got SEVEN dollars in return for them.  I'd rather just give them away.) I've thought about donating them all to the local library so someone else can have the pleasure of enjoying them.

The point is that I looked at what I had - books and otherwise - and asked, "To what end?  To what end do I have all these things?  And how can I be obedient to what I'm reading in the Gospels, to not just pay lip service to a body of doctrine but to actually live out what I'm reading?"  I don't have all the answers, if anything, Radical has just caused me to ask more questions.  But I figure I have to start somewhere.  I'm not going to change the world overnight and my own life isn't going to change overnight, but I have to start somewhere.

So I'll start with books.  

*2/7/11 Update - still contemplating how to dispense of my books. If you have ideas, let me know! Would love to find a worthy place to donate, if nothing else.*

Lemony Snicket's Bitter Truths

Comments on Comment

You know, I don't get exciting mail very much anymore.  Well, minus the occasional surprises from a friend (which I always cherish) or a postcard from Starbucks that entitles me to a free drink on my birthday.  That rolls around only once-a-year, so you can see that my mail doesn't give me a whole lot to look forward to.  And I no longer have a subscription to Sports Illustrated, so double bummer. 

But then comes that one piece of mail every three months that I practically salivate over, waiting for it to arrive in my mailbox.  And then when I get it, it's like I can't read it fast enough.  My brain jumps into overdrive trying to comprehend what I'm reading, to take into my heart and my mind and allow it to be a catalyst for change.

I take notes and underline things and then spend the next week contemplating the articles, hashing them out with friends, writing my own thoughts in response to the concepts and principles shared. 

Comment, you are my very favorite piece of consistent mail. I love your layout.  I love the way the pages feel in my hands. I love that your photos are in black and white.  I love your simplicity.  I love your robust look at faith, and art, and music, and literature, and politics, and why it's good to make a better burger.  I love that you foster this idea of embracing all of life as a Christian, not just parts of life.  I love that you compel me to think differently about the city in which I live.  I love that you challenge me to ask the big questions, the hard questions, the ones I'm sometimes afraid to ask for fear no one else is asking the same thing or has an answer.

 And this latest issue seemed to speak to so many of the thoughts I have bouncing around in my head.  I think I said "yes!" to myself after every article, my mind in agreement with concepts and ideas, even if some of those things are what I merely long to put into practice rather than presently doing.  

"Christians should be doing things that are healing and redemptive rather than saying Jesus will take care of it.  That doesn't let us off the hook."  Yes! 

"Loving your neighbor requires attention to the nature of your activity in a particular place, year after year.  If young people use neighborhoods only as sleeping quarters and playgrounds, they will do harm to the neighborhood."   Yes! (And as I consider the idea of finding a new place to live, this particuarly speaks to me now.) 

"It can be difficult to remember that we are creative people called to faithfully live out unique callings - which may or may not conform to the local flavor."  Yes!

"Creating good food and welcoming tables speaks to the deepest parts of our being.  We are created to live artfully in daily life, to need real food to nourish our bodies, to have tables at which to belong, and to have stopping places where we can know and be known.  Cooking matters because people matter.  Feeding the hungry and welcoming the stranger are signposts of the Christian life."  I don't cook a whole lot, but yes!

"I return to Frederick Buechner's quote, 'The place where God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.' Since the world's deep hunger is present everywhere, why not focus on finding your great gladness?  By this I don't mean, 'why not just live for pleasure,' but what do you already know about what you love?  Can you make beauty?  Then be an artist.  Do you love to read?  Then study literature."  Double yes!

So, thank you, Comment, for entering my little corner of the world (and to Travis for introducing me to it).  

I can't wait for your next issue.   

When You're the Best of Friends...

"When you're the best of friends,
Having so much fun together,
You're not even aware, you're such a funny pair.
You're the best of friends."

My nephew just turned three in October.  He might as well speak Dutch because I can't understand him half the time.  Sounds and syllables never quite come out like they should and most of the time you have to ask him to repeat himself at least three times before it dawns on you what he's saying.  Or you just smile and nod and he goes on his merry way. 
 
If there was ever a little boy, it's Rocco, for he is surely all boy.  I don't think I've ever met a kid who likes to wrestle as much as he does.  And it doesn't matter who.  He's convinced, I think, that he can knock my dad over and take him out with one punch to the belly.  The other day we were playing around and he asked me if I wanted to wrestle.  My mom overheard him and she half-jokingly said, "Now, Rocco - there's no wrestling in this house."  He then proceeds to get the saddest face you have ever seen, sticks his lip out, looks like he's about to cry, walks over to the couch and says, "Ohhhhh, man!" He then flings himself down on the couch, with his nose stuck in the cushions, acting like it's the end of the world.  I had to work so hard at stifling my laughter. 
 
But the other day was probably the most precious moment I've ever had with him.  We were waiting on the extended family to arrive to celebrate Christmas (we do it a week early so that we have half-a-chance of actually getting everybody in one location on the same day).  So, to kill time we decide to build a tent, using the back of the couch and the living room railing as our means of support.  I fling a blanket over top of everything, hang another small blanket on the side so we could have a door, and voila! a tent.  We crawl underneath and stuff some pillows in so we can lay down.  Rocco's laying (lying? Sorry, Mrs. Faulk, I can still never remember the difference despite your best efforts in 7th and 8th grade English) next to me and we're just real quiet for a moment.  And then he rolls over to look at me and touches me on the arm, saying so sincerely, with his big brown eyes fixed on mine:
 
"Tortney, you're my vwery best fwend."
 
Nearly made me cry my eyes out right there.  The most precious thing I've encountered in awhile.  
 
But the moment was quickly forgotten in his mind as people began streaming in the door.  
 
But not for me.  It's one I'll cherish for a long time to come.

Dear Blank Please Blank

I am slightly obsessed with a new-to-me website that my cousin told me about.  It's a general time-waster, but man, it's funny.  It's called "Dear Blank Please Blank" and people can submit little one-liners that are written to whomever, followed by "please _________," followed by a closing of some kind.  I think the site is hysterical and I check it frequently, especially when I need a laugh.  I present to you some of my favorites:

Dear Scholarship Application Requirements,

So, in the off-chance that I'm not a blind, left-handed, Lebanese-Inuit majoring in Sustainable Pear Farming, how should I pay for college?

Sincerely, 99.9% of the Population.

Dear Prince Charming,

Who wants a castle when you could have a whole new world?

Sincerely, Aladdin.

Dear Little Miss Muffet,

What the heck is a 'tuffet?'

Sincerely, Little Children around the World.

Dear school spirit week,

I swear I'm not the only decade.

Sincerely, the 80's.

Dear Google,

Please 'auto-complete' my thesis.

Sincerely, Grad Student.

Dear Graffiti Artist,

How in the world did you get up there?

Sincerely, Confused.

Dear Noah,

We could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving till 5.

Sincerely, Unicorns.

Enjoy.  And make up a few of your own along the way.  :)

Scraps of Moments

Sometimes you need some reminders that life is funny.  And sometimes you need to be inspired.  And sometimes you just need to remember.

I keep a notebook for that.  

I started it several years ago and it is now one of my favorite things I own.  It started out as a means to consolidate all of these scraps of magazines and newspapers I had lying (laying?  I still never remember which to use) around my dorm room and eventual apartment.  It's this hodge-podge of things that have captured my imagination or attention over the years.   Some of the clippings make me laugh - I pull those out when I need to do just that.  Some of the clippings remind me of significant historical moments, ones I don't want to forget.  Some clippings are just creative and clever ideas I have saved for my some-day house, things to lock away for future use.  Most items are just headlines cut out of magazines, or photographs I find compelling.  On the front cover I put a quote that I snagged from a magazine, which said, "I surround myself with things I love, anything that inspires me."  It's my collection of things I love and things that inspire me.   

  

There's the one that makes me laugh every time without fail, the one on the left here.  It's a picture of a little black pug and the caption reads, "I enjoy licking faces.  And toilets."  Another page has a clipping from Sports Illustrated, when they interviewed Olympic hurdler, Jana Rawlinson, on why she she had her breast implants removed.  She said, "I absolutely loved having bigger boobs, but I don't want to shortchange Australia either."  I mean, come on.  That's funny. 

Then I've got newspaper clippings, ones about the 2008 election and how Sarah Palin obliterated the "feminist template," how the "Buckeyes unite their faithful like no other team,"  and 'Do ladies love country boys? Not if they're undereducated."  Those things that inspire, make me ask questions.   

Then there's the "stay baseball" ad.  I don't even like baseball, but I like this ad.  It says, "Stay baseball.  Stay our favorite pastime.  Stay the best part of a lazy summer day, or a tense October night.  Stay the bonding experience of choice for dads and kids across the country.  Stay obsessively statistical.  And incredibly poetic.  Stay baseball."  I can appreciate it for what it's ultimately saying even if I can't say much for the game itself.  I also sometimes pull out entire spreads of magazines, the photographs that capture a brief moment in time.  The one on the right is when Zenyatta won the Breeders' Cup Classic in 2009.  I felt like it was such a quinessential moment, with Mike Smith opening his arms up to the heavens, photographers waiting to capture the emotion.   

I like pulling out my notebook when I need a good laugh, when I'm feeling nostalgic and need to remember.  Tonight was one of those nights, no particular reason - and it just felt good to laugh.    And then I'm left to wonder why I'm silly enough to save clippings that say things like "I just want to be me.  Without the hot flashes."  ;)