Our first child!

Finally.  T and I have been through the ringer, but yesterday we finally welcomed a lovely 3-year old kitty into our family.  Her name is Jasmine and I'm in love :) Hasn't pooed or peed on the floor yet.

The Renaming of Mars Hill Graduate School from Mars Hill Graduate School on Vimeo.


You should watch this!  Not only am I in it briefly, but it's a beautiful expression from our community about the anticipation of our new name that has been officially launched.

Easter Sabbath

(...Semi-continued from the previous post.  That one got to be too long and I knew no one would keep reading.  But, really, you're supposed to read that one and then this one).  


We came home and slept for two hours after filling our bellies.  We slept while we held each other tightly.  We slept - I drooled (on T's shirt!).  Then we cooked some Southern offerings to contribute to our Sabbath gathering this evening - my Mimi's sweet potato casserole and sweet tea.  Our Sabbath group has really grown to appreciate Southern cooking - how could they not with winners like that?  We decided to share the Eucharist together and I asked if I could share some poems out of a book I just recently fell so in love with that I purchased it for full price.  Here is what I shared with them, in order: (By the way, I think it is unjust to read poems silently, in your head.  Even if you are alone, read them aloud.  Whisper them.  Slowly.  Otherwise, you're just reading more words and feeling not very much.  The point is to feel)...

The God Who Only Knows Four Words

Every

Child

Has known God,

Not the God of names,

Not the God of don'ts,

Not the God who ever does

Anything weird

But the God who only knows four words

And keeps repeating them, saying:

"Come dance with Me."

Come

Dance.

God's Bucket

If this world

Was not held in God's bucket

How could an ocean stand upside down

On its head and never lose a drop?


If your life was not contained in God's cup


How could you be so brave and laugh, 
Dance in the face of death?


There is a private chamber in the soul
That knows a great secret


Of which no tongue can speak.


Your existence my dear, O love my dear,
Has been sealed and marked


"Too sacred," "too sacred," by the Beloved - 
To ever end!


Indeed God 
Has written a thousand promises
All over your heart


That say, 
Life, life, life, 
Is far to sacred to
Ever end.


I Got Kin


Plant
So that your own heart 
Will grow.


Love
So God will think,


"Ahhhhh,
I got kin that that body!
I should start inviting that soul over
For coffee and
Rolls."


Sing
Because this is a food
Our starving world
Needs.


Laugh
Because that is the purest
Sound.

I hope that your respective Easter Sunday's had moments of peace, rest, and hope.  It is good.

(All poems by Hafiz, from The Gift).

celebrating life (together)

I'm not totally sure, but I think this may have been my first Easter away from home.  No, that's a lie.  There were one or two in college, but there haven't been many.  I definitely was at home last year for Easter; my first after having moved to Seattle.  

Easter is always an interesting time for me - remembering the year and how I have or have not been involved with my faith, how I have or have not gone to church, how I have or have not thoughtfully participated in the Lenten season, how I have or have not disappointed God with what I have or have not done.  It's typically filled with a lot more "should have's" and "should have not's" that I would like; and more of those than I think (or hope) God likes.   

I really liked my Easter this year.  On many accounts, my mind was still filled with the same crap that fills it up every year.  Today, I was thinking, or maybe more feeling, the guilt of not being more engaged with my faith; feeling guilty for being tired and worn out from asking so many questions for so many years.  I didn't really think about Lent, and certainly didn't give anything up for Lent.  While I don't feel good about giving something up for Lent just to do it, I also miss the climactic feeling that comes when Easter finally arrives and you know you've accomplished something personally great.  Typically, the climax is aided my the mass amounts of sugar that we can finally consume after fasting from it for forty days - or that's how the story has gone for me.

T and I had been going to a small church for a while and then when we realized we didn't feel like we missed much if we didn't make it, we didn't think that was the place for us.  Neither of us has felt a particularly strong push to keep searching, so we didn't.  And we didn't.  And we didn't.  We spent many of our Sunday mornings eating pancakes and drinking coffee together, our broad windows open wide, reading.  I don't necessarily think God was upset by our decisions.  I think he would like to have breakfast with us too, actually.  

But today we tried a new church.  It's an interesting thing to try out a church on Easter Sunday; I mean, they're pulling out all the stops.  They've got the crazy-big flower arrangements up front, clergy robes pristinely bleached and ironed, and the choir has been on voice rest and Vitamin C for weeks so their harmonies will be perfect for the big day.  You know Easter Sunday is the biggest production of all.  (A not-to-be-named church held their Easter "revival" service in the Seahawks football stadium downtown today, for example.  Although you may be able to guess them, I will not disclose my personal feelings on the matter - unless I talk to you in person...personally).  

Today's service was one of the best Easter services I can remember.  We visited an Episcopalian church for the first time and, while keeping up with all of the readings from the Book of Common Prayer and songs from the hymnal was almost maddening at times, I really appreciated it.  Something about the fragrance of the incense, the constant standing up then sitting down, walking to receive the Eucharist, singing hymns in community and the call-and-response sequences, listening to the cantor and pastor sing every word of the service (except for the sermon) - my entire body was engaged in the worship.  I noticed myself resenting the fact that I had to stand up, yet again, in my darling (but not immensely comfortable) heels - but then I also noticed that I was paying attention to the service for the entire hour and a half!  It was tough, but I liked it.  

And the sermon was one of the most beautiful Easter sermons I think I have ever heard or remember hearing.  I was real life - real rawness, real pain, real darkness, and real life rising up out of death.  She told this story - of the graduation ceremonies this past March in Japan. They hold graduation in March because of the symbolism of new life in the Spring; as you can imagine, however, graduation ceremonies this past March were bittersweet in the midst of so much death after the earthquake and tsunami.  Yet, even through the tears and pain of parents, teachers, students, friends, and families, the surviving children deserved to be honored - and they were.

Shiho Fukada for The International Herald Tribune
I encourage you to read the story - it's painful and beautiful just as the the Easter story is.  (Find it here via the New York Times).  I believe more and more in the power of stories - and Easter, to me, is just not complete without the whole story.  Yes, the Resurrection is an indescribable victory, but it's so much more when we remember the whole story; when we remember the pain, the betrayal, the blood, the suffering, and the death.  I'm reading a book (for pleasure!), called Traveling Mercies, and I'm reminded of this:

I'm pretty sure that it is only by experiencing that ocean of sadness in a naked and immediate way that we come to be healed - which is to say, that we come to experience life with a real sense of presence and spaciousness and peace. - Anne Lamott 

As much as I hate it, yes, I believe joy comes from pain.  And I cried in church today.  The first time in a long, long time.  I felt something, and it felt good.  My heart broke, but it also sang, "Alleluia, Thank you, Lord."  I don't think my heart shouted it from the rooftops inside my body (the rooftops of...my ribcage?), but maybe just hummed it quietly.  Hummed through the tears that I shed for those kids and their families in Japan, for myself and my faith and my life and my brokenness and my relationships, for the people I love who are and will always be hurting somehow, for the people I don't know who are and will also always be hurting somehow.  I hummed and cried.

Yes, oh yes
Oh yes
Oh yes, please
Please and thank you
Thank the Lord
The sun and heat
Have risen on this little dot on the world
My world
Precious as a garden rose
Precious as a gem or stone
Yes, oh yes
Oh yes
Oh yes, please
Please and thank you
Thank the Lord

Girls' Weekend

This past weekend with Blaire and my momski was such a gift.  We had lazy mornings together in my tiny apartment, fun sights to see, ah-mazing food every day, and of course a little shopping.  We were just three little peas in a little pod (literally, in the apartment).  It was especially good to show Blaire around the city for the first time and to have her have some context for mine and T's life here in Seattle - she got to see my school, my current neighborhood, my past neighborhood, my home, and some of my favorite spots around this lovely city.  She also got a taste of the great weather firsthand - really the full Seattle experience, let's be honest.  I wouldn't want her to think it was actually gorgeous all the time, which fooled me when I first visited.

We saw the Edgewater Hotel.

Ate fresh fish tacos at Lowell's in Pike Place Market.

Explored the insanity that is the downtown Seattle library.

Got a bird's eye view of the city.

Celebrated Blaire's birthday

Went to the tulip festival!

...And were subsequently astonished by the tulips.

As I said, we also toured around my old neighborhood of Wallingford, went to Gasworks Park, ate on the water at Agua Verde, saw the amazing views of the city in my current neighborhood of Queen Anne, strolled through the Fremont Market, and had our own personal chef!  (I.e. my vastly talented husband).  They also got to come to some of the Sabbath group on Sunday night before their flight out.  Talk about two worlds colliding!  It was a bit of a mind trip to have my family there at Sabbath group, but so lovely.  Both my mom and Blaire kept saying how much they liked my friends; my friends were, in turn, so warm and welcoming to my family being a part of our gathering.

I think their visit was much needed for all three of us.  I'm also immensely grateful to T for putting up with our close quarters, enduring womanly drama, chauffeuring us crazies around Seattle, and for whipping up some amazing creations in the kitchen.

Love you Mom and Blaire!  Miss you already.

I told my mom the other day that I just wanted to curl up in the fetal position.  With all the upheaval in my life right now, I'm really glad that she and my sister are coming.  I sure need some motherly and sisterly love.

Read T

Also, for those of you that don't know, my hubby lost his blog virginity.  He started one a couple of days ago, and I think it's kind of the best thing ever.  He'd be honored to have you read it.


"Thou Mayest"

The Gender Question

We just turned in our final research papers for our Theology class.  While I don't have time right now to share about mine in depth (because there's too much I want to say and I have lots of other papers and finals to be working on for next week), I wanted to share one of my friend's final products.  We are given the option in this class to, instead of writing a 10-page research paper, writing a shortened paper and also turning in a creative project that illuminates our research.  I was lucky to be able to participate in my friend Eric's project - research on gender and theology.  I don't know much about what he researched specifically, but his project is a compilation of interviews addressing the question "What does it mean that you are a man/woman?"  

I am so glad to have been able to contribute to the project, as well as honored to personally know most of the voices that you hear.  I know some wonderful people.  Click here to listen to the finished product, The Gender Question.  Eric compiled the interviews beautifully.


**I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you have any, about this project or where the question took you while considering it for yourselves**


[Michael - I'd love for you to interpret this for Blaire if you get the chance!]

Cold is the water
It freezes your already cold mind
Already cold, cold mind
And death is at your doorstep
And it will steal your innocence
But it will not steal your substance

But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand

And you are the mother
The mother of your baby child
The one to whom you gave life
And you have your choices
And these are what make man great
His ladder to the stars

But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand

But I will tell the night
And Whisper, "Lose your sight"
But I can move the mountains for you

- Mumford & Sons, "Timshel"

"A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. Status symbol means nothing to him. A waterlogged stick will do just fine. A dog judges others not by their color or creed or class but by who they are inside. A dog doesn't care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his."

Sad for my Poco today; our family has suffered the loss of a faithful member.


"we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is"

Just so you know

...it feels good to write a paper about something you really care about, feel invested in, and that you believe could have a significant impact on your life.

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions


back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you


over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and n the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beating on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you


with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is


- W. S. Merwin

Update:

I forgot to post this a while back when it was first released.  Nicole and Josue, interviewed here in the article, are my coworkers in Admissions at MHGS; I think they did a great job of representing the school and the goal of the name change.


http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2014616787_marshill28m.html


Here's to procrastination, by the way.

two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.  two weeks.

Ben Sollee, "Prettiest Tree on the Mountain"

I couldn't hold you up,

but I sure ain't gonna hold you down

"Yet I still believe in love's possibility, in its presence on the earth; as I believe I can approach the altar on any morning on any day which may be the last and receive the touch that dies not, for me, say: There is not death, but does say: In this instant I recognize, with you, that you must die.  And I believe I can do this in an ordinary kitchen with an ordinary woman and five eggs.  I scramble them in a saucepan, as my now-dead friend taught me; they stand deeper and cook softer, he said.  I take our plates, spoon eggs on them, we set and eat.  She and I and the kitchen have become extraordinary: we are not simply eating; we are pausing in the march to perform an act together; we are in love; and the meal offered and received is a sacrament  which says: I know you will die; I am sharing food with you; it is all I can do, and it is everything."

Andre Dubus, "On Charon's Wharf": one of my favorite essays from The Spirit of Food

"Food does not exist merely for the sake of its nutritional value.  To see it so is…to become, in short, solemn idolaters spiritualizing what should be loved as matter.  A man’s daily meal ought to be an exultation over the smack of desirability which lies at the roots of creation.  To break real bread is to break the loveless hold of hell upon the world, and, by just that much, to set the secular free."

Robert Farrar Capon, The Supper of the Lamb.  Also, in reading just the little bit that I have, I have never laughed out loud so often when reading a book as I have reading this one.   This is one passionate, sharp-witted, sarcastic, and profound writer - I can't get enough.