The Farm

FYI: for those of you that don't already know, T and I have a new addition to the family.  His name is Jimmy.  He is a Canon Rebel DSLR camera.  Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday.  Photos on this blog will most certainly be taken from our loving Jimmy from here on out.

Today T and I went on a date to The Farm - about an hour from where we are staying on Mercer Island.  Our plan was to pick out a pumkin for Halloween and maybe find our way through a corn maze in the shape of Washington State.  Be prepared for cuteness.

Here is what we did:

We got four pumkins, five ears of corn, and two apples for $13!!  What a day.  What.a.day.

God Map/Body Map

Today I was supposed to turn in an assignment for my theology class called the God Map/Body Map.  The only instructions we were given were as follows:

The purpose of the project is to map your view of youself and to map your view of God.  In many ways this is a creative exploration of the connection/distinction between humanity and God.  Use your imagination.  Mediums may vary.  It can be anything frm a collage to music to flow charts, etc.

Em, ok.

So what I didn't realize (and that I am realizing more and more everyday), is how disconnected I am from my body.  What I have realized especially in this whole process so far is that I really don't connect my body to spirituality whatsoever.  Yet, as Christians believe, human beings were created in the image of God.  Therefore, it was no mistake that God would have put us in these fleshy bags of bones, only to later become incarnate in one of the bags of flesh himself.

And as my previous post implied, what we do to our bodies, what we put in them, what we do with them - it's all significant with regard to how we view ourselves, the world around us, and God.

Again, these are not things I normally think about.  I have grown up in the church hearing "your body is a temple" and "you are the hands and feet of Christ."  These were the only references to a physical spirituality that I ever got.  Two important notes: First, I never took it literally.  I figured that if so many other parts of the Bible were metaphors, then why would my body literally be a temple?  That was just absurd.  Second, these proclamations were never freeing or invigorating; instead, they boxed in my body.  They told me what I could and could not do with my body (mostly with regard to sexual promiscuity and tattoos).  While the lessons I learned were certainly valuable and kept me out of trouble, also embedded in my brain was that everything important about me was invisible - nothing physical had significance in the kingdom of God.  "Be in the earth, not of it."

Therefore, as I began to start thinking about this assignment for my theology class, I was literally dumbfounded.  I had nowhere to begin.  No direction in which to even take a first step.  Unfortunately, I waited long enough that I still had nothing the day before the assignment was due and sent an e-mail to my professor asking for advice; I told her that I wanted to take the assignment seriously since it was apparently a significant topic for me to address.  Graciously, without me even asking, she has given me an extension on the project.

So I was walking home from class today and suddenly the images of my face below came into my mind.  I'm not exactly sure what it all means just yet, but there is something significant about allowing myself to see with eyes open, and then what happens in the darkness of my closed eyes.  The first couple of pictures are of our dining room table as I was preparing for the project.  I'll let you know what comes of it.

FYI - the images that do not have a totally black background will be fixed.  It's tough taking self-portraits! 

"The Spirit of Food"

While Courtney was in town, we went to an event hosted by The Other Journal, "an online quarterly publication that promotes vibrant discourse at the intersections of theology and culture," called The Spirit of Food.  It was an evening dedicated to readings and conversations about how we interact with and think about food - something that I, and T, have been growing more and more conscious of.  I know, I know - we live in Seattle.  We're liberal, tree-hugging, hippie granola people.  I know.  But aside from going vegetarian just because it's hip (which neither of us have done), or eating organic because you'll be cursed for eternity in Seattle if you don't (which we also haven't done), there is something that I'm realizing is really significant about how I approach food and the ways that reflects how I think about myself, my community, and even God.

While the majority of the time I sit around wondering if God is even around, when I think about God as if he were around, I know that he would have something to say about how our culture deals with food.  Microwaves.  McDonald's.  Lean Cuisine.  Canned meat.  I list these things not because I can step back, point my finger, and berate you for using, purchasing, or consuming such things; I list them because I  know that I love them.  And they have sucked joy, savoring, and communal dining out of the way I eat.

I have never really thought much about food being a spiritual thing, but as I heard last Thursday at this event, Jesus chose a meal to be remembered by.  Not a hajj to Jerusalem, not lighting something on fire, not building an idol.  A meal.  He spent time with his disciples, prostitutes, and tax collectors; with sinners and Pharisees alike - eating.  Drinking.

Now I realize that this probably sounds like I have this tuned wavelength to God and Jesus - thinking about them all the time and other lofty theological ideas.  Wrong.  These are brand new thoughts to me.  My spirituality has been deadened over time.  Deserted.  Desolate.

Salvador Dali, The Persistence of Memory

 I say this just to make the point that this is not normal thinking.  I don't know where this will lead or what the significance will be.  But I would like to share with you a passage from the introduction of The Spirit of Food.  Among other speakers that we heart at the event, we heard Leslie Leyland Fields, who compiled all 34 essays "on feasting and fasting toward God," read an excerpt of the introduction that she wrote for the book.  Leslie is an author, speaker, and professional editor who teaches Creative Non-Fiction at Seattle Pacific Univeristy.  I wish that you could hear and watch her read her own words - they are beautiful on paper, but even more rich coming from her lips.  I couldn't help but feel her passion and excitement over the completion of this project and what she hopes it will spark for its readers.

The season's first salmon hang headless in my daughter's hands, one fish in each, as she wlaks them up the hill to the house.  From the front steps, I can see their heft and length, the shine of their silvered scales, their shimmering backs.  I am anxious to hold them mystelf.  It is the first week of the commercial salmon fishery, a profession my children and husband have worked in nearly since birth.  For me, it's been thierty-three seasons here on this remonte Alaskan island. 

I grasp their tails from my daughter on the porch, slide their arm-length boies onto the counter-sized cutting board.  With one hand firm on the skin-thein armor, I begin to steak out the fish with the other.  The first cut almost makes me gasp as though I have cut my own finger - the flesh is deep carmine, so bright - is this my own blood?  I know this coor, can see it, even taste it in the sleep of memory.  How many slamon have I gutted and cleaned and portioned on the shore of my island, on this very cutting board these thrity-three years?  I keep slicking, the dissection so enlivening my senses I do not measure or make any attempt at uniformity.  How shall I cook it, this fish we have been waiting for all winter?  Shall I grill it with melted butter, minced garlic, and white wine, my favorite flavors?  No, for the first fish, something new, something untried and spontaneous, fitting this exact moment and these precise two fish.  I bgin with melted butter and minced garlic then riffle through my cupboard pulling down borwn sugar, a spicy pepper blend, parsley...formulating as my hands consider each potential spice, a slow idea of what I would aim for, yes, this time a sweet and spicy crust.

Even now, I couldn't say how many minutes to grill the fish.  I don't follow a clock when grilling.  I am not interest in creating a numerical formula for the safe and simplified replication of my attempts at perfection.  I stand and watch, testing the juices, whisking each piece off when the flesh begins to turn translucent.  Each piece on its own schedule.

...

While the food steams on the table, eight faces look at me expectantly, waiting for the signal for prayer.  "I'm going to do something a little different today," I say hesitant, knowing that multiple appetites are rumbling under the table and knowing how puny the spirit can feel before such need.

"This is the first salmon of the season.  You all know the tradition that fishermen kiss the first fish.  Anyone do that today?"  My oldest son rolls his eyes, wanting only to eat.  I hurry on.

"I'm going to read something before we start."

I pull my Bible onto the table, and before anyone can resist, I begin: "This is from the book of Job:

'But ask the animals and they will teach you,
     Or the bird of the air, and they will tell you;
     Or speak to the earth and it will teach you,
     Or let the fish of the sea inform you.
     Which of all these does not know
That the hand of the Lord has done this?
     In his hand is the life of every creature
     And the breath of all mankind.'"

Everyone listens, watching the food.  Then I pray aloud of all of us, that this season we will not forget this.  I want to say far more, to deliver a sermon, but I stop, knowing the wafers of fish on our tongues will deliver its own message.

We eat.  Faces are too close to the plates, forks are shoveling, heads lift with butter smeared on cheeks and crumbs lodged in beards.  Everyone talks with their mouth full; we tease each other; someone will have to yell to get the salad; at least one cup of iced tea will be spilled, and we'll run out of bread.  These are glorious, blessed feasts.

Leslie Leyland Fields, The Spirit of Food, xix - xxi.

I have yet to actually start this book, but I am excited for when I get the chance.  I think there are beautiful stories to be told about the honor that eating can hold in our lives - bringing us closer to one another and possibly to God.  

All this to say: eat, drink, and be merry.  Maybe we can, together, attempt to slow down, taste, savor, and enjoy the richness and fullness of food as it was intended to give us.

Courtney hits Seattle

So, the Wednesday after Mom and Chipper flew out of Seattle, one of my best friends from high school, Courtney,  flew in.  I was so so excited for her to visit because, as I have said many times, she is the one friend I have that I think would love Seattle the most.  

Man was I right.  I love that.  I feel like a matchmaker.  Here are some photos of our first couple of days together.

 I took her to the SAM Sculpture Park

 Hooray eyeballs at the sculpture park!

I also took her by my school which she flipped out over.  It was so great to have her finally visit and understand a bit more about why I love this place and what's the big deal about Mars Hill Graduate School.

 Then we went for happy hour at the Edgewater Hotel.

 ...and a sailboat greeted us at the window!

 T took this photo of us overlooking Elliott Bay.

 Snuggle buddies: T and Cort.

 Mt. Rainier on a most beautiful evening.

 

T and Cort, yackin it up.

 Cort and I found the most beautiful bookstore in all of Seattle:

Arundel Books.

 Floor-to-ceiling shelving; complete with ladders.

My feet!  On that beautiful staircase!

Courtney flies out Monday - so we still have a few days of sunny delight.  So wonderful to share this life with an old friend.

The Abernethy's and the Johnson's

It was so great to finally have Mom and Chip come see our apartment!  We had such a great time with them, although the trip was definitely too short.  Here are pictures of a few of the highlights.

 After introducing them to one of our favorite restaurants, T and I 

took Mom and Chipper to Kerry Park.  Best view in town.

We hosted a (modified) House of Love dinner - Dana and Clinton, 

Michaela and Nick.  

 Nat - this photo is for you.  Made a beautiful desert with help

from the Cox's and the Abernethy's (peanut butter ice cream and 

maple cookies from Canada).  Knew you would appreciate

the food creation photo.

 Momski and Chipper atop Kite Hill at Gasworks Park.

 [Gasp!] - this photo was just too good not to post.

 Boys will be boys.  Trying to figure out why they 

aren't allowed on the other side of the fence at Gasworks.

A really cute little boy's really cute little shoes.

 Ballard Locks!  We saw all those boats pile in a 

littlecubby and then be released into the 

Puget Sound.  It was cool - even though the

'adults' got impatient.

Ready for the freakin locks to open up.

So much love for them :)

"Creation cannot be conceived of as an emanation from the supreme Being; but neither must it be thought of as 'the work' of an arbitrary, capricious Demiurge.  Did God have a choice?  Did God throw dice?  asked Albert Einstein skeptically, seeing this as calling in question the reasonableness of the world and his confidence in it.  This criticism of an arbitrary God is justified.  So when we say that God created the world 'out of freedom', we must immediately add 'out of love'...


His love is literally ecstatic love: it leads him to go out of himself and to create something which is different from himself but which none the less corresponds to him.  The delight with which the Creator celebrates the feast of creation - the sabbath - makes it unequivocally plain that creation was called into being out of the inner love which the eternal God himself is."


- Jürgen Moltmann, God in Creation


Chewing on this one today.

"It gets better"

Over the summer term, I had the privilege of getting to know a particular friend at Mars Hill in a really unique way. I met Jonathan when I visited MHGS back in November of 2008 for the first time - we interviewed together. During our first year at school we didn't spend much time together, but while we were both taking the Multicultural Issues class that I have mentioned in previous entries, we ended up at the same table for the entire class term.

Over the course of the term, Jonathan and I got to know each other more during the uber-intense conversations that a class such as that would elicit. Long story short, we had to write an "ethnic identity development paper" for one of our assignments and he chose to write a "sexual identity development paper" since he identifies as homosexual. Therefore, he thought it appropriate to adapt this assignment to his circumstances because of the ways in which he experiences life as a minority. As part of his final assignment as a minority, he had to read his development paper to 2 or 3 people of his choosing - and he asked me. There were a variety of reasons he wanted to read his paper and discuss it with me, but no matter what, it was a huge honor.

I tell you this because he was also chosen to be a part of Dan Savage's "It Gets Better" project. Jonathan made a video for youth in Ex-Gay Christian ministries - which he was a part of in high school and college - in order to inspire and encourage them. I got to hear about his experiences in his paper, but I wanted to share the video with you.

I think the things going on in and around my school are pretty great. Jon has a great perspective, huge heart, and a lot to say. I hope to get to know him better during our time together in Seattle. I also hope that this video can spur some thoughtful conversation around homosexuality and the Church.