Happy Birthday Crazy Carol. Still young and beautiful, just like your daughters. (Remember this pic from Phil's wedding? - that was fun. You should come down and visit again soon) Love, Ann
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Ann Richards died, but so did Harley Oldenborg.
Hilary Clinton spoke at Ann's funeral, and my grandma wrote about Harley to her grandchildren.
But she didn't have to. We knew him.
Ann inspired all aspiring women. Harley maintained the land and entertained children.
Harley pushed me high on the tire swing on his farm in Minnesota which neighbored ours. Hands down (or hands up) it remains the greatest tire swing of all time. You can follow Ann and Amy's and eventually Emily's progression in age as each year new pictures were taken during the summer on Harley's tire swing. There was hardly time to unpack our bags and clean up the farmhouse upon arrival before the grandchildren were begging to run to Harley and Evelyn's.
Grandma writes of a time before grandkids when the Makers and the Olderborgs raised their own children together and farmed the land. I love the story of when they had to dig the turkeys out from underneith the snow after one Minnesota blizzard. And grandma just sent me a story of one Palm Sunday when a late blizzard came making it "impossible for them to get on the road to church. That afternoon [grandma] looked out the window, and here down the road trudged the Oldenborgs, in a line, Harley carrying the youngest – all bundled up, and the blizzard raging. [They] spent an otherwise lonesome afternoon together with them."
I would have liked to make the trek up to Minnesota for the funeral, but that was impossible. ACL tickets, friends flying in, college worship service, regular worship service, sunday school, children's sermon. Impossible.
But I said good-bye six years ago when I accompanied grandma and grandpa up to the farm for one final farewell. Our farmhouse was un-livable by then and we stayed with the Oldenborgs. I took lots of pictures of our farm, the old schoolhouse, the Oldenborg farm and old Minnesota friends. Harley pushed me one last time in that tire swing, he in his 70s and me in my 20s . . . and the rope broke.
I fell bumping to the ground and Harley and I looked at each other astonished and apologetic. And also a little sad, recognizing the symbolism in the event.
Six years later, Harley has been lowered into the ground, the earth he spent so much time nurturing.
Thank you Harley for taking the time to nurture us too.
Hilary Clinton spoke at Ann's funeral, and my grandma wrote about Harley to her grandchildren.
But she didn't have to. We knew him.
Ann inspired all aspiring women. Harley maintained the land and entertained children.
Harley pushed me high on the tire swing on his farm in Minnesota which neighbored ours. Hands down (or hands up) it remains the greatest tire swing of all time. You can follow Ann and Amy's and eventually Emily's progression in age as each year new pictures were taken during the summer on Harley's tire swing. There was hardly time to unpack our bags and clean up the farmhouse upon arrival before the grandchildren were begging to run to Harley and Evelyn's.
Grandma writes of a time before grandkids when the Makers and the Olderborgs raised their own children together and farmed the land. I love the story of when they had to dig the turkeys out from underneith the snow after one Minnesota blizzard. And grandma just sent me a story of one Palm Sunday when a late blizzard came making it "impossible for them to get on the road to church. That afternoon [grandma] looked out the window, and here down the road trudged the Oldenborgs, in a line, Harley carrying the youngest – all bundled up, and the blizzard raging. [They] spent an otherwise lonesome afternoon together with them."
I would have liked to make the trek up to Minnesota for the funeral, but that was impossible. ACL tickets, friends flying in, college worship service, regular worship service, sunday school, children's sermon. Impossible.
But I said good-bye six years ago when I accompanied grandma and grandpa up to the farm for one final farewell. Our farmhouse was un-livable by then and we stayed with the Oldenborgs. I took lots of pictures of our farm, the old schoolhouse, the Oldenborg farm and old Minnesota friends. Harley pushed me one last time in that tire swing, he in his 70s and me in my 20s . . . and the rope broke.
I fell bumping to the ground and Harley and I looked at each other astonished and apologetic. And also a little sad, recognizing the symbolism in the event.
Six years later, Harley has been lowered into the ground, the earth he spent so much time nurturing.
Thank you Harley for taking the time to nurture us too.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Okay, so I'm totally ashamed to admit that I'm adicted to Project Runway. I've seen Season Two the whole way through (except one or two shows last week that I missed when I was working on my children's sermon).
My finger nails are way too long. My tolerance is way too low and my joy is beyond belief.
Holy cow.
I love my friends, I love my job, I love chilling at my house watching smut reality T.V.
Does it get much better?
My finger nails are way too long. My tolerance is way too low and my joy is beyond belief.
Holy cow.
I love my friends, I love my job, I love chilling at my house watching smut reality T.V.
Does it get much better?
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Dear Lauren,The weather is very nice right now. Not too hot, but cool with a breeze. Doesn't that sound nice? You should come home and feel it to believe it.
Clarence and Tommie added a back sun room to their house. They are very proud of it. Doesn't that sound pleasant? You should come see it. They'd like that.
Austin City Limits is next weekend. There are a lot of cool bands coming to play. Doesn't that sound like fun? You should fly back to hear them.
The trees are turning colors? You got to attend the opening to a new movie? You were invited to a famous guy's after-party last week? And your new apartment kicks ass?
Sigh.
Okay, stay in New York then.
Your friend,
Ann
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
This is what I "preached" at Beresheth last Thursday (the Sloth sermon was from a couple weeks before that)...
This past weekend, I went to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. I know, that sounds a little sketchy, like I might be “crazed” as the saying goes or obsessive or wanting a death wish, but hear me out on this. First of all, I was invited. And it wasn’t just a courtesy invite. It was a small wedding. So I went. I went to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding and he was glad I was there. I think his new wife was comfortable with me being there and even I was comfortable, happy to watch their union.
It’s a little different, I know. My first major boyfriend promptly got another woman pregnant after he and I broke up and we never spoke again. My last boyfriend kind of wigs me out. But with my ex-boyfriend who invited me to his wedding and gave me a huge hug afterwards, things were different, and I think it all has to do with community.
When I moved to Waco, Texas in January of 2001, I was in complete culture shock. I knew no one in Waco, let alone in Texas, had no family, no friends, just a scholarship to go to school. I moved in with three people I didn’t know and I began a new phase in my life. Does this sound similar to yours? Have you ever started school unsure about your classes, moved into an apartment or dorm unsure about your roommates, moved to a new town unsure about its culture?
Needless to say, I love Waco. Now. I repeat, now. Not then. Then it was full of obnoxious republicans and sexist classmates. Then everyone was a Texas lover and I had to cut through the pride just to get into the doors of the classrooms. Everyone who heard I was from out of state promptly informed me of Texas’ right to succeed from the Union (as if that were an intelligent decision). Doormats and potato chips were carefully crafted in the shape of the state of Texas. But there were other oddities too. Someone invited me to go eat dinner at the place where all the branch dividians died. A basketball player shot and killed his roommate. The water tasted horrible and you weren’t supposed to swim in the river. There were horrible fire ants in Texas that made blisters on my feet and legs. Baylor in all its wealth and glory sat smack dab in the middle of a poverty-stricken ghetto. Then Waco was scary, foreign, peculiar. But now it is beautiful, stable, and I miss it.
And the change in attitude is all because of community.
Because in Waco I found community and it changed my whole perspective on life.
In Waco, I made friends who I know I will remain close to until it’s all I can do to pull myself out of a rocking chair to go to the bathroom let alone get out of a pew to preach. They will be forever with me because of the community we created living together.
Together in community, my friends and I learned what it meant to truly love one another. We saw each other fully, with our faults and our unique blessings. My friends recognized my gifts and quirky personality, but also my downfalls and weaknesses and they loved me anyway. There was no pretension, no judgment. Everyone was always welcome, the door always open and the beer always in the fridge. When I found a cockroach in my bed at 12 am one night, I called my friend Big Phil and announced that I was in the car and on my way over to sleep on his couch. When he was devastated with a broken heart one night, he called me to come take care of him cause he’d had too much to drink. When I was hungry and didn’t know how to cook anything but cereal, my friend Lance would come over and cook me mac ‘n cheese and together we’d eat dinner and talk theology. When I was depressed over men, my roommate Cat and I would go get a pizza and watch Bridget Jones’ Diary, because laughter and grease always help heartache. When I obsessed unnecessarily over an issue, Josie would sit me down and tell me to stop. To stop right there because I was over-reacting. When sorrow was necessary, Julie would let me cry for hours in her bed. When I was in a play, Chris was always there on the front row.
We all provided this for each other. I had a list a mile long of people I could call, even people I didn’t know very well, who I knew would drop everything to help me out if I was ever in danger or in need. They understood community.
Community means sharing meals, talking long hours, goofing off, wrestling with hard issues, supporting each other, sharing jokes, taking each other lightly and taking each other seriously. It means you let your guard down and let someone else in. It means you get new members to your family, even if they aren’t blood related.
Communities are everywhere. We have communities at school, at work, at church, from High School, in our neighborhood. But the important thing to remember is that whoever we choose to embrace into our community deserves our very best. They deserve us: ourselves, our full selves – not the image we want to portray, not what we think they might like in another person, not another acquaintance full of quaint hi’s and how are you’s who don’t listen for an answer.
And we begin to live in union. In America we live in a Union, in a union where the majority is supposed to rule and the minority agrees to continue to live in community regardless. That’s not how we always behave though. And we live going to church, learning about God, talking to our friends and going home to eat with our family. But there’s so much more to church than that. We live 40 hours a week at work or in school interacting with the same people every day, some of whom we don’t even know their name, some of whom we’d just as soon not know at all.
Who is your community? How do you define it? And are you allowing yourself to live fully by choosing to invest in the lives of people around you and choosing to let them into yours?
It’s a risk. I don’t want people to know about my eating disorder, we may say. I don’t want people to know I love Star Wars. I don’t want people to know I like to read classic literature. I don’t want people to know I drink. I don’t want people to know I don’t drink. I don’t want to be back-stabbed again. I don’t want to be lied to again. I don’t want to be overlooked again. I don’t want to hurt again.
It’s a risk.
But it’s a rainbow too, a promise, of a true communion available only through our triune God. True community: three in one.
“May they live in unity,” Jesus prayed. “Just like you and I are one, let them be one.”
Don’t just go in and out of the doors of the church. Don’t just go in and out of the classrooms, the cubicles. Open your eyes and open your heart. Let people love you and love others. Create family out of friends and work hard at healthy relationships and trust and vulnerability. Learn to know when to shut your friends down in love and learn to listen to them too. Encourage one another. Laugh with one another. Challenge one another. Support one another. Take care of one another. Cook organic mac ‘n cheese for one another.
And you may find yourself celebrating the wedding of your life to the lives of those around you.
And that will be a beautiful marriage indeed.
This past weekend, I went to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. I know, that sounds a little sketchy, like I might be “crazed” as the saying goes or obsessive or wanting a death wish, but hear me out on this. First of all, I was invited. And it wasn’t just a courtesy invite. It was a small wedding. So I went. I went to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding and he was glad I was there. I think his new wife was comfortable with me being there and even I was comfortable, happy to watch their union.
It’s a little different, I know. My first major boyfriend promptly got another woman pregnant after he and I broke up and we never spoke again. My last boyfriend kind of wigs me out. But with my ex-boyfriend who invited me to his wedding and gave me a huge hug afterwards, things were different, and I think it all has to do with community.
When I moved to Waco, Texas in January of 2001, I was in complete culture shock. I knew no one in Waco, let alone in Texas, had no family, no friends, just a scholarship to go to school. I moved in with three people I didn’t know and I began a new phase in my life. Does this sound similar to yours? Have you ever started school unsure about your classes, moved into an apartment or dorm unsure about your roommates, moved to a new town unsure about its culture?
Needless to say, I love Waco. Now. I repeat, now. Not then. Then it was full of obnoxious republicans and sexist classmates. Then everyone was a Texas lover and I had to cut through the pride just to get into the doors of the classrooms. Everyone who heard I was from out of state promptly informed me of Texas’ right to succeed from the Union (as if that were an intelligent decision). Doormats and potato chips were carefully crafted in the shape of the state of Texas. But there were other oddities too. Someone invited me to go eat dinner at the place where all the branch dividians died. A basketball player shot and killed his roommate. The water tasted horrible and you weren’t supposed to swim in the river. There were horrible fire ants in Texas that made blisters on my feet and legs. Baylor in all its wealth and glory sat smack dab in the middle of a poverty-stricken ghetto. Then Waco was scary, foreign, peculiar. But now it is beautiful, stable, and I miss it.
And the change in attitude is all because of community.
Because in Waco I found community and it changed my whole perspective on life.
In Waco, I made friends who I know I will remain close to until it’s all I can do to pull myself out of a rocking chair to go to the bathroom let alone get out of a pew to preach. They will be forever with me because of the community we created living together.
Together in community, my friends and I learned what it meant to truly love one another. We saw each other fully, with our faults and our unique blessings. My friends recognized my gifts and quirky personality, but also my downfalls and weaknesses and they loved me anyway. There was no pretension, no judgment. Everyone was always welcome, the door always open and the beer always in the fridge. When I found a cockroach in my bed at 12 am one night, I called my friend Big Phil and announced that I was in the car and on my way over to sleep on his couch. When he was devastated with a broken heart one night, he called me to come take care of him cause he’d had too much to drink. When I was hungry and didn’t know how to cook anything but cereal, my friend Lance would come over and cook me mac ‘n cheese and together we’d eat dinner and talk theology. When I was depressed over men, my roommate Cat and I would go get a pizza and watch Bridget Jones’ Diary, because laughter and grease always help heartache. When I obsessed unnecessarily over an issue, Josie would sit me down and tell me to stop. To stop right there because I was over-reacting. When sorrow was necessary, Julie would let me cry for hours in her bed. When I was in a play, Chris was always there on the front row.
We all provided this for each other. I had a list a mile long of people I could call, even people I didn’t know very well, who I knew would drop everything to help me out if I was ever in danger or in need. They understood community.
Community means sharing meals, talking long hours, goofing off, wrestling with hard issues, supporting each other, sharing jokes, taking each other lightly and taking each other seriously. It means you let your guard down and let someone else in. It means you get new members to your family, even if they aren’t blood related.
Communities are everywhere. We have communities at school, at work, at church, from High School, in our neighborhood. But the important thing to remember is that whoever we choose to embrace into our community deserves our very best. They deserve us: ourselves, our full selves – not the image we want to portray, not what we think they might like in another person, not another acquaintance full of quaint hi’s and how are you’s who don’t listen for an answer.
And we begin to live in union. In America we live in a Union, in a union where the majority is supposed to rule and the minority agrees to continue to live in community regardless. That’s not how we always behave though. And we live going to church, learning about God, talking to our friends and going home to eat with our family. But there’s so much more to church than that. We live 40 hours a week at work or in school interacting with the same people every day, some of whom we don’t even know their name, some of whom we’d just as soon not know at all.
Who is your community? How do you define it? And are you allowing yourself to live fully by choosing to invest in the lives of people around you and choosing to let them into yours?
It’s a risk. I don’t want people to know about my eating disorder, we may say. I don’t want people to know I love Star Wars. I don’t want people to know I like to read classic literature. I don’t want people to know I drink. I don’t want people to know I don’t drink. I don’t want to be back-stabbed again. I don’t want to be lied to again. I don’t want to be overlooked again. I don’t want to hurt again.
It’s a risk.
But it’s a rainbow too, a promise, of a true communion available only through our triune God. True community: three in one.
“May they live in unity,” Jesus prayed. “Just like you and I are one, let them be one.”
Don’t just go in and out of the doors of the church. Don’t just go in and out of the classrooms, the cubicles. Open your eyes and open your heart. Let people love you and love others. Create family out of friends and work hard at healthy relationships and trust and vulnerability. Learn to know when to shut your friends down in love and learn to listen to them too. Encourage one another. Laugh with one another. Challenge one another. Support one another. Take care of one another. Cook organic mac ‘n cheese for one another.
And you may find yourself celebrating the wedding of your life to the lives of those around you.
And that will be a beautiful marriage indeed.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
It was a happy ending. The wedding proved a success: tons of friends and a completely in love bride and groom. It was amazing. Surreal actually, to see him so . . . happy.
A "Happy Ending" as opposed to An Interesting Resolution means that your ex-boyfriend will give you a huge hug after his wedding and thank you for coming. It means you can say "my pleasure," and actually mean it. It means you can cry with joy for each other.
And it means you get to see old friends...
Congratulations Jer.
A "Happy Ending" as opposed to An Interesting Resolution means that your ex-boyfriend will give you a huge hug after his wedding and thank you for coming. It means you can say "my pleasure," and actually mean it. It means you can cry with joy for each other.
And it means you get to see old friends...
Congratulations Jer.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
The seventh deadly sin of sloth is often the most confusing of the sins. Sloth? Really? It can send you straight to hell in a hand basket?
Sloth is an interesting topic. When I first began researching it, I figured I’d find some stuff about laziness. I was troubled to note the origins of this seventh deadly sin. I mean, you heard and read it: sloth was originally understood to be sadness, depression if you will.
To quote Cecil Adams, the highly acclaimed author of the Internet site, Straight Dope, “It isn't bad enough I'm depressed in this life, I'm going to rot in hell for it in the next?”
That’s kind of the way I felt.
Then there’s the parable of the Talents. And the man with one talent who gets scared and buries it but then returns it to the master, gets reprimanded for being lazy and gets the talent taken away from him and given to the guy who has the most talents. (Sounds a bit like our country’s supposed Tax Breaks). Seriously though, the guy got nervous and buried the money. I get scared all the time – will what I’ve been given get taken away from me too? Is being scared the same as being lazy? And wicked? Cause that’s what the servant gets called…
I admit, if sadness is a sin, I’m going to hell with or without hand-basket: I’m headed straight there. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
But the definition of sloth encompasses much more than sadness. In fact that may be an exactly horrible way to describe this sin. Rather, it is described as spiritual apathy or spiritual laziness. And any way you describe it, the effect of sloth is that it prevents virtuous conduct. Dante attributed sloth to insufficient love and understood in this manner, unlike lust or greed, which perverts or misuses love, sloth is a lack of love, of a desire to serve, to do what’s right.
And so it may be seen as one author suggested, as putting your kid to bed early so you can play solitaire or watch T.V. That’s modern day sloth.
On the other extreme, ancient theologian Thomas Aquinas asserts that Sloth is Sloth is "sluggishness of the mind which neglects to begin good... [it] is evil in its effect, if it so oppresses man [sic] as to draw him away entirely from good deeds.
Not just neglecting to read to your kid before bedtime, sloth opens the door to a world of evil. Laziness of the mind may just lead to the other vices we’ve discussed thus far. The dangers of a remote control that stays in your hand all evening, or a mouse’s click that keeps one glued to the computer, need hardly even be mentioned. Author Steven Waldman notes that “for some time now, progress has moved beyond preserving human dignity to encouraging human sloth. Far from being a sin, it has become an aspiration.” And Thomas Fuller aptly notes that “He [or she] that is busy is tempted by but one devil; he that is idle, by a legion.” We’ve seen sloth lead to gluttony, sloth lead to lust, sloth lead to envy because sloth keeps us lethargic both mentally and physically as in our laziness we lose our passion for God and for what is right. Our apathy toward ultimate goodness allows us to just get pushed along in the crowd, never seeking a destiny, never seeking change.
Sloth isn’t sadness, it’s a concession to not care about doing what is right, or even about what right even means. Sloth is not finding out what your political party really believes cause its easier to believe what your parents did and vote straight ticket. Sloth is not getting to know your neighbors because after all “every man is an island” right? Sloth is skipping Sunday School cause you’re tired. Skipping church cause you went last week. Skipping out on community cause coming at Easter is good enough to last you ‘til Christmas. Skipping out on life because you went to the Christmas service last year and really, it wasn’t very good.
Maybe, just maybe, we are missing the point?
The Catholic church solidified the seven deadly sins and warn against them because working out your salvation is key in the Catholic church. And while protestant hate the idea of “works righteousness,” the thought that we could do enough good deeds to get us into heaven, there might just be something to the warnings of the Catholic faith. Even Buddha on his deathbed said, 'strive on with diligence': a call for work, perseverance and effort. Lethargy, idleness and sloth are not Buddhist ideals either.
Diligence, zeal, and perseverance are all virtues juxtaposed with the deadly sin of Sloth. I suppose that’s why in some myths, those who choose a life of sloth are punished by being thrown into snake pits when they enter hell. Nothing gets you on your toes faster than a roomful of snakes. Just ask Indiana Jones.
But lest the snakes and the flames and Buddha and cracks at Christians who only come to church on Christmas turn you off from the seriousness of this seventh deadly sin, listen to the words of the ancient text of Deuteronomy 6: “Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the door frames of your houses and on your gates.” In other words, always be guided by your love for God. Actively live out the goodness you have learned. Remind yourselves of the stories of the people of God, and persevere in your faith. Remind yourselves of the love God has for you, and be diligent in doing what is right to others and the world. Remind yourselves that we are all in this together and zealously live as though you really are children of God.
Because we are. We are God’s children. We are God’s daughters, we are God’s sons, and we are not marked by sloth or anger or envy or lust or pride or greed or gluttony. We were not created for such menial habits. We were created to live zealously, to live life to the fullest, to live free in the love of God. And we were created to pass that on to others.
So I remind us tonight to not let lethargy reign. No selfish apathy, no greedy laziness.
Be motivated by love. By love.
For the wages of sin is death, but our lives have been illumined by love.
Live motivated by that love.
Sloth is an interesting topic. When I first began researching it, I figured I’d find some stuff about laziness. I was troubled to note the origins of this seventh deadly sin. I mean, you heard and read it: sloth was originally understood to be sadness, depression if you will.
To quote Cecil Adams, the highly acclaimed author of the Internet site, Straight Dope, “It isn't bad enough I'm depressed in this life, I'm going to rot in hell for it in the next?”
That’s kind of the way I felt.
Then there’s the parable of the Talents. And the man with one talent who gets scared and buries it but then returns it to the master, gets reprimanded for being lazy and gets the talent taken away from him and given to the guy who has the most talents. (Sounds a bit like our country’s supposed Tax Breaks). Seriously though, the guy got nervous and buried the money. I get scared all the time – will what I’ve been given get taken away from me too? Is being scared the same as being lazy? And wicked? Cause that’s what the servant gets called…
I admit, if sadness is a sin, I’m going to hell with or without hand-basket: I’m headed straight there. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
But the definition of sloth encompasses much more than sadness. In fact that may be an exactly horrible way to describe this sin. Rather, it is described as spiritual apathy or spiritual laziness. And any way you describe it, the effect of sloth is that it prevents virtuous conduct. Dante attributed sloth to insufficient love and understood in this manner, unlike lust or greed, which perverts or misuses love, sloth is a lack of love, of a desire to serve, to do what’s right.
And so it may be seen as one author suggested, as putting your kid to bed early so you can play solitaire or watch T.V. That’s modern day sloth.
On the other extreme, ancient theologian Thomas Aquinas asserts that Sloth is Sloth is "sluggishness of the mind which neglects to begin good... [it] is evil in its effect, if it so oppresses man [sic] as to draw him away entirely from good deeds.
Not just neglecting to read to your kid before bedtime, sloth opens the door to a world of evil. Laziness of the mind may just lead to the other vices we’ve discussed thus far. The dangers of a remote control that stays in your hand all evening, or a mouse’s click that keeps one glued to the computer, need hardly even be mentioned. Author Steven Waldman notes that “for some time now, progress has moved beyond preserving human dignity to encouraging human sloth. Far from being a sin, it has become an aspiration.” And Thomas Fuller aptly notes that “He [or she] that is busy is tempted by but one devil; he that is idle, by a legion.” We’ve seen sloth lead to gluttony, sloth lead to lust, sloth lead to envy because sloth keeps us lethargic both mentally and physically as in our laziness we lose our passion for God and for what is right. Our apathy toward ultimate goodness allows us to just get pushed along in the crowd, never seeking a destiny, never seeking change.
Sloth isn’t sadness, it’s a concession to not care about doing what is right, or even about what right even means. Sloth is not finding out what your political party really believes cause its easier to believe what your parents did and vote straight ticket. Sloth is not getting to know your neighbors because after all “every man is an island” right? Sloth is skipping Sunday School cause you’re tired. Skipping church cause you went last week. Skipping out on community cause coming at Easter is good enough to last you ‘til Christmas. Skipping out on life because you went to the Christmas service last year and really, it wasn’t very good.
Maybe, just maybe, we are missing the point?
The Catholic church solidified the seven deadly sins and warn against them because working out your salvation is key in the Catholic church. And while protestant hate the idea of “works righteousness,” the thought that we could do enough good deeds to get us into heaven, there might just be something to the warnings of the Catholic faith. Even Buddha on his deathbed said, 'strive on with diligence': a call for work, perseverance and effort. Lethargy, idleness and sloth are not Buddhist ideals either.
Diligence, zeal, and perseverance are all virtues juxtaposed with the deadly sin of Sloth. I suppose that’s why in some myths, those who choose a life of sloth are punished by being thrown into snake pits when they enter hell. Nothing gets you on your toes faster than a roomful of snakes. Just ask Indiana Jones.
But lest the snakes and the flames and Buddha and cracks at Christians who only come to church on Christmas turn you off from the seriousness of this seventh deadly sin, listen to the words of the ancient text of Deuteronomy 6: “Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the door frames of your houses and on your gates.” In other words, always be guided by your love for God. Actively live out the goodness you have learned. Remind yourselves of the stories of the people of God, and persevere in your faith. Remind yourselves of the love God has for you, and be diligent in doing what is right to others and the world. Remind yourselves that we are all in this together and zealously live as though you really are children of God.
Because we are. We are God’s children. We are God’s daughters, we are God’s sons, and we are not marked by sloth or anger or envy or lust or pride or greed or gluttony. We were not created for such menial habits. We were created to live zealously, to live life to the fullest, to live free in the love of God. And we were created to pass that on to others.
So I remind us tonight to not let lethargy reign. No selfish apathy, no greedy laziness.
Be motivated by love. By love.
For the wages of sin is death, but our lives have been illumined by love.
Live motivated by that love.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Good News: I have strep throat.
This is good news, I swear. I could have had mono. That's what the doctor said.
Broken records. I get them now. You put them on and get all hyped up for your favorite song or a beautiful refrain and just as the song gets going, it bleeps and skips and goes back to where you were. Back to where you've already been, back to what you've already heard.
I know. It's my third sickness this summer. Physically, I mean. Amazing.
The children's minister at my church is smart. She said that what we feared would happen when we first organized how we would do my residency (i.e. that it would zap my energy) actually happened.
And that's why I've gotten sick three times this summer.
I've been busy.
And isn't that a beautiful song.
This is good news, I swear. I could have had mono. That's what the doctor said.
Broken records. I get them now. You put them on and get all hyped up for your favorite song or a beautiful refrain and just as the song gets going, it bleeps and skips and goes back to where you were. Back to where you've already been, back to what you've already heard.
I know. It's my third sickness this summer. Physically, I mean. Amazing.
The children's minister at my church is smart. She said that what we feared would happen when we first organized how we would do my residency (i.e. that it would zap my energy) actually happened.
And that's why I've gotten sick three times this summer.
I've been busy.
And isn't that a beautiful song.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Day Seven: Monday I woke up knowing it was my last day in DC, but knowing too that it was my vacation and I didn't need to feel pressure to finish the town off cause there was no way I could accomplish that. So I had lunch at a downtown pub with Stephen and a friend of his from work and then walked back to the National Gallery. I went in the East Wing this time and saw some amazing contemporary art. But as fantastic, abstract and surreal as it was, I had to return to the West Wing to have one last look at Degas et al. So I did. And then I went Christmas shopping in the Gallery's store.
After having satisfied my capitolist consumer fix, I returned to the capitol to lazily lay in a tree and listen to music. I had planned on cooking dinner for Stephen, Ryan and Kristin that night (after the debaucle the night before) and had a little time to kill before returning to Stephen's townhouse to start up the fire (so to speak - I don't actually cook with an open fire. The open stove proves dangerous enough).
Dinner was delicious even though someone who shall remain unnamed bought the wrong kind of soup for me to add to my famous recipe (I actually only know how to cook two dishes and don't deal well with change). Then Stephen and I went out for one last night on the town to see the monuments.
The monuments at night are almost cooler than they are in the day for several reasons. A number 1. It is literally cooler as the sun is down and the air blowing off the Poltomic is nice and...well...cool. B number 2. There are fewer tourists and C number 3. It just looks rad with the lights against the night sky.Stephen made me read Lincoln's second inagural address since I'd skipped it the first time around due to crowds. We also saw the Korean War momument which was eerie at night. The Jefferson, Stephen's favorite memorial, was still serene and larger than life.
It seemed appropriate to end my trip with a visit to the monuments who so startled me when I first flew in over the city. Kind of like my fixation with cacti and palm trees here in Texas (absent in Missouri), the monuments always seemed like a fairy tale about some place where cool stuff happened that somehow affects me now. But as Al Franken notes in his book, Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them, "politics can be vicious and dirty and cruel. Or... it can be part of what makes us human." The monuments were a larger than life reminder to live as such. To live as if dreams really matter, democracy matters, human lives matter and dreams really can come true.
And that, my friends, concludes my trip to DC.
Day Six: I went to Ravensworth Church on Sunday and then out to lunch with some peeps at a joint called "Five Guys." You can imagine how that went over. I fault those five guys for the grease that splattered on my cutie-patootie brand new skirt. I must now leave that topic.
After the hamburger and fry guys, Stephen and I visited the portrait gallary that just opened up after having been under renovation for 7 years or something. It has...shocker...portraits. And other art too. Note that the pic of the woman at the desk is none other than the author of my favorite children's book, Goodnight, Moon. Awesome. The other photo is of a huge, mm probably 12 by 12 area of one janitor's unfinished interpretation of the book of Revelation. But get this, it's made completely out of foil and cardboard and stuff. Note the crowns and suns and thrones. I'm not sure I would interpret the final book of the New Testament in such a manner, but the artist passed on before his work was finished, so I suppose now he knows better than I what the hell that book's about.
That night I hung out with Stephen's roommate Ryan and his friend Kristin, also from Austin. We mainly argued over what to eat for dinner, drank and talked about music most of the night while Kristin fell asleep on the couch. It was a fun time for all. It almost made me feel like I was back in Austin...sigh. Can't I have both worlds?
Day Five: Breakfast/Lunch was scheduled for the Eastern Market where the pancakes come with city-wide recognition. There are tons of shops there too of course and a veggie/fruit market. Chris and Michelle would have been in heaven. After my tour of this more indiginous DC attraction, Stephen and I headed to Baltimore where we would spend the afternoon and evening.
We arrived at the inner harbor and walked around looking at the ships and memorials. I was reminded of when Daria and I sailed with our professor while studying in France. Scary! This was great though. While we waited for our entry time at the aquarium, we found a little pub to kill time. At the Ram's Head, we struck up a conversation with a guy at the bar who turned out to be from Missouri, had not only heard of St Jo Mo, but then proceeded to ask me if I'd ever heard of Barbosa's! I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Or maybe Baltimore. Small world anyway. Barbosa's is only my favorite restaurant in Missouri and maybe in the whole United States, not to mention the world. He also asked me if I was familiar with the Noyes Home which of course brought up memories of grade school and birthday parties. The Noyes Home children all went to Noyes Elementary and I grew up with many of them as their home was only two blocks from my house. It was kind of surreal.
With time ticking, we left Ram's Head and headed to the Aquarium where we saw more turtles, frogs, sharks, dolphins, sea horses and nemo. It was pretty cool but super crowded. I can't even tell you how many times I got elbowed or pushed away from the glass. I tried not to let the mob of people put off my experience at the fish haven, but I have to admit I was ready for a drink after that sea of people.
For dinner, we rode the water taxi over to Fell's Point, a cool inner harbor decorated with shops, cobblestone streets and fabulous restaurants. Based on a fellow taxi-er's recommendation, we ate at John Steven's Limited where we ordered crab cakes and mahi mahi. Delicious. Holy cow. Yum. I'm at a loss for words.
We arrived at the inner harbor and walked around looking at the ships and memorials. I was reminded of when Daria and I sailed with our professor while studying in France. Scary! This was great though. While we waited for our entry time at the aquarium, we found a little pub to kill time. At the Ram's Head, we struck up a conversation with a guy at the bar who turned out to be from Missouri, had not only heard of St Jo Mo, but then proceeded to ask me if I'd ever heard of Barbosa's! I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Or maybe Baltimore. Small world anyway. Barbosa's is only my favorite restaurant in Missouri and maybe in the whole United States, not to mention the world. He also asked me if I was familiar with the Noyes Home which of course brought up memories of grade school and birthday parties. The Noyes Home children all went to Noyes Elementary and I grew up with many of them as their home was only two blocks from my house. It was kind of surreal.
With time ticking, we left Ram's Head and headed to the Aquarium where we saw more turtles, frogs, sharks, dolphins, sea horses and nemo. It was pretty cool but super crowded. I can't even tell you how many times I got elbowed or pushed away from the glass. I tried not to let the mob of people put off my experience at the fish haven, but I have to admit I was ready for a drink after that sea of people.
For dinner, we rode the water taxi over to Fell's Point, a cool inner harbor decorated with shops, cobblestone streets and fabulous restaurants. Based on a fellow taxi-er's recommendation, we ate at John Steven's Limited where we ordered crab cakes and mahi mahi. Delicious. Holy cow. Yum. I'm at a loss for words.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Day Four: The Zoo!!! Stephen took off the afternoon and together we metro-ed to the Washington National Zoo. Of course it was fabulous. One could tell it was old, but there were so many completed and under construction renovations that it proved to be a satisfactory habitat for the animals. Of course my favorite was the baby Panda who just turn one a few weeks ago. The turtles were pretty pimp too as I saw bottleneck turtles which look like half snakes half turtles cause their neck and head are so long as they stretch out from their normal shells. The arangatangs were feisty and feeding when we arrived. One male regurgitated his food and licked it onto the glass where it hung sticky and thick. Um gross. Stephen began giggling. Then the mammel began to lick back off the glass the food he just stuck there. The kids around the cage began their chorus of "Eww's" and Stephen laughed like a child. It was pretty amusing.
For dinner, Moxi and I invited Kevin and Stephen to dinner atRoyal Mile Pub in Wheaton, Maryland (my third state to visit this trip - just for the record). When we arrived I discovered that Shredtha and her husband were joining us! I hadn't seen Mox's sister since college so that was a fun surprise. The salmon linguini was delicious even though Moxi made fun of me for ordering a rolling rock with my dinner. We laughed so hard that night at old times that I didn't even care.
For dinner, Moxi and I invited Kevin and Stephen to dinner atRoyal Mile Pub in Wheaton, Maryland (my third state to visit this trip - just for the record). When we arrived I discovered that Shredtha and her husband were joining us! I hadn't seen Mox's sister since college so that was a fun surprise. The salmon linguini was delicious even though Moxi made fun of me for ordering a rolling rock with my dinner. We laughed so hard that night at old times that I didn't even care.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Day Three: I was dropped off at the Congressional Office and Cannon House Office Building at 8:45, just in time for my 9am appointment at Lloyd Doggett's office for my tour of the Capitol. I love Lloyd even though he doesn't know me. I signed a petition once (or twice) and got an email thanking me for my thoughts. I like congress folk like that. Not to mention that he has a soul. That helps.
Anyway, I and two polish women and a girl from DC trying to get a job as an intern took a tour of the Capitol with two relatively new (one week old and three weeks old) interns. It was so rad. The best part is that every state was offered the opportunity to send two statues to the Capitol for display. Of course I asked the two new interns to please point out Texas and Missouri. They knew where Texas was (one guide was originally from Austin), but MO's statues whereabouts were of course unknown. Shocker. And I can't imagine why. No Mark Twain, no Truman... we've got somebody named Blair and another guy named Blanton or something. Who are they? Oh well. I took pics next to Stephen F. Austin and King Kamauhamauha (Hawaii). I totally just spelled that wrong, but I gotta send that pic to Aunt Glo. Fun fact: that statue is so heavy they had to put it in the corner on one of the beams otherwise it would break the floor. It's just like the one in Honolulu in case anyone's interested.
Okay, so get on with it. I also say the Monuments on Thursday: Washington, WWII, Reflecting Pool, Lincoln, Jefferson and FDR. I called grandma while I was at the WWII memorial to ask what exactly grandpa had done during the war and to thank him. Lincoln, whom I was really looking forward to seeing, proved a disappointment, but mainly because of all the noisy tourists. Instead, I found reflection and inspiration at the new FDR memorial. The pic is of me and Eleanor whom my Great-Aunt Ann Catherine gave the introduction-of-speaker for once at a speech Mrs. Roosevelt gave in Minnesota. We're tight, me and Eleanor.
I then toured the Holocaust Museum, but after the first floor realized that if I was to be any use to my friends that night, I would need to hurry through the rest. The horror was too overwhelming. America, damn. We did fine fighting the atrocities, but we didn't do well...
For dinner, I visited Bus Boys and Poets which kicked Austin's ass with regard to cool coffee shops, restaurants. Sorry Tx, but it's true. This bookstore/dive was amazing, producing excellent food, music and ambiance.
Day Two: I ate lunch at a pimp cajun restaurant called Acadiana with the head pastor of Calvary Baptist, Amy Butler. Fun. She's fabulous: smart, funny, cynical and full of love for God and the church. A real role model. How she keeps it all together is beyond me, but I thought she was fabulous. A kindred spirit. Stephen was wise to introduce us. After lunch I toured Calvary and then returned back to the center of DC to check out some museums. I lurve museums and I love Degas. Needless to say, I visited the National Gallary and saw some beautiful paintings including some Toulouse and Van Gogh. I looked at Girls in the Olive Fields and felt a twang of sympathy with a troubled artist shut up in a room trying to find himself. I remembered not only my love for Degas' reds and ballerinas but for Vincent's plea to be free. But then I turned and saw his self-portrait. My empathy turned to anger as I remembered another lover of Van Gogh who painted his own self-portrait and in my rage I pictured myself attacking the million dollar painting, ripping through it and pulling it to the ground. But I didn't. Obviously, since I'm writing this and not from a prison cell. Not even my grandparents could bail me out of that. I just sat there, wanting to write in my journal, but not having a pen. Not even a pen. Nothing but my feelings and me and Vincent all sitting in a room staring at each other. Surreal. Art. It does something to you.I visited the Smithsonian Natural History Museum as well day two because I wanted to see the dinosaurs. Well, them and the hope diamond. The dinosaurs were every bit as cool and scary as I imagined. Huge bones connected and I was amazed that we as people are smart enough to excavate those animals without screwing up. People are so smart. I'd have totally "fresh break"ed a bone or something (that's what Itzac used to yell at us in Israel when he'd find a pottery piece that we'd excavated and broken in removing it from the ground)l. Anyway, the dinosaurs were super duper cool. The hope diamond was alright. I'm not saying I wouldn't mind wearing it once or twice, but God did a better job with the rocky mountains in my opinion.
Wednesday also brought Nationals Baseball Game Night. The Washington Nationals played the Braves and won 9 to 6. It was fun being at a baseball game, eating hotdogs and drinking beer just like Swell and Brooke, Zachy and Matt and I used to do in college. Believe it or not, this was my first professional baseball game to attend that wasn't in Royals Stadium. It paled in comparison, even if the team was (gulp... brush away tear) more impressive. Ah the Royals. What happened?
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