The City of 100 Spires, part II

...really, though, there are MANY more than 100 spires and dozens more churches. The buildings themselves are absolutely stunning; it just so happens that almost all of the churches are now tourist hot-spots, museums, or concert venues, forgotten temples now with empty pews and void of worship.

St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague Castle

The most famous stained-glass window in St. Vitus





























































































Check out the organ!

View of Prague Castle and St. Vitus (in sunlight!)


















Old Town Square and Tyn Church




































Jan Hus statue and Tyn Church


















Old Town Hall























St. Nicholas

Cathedrals have tried in vain
To show the image of your face.
But we are, by your design,
The signature of divine.

We'll always sing your name.
Forever and today.

Yahweh, Yahweh...
Great is your glory when you go before me
Oh, we sing...
Holy, Holy...
Your ways are lovely. So high above me.
Yahweh

The fortunes of kings and queens
Are wasted chasing what we've seen.
Cause we are, by your reprieve,
The beauty framed by your suffering.

We'll always sing your name.
Forever and today.

Yahweh, Yahweh...
Great is your glory when you go before me
Oh, we sing...
Holy, Holy...
Your ways are lovely. So high above me.
Yahweh

Take me, and pull me through.
Cause I can't move without you.
I won't leave you alone, you say.
It will be okay.

Yahweh, Yahweh...
Great is your glory when you go before me
Oh, we sing...
Holy, Holy...
Your ways are lovely. So high above me.
Yahweh.

Ancient of Days...
Yahweh!

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Now playing: Needtobreathe - Signature of Divine (Yahweh)
via FoxyTunes

The City of 100 Spires, part I

Here are some images from my from my first few days in Prague. It is truly a beautiful, magical city.

I think this was the oldest functioning synagogue in the city.


View of the cemetery in the Jewish Quarter.


Charles Bridge and Petrin Tower.


















Joseph, Zach, Richard, Rachael, and me in front of Prague Castle.


















The most famous statue on the Charles Bridge, Jan of Nepomuk.


















Nearing the end of the Charles Bridge. We are now west of the Vltava, on our way to the Castle.


















Rachael under the bridge's tower.


















Starbucks (For you, Mom!)


















View from the top! (just outside Prague Castle)


















White peacock.
























Wallenstein Gardens


















Outdoor art and the National Theatre


















The Gehry Dancing House (Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers) across the Vltava
























View of central Prague while walking to Letna Park


















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Now playing: Sheryl Crow - Diamond Road
via FoxyTunes

Heartless, ESI-style

Last night, August 14, the last official day of training closed with the TeachOverseas talent show. Karina and I summed up four weeks of training with this little number.

(performed in the style of Kris Allen's cover of the Kanye West song)

(Not So) Heartless

Out on the field, you see them look
Tryin’ to see what’s different
In us and they want to know, they might just ask, how come you not so heartless?
How come you not so heartless?
I guess because you got Jesus.

We were so hot when, arriving Jul' nineteen it was a hundred
Sunny sweaty Pasadena was an oven
We made nametags, some of us felt like we were seven
Some of us bragging, showing off with more than stickmen
Steph, Alys say “I’ll draw yours, come on pass the pen”
Then, we try hard to forget first impressions
Then on, keep lowering those expectations
We’re warned of culture shock and bad teammates
But that’s okay; we prepare with Connal’s milkshakes
You got your Myers-Briggs, well I got mine too
So let’s try to show a little grace, you

Out on the field, you see them look
Tryin’ to see what’s different
In us and they want to know, they might just ask, how come you not so heartless?
How come you not so heartless?
I guess because you got Jesus.

Now you give us jam-packed weekends, always have us scheduled for an awesome time
Scavenger Hunt, Team Extravaganzas
Self defense mornings then betas and alphas…
Somewhere in there we add our own fun
The beach, the Getty, some shady bar
Late-night Nertz, then 4-hour movies
North and South: we all know that love’s the show
At Carice’s armpit hair we all sit and gawk
While Kelly keeps insisting she can do “guy talk”
We’re still so confused ‘bout Sabrina’s teapot
But that’s not saying that we’re ready to stop…

Out on the field, you see them look
Tryin’ to see what’s different
In us and they want to know, they might just ask, how come you not so heartless?
How come you not so heartless?
I guess because you got Jesus.

Come on write those lesson plans
Practicum starts right at sev’n
Present that info, Practice it right
Production had better end the night
Meanwhile, beware of those attacks
A demon might be at your back
God, we pray, be here with me
Each day from class to class
Wond’ring when’s our next nap
Teaching yet in our sleep
And now we dream at night of
Eighty-Twenty…

Out on the field, you see them look
Tryin’ to see what’s different
In us and they want to know, they might just ask, how come you not so heartless?
How come you not so heartless?
I guess because you got Jesus.

Out on the field, you see them look
Tryin’ to see what’s different
In us and they want to know, they might just ask, how come you not so heartless?




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Now playing: Kris Allen - Heartless (American Idol Studio Version)
via FoxyTunes

Flash Pass, or The Great Unequalizer

On July 3rd of this year, my dad and I decided that today was the day: it had been far too long - about 10 years - since we had been to Six Flags Great America, and we were going back. The inclines and drops of the American Eagle beckoned; we couldn't wait for the speed of the Raging Bull; we hoped we'd get to soar on Superman.

Now, even though these rides are all terrific, in order to understand just how much we wanted to ride them, you must know the sacrifices involved in getting to Great America. First of all, I-94 was torn up so badly with construction work and 4th of July weekend is notoriously one of the two most busy weekends for the park that, these two factors combined, our traditionally 20-25-minute drive to the park took 2 hours. Part of those two hours was spent on Six Flags roads, simply waiting in the mass (mind you, definitely NOT a queue) to pay for parking. We paid about $10 less than some simply by being willing to walk an extra 300 yards or so to the park's front gate. By the time we got in the park, it was almost noon, but at least we'd made it in! My dad can't handle the "brain scrambler" rides, so we instead scrambled to find a rollercoaster to suit our fancy.

Unfortunately, because it was one of the busiest weekends of the season, every rollercoaster had lines boasting wait times of 60-120 minutes (which we soon found out were in fact much longer). In order to avoid the worst of these wait times, we skipped Superman and headed to another new ride, The Dark Knight, where the wait time was only 60 minutes. We eventually found out that the ride had little to do with its movie namesake and was a short, boring waste-of-time.

But the more important, more interesting thing we found out along the way was the reason our wait-time was ultimately closer to 2 hours: Six Flags's new invention, the Flash Pass.

If the Flash Pass sounds familiar, you may be recalling Disney's Fast Pass. The Disney version allows every park guest "fast" access to popular park rides. Here's how it works: guests use their admission tickets when they visit Fast Pass booths associated with the rides, and they receive a designated hour to return to the ride for fast access. For example, a Fast Pass ticket might say, "Between 4:05 and 5:05 p.m., you may return to Space Mountain to use your Fast Pass." When you return to the ride, you bypass much of the regular line and skip to the front to get on the ride quickly. This service works because: 1) Guests don't get angry because they all have free access to the service, 2) A limited number of guests are asked to return each hour, and 3) Guests may only be in possession of one Fast Pass at a time, i.e. they must first use one up before gaining another. Basically, it is a great service Disney provides that allows guests to enjoy some rides (and stand in the regular rides) while knowing they will return shortly to their Fast Pass ride of choice. It's a big time saver, and makes the Disney experience even better than it already is.

Not so at Great America (nor, I assume, the other Six Flags parks). The Flash Pass is in stark contrast to Disney's system: the daily Flash Pass is only obtained by paying a hefty fee -- almost $50 for two people at the regular rate, and $92 for two people at the premium rate. While the Flash Pass issues too many passes per hour per ride already, those who pay the higher fee are allowed to ride even more rides, closer together, and while simultaneously holding Flash Pass "reservations" for other rides. Basically, those with the Flash Pass end up overrunning all of the popular rides (and there are many), leaving all of the regular riders in the dust.

On any day a 60-minute wait time would be frustrating, but because so many people puchased the Flash Pass (in order for which they also had to wait in line) on July 3rd due to the overcrowded park, regular riders were forced to double their wait times on even the less-than-exciting rides such as The Dark Knight. This basically meant riders (my dad and me included) stood in a queue for ten minutes at a time before moving approximately ten feet and then waiting again. You can imagine the anger regular riders directed toward the ride attendants who were simply doing their job by letting on those who had paid money for the Flash Pass.

Here's why the Flash Pass made me angry: People save up for holidays, for the days off work when they can have some fun with family. Walking around Great America, it is very obvious that most of the people at the park are average Americans, not made of a lot of money, and more than likely struggling through this economic crisis. They scrimp and save to pay the $50something park entrance fee for each of their family members, only to get inside to find that they hadn't saved enough to make their day at the park really enjoyable. Because they can't afford either Flash Pass -- and especially the better one -- the average American must wait in line for 90-150 minutes per ride on the holiday weekend. They are worn down, exhausted, and bored, and only have time to go on 3-5 rides. Each of those rides, though fun, is tainted by the new memory of long waits in line.

Indeed, the Flash Pass is Great America's great UNequalizer. While Disney's system allows every park guest who pays the initial entrance fee the same access to all of its rides, Great America grants opportunity to the wealthy and marginalizes the financially-struggling (and those who refuse to cave to the system). After my visit to Great America last month, I was really disappointed in Six Flags.


...That is, except for one thing. My dad and I had spent two hours traveling and getting into the park, and then another two hours waiting in line for the not-so-thrilling Dark Knight ride, and then another 30 minutes refueling on park pizza, when we finally wandered over to the Raging Bull, hoping to be cut a break. Well, the lucky minute we stepped to the back of the "60 minute"-wait line was the exact minute a Six Flags VIP Tours representative was assigned to approach the end party and offer back-entry to the front of the ride's line. Cut a break we were! My dad and I were ecstatic, of course, and even more so when our tour guide Mike offered to also take us to the front of the Superman ride, where we lay on our stomachs and soared through the air on the craziest ride of our lives. We grabbed some complimentary Cokes, said goodbye to Mike, and then squeezed in Batman (65 minutes) and American Eagle (40 minutes) before we had to leave the park for the evening (not without, of course, trying to ride the Viper, whose line we left after it didn't budge an entire hour!).

All in all, it was an interesting day. Thanks to VIP Tour Guide Mike, our day was partially salvaged, but I am still extremely disappointed in Six Flags Great America's Flash Pass strategy to pull the park out of bankruptcy and put it back in the black. For me, it is just a blatantly obvious way this corporation maintains - even widens - the great rift between haves and have-nots in America.

My dad, Mike, and I riding the front row of Superman.


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Now playing: AC/DC - For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)
via FoxyTunes

To Dad, In Honor of Fathers' Day

So after a month-long blogging hiatus, I am ready to catch up on many thoughts I've had over the past month -- even the past several months. I'll start with some thoughts on one of Hallmark's holiday creations.

I love Fathers' Day. I mean, I haven't always thought it something special. Until I was 18, my mom picked out and purchased my dad's gift for me. All I needed to know was what time we were grilling out as a family, if we were grilling at all. And even then, it was my dad doing the grilling.

With time, though, Fathers' Day has grown on me. Yes, I think it's a cheesy business ploy for us Americans to buy a whole bunch of cards from Hallmark, but I think it's important to recognize the father figures in our lives, for all they've given us, and if not for all they've given us, then at least for what they are meant to represent.

At church with my mom last month on Fathers' Day, a young father gave the sermon, reflecting on how difficult it is to try to be a father and to accurately represent to his young kids characteristics of our true Father in Heaven. He had me in tears when he apologized to all of those in the sanctuary who did not have fathers -- or didn't have loving fathers -- and who didn't know what the relentless, protective, unconditional love of a father could be. And maybe because their fathers didn't take upon them the challenge to love them as Father-like as possible, they never understood an entire side of God. That -- the knowing that others have prevented their children from knowing God as fully as those who have real father figures, that their children may not want to know God completely because calling God one of his names - Father, Abba, Daddy - brings back ten thousand bad memories -- that is what breaks my heart.

At the same time, it makes me so grateful that I am one of lucky ones. I have an amazing father, an incredible dad. Despite all his imperfections, and somehow through all of my own, I have seen clear glimpses of how God must love me. I have seen exampled before me ways I should act, what my priorities should be, and how I should love in my turn. I have seen these things in my dad's ability to be goofy and maintain a huge child-like spirit even at 57. I have seen them in how he coached my baseball and basketball teams in Spring Lake Sports for years. I have seen them in the ways he runs and bikes and skis and then goes on to enjoy the richness of a good meal. I have seen them when my dad once again placed family first and made sure I could spend the holidays with the family when he knew I couldn't afford to on my own. I have seen them in the ways he continually lifts up each of his children, praises our strengths, and offers his full support through our troubles. I have seen them when I hurt, because he hurts; when I rejoice, he does, too. I have witnessed his example in his prayers, his pursuit of knowledge, his raptures over all of Creation -- the mountains, the stars, the rainbow of colors on the Earth.

I am amazed when I learn knew things about my dad -- like how, despite a young family and a thriving career, he started and led a new Young Life club as a volunteer leader near age 30, or how he is not simply now the Vice-Chair of the Board of Directors of the Cabrini Green Legal Aid Clinic in Chicago, but how he has been unswervingly committed to CGLA's mission to seek justice and mercy for the poorest of the poor since his unpaid internship with CGLA while in law school in the mid-1970s.

Today, my dad continues to give countless hours to CGLA. Recently, he sued the Office of the Governor of Illinois on behalf of individuals who had waited far too long for decisions regarding their petitions for clemency from past crimes. CGLA argued that, because these individuals are allowed to reapply for clemency, they were due decisions, whether favorable or not.



Though the circuit court eventually reversed the decision of the district court to mandate decisions from the governor, when Pat Quinn replaced Rod Blagojevich as Governor, he immediately acted on the petitions and granted 11 pardons. Despite the messiness of the court system, because my dad and the CGLA did not cease pursuing justice on these people's behalves, they are able to start their lives fresh. How's that for an example of how to pursue justice and mercy?

My dad is not perfect, but he doesn't pretend to be, either. Rather, he makes known his mistakes and doesn't let anyone else confuse them for what is ideal or who God is. Because of that, it is so much easier to see all the marvelous ways he listens to God and pursues God in his actions and models good character and relationship with God for his children, his co-workers, and his friends. Because of the ways he succeeds and the character in which he fails, I love him more and more. As a grown-up, I can relate more as I find myself in situations I saw him in as a little girl. I can relate more as I marvel at the greatness of nature and of the entire universe because, watching my dad, my relationship with the Father has blossomed through the years so that I can have a full appreciation of His Creation.

Indeed, I am one of the lucky ones. Thank you, Dad, and thank you, Lord God, for giving my dad to me.

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Now playing: Mark Schultz - She Was Watching
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Let's Give Her Something to Blog About

So a running joke between my friends the Johnsons and myself is that I don't know how to blog -- in that, I've only been posting several times a month while they post every. single. day. Well, this past week, this pair certainly helped give me something to blog about. They, along with so many special people and places I hold so close to my heart, helped make an incredibly memorable, momentous week -- one that, I know I will remember for a long time to come. (Please pardon the cliche -- it's true!)

You'd think during a week in which three of seven days I was in the car for 11+ hours, I would be more preoccupied, exhausted, bored, and annoyed of all the driving and hauling and packing/unpacking than excited about sitting on my butt so many times for so long, trying to stay awake and not eat too many Cheez-its. I might have even expected the week to go that way myself. But -- without knowing if it was that the time alone in the car that allowed me time for reflection and peace, or that it gave me cabin-fever so that I savored any moment with other people, or that it simply allowed anticipation for big events to build and, eventually, spill over at the events -- the week was one of the best I've had in a long, long time, I can tell you that much.

Fortunately, I remember having my only big travel-induced mood swing the night before my first Abingdon-Chicago roadtrip (while Luke and Rudy were being such gentlemen by loading everything I own into my U-Haul -- they're such good friends to put up with me!). After that, it was pretty much smooth sailing for the week. Here's the 9-day breakdown:

Saturday 6/6: Drove from Abingdon to Chicago. Had FANTASTICALLY sunny weather, took the scenic route to Lexington, KY, through Cumberland Gap and saw my first Civil War reenactment. Successfully arrived in Lincolnshire with my U-Haul trailer in tow! Attended Natalie's Graduation/Going-Away party for Caroline and Dan in Lakeview that night and saw old high school friends for the first time in 3ish years.

Sunday 6/7: Attended Marina and Adam's wedding! Marina is my oldest friend (5th grade) - or at least the oldest with whom I still chat on a regular basis. The wedding was BEAUTIFUL, I have never seen Marina so happy, and many wonderful high school friends danced the night away with me.

Monday 6/8: Drove from Chicago to Abingdon after sleeping over at Kim's awesome apartment in Evanston. Had great weather, avoided traffic, and made good time. Arrived in Abingdon in time to join Stacy, Erin, and Molly for The Bachelorette (gotta keep watching Mike Stagliano...oh wait, I'd watch the show regardless of whether he was on it...).

Tuesday 6/9: Started closing up shop at the high schools. Had a "Farewell to Abingdon" picnic on the VA Creeper Trail, and despite the POURING rain and life-threateningly close lightning, many folks showed up to hug me good-bye, eat loads of brownies and pasta salad, and, once it lightened up, play in the sun. I'm so blessed to have each and every one of you in my life! The surprise of the night was when Jordan and Joseph, those crazy Johnsons, showed up at the picnic, having driven 3 1/2 hours from Charlottesville to say good-bye to me one last time. I love you guys.

Wednesday 6/10: Packed up my stuff at Holston and said good-bye to all the staff there. All of the lady teachers went out to beautiful Damascus and treated me to a delicious lunch :) Then, that evening, I enjoyed yet another delicious meal at Outback while celebrating Liz Jackson's (my name twin!) 18th birthday and high school graduation.

Thursday 6/11: Finished up at Patrick Henry and said my tearful good-bye to Pat, Patty, and Tina -- how much they taught me these two years! On Thursday evening, Rudy and I had our share of laughs as we packed the rest of my stuff in my car and hooked up my bike rack in the rain. Then, Rudy, Stacy, and I watched So You Think You Can Dance? and MTV (I've taught those two how to watch reality TV like pros) for several hours before I had to also say good-bye to Rudy. That night, I finally agreed to have a slumber party in Stacy's bed after she'd asked me multiple times throughout the year, and it was fantastic staying up late just talking until at least 1am.

Friday 6/12: Drove from Abingdon to Chicago once again, this time getting caught several times in construction and rush-hour traffic. Between Indianapolis and Chicago, cars were stopped so often that I decided to amuse myself with a Sally first: painting my nails in the car! They didn't even turn out half-bad! That evening, I met my parents, sister, and brother-in-law downtown at the University Club for the Rush University Medical College's Commencement Banquet. It was fabulous to honor my sister and the other graduates, and to have an excuse to get all dressed up. Hanging out in Chicago's "Harry Potter" room wasn't half-bad, either!

Saturday 6/13: Was woken up at 5a by my sister's dog who desperately needed outside. (I don't have to let her out every day, so I didn't mind the one day.) Went to Walker Bros with the parentals, the graduate, and her husband and chowed down on yummy spinach crepes and about a gallon of coffee before driving to the city for the Rush graduation at UIC. We then headed back up North to grill dinner, for which we were joined by Zach and Kristin, AND Huck and Nike. Many laughs were laughed, pictures taken, and glasses of champagne downed. A good night.

Sunday 6/14: Was woken up by the gorgeous sun -- apparently the first legit nice day in Chicagoland in a while. Picked Kim up in Evanston and headed to LaSalle Street Church for a wonderful 11a service that included one of my favorite hymns, Be Thou My Vision. After church, Kim and I wandered through the art fair in Old Town, ate a delicious sandwich lunch outside, and took advantage of traffic on the way home to chat it up even more. After dropping Kim at home, I did a little shopping and then took a short bike ride. I closed out the day by making it to bed before midnight -- amazing.

Now I can only hope the rest of the summer (what the heck? the rest of the year, too!) is as good as this week. I look forward to all the days filled with the same joy, patience, and peace I felt throughout this week!

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Now playing: Bon Jovi - Who Says You Can't Go Home
via FoxyTunes

9 Year Later, Still Holding On

Nine years ago today, almost to the hour, Rebecca Gayle Berger passed away due to asphyxiation during an acute asthma attack. She had been jumping on a trampoline at my friend Bob's house, celebrating with Bob, Jeremy, and Jackie having been all named new members to Patriot Singers, our high school's most esteemed choir. She was joyful. She was six final exams away from finishing her sophomore year. She was just fifteen.

I found out the next day when Gillian's parents called my mom, who, sobbing, relayed the news to me. It was eight in the morning. My friends had allowed me to sleep that long, knowing I wouldn't sleep well for a long time to come. My mom tried to tell me the news, but I was just confused. Becca? What do you mean Becca? Are you talking about someone else and not the good friend I saw just yesterday? Surely, you must mean another Becca -- my Becca is young and healthy and accomplished and the definition of "full of life." Sometime in the course of the morning, though, once I arrived at the Bergers' house to sit shiva, saw Rich and Judy's blank, tear-soaked faces, and joined a large circle of Stevenson students, I must have realized that what my mom said was true: Becca was gone.

After that, the week was a whirlwind. I remember walking to McDonald's with some friends and trying to swallow some food. I remember hearing Becca had donated her organs. I remember opting out of studying for my final exams, of taking my French exam with a teddy bear in my lap and tears slowly falling down my face, of pushing back my other exams. I remember going to the funeral service and singing "Letting Go" with what seemed the entire choir department, something that was a huge commemoration of Becca's passion and talent because music isn't traditionally a part of Jewish funerals. I remember some 700 people being present at the service for beloved Becca. I remember that Becca was a light in an age of really messed up, really confused teenagers, and people clung to her even as she was lowered below the earth. I remember losing, for the first time, someone who had been a daily part of my life, who I'd sat with at a pep assembly just 10 hours before her death, cheered on the phone just an hour before. I remember everything being new and frustrating and intense and fuzzy.

I still haven't been able to wrap my head around her death -- who can, after all, make sense of tragedy like that? -- but each year my thankfulness for her grows and grows. During that year, as we sang and danced with our show choir, Syncopation, and perfected "You Don't Own Me" for SHS's variety show, Showcase, we grew in friendship. Before that year, I'd felt uneasy when any of my peers referred to any other as her "best friend." I didn't know the meaning of the term; I'd never felt so sure that anyone was deserving of the honor. But Becca was. She was my first best friend. She was trustworthy, and hopeful, and humble, and excited about life, and she had the voice of an angel. She possessed all of those qualities I wished for myself, and she unabashedly showered them upon everyone. Becca was excited about being my friend -- like, I, too, was something special.

Throughout Summer, 2000, and over the next several years, Becca gave me a wonderful gift: She gave me a whole new group of "best friends", people brought closer together through her death -- a whole new group of friends upon whom I could depend. So many of us still are super close today. In Fall, 2002, when it was time for me to apply to colleges, Becca was still on my mind. I wanted these colleges to not only hear about this wonderful person but also to hear how she shaped my life and taught me to pass on all the lessons she'd taught me. So my essays were about her and how I've learned how important it is to pass on all the love she bestowed on all she met and how I tried to do that. And it was a way to take her to college, to have her experience something she never could.

Now, I carry Becca with me all the time. We all know that every single day is a gift, but when I think of Becca, I believe it. The urgency hits me.

Most of the time, I don’t wake up in the morning thinking this could be my last day. I don’t think, this could be the last time I will sleep in this soft bed, this could be the last time I’ll get ready for work, this could be the last morning coffee I’ll need, this could be the last time I’ll listen to that song on the radio, this could be the last time I’ll hear the voices of my loved ones. I don’t think about how life would continue without me in it, about how some may say their lives were different because of me, about how so many wouldn’t know the difference with me gone. I just don’t.

When I think of Becca -- and I pray, even as we near her death's tenth anniversary, that I may do so with even greater frequency -- When I think of her, all of it hits me. I realize, I am lucky to be alive, to have breath flowing in and out of my mouth, to be able to go about my life. And I realize, what a privilege I have here in my hands: the privilege to live, and experience life as God intended, and to share with others that life and love God wants for me and that Becca must have discovered herself.

I am persuaded to each day honor the memory of a wonderful girl. To know that she lives on still. To pray that she's with God. And to have hope in that prayer, because God shone threw her in every interaction, every smile, every grain of friendship, and every note sung. Because I knew her, I have been blessed.


Courtney, me, Becca, Abra, and Jackie on an SHS music department trip to Disney World in early March, 2000.

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Now playing: Stevenson High School - Please Don't Play With My Heart
via FoxyTunes

Birthday with The Boss

About a week ago, I celebrated my 24th birthday. The best birthday present actually wasn't any thing, but a voicemail from my parents wishing me a great day and then telling me they had to play me a song, Bruce Springsteen's "Surprise, Surprise". The lyrics for the verses and chorus are these:

Today is your birthday we traveled so far we two
So let's blow out the candles on your cake and we'll raise a glass or two
And when the sun comes out tomorrow
It'll be the start of a brand new day
And all that you have wished for I know will come your way

Well, surprise, surprise, surprise
Yea, surprise, surprise, surprise
Well, surprise, surprise
C'mon open your eyes and let your love shine down

In the hollow of the evening, as you lay your head to rest
May the evening stars scatter a shining crown upon your breast
In the darkness of the morning as the sky struggles to light
May the rising sun caress and bless your soul for all your life

I think this birthday song was so special because it celebrated every single one of my 24 years. I grew up with Springsteen playing on every radio and car stereo. It reminds me of my dad, my mom, my brother, ten zillion car rides with the windows down, and three mind-blowing concerts (most recently just this past May 5) that I know I will never forget because they were simply that good. So, because of all these things, when I hear Bruce's name, or I listen to one of his songs, I hear something magical, something not entirely pure but still overwhelmingly good. It reminds me of me, and the people I love, and the hope for another good day -- or another good year -- and still more summer memories with the car-top down.



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Now playing: Bruce Springsteen - The Wrestler
via FoxyTunes

About a Girl

So lately I've been making my way through Donald Miller's book Blue Like Jazz, which, first of all, I shouldn't have put off reading for six years and which really is a quick read -- maybe a couple hours, tops -- but I've been going slowly, soaking in all the stories one at a time. Today I reached his chapter on living in community, which is pretty darn relevant to me right now, as I need to figure out how to operate next year when I not only share an apartment but a bedroom with another, when I trade in my townhouse for a single-level share, my queen bed for a twin. I was reading this chapter and realized, the person he's describing is me.

"It is like in that movie About a Boy where Nick Hornby's chief character, played by Hugh Grant, believes that life is a play about himself, that all other characters are only acting minor roles in a story that centers around him. My life felt like that. Life was a story about me because I was in every scene. In fact, I was the only one in every scene. I was everywhere I went. If somebody walked into my scene, it would frustrate me because they were disrupting the general theme of the play, namely my comfort or glory. Other people were flat characters in my movie, lifeless characters. Sometimes I would have scenes with them, dialogue, and they would speak their lines, and I would speak mine. But the movie, the grand movie stretching from Adam to the Antichrist, was about me. I wouldn't have told you that at the time, but that is the way I lived" (180).

I wonder, if this is me, how did I get that way? I have a couple guesses. My fourth year of college, I lived in an old, decrepit house with eight other girls. It was an experience, I can tell you that much. Dishes went weeks without being cleaned, trash piled up, and the molding floor was about to fall out beneath our feet. Now, I am a relatively messy person, but I still found myself escaping to my room, eating my dinner and reading my books and watching my TV away from the clutter of the shared living spaces and the rowdy late-night drinking gatherings and the general girl gossip that overflows in any house of that many women. I think I realized that, yes, all of us girls were different, chose to believe the differences outnumbered the quality similarities, and cut myself off from the house. I imposed solitude on myself before it was required of me.

The following summer -- summer of 2007 -- I moved into my Abingdon townhouse apartment and lived there a year without a roommate. I would come home from work, or track, or worship band practice, every day to nothing but my television and stuffed animals. I could pretty much do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it. Sleep all afternoon on the couch? Sure, I wasn't getting in anyone's way. Play music 24/7? Sounded good to me. Decide not to move all my laundry off the drying rack in the kitchen for a whole week? I wasn't making anyone else's houseguests snicker.

There was supposed to be a degree of freedom in living by myself; I could bask in the silence and my own thoughts and learn more about myself. That's what the year was supposed to be. And I did learn some things: primarily, that I hate living alone. I was lonely, homesick even, and I picked up some habits that I wasn't proud of. When Stacy moved herself in last August, I was thankful. There would be someone to talk to, someone with whom to discuss stuff with -- work, boys, the Bible, whatever. There would be another person around to make me feel more human, to be a physical manifestation of that for which I was created: relationship.

For the most part, it has been great. Where I have gone wrong, at various times to various degrees but continuously nonetheless, is my inability to bring myself back out of that abyss of self-serving interest that was tended so thoroughly over several years previous. During those years, when I'd been home, it was normal for no one to be around, for my life to seem about me because I wasn't actually interacting with other people, people who would've been a reminder that it's never about me, but about God, about all He has created. But this past year, houseguests have been abundant, high schoolers have popped by at random hours, and another person has been sharing this space equally with me. I wasn't ready for it. I've wanted to watch my TV when I wanted, to work out when I felt was most convenient for me and not necessarily for Young Life plans, to shower before Stacy and therefore hog all the hot water, to leave all my stuff scattered all over the living room and kitchen and bathroom. I've put my headphones on to drown out, well, everything, and to try to convince myself I was the one still at the center of my world. And if I have to talk, even this extrovert has wanted "efficiency in personal interaction;" I've wanted interactions to be short and sweet and to the point so I can get back to what I was doing before I was interrupted (181).

How selfish was I? I still do all these things, I must admit, but now I think I see the consequences of acting selfishly like this. Now, I want to change, and am trying. The world doesn't revolve around me, so I need to live fully aware that everyone with whom I interact is counted among God's most precious ones. If I can show patience, be willing to change plans for them, want to go out of my way for them -- not for the sake of my own pride but simply through the love of Jesus -- then I might truly be called His follower.

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Now playing: Sarah McLachlan - Good Enough
via FoxyTunes

Starts With Goodbye

Over the past several weeks, I've had to face the first goodbyes. You know, complete with the awkward final hugs and I'll miss you's and slow tears in the car afterward. It's been much harder than I realized it could be. I'm not one who typically gets homesick or terribly nostalgic. I don't cry a lot. I don't get too attached to any particular place; I keep the I'm-going-to-be-moving-on-from-here attitude.

All of that -- that part of my personality, or what I thought my personality was -- is disintegrating. All of a sudden, I'm homesick for a whole lot of people who've quietly stood by me and held me up as I tried to run through the world as quickly as the wind. I know I haven't given some the regard they deserve, and others, well, I'm not so sure I remember what it is to live without them anymore.



It's so strange to be moving out of Virginia and shipping off to the Czech Republic in the year 2009 because I know all of these people who have such a permanent place in my heart are just a Facebook post, a Skype call, or even a snail mail letter away. But even now, before I've even moved, simply looking toward the thousands of miles that will separate us already makes my heart ache. I'm tearing up several times a day over so many people I've fallen in love with -- all those people I want to come with me, to experience my adventures, to let me experience theirs.

You all know who you are. My family. My TYMPers. The ECC. My sorority sisters. Every Jubo and Jubalum I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. The College Guides. My Young Life family. And so many others from every chance meeting you can think of. You are so precious to me. You are what makes this so hard.

"'Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.'" (Matthew 10:37-29)

Lately I've been asked "when do you leave on your trip?" quite a bit. I've paid attention to this question because my move, my work in a Prague high school, my decision to let God lead me to Europe doesn't seem to me like a "trip" at all. I have no idea how long I'll be there, or where God might lead me in a year or two years or ten. All I know right now is how God wants to use me during this upcoming school year, and that I need to adopt an attitude of permanence in my pursuit of Christ. I think that attitude is what is making these goodbyes so much more difficult -- because I don't know when I will be back to all the places I've been, or if I'll be seeing all my favorite people in the near future or never again.

It is most likely the most scary, sobering, melancholy thing I've yet faced. I mourn the friendships I'm leaving behind and my inability to experience daily life with them very soon in the future. I already miss their laughs, and inside jokes, and spontaneous crazy adventures. I miss sleeping on their couches, singing Journey songs and show tunes with them, having them knock randomly on my door in the middle of the night.

But somewhere deep down, I know pursuing Jesus in this way must also be so much more hopeful than is the sadness of leaving these people behind. And, it is true I have so much to look forward to: new friendships with my coworkers and students and teammates, a life in a beautiful country rich in history, and the sustaining knowledge that I've shown to a most precious Creator (and realized for myself!) that even the best things in life can't hold a candle to His glory or wonder.

...it's just that, as much as I want it to and hope is still will, all of that hasn't lessened the hurt of this part of the journey. So in the meantime, until the hurt subsides, I glue myself to the photographs and listen to sappy songs and keep on telling Jesus I am so thankful He's with me no matter where I go.