Sorry Jack...no, the other one

If you would have asked me a month ago what was the greatest TV show to ever be viewed by the human eye, I would have started telling you about these people that were in this plane crash and ended up on this island in the middle of no where...and there's this hatch...and these numbers...and polar bears...

But the thing is, that was before I was introduced to the crazy freakin' hard-A that IS Jack Bauer. Yes Jack Shepherd, I remember how you pounded on Charlie's chest like a maniac until he started breathing again and I am well aware of the surgery you performed on your future wife so that she could dance at her wedding. And don't get me wrong, that's awesome. Like really really good. BUT have you ever cut off your partners hand for the purpose of saving your country from a biological terrorist attack? Or have you ever become addicted to herroin just to get close to a major drug lord for the purpose of...again...saving your country? Or how 'bout this one Shepherd, ever had to shoot your boss in the head for the purpose of...yep you guessed it...securing the safety of your country? See Shepherd its not that you're not cool, its just that this Bauer dude is caraaazy! And when I say crazy, I mean totally LOCO!! So no hard feelings Jack??

Can ya tell I'm pumped about the prospect of beginning season four of "24" tonite?

742 sq. ft.

As we packed up the final box and finished painting the final trim back to a shade of “I-couldn’t-be-more-dull” off white in our quaint 742 sq. ft. home, I realized that the inspiration for the name of this blogspot is being said goodbye to also. You see, between the kitchen, dining room, family room and bathroom, the only window to the outside world in our apartment was the sliding glass door in the family room. Throughout our first year of marriage, Marky and I have sat on our couch that faces that sliding glass door and had God-himself-only-knows-how-many conversations…about what to do for dinner, what movie to rent, how WE would deal with various world issues, what to do with the rest of our lives, our relationship with each other, our relationship with friends, our faith, what we want to name our children some day, our budget (stupid money), and on and on and on. In that room, in front of that door, so much of the friendship that will carry us through whatever life hands us, was continuing to be formed. And so we started this blog, as an opportunity for us to document for ourselves just a few of those thoughts, conversations, dreams, and anxieties that we have had.

That sliding glass door was the window to the huge ugly beautiful world beyond our own little 742 sq. ft. cocoon. But its more than a window you see…it’s a door. A window is used to look at the rest of the world. A door is opened, and gives you the opportunity to leave behind safety and venture into this journey known as “life”. It is a metaphor that I have come to adopt for Marky and my relationship. Within our relationship I desire contentment (its funny to desire contentment isn’t it?), encouragement, love, comfort, peace…but always aware of the world beyond “us” and never hesitating to enter it, to live in it, to live passionately. As we look forward to the new adventure that is before us as we move to CO in a month and a half, we are excited about the opportunities to meet and love new people. May you (the reader) and I live faithfully and with confidence as we live the calling of showing each other where to find perfect and rich hope and joy in this life.

an ode to the messiness

The other day I was in the car driving from my office to a church to help out at the nursery for one of CareNet's ministries. I was eating a four cheese lean pocket that I had just nuked in the microwave for 2 minutes. I burned my hand on it because I tried to take it out of its little sleeve too fast and then I wrapped it in a paper towel to take with me in the car. The cheese was falling out all over the paper towel and I swore in my head (but not out loud of course) because I had just scorched my tongue on my overheated mushy dinner. I couldn’t help but start laughing to myself remembering how I had once determined for myself that once I was living on my own I would eat all these healthy meals, stock tons of fresh fruits and veggies in my freezer and easily get the 9-11 suggested servings a day. Isn’t that so classic though? Life is just plain messy. I always have these great plans for myself. “Once a little time passes, I will have my life in order.” Friends will be easy to keep in touch with, working out will be no problem to fit into my daily routine, my schedule will slow down…and there will be world peace. And then the older I get, a ripe old 24 (on the brink of being too old to apply for ANTM…I should probably get on that), the more I realize that a “life in order” is nothing more than a mirage. And I can say that (for the most part) I am glad that it’s the truth. The messy moments of life, the unexplainable events, the inconvenient twists and turns, taking care of aging parents right after all the kids move out, the oopsie babies (don’t worry this is not an attempt at some grand scheme to announce anything), the homeless guy hanging out in the posh strip mall, the family argument that interrupts Thanksgiving dinner, always reminds me that life is so much bigger than me and that I am not the one in control. No question it can be scary and the reason that I said I am glad of that truth “for the most part” is because of the many unexpected situations I have heard of and read about where there is very little beauty to be found and the messiness can leave me paralyzed and dumbfounded. But to my even greater amazement, there are stories of joy and redemption within the unexplicable pain and suffering. And I am reminded that there is a good GOOD God who is still at work and He is taking the messiness and the ugliness and creating beauty and wholeness slowly but surely, as only a Holy and Righteous God could. I remember a quote that my friend Kim Lura had on like a notebook or something in college and it said something like, "If God was small enough to be understood, He wouldn't be big enough to be worshipped." That's pretty cool.

what's to come...

This weekend, my good friend Monica (who is working in Peru with an organization called “Word Made Flesh”) was in town, so naturally, the whole “crew” was in town to see her. There’s just something about those girls. I laugh so hard. I’m funnier. I feel so deeply. When we’ve all been apart for awhile, I can tend to forget just how much they mean in my life and I’m able to function well without them near. But then a weekend like this one comes along and the dull aching in my stomach resumes. Realizing how much they are missed as an everyday anyday typical part of my life. After they leave I suffer from what I will fondly call PFTD—Post-friend-time-depression. My gracious and loving husband has learned how to “deal” with me during these times through trial and error. He listens to me, buys me Starbucks, and then listens some more. Then usually by the third day the acute symptoms have subsided and I’m functioning at 90% normality.

However, in light of the current events that have been going on with some families from Taylor, I think my case of PFTD was especially severe. I am thinking of the Van Ryn’s who, in all of their God-given strength and trust are looking forward to and hoping for the day when they will be reunited with their daughter and sister. And I am thinking of the Cerak’s who, after thinking their daughter was buried and gone, have been reunited with their “resurrected” daughter. But, in reality, no earthly reunion can be a whole and complete reunion until the day that we are reunited on the other side of this earth within the perfect and complete Body of Christ. When there will be no physical pain, no emotional scars.

I think of the aching that I feel for the girls that were in this weekend who mean so much to me and the many many others of whom I miss the day-to-day memories and moments that fill my life with joy. People who have shaped, formed, and enriched my life. The aching begins. And then I realize, the aching I feel is not because of what I can not have, it is because it is what’s to come.