Morning Rounds and Evening Musings

I'm weary of all the election banter, and it has put me off of blogging or reading others' blogs for the time being. I won't go into details, other than to say this:

I am a Christian. And because of my faith, my values and morals and my politics, I voted for Obama. That does not mean I am not a Christian, or that I made a decision not to vote for 'God's candidate.' And it also does not mean that I am waiting for government to solve all my problems, or that I think Obama is the savior of the world and the best president ever.

Obama is neither the antichrist nor the messiah. The kingdom of God will not be ushered in through the Whitehouse under either a Democratic or a Republican Administration. It will be ushered in through the church. And the sooner the church can learn to love each other despite disagreements, the more we model and live out God's kingdom right here on earth.

Throughout the last few weeks and months, I have been offended by people on both sides of the political spectrum--from die-hard democrats who demean republicans and from die-hard republicans who think I'm un-Christian or unintelligent for making the choice I did.

Basically, I'm tired of defending myself. And I'm sad that politics drives families and friends to say mean things to each other. And I'm going to keep my thoughts and opinions to myself for a little while.

This was on Oprah today. I didn't see it, but a friend passed it on to me today. It's both beautiful and tragic, as so many things in this world are.

Today was a good day because:

I got a surprise call from Wes (who I haven't seen since Monday) saying he was at Emory, and had time for a quick dinner before he headed to Grady for another overnight shift! That meant I got to see him a whole day earlier than I was planning!

And, I haven't had any panicked calls from volunteers waiting or confused about their transportation. This is the first time in 2 1/2 weeks that I haven't had my evening interrupted by transportation hassles.

The house is clean, I'm ahead of a deadline for an article I'm writing for Refugee Family Services, and my Anglican Theology prof gave us a two week extension on a doctrine paper we have due soon.

All in all, a good day. Now, time for some reading for class, a glass of wine, and a hot bath!

Dan and Erin Holcomb just posted this video about Advent Conspiracy, a movement I'm trying to get my church and Candler to join. I have done a lot of thinking (and not enough action) about simplicity and generosity, and there's no better time to put both of those into practice then at Christmas when Americans--Christian Americans-- are their most consumeristic.




Beyond the potential for giving and generosity for communities that don't enjoy the most basic resources for their survival and the fact that giving of ourselves--our time, our energy, ourselves--is MORE rewarding than giving or receiving stuff, why simplicity?

I would like to elaborate on this at some point, for now, I can think of several additional reasons, even though investing in our relationships and spending more money on others seems like reason enough:

1. It's better for the environment. A big part of the reduce, reuse and recycle equation is reducing and reusing. I know I'm far to quick to use as much as I ever have and toss it in the recycle bin rather than find ways to reuse or better yet--don't buy and consume so much crap in the first place!

2. The less money I need for stuff, the time I need to spend working to earn money to buy stuff. And that means more family time, more investment in the community and in my church. More rewarding relationships.

I don't think seeking simplicity in our lives has to be in response to guilt about having too much. I want to seek simplicity because it's a more attractive option than having too much--because relationships are more important, more rewarding and what Christ was certainly all about. So it's not in a spirit of self-sacrifice or deprivation or even about voluntary poverty as much as it is about choosing a better way, making a more rewarding choice--not a less rewarding one. For example, I truly, truly would rather have your stories and have you share a piece of my history with me and yours than I would new clothes. Really and truly.

I'd love to hear your thoughts! And thanks to Erin and Dan for reminding me about this issue, especially as Christmas shopping and gift giving is just over the horizon.

You can find out more about Advent Conspiracy at: www.adventconspiracy.org.

Dad apparently did his homework and sent my plea for stories to his family. My uncle Tom emailed me with week with a photo of my grandpa and his siblings 8 years after they came to America from the Netherlands. He also included the following from his cousin Larry (Not sure what that makes Larry to me...2nd cousin?). I tried to identify the relationship of each of these people to me in parentheses:

The Ten Harmsel clan came to America in 1920 when a whole bunch of brothers, including our grandpa (my great-grandpa), Herman, left the small town of Nijverdal and got on a boat to come across the Atlantic. They left tow sisters in the Netherlands--both of them single--Tante Dena and one other sister whose name I don't know. The sisters lived into their nineties, and I know that Grandpa Herman visited them when he went back to the Netherlands in the late sixties.

The brothers came with their aged parents. I think their mother died on the boat on the way over (although I"m not sure about that--she may have died just before they left). Their father (my great-great-grandpa) died shortly after they arrived in Iowa, and is buried there. The six or so brothers, with their wives and kids, all settled in northwest Iowa, around Hull (Perkins Corners, Doon, some other small towns in the vicinity).

After they were in this country nine years, when they were just starting to get on their feet, the Depression hit, and devastated all of them. Some were able to go on making a living, but Grandpa (my great-grandpa) was thrown out of work and plunged into terrible poverty. My dad (my great-uncle, I think) still remembers as clear as a bell the time in 1936 when the family had to auction off everything they owned in the world, and take what little money they could get for it and come to Zeeland, Michigan where Grandpa had found work. It was a very dark time for them, although it began getting a little better after 7 or 8 years in Zeeland.

But then World War II came along. The Ten Harmsel family had three sons in the army at the same time, and the whole gang was worried about their safety. As it turned out, my dad (great uncle again) didn't go overseas, but you dad (my grandpa) and Tony (another great uncle) did. And they were part of some of the worst action of the war--both on D-Day and, in the case of your dad, in the Battle of the Bulge, too.

As you may not know, I (dad's cousin) worked with your dad at De Leeuw Lumber Company from 1959 until '62 or '63. I rode with him from Zeeland every morning of the summer in those years. He was driving a '57 Chevy with a straight stick--a cool car as far as I was concerned. He never talked much about the war--said a few things, but the general impression I got was that he didn't care to linger too much on that experience. He came unwounded, while a lot of guys he knew didn't come back at all. And it was a sobering experience, not the sort of thing you take lightly or discuss much. (that car is not the actual car, but I wanted to see what a '57 chevy looked like).

He (my grandpa) was always cheerful, full of jokes (some of them off-color) and he was far and away the strongest guy at the lumberyard--a place where everybody was fairly tough. Herm could haul lumber off the boxcars with his bare hands (which were like leather) while everybody else wore gloves. He would handle 2x12's two or three at a time, while I had to grunt with just one. Yes, back in those days we unloaded boxcars full of lumber by hand. Nowadays it's all containerized and mechanized. We used to have little contests at the yard, where people would make guesses about, say, the length of a 2x4 laying on the ground a hundred yards way. Herm always won those bets. I remember one time when people were betting the 2x4 was either 14 or 16 feet long, but your dad said it wasn't either--he thought it looked like about 15' 3''. We sent a guy over with a tape measure and sure enough--it was a sixteen footer that had had 9" cut off. I was always amazed at the accuracy of his eye.

I don't think the De Leeuw brothers ever paid your dad all that well, but he really seemed to enjoy the work, and I never once heard him complain. He was, all in all, a real pleasure to work with, and to get to know in that way.

I think I know someone else with leathery hands who would probably put everyone in a lumberyard to shame. Hmmm. Wonder where he gets it? Also, I went online to see if DeLeeuw Lumber still existed. And they do! And they had a little history section on their page that talked about them starting up 1947 and being the first ones to use some kind of dump-truck technology or something. So, I swiped some pictures from their site.


This story makes me curious about even more, though, I must say!

-What was the town of Nijverdal like and what's it like now? Why did the Ten Harmsels leave the Netherlands? And why did the two sisters (my great-great aunts?) stay behind?

-Why Iowa?

-What happened to the other brothers who came over on the boat?

-Who are all the people in the photo and which one is my grandpa?

Also, just as an interesting and terrifying side note--please notice that the photo above has two sets of twins in it! None of my Grandma and Grandpa's kids (my uncles) were twins, but isn't there some idea that twins skip a generation? Oh crap! Hopefully, Grandma's genes and the Van Goor and Henricksen genes are dominant!

This week has been absolutely crazy. Not overly busy, but incredibly stressful. I had an exam on Tuesday, I'm teaching Sunday School on Sunday, and I've got two more reflections to write for our church's Advent devotional (and the readings for one of them is filled with judgment and God killing children--I'm not sure quite what to do with it!). On top of that, I've spent the last month trying to arrange transportation for all my volunteers who are traveling around Atlanta to volunteer. I finally found a taxi company to contract with, but every day there has been another disaster--volunteers are stranded out in Doraville with no clue where their taxi is, volunteers getting charged for their taxi when I've made it clear that our account should be charged instead. It's insane. And interfering with my school work, and with my general mental health!

While I wish I was back at our B & B on Amelia Island with a Corona in one hand and a good book in the other while dolphins go swimming by, there's no escaping school, work and everything else life throws at me for now. And I'm realizing I'm not the best at coping with these things! My perfectionism comes to a head and I find myself obsessing over 'getting it right' and feeling terrible when it doesn't. I have to fight the urge to constantly check up on everyone in my office and with those working in the taxi company. I hate being out of control.

What's more, having all these different things on my plate makes life feel really compartmentalized. I jump from class to work to the gym to homework to church work to trying to relax with Wes with hardly a moment's breath in between. My brain feels frazzled and pulled in a million directions. I feel tired and worn out from trying to be perfect and avoid mistakes. And I feel anxious when facing the fallout from my own mistakes or those of others.

So, I'm trying to breath. I'm trying to sit on the couch without music or tv or the email open or the phone.

Just sit. And breath. And pray. And relax.

Even if just for ten minutes in between these weird transitions my days bring.

Our church has been doing a Sunday School series about stories. Obviously, our Bible is full of them, and as a way of building community at church, we've been telling each other stories as well.

It has got me thinking about how embedded we are in story--how our brains organize information into stories, we remember things better when stories are attached and the whole history of our faith and what we know about God is through story. Even my anxiety-ridden dreams display the things that stress me out in complex story forms.

Just like the story of Israel tells us not only where we come from, but who we are right now, the story of our families tell us much more than history. I know some stories from both sides of my family, and from Wes' family too. But there are so many more I would like to know. And with both my grandpas gone, and all Wes' grandparents gone, I guess I'm feeling acutely aware that when someone dies, they take all those stories with them--some never to be recovered.

So, to the Henricksens and Ten Harmsels: instead of traditional gift-giving this season (as much as I love it!), tell me a story. Write it down. I would love to see the Van Goors and Ten Harmsels, the Henricksens and the Morks make this a family-wide effort for Christmas. To have everyone write down a significant story from their life, or a memory of someone else in the family would be invaluable. I know so very little about Grandpa Ten Harmsel, who died when I was a baby. And even though I know Grandpa Van Goor much better, to hear first-hand accounts or perspectives from Grandma is totally different. And while we know mom and dad, Scott and Karen much better than our grandparents in many ways, there is so much of your lives I wasn't around for or don't remember the same way or simply don't know about.


Here's some ideas of things I'd love to hear:

Your wedding day
The day you met your spouse
Your biggest mistake
Most embarrassing moment
the birth of a child
your first apartment
A holiday gathering
the day Grandpa and Grandma met my dad (or the day Grandma TH met mom)
Your 16th birthday
Your earliest memory
Dad--write down that story about the chicks from the hatchery. I've heard it a hundred times, but having it on paper would be great!And tell me more about Grandpa.
Your college roommate
A crazy thing you did
A prank you played on someone
A trip you took
Mom-tell me about the days at the cottage growing up. I have my own memories, but I'm sure they're much different.
your first job

I would love to have a collection of stories to pass down to my kids (should there by any...ahem!) and to have for myself. With our family scattered all across this nation, roots are important. And I want to discover those roots in the stories that have made me who I am, whether I know it right now or not.

This Saturday Night Live sketch is one of my favorites. It's been making the rounds for quite some time yet, but I know a few of you out there haven't seen it yet. SNL brought back Tina Fey just for the election season for obvious reasons.

Enjoy!

because surgery sucks. Wes had his orientation today (which was ridiculous in itself because it was 12 hours) where he learned that he needs to be on the surgery floor by 5am, and will be off around 6pm every night. That means he has a 3:45 wake up call. And that means a 9:00pm bedtime.

Because my schedule on Tuesday means I don't get home until 10pm, I won't see Wes between Monday and Wednesday nights, every week for the next 2 months. Not to mention that the people on his same team last month worked 14 days straight with NO days off. We live in the same house, but you probably wouldn't know it!

Ok, whining done for tonight.

In college, some friends and I made semi-frequent trips to give plasma in exchange for cash. That lasted until I nearly passed out after seeing a big blob of my own blood in a bubble on my arm after the nurse took out the needle. Eck!

Last year, I participated in a study to test a new HIV vaccine/contraceptive for women (imagine if women in Africa had means to protect themselves against cheating husbands and the stds and diseases they so often bring home with them!) . The procedures involved were quite unpleasant--I won't illuminate the details, but let's just say routine gynecological visits now qualify as 'no big deal.'

Today, I enrolled in a study testing a new vaccine against the Vietnamese strain of Avian flu. I was thrilled when the doctor announced that I was in group 9--the most complicated study group therefore requiring the most number of visits. Between now and Thanksgiving, I'll make 9 visits to the Hope Clinic. At $50 a pop, that's $450!!

For a blood draw, a needle stick, some vital signs, and some of my time, I'd say the price is right. An extra bonus was that I found out I'm not pregnant, and my blood pressure and pulse have gone significantly down since my last physical in January 08. Guess those trips to the gym are paying off!

My Contemporary Anglican Theology class is reading Rowan Williams' Resurrection. It's a book about, um, the resurrection. And why it's important.

I was preparing to write my paper on one of the chapters this morning (which requires reading PAINSTAKINGLY slow!) and came across these thoughts:

"Confession is at once the acknowledgment of sin, the proclamation of faith and the praise of God...it is not needed by God (who knows the secrets of the heart), but it is offered as a witness and exhortation to the world. Confession displays the memory of sin as an occasion for the glorifying of God...to know oneself as a reconciled sinner is to know God as a reconciling savior."

I've never thought of confession in quite that way before--the asking for grace and forgiveness is itself the proclamation of God's grace, not just a device to make God happy and make ourselves feel guilty.

Wes and I have been trying to eat less meat and more vegetables, both in order to be more environmentally conscious and to be healthier and more creative in our cooking.

One of our favorites has been to make a "Southern Vegetable Plate" for dinner. We have grilled squash, gingered beets, pole beans (cooked southern style, with bacon!), corn and basil salad, and fresh tomatoes. It not only tastes great, but it looks beautiful! Below is the recipe we use for gingered beets. It takes a little while, but they are delicious!

Gingered Beets

Preparation Time: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 50 minutes

Serves: 4

Ingredients

2-3 large beets
1 Tbsp. butter
1 Tbsp. unbleached bread flour
2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 - 2 Tbsp. rapadura sugar
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1 1/2 tsp. ginger, minced
1/4 tsp. dry mustard

Instructions

Scrub beets and place them, whole and unpeeled, in a kettle with salted water to cover. Boil for about 45 minutes until beets can be easily pierced with a knife. Drain cooked beets, reserving 1/2 cup liquid. When beets are cool enough to handle, slip off the skins and cut away the stems and roots. Slice beets into 1/4-inch rounds and then cut into strips.

In a medium saucepan, melt the butter. Whisk in the flour and brown lightly, stirring often. Add 1/2 cup of beet liquid and whisk until smooth. Stir in the other ingredients and the beet strips. Heat through on low heat for 3 to 5 minutes. Serves 4.

Source: Moosewood Collective, Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant.

Also, Wes' dad sent along a recipe we were skeptical of--Tofu Asian Salad--but it is also delicious. I made this for dinner one night and thought it would not be enough to fill us up, but we couldn't eat it all!

1 block soft tofu
1-2 cucumbers
2 tomatoes
garlic

Dice tofu, cucumbers and tomatoes and mix together in a bowl. Fry a couple of TBs of garlic and add to the top.

Dressing:
3 TB soy sauce
1 TB Mirin (I didn't have this, so used 4 TB soy sauce)
1 TB rice vinegar
1 TB sesame oil

Mix together, pour over top the salad and toss!

It's not as if I need a whole lot to remind me that I don't want to live in Atlanta forever, but just in case I do someday...:

1. Wes and I are crossing the street AT A CROSSWALK, ON A GREEN LIGHT on the way home from the grocery store when a cop who is trying to turn left at said green light practically runs us over--but not before shaking his fist and pointing at the blinking 'don't walk' sign.

I don't know what kind of morphed driver's ed I took, but last time I checked, pedestrians ALWAYS get the right of way--and doubly so when walking across the street at a crosswalk, at a green light.

Question: If the cop not only won't enforce laws protecting pedestrians, but violates them himself...uuhhhh, shouldn't we move (especially since we are pedestrians quite often)?

2. This is not my story, but I think I can still do it justice. Wes is riding his bike home from the hospital like he does every day--on the street, heaven forbid, when an ambulance driving behind him gets on the loudspeaker and announces to Wes and everyone in a 5 mile radius that he should be riding on the sidewalk.

Several things seem pretty backwards about this scenario including an inappropriate use of hospital equipment, the rudeness of the drivers of the ambulance and the fact that they shouted at Wes to perform an action that is actually AGAINST THE LAW! Bikers are not only entitled to be on the roads, but it is illegal for them to ride on sidewalks. Way to call it, genius!

See, Wes? I even told it without expletives.

Rule #1: Always travel with more water than you think you'll need. For example (hypothetical, of course), if there is an abundance of water at the trail head, you should drink up! And then filter more so that BOTH of you are carrying full water bottles. Don't begin a hike without being fully hydrated, and never, NEVER assume there will be plenty of water!

Because sometimes there isn't any water and after you've hiked six miles, your tongue begins to stick to the roof of your mouth, every hill looks like it's Everest, and you begin to go a little crazy imagining that you might have to turn around and go six miles more back to the beginning of the trail head, except that it's already 4:30 and that will mean not only another long six miles with no water, but a hike in the dark--and all for nothing because you're right back where you've started!

So if you come six miles, and feel you can't go any further and you just might die of dehydration (though your doctorish husband assures you that since you're still sweating and your skin is not 'tenting' you're fine) send your much stronger companion ahead to search for water. But when he comes back with an empty water bottle, resist the urge to cry (you'll lose what little water you have left!) and get a little creative!

Maybe there's a forest service road that intersects with your trail, and after hiking down it for a mile or so (much shorter than the six it would take if you turned around) there will be the tiniest stream--your survival! There you can drink gallons and gallons of water and all will be well with the world again.

Not that this very important rule is something we learned from personal experience last weekend in North Carolina. No, we are far too experienced to make such an elementary mistake.

So, I don't usually blog about politics, but I am taking a Religion and Politics class at Candler this year, and it's election year, so that might be about to change. Watch the video below, and come to your own conclusions about it before reading (or not reading) my own, slightly opinionated ones below it.

Barack Obama and John McCain were interviewed by Rick Warren--pastor of Saddleback mega-church in California. The question they are responding to in this clip is, "Does evil exist? And if it does, do we ignore it, negotiate with it, confront it or defeat it?'



Ok, and now you should stop reading, unless you're a sucker for inflammatory ranting.

Regardless of the fact that the question was actually a thinly-veiled question about terrorism (notice the vocabulary of negotiation, confrontation, defeat, etc.), and that McCain understood that the question was about terrorism and that Obama answered the question at its face value...

Is this what we've become? A nation who is more satisfied with spoon-fed pithy soundbites that oversimplify really complex issues that theologians and ethicists have worked on for millennia than with honest, non-partisan answers? I, for one, cannot handle 4 more years of the same rhetoric--rhetoric that paints evil as being 'out there' in those 'radical Islamic nations' that hate our freedom. Isn't the more Christian conception of evil that it does indeed abide in our hearts, in our homes and that while we will by no means ever 'defeat' it, it is nonetheless the Christian responsibility that calls us to 'confront' it? Not confront it only by hunting Osama bin Laden to the gates of hell, but to confront it by addressing the poverty in our own streets, the societal factors that leave us with broken homes? Aren't we all sinful (not just Osama bin Laden and all those residing in Islamic nations)?

Not only is the response to the question deeply troubling to me, but it is almost more frustrating and disheartening that the very thing that appeals to me about Barack--the honest, less-polished, more authentic and less-political nature of his responses--is the thing that might end up kicking him in the ass come November 4th!! Not once did he use an answer to the question to assert what he would do should he become the next president. Instead, he engaged with Warren, looking him in the eye, answering the questions in a painstaking manner that acknowledged not only the complexity of the issues, but the diversity of respectable opinions on them. But does he receive the applause? No! Because he acknowledges that not only does each of us experience evil in the world, but that our imperfections sometimes mean that we commit evil in our attempts to overcome it!!

Because Americans are apparently more interested in electing someone who knows how to play the game--knows how to turn a question about where evil is in the world and what our role is as humans in confronting it to a question about terrorism and all the evil that exists 'out there' in those nations not abiding by God's law, and not chosen by the Almighty--than they are to elect someone who could care less about obtaining the right political resume that enables him to turn legitimate questions into opportunities for furthering his party's rhetoric about national security.

I'm frustrated. Frustrated that according to the polls, McCain and Obama are neck and neck. Seriously? Have we learned nothing over the last 8 years? Frustrated that I (a pro-life, anti-war but pro-rebuilding in a responsible way, pro-healthcare, mostly-democrat) see in Obama a candidate willing to talk about religion and politics in a way that makes sense (and that is constitutional!!), and speaks in a way that at least suggests that he is not skilled in the GAME of political ridiculousness and might STILL LOSE the election.

End of rant. And sorry for any who are offended by the above comments. But this is my blog--my outlet. And tonight, I needed an outlet and a glass of red wine. And come November 4th, I may also need a one-way ticket to Canada, where civilized, rational people must exist along with universal healthcare.

I had lunch with a wonderfully irreverent Episcopal priest yesterday. She was the designated chaplain for me and my fellow discernment team as we went through DYVE this last year. Of course, I never really took advantage of her presence. But, she emailed us last week to hear what the decision with DYVE had been, and when I told her I had been recommended to the priesthood, but would most likely turn it down and was exploring non-profit, she got really excited.

This is big, because most people get really confused, or look like they're taking pity on me when I tell them I could be a priest, but don't know if I want to. Granted, it's sort of ridiculous to go through a year of a very trying discernment process only to turn down their recommendation--especially when most people are pining for that yes all the way through discernment.

Anyway, we went to lunch so that I could hear her story. Turns out, she also went through the ordination process all wrong, and didn't even start discernment until after she finished seminary. She went to an ecumenical seminary (not an Episcopal one like you're supposed to) and doesn't really care one bit about what the bishop thinks of her (church hierarchy is not my favorite thing, either...) Now, she works part-time at a non-profit, and is an associate priest at a parish.

I get so tired of hearing that I've done it wrong, that I'm crazy to say no to the priesthood, that I need to go to a school where I can get Episcopal formation, and that I need to fill the bishop in on my plans (like he even knows who I am). I'm tired of church people's idea that non-profit is a lesser calling (because it IS a calling!)

Also, I'm tired of worrying about this whole vocational question. I'm tired of feeling like I might not be in the center of God's will if I say no, or if I say yes. As if God's will is a like a straight and narrow road that it's far to easy to step off of. I hope God's will is more all-encompassing than that, and that God can accomplish whatever it is God wills no matter what desk I'm behind. I know God cares about me and about this vocational struggle, but I am not so arrogant as to think that God's will depends on me making a right decision (at least not when I'm being rational). Wouldn't we all be in trouble if that were the case?

Mostly, it's just nice to know I'm not alone.

I ran across this blog today--it was a link on a friend's blog page. It chronicles the life of another 3rd year medical student. I don't know what it's actually like to be a third year medical student (this is Lauren writing, obviously) but it was interesting to read about this person's experience and think about it in comparison to Wes' and the conversations we've been having lately.

During his break between boards and 3rd year clinicals, he writes:

"Since being alone and back home, I've been doing a lot of remembering. Remembering who I am, who I have been and who I've wanted to grow into. It involved some checking in with myself to see if I'm living up to the man that I was hoping to be at this point. In some ways, yes, in some ways, no. I believe that God is steering me down the right paths right now and that His grace is enough to get me through the rough patches."

It seems that the feeling of medicine being all-encompassing is universal! And that time-off is critical for remembering, as it was for us during Wes' month off. Just thought it was an interesting perspective...

I figure if I say this on my blog, it will mean that I'll have to do it. So, consider this my formal announcement, and commitment to do the Mistletoe State Park Triathlon in July 2009!

This triathlon is called a sprint--it's the shortest distance triathlon there is with a 600m swim, a 12 mile bike ride and a 3 mile run. I can do each of those things separately, so we'll see if I can build my endurance enough to do them each back to back!

This decision came partly from the peer pressure of friends who did the race this last July, and partly as a recognition that the fitness goals I set for myself are finally coming to fruition, and I want to continue to improve endurance and overall health. Having a goal will hopefully help me do that, once my schedule gets way busier!

As for those other goals I wrote about at the beginning of the summer:

1. Pray. Still have a ways to go on this one, surprise, surprise! But, I will say that meeting with my spiritual director has been really helpful, and freeing. The poem she gave me, 'falling in the grass' allowed me to connect with God in an authentic way like I haven't in awhile. so that is a definite signal to me about new ways to pray.

2. Reading was really fun this summer. It was the summer of Barbara Kingsolver, Ann Patchet, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Cormac McCarthy. I joined another book club, and hope to continue reading one novel per month for fun. We'll see!

3. Exercise has been the most rewarding in terms of attaining goals. I was frustrated in June after I had been working out 6 days per week with almost nothing to show for it. But now that it's August, I'm seeing some of the rewards of my labor. I provided myself incentives for meeting my weekly goals (mostly pedicures!) which were instrumental to my motivation. I'm now lowering my weekly goals to exercising 5 days per week (instead of 6). I find that when I have two days off, my workouts are more successful and I perform much better. We'll see how I do with school!

Lauren added me on as an official contributor to this blog about a month ago now, when I told her that I wanted to start blogging as a way to keep track of my thoughts this year.  

Finally found the camera cord, so here are some pictures of the hummingbirds that have finally found our feeder (there are tons!) and our hike to the tallest mountain in Georgia last weekend.

Wes and I both just got a craving for brownies! cookies! anything sweet! But instead of doing an emergency sweet tooth grocery store run, I cut up two giant pieces of honeydew melon, squeezed some lime juice on top, and I'm pleased to say it did the trick! After all, with HONEY in the name, how could we go wrong?

Lately, my job has actually felt like a real job. I've been working 40+ hours in an attempt to get things all lined up before the undergrads come back to school at the end of next week. Then, the recruiting, training and coordinating of my volunteers begins.

I still love my job, but the pressure of getting these projects done has so far been a good lesson in what it might be like to work in the non-profit field. A few examples:

- I've spent the last two months working with a graphic designer to roll out new publicity for ProjectSHINE (Students Helping in Naturalization and English). We now have posters, programs, and a fancy tri-fold brochure that has been redone and revised lots of times. There's quite a price tag to all this, but I felt it was worth our money and time. The biggest issue I had was with our logo, which is a silly, little curly-cue sun. But, what can you do? That's our logo. So we went with it. Not two hours after I sent our finalized brochure to the printer, I received an email from someone at the national ProjectSHINE office notifying me that there was a new website. I went to check it out, and low and behold! A NEW, and much improved LOGO was all over the new website, essentially making my brochure and all our hard work out-of-date before it's even off the press!!

- Since a large part of job is recruiting volunteers, one would think that we would have pretty comprehensive lists of those who have volunteered in previous years as they are most likely to come and volunteer again. Makes sense, right? WRONG. The list serv for previous volunteers has not been updated for two years. And, I found at least 25 excel spreadsheets with lists of names and emails, some hand written pieces of paper with scribbled email addresses. Mind you, none of these were labeled, and could have been years old. Or not. It took me six hours to cross check all those lists, make sure those who graduated were taken off and those who wanted to volunteer were included on our email list. Something that would have been nice to know in June, when I was looking for projects to fill my time....

Good lessons! And fairly typical snafus in a line of work where people are overworked, underpaid, and asked to do lots of jobs unrelated to training and experience (hello? Me doing marketing?).

I remember hearing that seminary is hard on marriages and that I could expect to see divorces before I came to Candler. I didn't think much of it. But now only weeks before entering my third year, I have watched two of my friends' new and fragile marriages fall apart.

One of them is only now officially over, after a year and half long saga of one spouse simply opting out, leaving the country and refusing reconciliation. The other saga has just begun--and will hopefully end in healing rather than separation, but only time will tell.

It makes me sad. There's no more complex way to explain it. We make these incredible promises to each other joyfully, and with great hope only to break them over and over again, sometimes so grievously it seems irreparable.

If anything, these broken relationships are a wake up call for Wes and I. We have done extraordinarily well balancing our promises to each other with the other demands on our time and attention. But with rather separate and independent lives for the time being, it's easy to become roommates instead of lovers. It's easy for resentment to brood, and for tired minds and bodies to yield to conflict.

My friend finds herself surprised that her marriage has come to this. Discord is one thing, but sitting on the brink of separation is quite another. And that is almost the scariest thing of all--the way separation can creep in before we even realize the direness of the situation.

Last year, when friend's marriage #1 fell apart, I succumbed to great fear about my own marriage. If it can happen to them?!.... But now, I feel confidant and peaceful about Wes and I. We have proven resilient to difficulties that arise again and again, aware and honest of times when those time of some dissatisfaction arise leaving us more open to creeping separation, and constantly working toward making 'us' better and choosing to love despite our circumstances or frustrations. If anything, our shortcomings--though leaving the other unfulfilled at times--hopefully continually point us to the One who has no shortcomings, and who fulfills completely and perfectly.

" But in the books again, great joy through love seemed always to go hand in hand with frightful pain. still, he thought, looking out across the meadow, still, the joy would be worth the pain--if, indedd they went together. If there were a choice between, on the one hand, the heights and the depths and, on the other hand, some sort of safe, cautious middle way, he, for one, here and now chose the heights and the depths." ~ A Severe Mercy

Cumberland Island is one of those regional legends. Cumberland Island is to Georgia what Yellowstone or Glacier National Park is to Montana. It's what Mt. Ranier and the Space Needle are to Seattle. Just of the coast of Georgia, Cumberland Island is a preserved wilderness area with no roads, empty beaches and wild horses. Sometimes you can see manatees, and armadillos. There are hiking trails draped with spanish moss, and ruins of mansions from the Carnegie's and Kennedys. It's one of a kind. A must see, our friends said.

And so, when Wes' parents very graciously put us up in a B&B of our choice for one of Wes' weekends off in July, we chose to go to the coast to explore Cumberland (and the other enticing barrier islands). After an hour drive, and a 45 minute ferry ride, we stepped off the boat determined to escape the other 50 tourists who had made the trip with us. We rented bikes, and sped off up the road for 5 or 7 miles before we found a trail that headed to the beach.

Despite the fact that Cumberland Island is an island, it does not have those island breezes or mild temperatures like Hawaii. And the humidity? Definitely twice as bad as on the mainland. So, our little bike excursion left us looking like someone had hosed us down. Wes kept asking if I was crying, when really it was the sweat dripping down my face. I'm not exaggerating. We were ready to hit that beach.

So we ditched our bikes, and headed down what turned out to be the buggiest marsh EVER. By the end of the 1 1/2 mile trek, I had 27 mosquito bites on my left arm. That's only one arm. So then I start running, but quickly remember my legs are stuck together by unceasing humidity. We finally made it to the beach, pulled out a mango from our pack and headed into the water. But not before Wes found a tick on his foot, and I found another on my thigh.

These discoveries forced a thorough inspection hoping there weren't more ticks to discover. Thankfully, there were no more ticks. Instead, I had about 100 chiggers crawling and burrowing all over my body. Somewhere along the way, I must have stepped in a nest of them, because there was a huge patch on my foot, and they had made their way up my legs. They were gross. And they left me with blistery, itchy red dots all over myself. I look like I have scabies.

But the beach was nice. And if it wasn't for the fact there there was an equally beautiful beach oh, about 2 feet from our B&B we might have appreciated it more. But even the little appreciation we had for the cool water occured before we remembered that we needed to get back before the ferry left, unless we wanted to spend the night on this gem of an island.

But I was not about to get another 100 chiggers all over me by going back on the same trail.

So we headed down the beach for 2 miles, cut inland 2 miles and went back up the main road another couple of miles for our bikes we left at the trailhead. We had to run part of it (do I need to remind again of the INCESSANT heat and humidity?). And low and behold, at the trailhead we saw an armadillo rumaging through the leaves, and we were like,

"oh look! An armadillo!"

"Cool! Um, we have like 2o minutes before our boat leaves without us..."

And we sped off on our bikes, going as fast as our legs would take us with no water and a ridiculous amount of sweat drenching us.

We made it. Just barely. And we traveled home with a extra large Sprite and exhausted expressions on our faces as we tried to decide what exactly the appeal of Cumberland Island had been.

We saw wild horses. And how many people can say that? Except that wild horses are just like regular, domesticated horses. They stand there and eat and swat flies with their tails. If we had seen them fending off other wild horses from their territory or galloping down the beach in a herd, maybe wild horses would be cool. But don't hold your breath. And never, EVER go to Cumberland Island in July.

Daily Bread is no longer. But now it is new, and better. Wes has decided he wants to start blogging. And what's more, he's going to do it here. So, faithful few, be prepared for thoughts from a 3rd year medical student about being a doctor, working a ton, and a more well-rounded Henricksen perspective. Welcome Wes!

This article has been promoting some thought-provoking discussions around our house lately. I'd be interested to know what any of you (if there are any of you :) think.

I still haven't decided whether to keep the blog (or at least whether to keep it public), but I have stuff to say. So for now, it stays too.

Wes started his 3rd year of medical school today. Let it suffice to say the next 4 months (notice I didn't say 'year'--this is a good thing) are going to be pretty awful around here. Two months of internal medicine, and then on to surgery.

Needless to say I couldn't sleep last night, in large part because it feels to me like we had a couple months of 'not great' 6 weeks of 'absolutely terrible' and just finished a month of 'fantastic!' What was the key factor? TIME. That's all we really need, and yet, in the months to come, it will once again be in scarce supply.

I wrote a frantic letter to my best college girlfriends last night, "Help! I'm despairing!" was the gist of it. I hate that I sound like a broken record, but I do have some incredible latent fears about what the future holds. Wes and I are committed to sharing life--sharing parenting, cooking, cleaning, friends, church. Marriage is a commitment to share in common life, and we want to do just that. But each of our career ambitions pose challenges to that vision. Wes is more committed to making shared life possible than I've ever seen him. I'm guessing that months like the last one (though very idealistic when compared to actual life which doesn't usually involve 2 week vacations, a weekend on the coast, and the amount of free time Wes has had the last two weeks) make us remember why that vision is so important, and remind us why we want it.

Wes is looking for ways to 'push back against the institution' as we've been calling it. Medical schools are pretty sure they own people's lives, and that every decision a med student makes will be determined by how successful a doctor it makes him or her. And to Medical School, we shake our fists and say, 'not so!'

Because so much of my anxiety about our future is wrapped up in this thing called domesticity, Wes is thinking about how he can contribute more around the house. Up until now, I've pretty much done all the work around the house--cooking, cleaning, shopping, paying bills, etc.--at least during the really, really busy times (like the last 6 months). I've done this hoping that if all that stuff was done, Wes and I would have more time just to be together. But it does end up backfiring sometimes because I get pretty resentful about doing all that work, making the time we do get together, ummm, not as nice. As crazy as it sounds, Wes cleaning the bathroom or cooking twice a week makes me feel exponentially better about our life together, and my life in general. If I see him making those contributions now, I don't worry that he'll forget to make them later in life, and that I'll be the one exclusively stuck with late night baby feedings, and other kid-related duties. I guess I'm actually quite easy to please.

But in the spirit of trying to make these next 4 difficult months a new beginning rather than a return to the yuckiness of the last several, I'm going to try and embrace this time in the following ways:

1. I have noticed that I have been less productive with Wes around. This has been great because I've gotten to hang out with him (which is more important than productivity). But I am missing my work-out routine, reading books, etc. I hope for the rest of the summer, at least, to return to those routines.

2. Girl friends are great. And I get to see them more when Wes is busy. I will look forward to catching up by the pool with Lauren, sharing a bottle of wine and great conversation with Becca, and watching movies with Stephanie. In fact, the first girls night is already planned.

3. Work. While work has been delightfully flexible and low-key this summer, it is going to pick up very soon. And with it comes a lot more responsibility, and a lot more hours. September and October will be crazy with work. And I am glad I'll have the freedom to do my job well, without worrying that I'm letting Wes down.

4. School. Need I say more? Fall will be busy for me too. And it's a privilege to be able to structure my own studying time and commit the necessary hours my studies require.

These four things will take daily commitment not to do them necessarily, but to remember that I am able to do them well largely because I have a busy husband. They are lessons in attitude adjustment and attempts to embrace a difficult time, but one that comes with the advantages more independence brings.

We're back from the McSparran wedding in Denver, 2 week vacation in Alaska and a weekend on the GA coast.  Blogging has been scarce the last month (although I doubt it's disappointed my tens of readers :) I'm actually trying to decide if I want to continue blogging or not.  I think it's been a good outlet for me, but at times I wonder if it acts as a substitute for actual, person-to-person contact.  I know I write things I might hesitate to say to certain readers in person sometimes--is that good or bad? 

Don't worry, nothing explicit. Pillow talk these days consists of catching up on the day's business in the 10 minutes we have together between when our heads hit the pillow and we fall asleep :)

Lauren: I went thrifting today and bought my first tube top. I've never owned one before!

Wes: Heeey! (which is the Wes equivalent of 'wow! cool!')

Pause

Wes: What is a tube top for?

Lauren: For wearing.

Pause

Lauren: Do you even know what a tube top is?

Wes: Does it like, show your midriff or something?


Well, I'm glad he can show excitement for the mundane activities of my day, even if he doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about!

I took my first communion when I was 13. It was preceded by a class on basics of the faith taught by my pastor, and an interview with the elders of the church to make sure I understood the significance of communion. Taking communion required maturity, soundness of doctrine, right belief and confirmation of all these by the community of faith. "Public Profession of Faith" we called it. It was the day Christ became mine, when I decided for myself what to believe. Participating in the sacrament was a sign of that decision, because I believed that Christ died for me.

It wasn't until I started going to the Orthodox Church with Wes is college that I encountered another view of communion. There, we both sat on the sidelines while those who were official members of the Orthodox Church partook of the sacrament. We received the 'blessed' bread that people passed us as they left the communion line. It wasn't consecrated, but was given to us as a sign of hospitality.

I hated being excluded from communion. Even when I visited other churches, I had always taken communion. It was my understanding that we were all part of one big family who, despite disagreement and schism, were fundamentally united in our belief in Christ. But to the Orthodox Church, it wasn't enough to be a Christian. Taking communion was a communal act. It sanctified the whole community and to be a part of that process, a level of commitment to that particular group was required. I understood the concept (and Wes found particular resonance with this eucharistic theology), but I couldn't help my dislike for the feeling of being an outsider. And I missed communion.

Now an Episcopalian, none of that 'public profession' language really matters. Baptism is what 'qualifies' a person for participation in the Eucharist. And we baptize babies. But in typical Episcopal laissez faire theology, Eucharist is virtually un-regulated. Half of our liturgy is done in preparation for the Eucharist. The first half of our service is the 'Service of the Word' when Scripture is read, the sermon is given, the creed recited. The second half is 'Service of the Table' which culminates in the Eucharist. But in the whole second half of the service, never have I heard a priest say, "We welcome all baptized Christians to this table." I'm sure there are many unbaptized people taking Eucharist on any given Sunday at St. Luke's.

The weirdest thing about these differences (to me) is that the Episcopal church has a much higher view of the sacrament than Presbyterians. Growing up, communion was an act of remembrance. It was intended to remind us that Christ's body was given for us, and in light of that sacrifice, to confess and accept it. But at the Episcopal church, the sacrament is much more than remembrance. It actually does something. Exactly what that 'something' is is, of course, hotly debated by theological junkies like myself. But somehow, in some mysterious way, that bread and that wine actually become the body and blood of Christ. And they sanctify, purify and sustain Christians. So while the Presbyterian church guards the table carefully for what they see as essentially a memorial service for Christ, the Episcopal church doesn't guard the table at all (in practice, at least) for what they see as partaking of Christ's body and blood inside a person! Ironic, anyone?

A couple of months back, St. Luke's hosted a speaker about this very subject. Sara Miles became a Christian (she was an Atheist) after partaking in communion at an Episcopal church in San Francisco. This church has as its practice before communion the announcement, "Because Christ's body was broken for all, this bread and this wine is given to all. All are welcome at this table. No exceptions." Now, besides the fact that this is inconsistent with 'official' Episcopal doctrine (and the Presbyterians would have issues with this on a number of levels, as would the Orthodox) this idea has been really appealing to me.

It's called 'open communion' and every Episcopal church does this is practice, though not usually in doctrine. Sara says that something happened to her when she took communion that first Sunday. That she knew she was eating Christ, and that he was inside her. And she was baptized. And then she started this crazy ministry all based on this principle. Once a week, her church feeds people from the alter. Stacked on every side of it is fresh veggies, canned goods, fruit, bread--anything you can think of. And everyone is welcome. There are no questions, no forms to fill out, no conversion statement to be signed, no chapel service to sit through first. Everyone is welcome. Because that's what Jesus did--he healed, and fed and gave himself to everyone.

So I am left slightly confused about where I fall on this communion thing. On the one hand, I value the idea that sacraments are holy and as such, do require a certain amount of understanding, and a commitment to what they represent (or what they are). What good is receiving the body and blood of Christ if you don't believe in either? On the other hand, if communion really is the body and blood of Christ and therefore has the power to transform people's lives, why withhold it from anyone? None of us really understands what communion is, how it works or what actually happens. None of us has right belief, right action, true confession or anything else lots of churches require before partaking. Would fencing the table from people like Sara Miles, unbaptized, non-believing persons limit the power of the gospel? Could the Eucharist be the best form of evangelization there is?

Chipotle Chicken Taco Salad

Dressing:
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
2/3 cup light sour cream
1 tablespoon minced chipotle chile, canned in adobo sauce
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
4 teaspoons fresh lime juice
1/4 teaspoon salt

Salad:
4 cups shredded romaine lettuce
2 cups chopped roasted skinless, boneless chicken breasts (about 2 breasts)
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 cup diced peeled avocado
1/3 cup thinly vertically sliced red onion
1 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 (8 3/4-ounce) can no-salt-added whole-kernel corn, rinsed and drained

Grilled Shrimp Pizza
(this is easy, but the dough takes some time...)

Dough:
2 teaspoons honey
1 package active dry yeast (about 2 1/4 teaspoons)
1 cup warm water (100° to 110°)
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (about 10 ounces), divided
6 tablespoons stone-ground yellow cornmeal, divided
1/2 teaspoon salt
Cooking spray
2 teaspoons olive oil, divided

Remaining ingredients:
36 large shrimp, peeled and deveined (about 1 pound)
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 cups (8 ounces) shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese
2 cups (8 ounces) queso fresco, crumbled
6 tablespoons green salsa, divided
1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves, divided

I spent a lovely weekend in Seattle with my in-laws. Away from the heat, away from a study-crazed husband, away from work. This was the only picture I took--the sunset view from the front stoop of my in-laws new home. How I miss the water! I got to re visit some of my favorite neighborhoods, and even ran into Connor and Don Low--the little boy I used to nanny for.

Now I'm back at work with killer allergies--but only for week until Wes takes his test and we're off to Denver, and then to Alaska!

I'm also back to sharing our house with a semi-wacko. I found someone looking for temporary housing on Craigslist (Wes and I rent out our guest room sometimes for extra cash). Little did I know she was coming to Atlanta to do some intensive raw-food detox program. One that involves twice daily enemas is OUR BATHROOM! So far, she's managed to use 3 rolls of toilet paper in her mere days here, and everyday when Wes comes home, he crinkles his nose as if the smell of poop never really leaves our house ( it does. I promise). Next time I might use some more discretion when choosing roommates.

In other news, my Russia photo album is finally finished. Now I'm only three years behind!

I know from first-hand experience that (with the exception of my husband, and maybe Jesse, too) med students are the highest strung people you will ever meet. They will often talk for several minutes at a time about the strategies for guessing on multiple choice tests. They will agonize about a non-mandatory class they're missing and what the possible consequences are for their future in neurosurgery (I don't even know how to spell that word). They will write compelling evites when inviting friends to parties, knowing they have to make a pretty darn good argument to convince their friends to be NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS and take a study break to eat a hot dog and drink a beer. Trust me. I know these people. They are a rare breed.

So, you want to know the best way to totally freak out 93 med students who are currently studying their asses off for the most important test of their career?

I know! Close down the testing center where they're scheduled to take said exam without telling them. And then, when they find out from another classmate (a fluke!) leave them to fend for themselves to find another testing center in Somewhere, America with an open test date that doesn't cost a million dollars to get to. HA!

Wanna know how I know this splendid trick? Because it happened. Today. And Wes is one of the lucky ones who only has to drive 2 1/2 hours to Montgomery, Alabama to take his test, and even on the original day he was scheduled.

I knew it was bad when I got three emails and 2 text messages and a voicemail from Wes simultaneously with the message, "Call me. Urgent. Test related." I called him back when I got out of my meeting only to hear half-formed sentences mumbled across the line and something about "do you have the ticket info for our Denver trip? I think I might need to take my test there because they closed our testing center. I can't talk. I need to call them. right now." click. And he was gone.

About 20 minutes later, I heard a much more relieved voice across the line, telling me that he was one of the lucky ones--oh, and would I mind taking the day off work to drive him to Montgomery so he could study on the car ride over? :)

When you can't keep your ice cube trays full

When you turn off your water heater

When the entire top shelf of your fridge is filled with cold drinks and there are 4 boxes of popsicles in the freezer

When the only way you can fall asleep is to take a freezing cold shower 10 minutes before bed.

When you get used to that shiny, slightly damp feeling on your skin all day

When even the pool water is too warm

When a hair dryer is completely out of the question

When you choose your outfit based on the thickness of fabric (Wes has resorted to wearing his thrift store, vintage shirts with no undershirt...sexy, huh?)

When running after 8 am is impossible

and ohhh, the cockroaches...

I remember why Atlanta can be a terribly, awful, swampy, disgusting, life-killing place to live. Every year it seems that just when Atlanta is growing on me because of it's incredible Spring weather, flowers, and thunderstorms, Summer comes and makes me want to move away and never look back. I'm a whiner who doesn't like the heat, but for gosh sakes, it's only JUNE! Wes and I have never weathered an entire summer here yet, and I am scared!! Hopefully the window fans I bought today will allow us to sleep and live comfortable without paying hundreds of dollars a month in utilities!

I'm reading Barbara Brown Taylor's Leaving Church right now, and am finding so many points of resonance between her story and my own. She studied religion and went to seminary because that's what you do when you're "drawn to God"--you go where other people feel like that too. With no intention of being ordained, she went to Yale, and after church-hopping, was confirmed in the Episcopal church. She did her field work at St. Luke's, which is where she thought of being a priest for the first time as she walked the processional each Sunday, and mingled with priests in the vesting room. Of course, there were people who warned her against it:

"Think hard before you do this," one said to me when I told him I wanted to be ordained. "Right now, you have the broadest ministry imaginable. As a layperson, you cna serve God no matter what you do for a living, and you cna reach out to people who will never set foot inside a church. Once you are ordained, that is going to change. Every layer of responsibility you add is going to narrow your ministry, so think hard before you choose a smaller box"

But none of that deterred her because she felt such a strong draw to be the hands behind the altar rail, not in front of it, and to do her part to patch the brokenness she saw around her. Her reflections of her 20 plus years of ministry as a priest, both in a large, urban downtown church with which I am very familiar, and a small, rural one in N. Georgia are beautiful and captivating and make the priesthood seem romantic and unique even in the mundane tasks of sending out the bulletin and receiving an angry phone call from a parishioner whose name she spelled wrong:

"The ancient word priest cpatures the risk of this vocation as well as any word I know. In my lexicon at least, a priest is someone willing to to stand between a God and a people who are longing for one another's love, turning back and forth between them with no hope of tending either as well as each deserves. To be a priest is to serve a God who never stops calling people to do more justice and love more mercy, and simultaneously to serve people who nine times out of then are just looking for a safe place to rest. To be a priest is to know that things are not as they should be and yet to care for them the way they are. To be a priest is to suspect there is always something more urgent that you should be doing, no matter what you are doing, and to make peace with the fact that the work will never get done."

Ultimately, the priesthood wore her out, and she went back to teaching theology. I haven't gotten to that part of the book yet, so I don't know her thoughts on it, but I think I have much to learn from her journey.

"When my friend Matilda lay dying of Lou Gehrig's disease, she said that she had been prepared all her life to choose between good and evil. What no one had prepared her for, she lamented, was to choose between the good, the better and teh best--and yet this capacity turned out to be the one she most needed as she watched the sands of her life run out. I thought of her often as my time ran out each day. I spent a great deal of time trying to be good, but was good the same as whole? I never lay in the grass anymore..."

I had lunch with my two supervisors from St. Luke's yesterday, and they said that discernment is not choosing between this option and that one. It is looking at one option, saying yes or no before moving to another. A list of pros or cons ultimately falls flat when it comes to decisions like these. The question is not, "should I be a priest or teach or work in non-profit?" the question is "Should I be a priest, yes or no?" And then move on from there. I thought that was helpful, because at some level this is a choice between good, better or best--and knowing that I can serve God anywhere means there is no 'wrong' decision. God calls me to be his. That is all.

Welcome to the new look! I was getting bored with my other blog, and let me tell you, getting a new template turned out to be more challenging than I thought originally. I'm still looking for the perfect 'look.' Don't hold your breath!

It's funny, not being in school makes me feel like I don't have anything interesting to say anymore:) But the last couple of weeks have held lots of fun and exciting things...

Wes and I went strawberry picking and picked 3 gallons of the lovely, sweet berries. Strawberry jam, strawberry pie and strawberry shortcake, milkshakes and just plain ole' berries were in abundance last week! Yum!

Speaking of food, my new favorite breakfast is this lovely green concoction. Wes and I have been making smoothies in the morning for some time now--our recipe usually consists of plain yogurt, fruit, tofu, almonds, oats, and flax meal. They're supposed to be good for lowering cholesterol (high fiber) and they keep me full until well into lunch time. Lately, I've been adding lots of greens--spinach, kale, etc. along with the fruit and everything else. I put in a couple of handfuls and it still tastes great! A great way to make sure I'm getting all my vitamins while maintaining the yummy, filling fruit smoothie taste!

A month of summer has past, and my job is now finally starting to make sense. It's great to have something so flexible. I go in when I want, leave when I want. Hit the pool when I want :) It's great. I've read three books so far, my Russia photo album is about 2 pages from being finished, my windows are washed, closet is cleaned out and linen closets are organized. New recipes are always on the menu...what a difference having time makes!

My biggest accomplishment thus far has been my workout routine. I've been working out (running, pilates, lap swimming) 6 days a week. And my generous husband is allowing me to reward myself with 10$ of spending money for every week I work out 6 days. I will use it on the things I never spend money on--clothes, pedicures, stuff for the house, etc. I must say, there have been a few days when I was not excited to get up and go, but that money kept me going! It doesn't take much!

Still, it's frustrating how slowly physical change is coming around. I notice that I now have more endurance, and I definitely feel better, but those little chunky places around my thighs and pudges on my tummy are slow to come off. Dang!