Road Trippin' Baby

I am going to try really hard to avoid blogging about my child because, as I've said before, I want to respect her privacy and give her the option to consent to world wide web exposure. But today's post is going to veer into the realm of baby-bragging because she was absolutely awesome this weekend on our road trip adventure.

Rewind to last week when I got the painfully sad news that my uncle died from an undiagnosed heart condition at the age of 61. I hadn't seen him in probably 10 years due to geography, but I've always been fond of him and loved getting updates about him and his family through my mom who was very close to him. My heart grieves for his wife, two children and eight grandchildren.

I struggled with whether or not to go to the funeral, which was in Missouri where he lived, but decided to go, because family. The pastor/chaplain/mother in me has developed a strong sense of family bond lately and on Tuesday of last week I decided I needed to go. Also, I've been very homesick lately, so I'm sure that factored in to the decision as well.

Next came the logistics. The funeral was on Saturday and was about as far away from a major airport as you can get in Missouri. So, that was going to mean flying and driving, or just driving, which was my preference. Time was a factor, as my schedule involves more than just picking lint out of my belly button these days, so I had to look at my obligations this week and move a few things around. It also meant asking my church for a Sunday off, and I am most grateful to the elder who preached in my absence.

I also had to decide between going alone, taking husband and baby, or just baby. My husband had a few things going on this weekend and he'd never met my uncle, so we decided it wasn't crucial for him to be there.  I've flown with just me and baby plenty of times to know that it is doable, but not exactly fun, so I ruled that option out. I went back and forth, weighing the options and considered prices, ultimately deciding driving the 10 hours was the way to go and that I wanted my daughter to come with. My hope is to instill in her a strong sense of family, even for relatives she's never met before. I want to start this early, so that she grows to have an appreciation for the importance of family. I also want to expose her to the joy of road tripping, at least until she can protest and decide she doesn't like it.

So, plans for a road trip with baby commenced.

I consulted the internet, which has an array of advice on the topic. I consulted friends who had driven long distances with their babies and got more helpful guidance. The best advice I got was to time driving around baby's sleep schedule so that she'd sleep most of the way. I armed myself with all of the road-trip-with-baby tools and here is how it went:

Friday 

2:30am: My alarm goes off and I grab an espresso drink from the fridge, gently get baby from the crib and get in our already packed car to hit the road, hoping baby would just fall asleep as soon as we started driving.

2:45am: Baby is still awake, but not making a peep. She's evidently fascinated by the street lights and probably confused about what is going on. Or maybe she's just enjoying the On Being podcast I'm listening to.

4:15am: Baby finally falls asleep once we reach Waco. My child suffers from severe FOMO, so the fact that she fell asleep at the city limit of Waco cracks me up. I continue listening to podcasts and start to get jittery from the caffeine but am alert and enjoying the trip.

6:30am: We arrive at Sherman, TX, where I'd hoped to make our first stop for breakfast at the lovely Chick-fil-A with an indoor playscape. I'd gotten advice to research good places to stop, and this was the only place between Dallas and Springfield that looked safe, had a play area, and had decent food options, ignoring the messy politics of the restaurant. Unfortunately baby is still asleep. I'm getting hungry and in need of a bathroom stop, but I vowed not to wake up baby, so that I could take advantage of gaining mileage while she slept. By some miracle, she wakes up on her own, just a few miles before we get to the Chick-fil-A. One of the many reasons I think she's the best.

7:30am: After an hour of eating and playing on the playscape, I decide baby has has gotten enough of her wiggles out, so we hit the road again.

7:45am-8:30am: I, very carefully while driving, hand her a new toy every 10 minutes or so after she'd get bored of the one I'd previously given her. Then I experimented with just letting her entertain herself for a while. Turns out, she did just fine on her own and didn't need constant entertainment.


8:30am: Baby plays with her toes and makes faces at herself in the mirror.

8:50am: Baby sleeps while I drive through boring Oklahoma.

10:50am: Baby wakes up and starts to fuss, so I hand her a graham cracker to hold her over until we can stop. I would come to learn that graham crackers are valuable currency for appeasing baby in the car. Totally worth all of the vacuuming I'm going to have to do later.

11:00am: We find a park in Chouteau, OK and play for an hour. I'm not too keen on the lunch options in town, so we drive a bit toward a bigger city, Pryor, which was a big mistake.

Snacking and watching trains. 

12:00pm: Lunch in Pryor. Big mistake. The people there were super grumpy and glared at us the whole time. I had a hard time getting service because the waitresses were too busy tending to the regulars who were squawking "Hey Rhonda, refill my tea!" and "Josie, where's my fried okra?" The food was decent, but I'm seriously considering writing a Yelp review for the restaurant and maybe even for the town in general because I was so unimpressed by them. To be fair, I'd probably be grumpy if I lived in that town.

1:00pm: Back on the road. Baby entertains herself for a while again, and I worry I'm raising a narcissist who loves looking at herself in the mirror too much.

2:00pm: Baby sleeps and I continue to enjoy more podcasts, along with espresso drink #2 of the day.

3:15pm: We arrive in Marshfield, MO and check into our hotel. I cannot say enough nice things about the staff at the Marshfield Holiday Inn, and was thankful for their hospitality after the grumpypants of Pryor treated us so poorly.

Baby and I spend the afternoon, running around the hotel to get some wiggles out after a long day in the car. We lament over the empty pool outside, which meant no swimming. We enjoy dinner at the local cafe and she is in bed by 6:45. Pretty sure I fell asleep at 8:00.

Saturday

The next morning we got up and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, walked a few laps around the hotel and headed to Lebanon, where the funeral was held. Baby slept on the way and was woken up by a very surprised grandma who didn't know baby was tagging along. Turns out baby snuggles are good for a grandma's broken heart.

The funeral was lovely and I enjoyed meeting people who knew my uncle. We spent the day savoring time with family and meeting a few (2nd? 3rd? I don't know how that works) cousins who had been born since the last time I'd seen my uncle.

3:15pm: Baby starts to fuss, indicating a need for a nap. We say our goodbyes, as we head south and my mom and brother head back to St. Louis where they would catch a flight the next morning.

3:16pm: Baby falls asleep in the car. I enjoy the scenery of the Branson area, feeling good about my decision to go slightly out of our way to take the prettier route through Arkansas.

5:00pm: Baby wakes up and I am ready to stop for dinner. We find a restaurant in Harrison, AR where the server greets us with "I'm so sorry, I've got butter all over my face!" as she wipes her face with a napkin. This confirmed my hunch that they have a butter infuser, filling the air with that good stuff.

5:45pm: Back on the road. I hope baby falls asleep at her usual 7pm bedtime, but she is wide awake and evidently enjoying the scenery as well. She occasionally starts to fuss, but graham crackers solve that problem.

8:30pm: Arrive at our hotel in Little Rock and she falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pack n play.

Sunday

6:30am: Baby wakes up and we wait for the hotel restaurant to open for breakfast.

7:00am: Breakfast, where baby wooes the waitstaff.

8:00am: More hotel hallway running, a toddler's favorite pastime.

8:45am: We check out of the hotel and I leave a big tip for housekeeping to cover the raisins and crumbs that were embedded in the carpet. I should mention that I tipped pretty high everywhere we went, due to the destructive force of a baby throwing food everywhere. Even left a nice tip in Pryor, OK.

9:00am: We arrive at the Little Rock Central High School National Historic Site for some history lessons. I tell baby about the "Little Rock Nine" and their bravery.  We walk around the school, praying for peace and justice.

"America Cares" by George Hunt

10:00am: Baby starts to fuss, indicating it is naptime. I debate staying in town until the Bill Clinton Presidential Library opens at 1pm, but decide it would have to wait for another trip. My goal was to follow baby's lead, and I get the sense she is ready to head home. 

10:10am: A quick stop at Starbucks to caffeine up, and we were on the road again, with baby asleep within minutes. 

12:00pm: Baby wakes up just in time for lunch in Texarkana. We look for a place to eat and strike out many times due to it being Sunday and we are in the buckle of the Bible belt. I almost think about going to a church in hopes they'd have some donuts or jello salad for us to eat, but decide I didn't want to have the conversation about me being a clergywoman. Thankfully we find a Tex-Mex place that is open, although I giggle at the Gospel music playing the whole time. 

1:00pm: We finish lunch and play in a grassy area for a while, trying to wear baby out for nap #2. 

1:30pm: Back on the road. Baby doesn't sleep. She's content playing with a book and eating the snacks I hand her. 

2:45pm: Baby gets fussy so we stop at a Sonic in Mt. Vernon, TX where there is an awesome playground with sand. Baby doesn't really like the sand, but she is interested in stealing the shoes that had been left near the tables by children playing in the sand. 

Not liking the sand. 

3:15pm: Back on the road. Baby still doesn't sleep. 

4:15pm: Thinking she's hungry, we stop at some weird boutique-y Wal-Mart in Rockwall, TX, because that's all I could find.  She eats some peas, spills yogurt all over my pants, and runs around in the grass. 

5:00pm: Back on the road. Baby starts to fuss within a few minutes, so I play some Adele and she calms right down. Great baby soothing music. 

6:30pm: More fussing and no sleeping means another rest stop in West, TX. We skip the Kolaches, but get some fresh milk and play in the back of the car because the only grassy area is a dog park. 

7:00pm: Back on the road, dreading my least favorite stretch of I-35 through Temple. 

7:20pm: Baby falls asleep, and I curse I-35 under my breath, wondering why the construction is still a thing there, 4 years after it was there when I used to commute to Temple for an internship. 

8:30pm: We arrive home in Austin, happy to see my husband and agreeing to a no car day Monday to let baby recover from the trip. 

So there you have it. Our epic road trip and baby's first lessons in Towanda-ness. I realize I left out a lot of the details from the trip, particularly talking about the quality time we had together. I managed to stay off of my phone most of the time at our rest stops, and really just spent time with the little one. I have to say I am so thankful we had this time together, seeing family, honoring my uncle and seeing new places I'd never been to before. 

It was nice not having much of an agenda, other than needing to be at the funeral on time. We could go at baby's pace and not have to find restaurants that worked for multiple people's dietary needs/desires. The flexibility and freedom was nice. I'd love to make this our mother-daughter tradition, if she decides she does indeed like road trips. Other than the fussy final hours of the trip, she was a road tripping rock star.  

Candidate

I recall the first time I flew into the Austin airport, coming to visit the seminary and have my face-to-face interview with the Admissions staff. I was full of anxiety, unsure that this journey to seminary would be a good fit.

This past weekend I again flew into the Austin airport, coming "home" from my meeting with the Presbytery in Colorado to move on in the ordination process. I was full of peace, sure that this journey I'm on is a good fit.

Yes, this was a hoop to jump through, but it was also one more affirming step in the process. I'm thankful to have a community of supporters, letting me know that I'm not crazy to think that God would be calling me to ministry.

Mentors

One of my favorite things about making the 16 hour drive from Longmont to Austin is listening to the Christian talk radio stations in the Texas panhandle. I like to keep in touch with what kind of theology the world outside my tradition is being exposed to, which usually makes me cringe, but I think it is a healthy practice to know what's going on out there.

This past drive through the panhandle turned out to be the most enlightening radio experience yet! The first station I turned to was talking about doctrines that are worth breaking fellowship over. They were discussing baptism in particular and were examining the various opinions over sprinkling versus immersion, infant versus adult. They agreed that differences of opinion in this regard were not worth breaking fellowship over. They did say that Christians should break fellowship with other "Christians" who claim Jesus isn't the Messiah, or that other religions are a means of knowing God. This one made me chuckle because my friends are all over the board on this one, yet I don't feel compelled to stop being friends with them and I hope they feel the same about me and my kooky liberal notions.

When that discussion was over, I turned to a different station (there are many Christian stations to choose from in the panhandle) to find out what other hot topics are out there.

I turned to a station that was talking about 1 Timothy and were exploring the theme of mentors. They were looking at the relationship between Paul and Timothy and how they impacted each other. Then they asked listeners to phone in and describe mentors they've had in their lives. This part stopped me in my tracks a little bit. I thought this was a wonderful activity to encourage. Taking time to recognize the mentors in our lives who have shaped us into who we are today.

Then the weirdest thing happened. I looked over at a billboard that was next to the highway. On it was an advertisement for an insurance agent who happened to have the same name as one of my mentors from childhood. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, but then realized I was still in the Texas panhandle, which is pretty much the same thing.

My eyes started to tear up as I thought about how this women influenced me and helped me get to where I am today. She saw something in me that I was oblivious to, and did her best to help me realize my gifts. I can't imagine where I'd be without her encouragement, but I do know that she's a big reason I came to seminary.

This all made me think about Mr. Rogers, a humble Presbyterian minister who was determined to make children feel special and loved. Here is his acceptance speech for the Lifetime Acheivement Award at the 1997 Emmy's.



What I find most admirable about his speech is that he didn't take credit for this achievement, instead he acknowledged all the people who helped him along the way.

Have you thought about the special people in your life who helped you along in your way?

Undefined Blog

It just occurred to me that I wrote 10 blog posts in the month of June, which is way more than my typical posting per month this year. I think being unemployed has something to do with it, but I also think I'm rediscovering my love of blogging. I once talked to a woman who said that blogging is her spiritual discipline. She writes for herself and doesn't care who reads it. I admire that and I wish I were that bold.

When I titled this blog "Defining Selah" the idea was that it wouldn't have any sort of theme. It would be undefined the way the Hebrew word "Selah" is undefined. It's been fun having the freedom to post about anything from thoughts on bin Laden's assassination to romantic relationships. I'm glad there are people out there who are willing to read what I post, even when it contains slightly ridiculous content.

As I embark on the second half of 2011, I'm excited to see what life brings and what I'll have to blog about. The first six months have set the standard pretty high and it is going to be tough to beat. I checked three things off my bucket list (I know, how cliche, but it was an assignment when I was an AmeriCorps memeber) so far this year and am in the process of checking one more off. I have a feeling life will continue at this pace, especially with a trip to Colombia in August, Seattle in October and jumping back into Seminary in September. Life is looking pretty good right now!

Go South, Young Woman

This past semester I took an exegesis class on 1 Peter. This brief letter is addressed to churches who suffer for doing good and following Christ. I became baffled by this notion of a church continuing its ministry in the midst of tremendous suffering and I tried to think of an example of such a church in our modern day context. The church in Colombia came to my mind. You may have heard about the situation in Colombia: 60 years of a corrupt government and civil unrest has devastated this nation. There continues to be a power struggle between the paramilitary groups and guerrilla forces, which has led to violence against civilians. Colombia has recently surpassed Darfur for having the most internally displaced people within its borders. The situation in Colombia has been complicated further by the Free Trade Agreement which is currently being considered by our nation’s leadership.

Amidst all of this violence and suffering, the churches in Colombia continue to serve and work toward peace. The PC(USA) has a partnership with the Iglesia Presbiteriana de Colombia (IPC) which has built a bridge of support for our brothers and sisters in Colombia. The Accompanier program was started in 2004 and since then there has been a constant PC(USA) presence in Colombia. I learned about this program during my first semester of seminary and had an overwhelming urge to dropout of school and go to Colombia. I resisted that temptation, but the desire to participate in this program has been overwhelmingly strong. I finally have an opportunity to go, even though it will mean delaying my anticipated graduation date. In August I will serve in the rural region of Urabá, Colombia. I'll be there with another young woman, Kelsey, who I met at the training in March. Our purpose for being there is threefold: to be a ministry of presence and support to the IPC, to keep an eye on what is happening in Colombia, and to offer our presence as a means of safety for the church workers who face potential violence. In the seven years this program has been going, there has never been an instance where an accompanier has been harmed and with God’s blessing, that record will continue!

I've started making preparations for the trip and as the departure date approaches, this dream is starting to feel more like reality.

It all started with a butter knife

For Lent this year a few friends and I have decided to give simple living a try. So, we each picked a budget for the 40 days and are limiting our food and entertainment purchases to that budget. I picked $300.

One of our struggles with this intentional living experience was what to do about Spring Break. If we're traveling somewhere, do our transportation costs count? What about other plans? We all agreed to leave it to our own discretion. Since I had to fly to New York for a training this week, the plane ticket alone costing $300, I chose to not include this week in my Lent budget, but still planned to keep costs at a minimum. Therefore, my one day/night in the city would involve cheap food, no-cost attractions (which meant a lot of walking around the city looking at cool stuff) and staying in a hostel rather than a cushy hotel.

So when I got bumped to first class on my flight here, my hopes of frugality were thrown out the window.

It all started with a butter knife. As I packed for the trip at 3am, rushing to leave by 4am to catch my 5:30am flight, I wasn't really thinking clearly. I grabbed my school bag and threw some books and things in it. I completely forgot about the butter knife that I had used for my lunch a few days before. At the airport, security pulled me aside to inspect my bag when that knife came up on the scanner. The TSA lady, who did not have a sense of humor, told me that butter knives were not allowed on the plane. I've heard it's best not to joke with TSA personnel, so I told her it wouldn't happen again, and she let me get on my way.

I arrived at my gate in plenty of time and sat near a woman who was clearly upset. We made small talk and she told me that her mother is in hospice and doesn't have much time left. Thus this woman was trying to get on the next flight to Houston to see her before she passed. I groggily attempted some pastoral care and we parted ways when they started boarding the plane. I got up to the gate, ready to hand over my ticket to be scanned, when they announced they were seeking volunteers to take a later flight with the incentive of a $150 voucher good on a flight within the next year. Thinking about that woman flying standby to see her mother in hospice and knowing I could certainly put that flight voucher to use, I stepped out of line and over to the counter.

The Continental employee was very friendly as he checked for the next available flight. He told me that unfortunately the next flight to Newark wouldn't leave until 11:30, 6 hours later than my original flight. But it was a first class seat. I told him I would take it. I was sad to have less time in NYC, but flying first class was too good to pass up. I walked away with my first class ticket with "***Elite Access*** Seat 1B" printed on it, a $200 voucher and a $6 food voucher. My good deed for the day was turning out to be very good indeed!

As I hopped in line to get some breakfast, I looked over at the departures board, knowing my new flight wouldn't be on there yet. I noticed there was a 6:30 flight to Newark. I gave my food voucher to some girls behind me, hopped back out of line and wandered over to the gate to try my luck at getting on that earlier flight. I figured they'd bump me back to coach, but I didn't mind so much if it meant getting to NYC an hour earlier than I originally planned.

The woman at this counter was not as friendly as the previous chap and she told me the flight was full, but she'd put me on standby. I waited around for 10 minutes until they called my name. I was in luck! There was a seat open and it was now mine. She handed me a ticket with "***Elite Access*** Seat 2A" on it. What?! First class? This really was my lucky day.

First class was lovely. So much leg room. Free DirecTv. Hot towels to wash my hands. A real breakfast. And a butter knife. Not a plastic piece of junk they give you in coach. No, this was a real butter knife. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. My butter knife was confiscated at security, and now I had one on my tray. Amazing what that ***Elite Access*** can do for you.

It was a fun experience, but also a startling experience of having my privilege tattooed on my forehead. I realize I walk around everyday with my privilege: being white, educated and middle class affords me certain opportunities that many people in this world don't have access to. But those 6 stars and the words "Elite Access" gave me a privilege on a whole new level.

I will never pay for first class seats, but if I get bumped again I'll jump at the opportunity. You know, for sociological research reasons.

Sabbath

Sabbath has never been easy for me. I come from the "Weaver work award" family and was always encouraged to work hard if I want to achieve anything. This can be a very good thing. But it can also be a very exhausting thing. When it comes time for resting and taking a break, I (like so many other people) have a hard time tucking away the to-do list and giving in to rest.

This Lenten season I'm attempting to be more intentional about Sabbath. I'm also living simply with 7 other folks here at the Seminary, which I'll write about next week.

What does it mean to be intentional about Sabbath? I still don't know. But I flipped through Abraham Joshua Heschel's book The Sabbath and was reminded of why this sacred practice is so important. He writes: "Creating Shabbat begins with a sense of longing...it is not we who long for a day of rest, but the Sabbath spirit that is lonely and longs for us." This Jewish explanation of Sabbath definitely falls in line with my Reformed theology, in that God beckons us to be in relationship with God. That's the very nature of who God is. So it makes sense that God would long for us to create a space for Sabbath. Easier said than done.

I used to think Sabbath had to literally mean "do nothing." This notion reminds me of one of my favorite movies, Stranger Than Fiction, with the scene where Harold does nothing all day.

But now I realize there's more to it than not working or shopping or whatever we do to fill our time. There has to be some sort of intention behind it.


I think I did a pretty good job this weekend with a sunset to sunset sort of deal, starting on Saturday evening:

I walked Chloe, and checked out my tree cozy. Then I listened to music and filled picture frames with pictures, something I've been meaning to do since I moved in here 18 months ago (I don't count that project as work, since I spent time reflecting on my friendships and my wonderful family). Then I called it a night early since Daylight Savings was going to kick my butt the next morning. That brings us to Sunday morning. I woke up at 8, which felt like wretched 7, to watch my old person show. Got ready for church. Did church. Rehearsed for the Easter play. Came home for lunch and then went on a 2 hour bike ride.

By sunset I felt restored. And then I hiked to the library to start working on a paper. Since it is Spring Break, I was the only idiot there. But I'm going to New York on Wednesday and I want to be intentional about my time there, which means I'm bringing very little school work with me. Spending the first half of my Spring Break in the library is a small price to pay for opening up space for intentional living in New York. And maybe even a Sabbath day while I'm there.

Trini Church

The Presbyterian Church of Trinidad seems to be struggling with some of the same issues that PC(USA) is. One of those struggles is declining church membership, which was quite apparent as Kris and I visited the churches in the eastern portion of the island. Another issue the Trini church faces is a lack of pastors. There are twenty-three regions with 3-6 churches in each, and only one pastor assigned to a region. I've heard of the challenges that come with serving multiple congregations or yoked churches, but to be forced into that position sounds frustrating. I gained a whole new appreciation for the Trini church as well as pastors in the States who have the energy for that task.

Our Sunday morning started early. Now, I often complain about church being on Sunday morning, but my 10:15 am service doesn't seem so early after experiencing Trini church. Our first service started at 7am. I'm assuming it starts that early because Rev. Kimberly has to preach at three churches each week, but it seems to me they could push it back a wee bit! Turns out this was the largest congregation we would visit that day, with a whopping 100 members, though only about 30 were in attendance. They had their annual congregational meeting to elect elders and officers.



Same church politics we see in the States. Same cantankerous old guy who wants to rule the church and have it all his way. Pretty entertaining. I really enjoyed visiting this church, especially since they offered some much needed coffee after the service. We didn't have time to chat though, since Kimberly had to book it for the next church.

The next church was significantly smaller and didn't even have a church building to meet in. Instead they congregate in a Presbyterian elementary school. Only 3 members and 2 visitors were there that morning, but it was an energetic crowd. We wedged ourselves into the desks built for second graders, to sing hymns and hear the Good News.

Finally, we ventured all the way to the coast for the third worship service, again meeting in a school because they lacked a building. This church also had 3 members and 2 visitors in attendance, including Romeo, a six year old who never misses a Sunday.



They too held their congregational meeting, which meant all present were "voluntold" to take a position. All willingly obliged, probably because they all cared about their tiny congregation enough to see it continue.

That Sunday morning turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the trip. Sure, I was running on less than an hour of sleep, but worshiping alongside these Presbyterians who remain faithful to their tradition was invigorating.

A Big Fat Trini Birthday Party

You may have noticed a typo in the title of my last post. I'm leaving it that way. Reminds me that I'm not perfect, but am a finite being with poor spelling. Deal with it.

I think I'll work my way backwards through the trip, mostly because I want to write about this story now.

On the second to last night in Trinidad, we had the opportunity to split up into pairs and shadow a Presbyterian pastor for the weekend. I was very excited about this opportunity, although I wish it could have happened the first weekend when I wasn't so physically and emotionally exhausted. Despite the fatigue, I made the best of it.

I was paired up with Kris, a Junior at APTS, and assigned to Rev. Kimberly who serves in the Eastern portion of the island. We had no idea what to expect from this experience, since we'd never met her before. I was taken aback when she pulled into the church parking lot and walked up to greet us. She was so young! I soon learned that at 25 years old, Kimberly is the youngest pastor in the Trinidad Presbyterian Church. We hopped in the car and before starting the engine, she turned to us to explain how the weekend would go. She said something along the lines of "I know you're supposed to do churchy stuff today, but I have no duties to tend to, so we're going shopping." That was fine by me! We wound up at a mall and then a Sam's Club-type store to get party supplies for her brother's birthday which would be celebrated that evening.

We then drove about 45 minutes to the other side of the island where her family lives. Thus began my education on the Trini-family. I thought it was neat that she still lives with her parents and I asked her if that was because she doesn't earn enough on pastor's wages to live on her own. She laughed and told me that it is normal to stay with ones parents until marriage. If children move out on their own, the neighbors will raise their eyebrows and wonder what's wrong with your family. Radically different than our attitude in the States!

We arrived at her lovely home and met the rest of her family. In the downstairs portion of the house, her parents, her older brother and Kimberly share the space. The upstairs portion houses her aunt and uncle and their 2 year old daughter. It was a relatively small house, and I was shocked to learn that a few months ago her other aunt and her family of 4 lived in the house as well! They seem to have a radically different concept of personal space than White American culture.

After an afternoon of watching DirecTV - all American shows, of course, the birthday party commenced at an aunt and uncle's house. It was supposed to start at 8pm, but we all showed up at 9, in true Trini fashion. There was a plethora of food and a bar more impressive than a lot weddings I've attended. Oh, and a pig on a spit. They had never tried it before and decided to give it a go. Now, in my experience with "pigs on a spit" here in the States, usually the butcher handles the gross parts and you pick up the pig all ready to roast. Not so in Trinidad. I missed the first few steps of the process, but I saw pictures of the men picking up the pig, killing the pig, and then gutting the pig for roasting. It was pretty badass.

The party was a lot of fun, though a bit awkward...in another post I'll explain the concept of "Kryptonite." We ate and drank and talked and by midnight I remembered that I had to be up at 6am in order to make it to church by 7am. So I ventured upstairs to the bedroom of Kimberly's cousin who graciously gave it up for the night so Kris and I had a bed to sleep in. I was very excited for bed, especially since a good night's sleep was hard to come by on the trip. I got all ready, hopped in bed and was alarmed by how loud the music was. They had speakers on in the backyard, but it sounded like they were in the bedroom with me. There's no way I was going to interrupt the party and demand that the volume be turned down. So I decided to wait it out. Surly they couldn't stay up too late, the neighbors would complain!

Kris wandered into bed around 12:30 and she and I laughed at how loud it was. She seemed to be able to doze off, but I was struggling. By 1am I still couldn't sleep and so I rolled over to stare at a poster of Ronaldo, a Brazilian football player. By 2am I started to go over Bible Content Exam questions in my head. At 3am I was ready to start having a delirious conversation with Ronaldo. At 4am I started to pray that the party would end soon, especially since Savage Garden was blasting through the speakers. Finally, at 5:14am, the music turned off and everyone went home. I slipped into a blissful sleep, only to be woken 46 minutes later by my alarm, telling me it was time to wake up.

Not the ideal way to prepare for three worship services, but now that I look back on it, that was one of my favorite experiences of the trip.

Trinidad and Tobado...the first of many posts

I had the opportunity to travel to Trinidad and Tobago for a travel seminar this month. I got course credit for traveling to the Caribbean. How could I turn that down?

I got back to Texas on Monday and have had some difficulty when trying to talk about the trip. It was a a very full 2 week trip and I hardly know where to begin talking about it. So, I'll be disclosing snippets for your reading pleasure.

I attended a volunteer training at the Red Cross this weekend and was pleasantly surprised to meet a woman from Trinidad. She is a fellow volunteer and has been in Texas for only a few months. I excitedly told her I just visited her country for two weeks and we had good chat about Doubles and Maracas Bay and Maxi Taxis. None of those things probably make sense to you, but I'll get back to those later.

At the beginning of our training the teacher, who was an 82 year old with two hearing aids, asked us to introduce ourselves. Latoya, my Trini friend, gave a brief intro about herself and sat down. After a brief pause, the teacher responded with: "Honey, are you speaking English?" There was some awkward laughter from the rest of us and poor Latoya was embarrassed. She then went on to explain that she does speak English, but with a dialect unique to Trinidad. For the rest of class, anytime she spoke, Latoya had to speak at an uncomfortably loud volume so the teacher could understand.

One thing our class learned about Trinis is that they are very soft-spoken. The typical volume at which an American speaks sounds like shouting in comparison. A lot of us struggled with this while we were in Trinidad. Between the quieter volume level and the thick dialect, I often felt like they were speaking a different language and would strain to understand.

Low Rising

I'm usually the type that tries to make the best of any situation I'm in, but this Greek business is starting to wear on me. So to keep my spirits up, I remind myself that August is going to be epic. I'll be venturing back to Colorado for some much needed rest and time with the family, a not-so-desired psychological evaluation for the ordination process, and the Rocky Mtn. Folks Festival where I'll get to see The Swell Season, my current favorite band. To make things even better, my pal Brittany will be joining the adventure! So yeah, I got some good things to look forward to.

Love the ones your with

Happy 4th of July! I won't be partaking in any festivities as I have to work tonight, but I'm going into it with the attitude that I've had about the holiday for the past few years. I'm not overly patriotic, so I'm not one to get all decked out for the big day. I love my country but I'm also highly critical of my country and I think we could be doing so much better. Shane Claiborne thinks so too and he compiled a list of challenges for us to consider. Check 'em out here.

When I think about it, this holiday has always been more about who I am with and celebrating those relationships. That seems to trump my desire to celebrate our nation. Whether it has been the numerous times my family walked up to Sunset Golf Course to watch the fireworks, or BBQs on the front lawns of a friend's house, or a wild night in Biloxi with the YAVS or flying home from Prince Edward Island with Jessie. What I remember about past years is who I have been with, not necessarily where we were or what we were doing. Tonight I have the chance to celebrate with co-workers and customers. This will be my first 4th of July in Texas, which could be interesting. Although homesickness tries to creep into my heart, I'm reminded that these people have somehow worked their way into my definition of family and I'm grateful for the interactions I have with them and the lessons on love and humility that they teach me.

So, happy 4th!

The day in numbers

Once I have visual aids in the form of pictures and video, I'll share all about the epic road trip with Kristin. For now, here is a glimpse at my day:


1000: miles driven
15.5: hours behind the wheel
2: bathroom/gas stops
80: percentage of my windshield that is currently covered in bugs
7.5: number of times I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and savior, thanks to the dozens of Christian radio stations, billboards and bumper stickers I saw today
4: number of people I probably annoyed by following them and using them for cruise control
1: drunk guy who stumbled into the gas station in Sweetwater, TX. He rode his horse there (not even kidding) and came to buy a case of beer. Oh Texas.
3: Toby Keith songs I listened to in their entirety.
1.5: minutes I stood staring at the mail on my table, wondering how it got there until I realized I grabbed it from my mailbox 10 minutes ago. Time to go to bed.

Epic road trip

I'm about to head to the airport to pick up Kristin, former college roommate and BFF. We plan to conquer Austin tomorrow, scoping out the beautiful and weird parts of the city.

Then, an epic journey across the country.


View Larger Map

We haven't spent more than a few hours together since college and I think this adventure is long overdue.

Seminary Lesson #379

I've become guilty of losing the forest for the trees. This is mostly due to the fact that I overloaded my plate of life this past month, leading to a near mental breakdown. Turns out I'm not superwoman and cannot handle 35-40 hours of working on top of seminary full time. Good lesson to learn.

I'm supposed to be in New York right now doing a training for the Accompanier program with the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship. I'd been looking forward to this for months and would admit that getting ball rolling on this endeavor was at the top of my "Things I'm Excited About in Life Right Now" list. Instead, I'm in Austin. I canceled the trip because I would have missed one huge exam and three baby quizzes, which wouldn't have been the end of the world, but I came to realize my need to rest. Yes, the training would have been amazing. Yes, Spring Break is one week away. But my experience on the Gulf Coast with PDA taught me when to know my limits and to not push myself too far.

I've also become so focused on minor details and frustrations, that I haven't allowed the bigger picture to remain in focus. Take Hebrew for example. One of the reasons I came to seminary was a desire to learn Hebrew and Greek so that I could read the original text. I now have 250 Hebrew words memorized and yet I can't translate a sentence to save my life. Where the heck do the nuns and definite articles go? My frustrations have taken a hold of me and I've forgotten the reason I'm taking the class. I need to remember that in order to read the Hebrew Bible, I must do a lot of hard work first. This notion applies to the greater seminary experience as well. Yes I want to minister with integrity, which means I need a degree and must put in the hard work. Oy Vey!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Not going to make any promises about writing frequently on this here blog, but for some reason I feel inspired to share some stuff with you out there in the internets. This may become a routine end of day deal, or maybe this will be the only post for three months. Keep coming back to check, I love leaving you in suspense.

For the past five months I haven't known what to write on here. I also haven't known what to say in real life off the internets, as I've had one existential crisis after another. This is a normal symptom of seminary. Pretty sure I've cried more in the past 4 months than I have in the past 24 years, which is a good thing. Progress.

So today I had a bit of a breakthrough. As I was organizing the Valentine's aisle (I work at a drug store now, more on that later), amidst the stuffed animals and pounds of chocolate, I was thinking back to the past few Valentine's Days. I like to do this on every holiday, even quirky ones like Groundhogs day. So what did I do on Valentine's Day...

...2006...last year of college but I don't remember what I did that day. Probably watched Pride and Prejudice (BBC version of course) and hosted a pity party for Single's Awareness Day. Gotta love mopey Becca.

...2007...was in Mississippi enjoying a week without volunteers in the camp. I think we were in the midst of moving from the community center site to the post office site. I remember being very tired that month. I also remember finding out that my grandpa was sick and unlikely to recover. He died 10 days later on his 91st birthday. That night I was treated to a Chinese Buffet with Big John, Jan and Graham. It was awkward.

...2008...was at the low point of my quarter life crisis. I think I was working at the library that night. This was before my substitute license had been processed, so I was working 12 hours a week shelving books, living with my parents, feeling very down.

...2009...was in DC for an AmeriCorps conference. I was in the midst of processing some major life decisions. I remember walking over to a basilica or cathedral across from the school where were were staying, and sat in their prayer garden. Appropriately enough I started praying and asking myself some tough questions. I had just submitted my applications to four graduate schools and was discerning which route to take: Social Work or Seminary. I don't know how much time passed, but I remember crying a lot and trying to figure out what to do with all the snot running down my face as I didn't have any tissues. After a while I was at peace with the plan to go to seminary. As I walked back toward the campus a maintenance worker stopped me to ask if I was okay. He must have thought I was broken hearted or lonely on Valentine's Day because he told me that whoever he was, he didn't deserve me. I laughed and kept on walking.

...2010...attending Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary and finally loving it. Last semester was iffy. There was way too much discernment and assessing our lives - where we've been and where we're going. It was uncomfortable and frightening, but I've finally dealt with some stuff I had let get covered in dust. Started acknowledging some childhood trauma. Admitted that my experience in high school youth group hurt me more than I allowed myself to admit before. Began to think about the future and what it might look like after seminary. So, I guess you could say I've been a bit busy. I can only guess it will be more of the same for the next 2.5.

As I look at this time line, I'm amazed at how much progress I've made and am overwhelmed by the notion that I'm in a really healthy place for the first time in a long time. What a relief!

That's all for now.

Oh, The Places You'll Go!

A lot has happened since June of last year. Ten months ago I was ready to be done with church altogether. My frustrations and anger had been building for quite some time, pretty much since high school, but last summer I wanted to call it quits for real. This was really bad timing since it also happened to be the same week that I started a job as substitute custodian at our church- it's really hard to run away from something when you're stuck inside the walls everyday. I admit I didn't give 100% to that job and while I regret that, I can't go back and fix it.

Fast forward to September when I started as an AmeriCorps member with "I Have a Dream". I found myself working for an organization that I really believed in. I admire the mission of IHAD which is to commit ten years to young at-risk kids who might not have the opportunity to attend college otherwise. The ironic part of this job is that I sought something not related to church and wound up yearning for that faith element. IHAD is doing a really great thing, but I miss being able to pray for clients/kids and going to God when we have budget woes and trying to figure out what Christ is calling us to do in our community. I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side.

When it came time to start figuring out what I should do next year, I found myself leaning heavily toward grad school. This process has been another long, drawn out debate since I've found so much value in the world's classroom and didn't see myself going back to school. Long story short, I decided to go back. So I narrowed my choices down to four schools: two universities for social work and two seminaries. I figured it would be good to keep my options open and see where I was being led. Through the process of applying, there were instances where God was clearly steering the ship: I missed the application deadline for one school and needed two pre-reqs before enrolling in the fall at another (currently don't have the time or the money for them). Those two choices were eliminated and they happened to be the schools for social work. Ok God, I get the hint.

That left the two seminaries: Iliff School of Theology in Denver, a rather progressive Methodist school which specializes in Peace and Justice studies, or Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Austin, Tx. At this point my mind was saying "Go to Iliff! You'll fit in there with people who think similarly to you! You'll be in Colorado with the mountains you love and near the family you love. It makes sense". But my heart was saying "Go to Austin! It makes no sense, but it is where you need to be!".

I heard from Iliff first, with a letter saying I had been accepted and they'd love to see me in the fall. The next week I received a letter from Austin saying I was accepted there as well. Without much hesitation (because I knew that if I drew out this decision it would get ugly) I responded to Iliff with a "no thanks" and Austin with a "see you in the fall". The logical side of me kept reminding me that I hadn't even visited the campus yet, had never even been to Austin before and had no idea how I was going to pay for this. I thought back to time when I made the decision to be a YAV in Mississippi. My vague understanding beforehand was that it would be a year of no pay, living in an RV in the Mississippi swamp and running a camp for volunteers, which I was very much under qualified to do. Not the most enticing job description, but I had a gut feeling that this was where I needed to be. Turns out it was the most difficult and wonderful year of my life, so who knows what Austin will bring.

Two weeks later I visited Austin. I'd been planning the trip for a few months though it was a bit silly that I decided to attend Austin before even checking it out. I guess that's how I roll. When I bought the plane ticket I figured it would be great to see three fabulous friends that I haven't been the best at keeping in touch with, even if I decided the school wasn't for me. Fortunately everything felt right when I was there. I love the campus. I adore the city. I'm excited that I already know some terrific people there.

I then flew straight to Atlanta for a discernment weekend with the Fund for Theological Education. My boss nominated me since I'm sort of the token Christian in our AmeriCorps crew. I had no idea what the purpose of the weekend was, but I wasn't about to turn down a free trip to Atlanta! Turns out it was one of those rare opportunities where people on similar paths collide in one place and have the chance to sort out their emotions and plans and ideas. All of us who were at the conference are serving in year long volunteer programs around the country and are all considering vocation with the church. I'm still processing the experience and will leave that for another post. I can say that it was very exciting to be surrounded by other people who see the need for reform in the church since we aren't satisfied with the way it is now.

At this point I knew where I was going and that there would be some incredible conversations awaiting me there. The lingering worry on my mind was money. Seminary is not cheap and while there is a lot of funding out there for it, I was nervous. Then, the last day of the conference in Atlanta, I received a phone call from the president of Austin Seminary saying that I have been granted the Jean Brown Merit Fellowship which will cover tuition, part of housing, food and books for my three year stay there. I thought he was joking! I applied for that scholarship thinking there was no way I would get it. Through tears and near hyperventilation I told him thank you and that I would gladly accept it. I think this was God's way of saying "Alright kid, you're out of excuses. Get your ass to seminary". Maybe that's not a direct quote, but you get the idea.

Next Steps

It’s cheesy metaphor time. I know you’re excited.

As I was skiing on Sunday (rather than going to church like a good girl should), I began to think about what’s to come after my year with AmeriCorps. I’ve got a lot of options and while I’m about 90% sure about what I want to do, I still hesitate.

The Bunny Hill Option

I could stick to the safe, secure bunny hill which is comfortable and familiar. Real life equivalent would be living at home and working at the library full time. Just like the bunny hill on the slopes, this option feels way too easy and boring. No challenge involved which would also mean no opportunity for growth and learning.

The Green Circle Option

I could move out of my parents house, stay in Longmont/Boulder and keep working with “I Have a Dream” as a 2nd year AmeriCorps. This option is mildly appealing since I adore the kids I work with, but I still don’t think it will be a challenging option. Just like green slopes, if I were to choose this option I would be stuck in my comfort zone and not pushing myself.

The Blue Square Option

I could go with the option that would be challenging in one sense, and yet easy in another. The Blue runs are usually what I stick to because they are difficult, and yet I don’t feel like I’m going to die while cruising down the mountain. This option would mean going to grad school here in Colorado. I’d still be in the community that I am familiar with, but I’d be back in school which is a scary thought.

The Black Diamond Option

I could challenge myself and go where I’m not comfortable and yet I know I need to be there. On the mountain, I get anxious when on the Black runs and yet I know it is good for me because it is pushing me to learn more and further my skiing technique. In real life this would mean going out of state to grad school. I would be combining the challenge of grad school with learning about a new community and adapting to an unfamiliar environment, away from the comforts of home.

The Back Country Option

I could push myself to my limits and go where the terrain is unpredictable and completely unfamiliar. Every turn would be new and frightening and exhilarating. The real life equivalent would be going overseas to live/volunteer/work. This would be the scariest option available. I’ve never done back country skiing before, but I certainly hope to work my way up to it. In the same manner I hope to work my way up to the challenge of living overseas long term. Baby steps are crucial here.

25 Things

At first I was really annoyed by the "25 Things" note that has been circulating Facebook, but now I kind of like the idea. Rather than post there, I've decided to post it here, partly because I'm weaning myself off Facebook (Thanks Bryce for the inspiration) and partly because the people I care about most read this blog (particularly my cabinet of advisers- you ladies know who you are). Here are my 25 things.

1. I just had my phone interview with the admissions person at Austin Theological Seminary and am beginning to realize that the paths in life that scare the shit out of me are usually the best ones to take.
2. I was the first girl at Lincoln Preschool to get a timeout for kissing a boy in class.
3. When I'm sick I like to throw my used tissues near the trashcan, but not in the trashcan until I'm healthy. I don't really know why, but I do love to see how many Kleenex's I can go through.
4. I'm planning a trip to Prince Edward Island with my friend Jessie to visit "The Land of Anne". I'm secretly hoping to meet my own Gilbert there.
5. My biggest pet peeve is women/girls/teens/tweens who are thin to begin with, but claim they're too fat.
6. My VHS tapes of Pride and Prejudice (BBC Version) are starting to wear out.
7. During my three years in college, I lived in 6 different dorms/apartments.
8. I desperately want to move back to the South and wouldn't mind ending up in Jackson, MS.
9. I'll be spending Valentine's Day in Washington D.C. What could be more romantic than spending that day in the capital of the country I'm starting fall in love with?
10. I am notorious for keeping library books way past their due date, which is why I still work at the library in order to keep the perk of no overdue fines.
11. My first CDs were Shania Twain, Seal and TLC.
12. I do fine with public speaking in most venues (PDA camp, tutor trainings/presentations etc.), except for my church. Not sure why that is.
13. I can't keep plants alive.
14. I woke up at 4:30 this morning (on my own, no alarm clock) because I couldn't wait to watch last night's episode of LOST online. Pathetic.
15. I've skied since I was 6 years old, but I still hate black diamond runs.
16. I'm a big believer in kindred spirits and bosom friends.
17. I own three pairs of Crocs, but didn't pay for any of them and never wear them anymore.
18. The IRS only knows about 4 of the 7 jobs I had last year.
19. I HATE the word suckle.
20. I normally don't read self-help books, but I'm currently reading He's Just Not That Into You and am surprised by how much I'm enjoying it.
21. I could be perfectly content with eating the exact same thing every day- I love consistency.
22. I only wash my hair once or twice a week because I find it too much of a hassle. It is great for saving money on shampoo, but I think I might have more friends if I washed it more often.
23. I can't remember what I did on my 23rd birthday, which was only 8 months ago.
24. I got a gift certificate to a spa, but I don't really like to be touched by strangers. I booked a manicure appointment thinking it will be the least uncomfortable treatment.
25. I'm the type of person who has a few very close friends (vs. a person with many not-so-close friends), but muh dawg Chloe ranks #1.

My run-in with the law

I have great plans for some awesome posts, but I haven't had the motivation/inspiration to write them. I promise I'll get to them later.

For now I want to share a funny story with you.

I've been sick for the past few days- it stared out as a nasty cough and turned into the flu with a high fever. I should have seen this coming when I signed up to work with germy kids every day, but I thought I was immune to everything after working for the library for 6 years.

Anyway.

I've been house sitting for my uncle every weekend which is fun, but I prefer to be sick in my own bed. I slept at his house last night and decided to drive home this morning. So, I was driving down 287 from Lafayette to Longmont, getting very excited to crawl into my own bed. Then I saw lights flashing behind me.

Lets just say there was a lot of swearing on my part as I pulled over to the shoulder. Here is a little taste of the dialogue going on in my head: "Oh F#&$ F*&# F@$&! Please don't arrest me! I don't remember doing anything wrong. Was I speeding? Did I run a red light? I know Nyquil shows up on the breathalyzer. But I took my last dose at 3am, so shouldn't it be out of my system? I'm going to jail. I can't go to jail! I'm wearing my AmeriCorps sweatshirt! And no bra! And hideously ill-fitting red sweatpants. F$@* F!#@ F*#&."

The ironic part of this, is that I've been anticipating getting my first ticket for a while now, so I should have been mildly excited. There is a lot of pressure on your shoulders when you have a perfect driving record and I have been wanting to get a ticket just to get it over with.

It turns out I got pulled over for not having a license plate on the front of my car. I'd been meaning to get to it, I just kept forgetting. He let me off with a warning and told me to have a nice day.

So now I am still ticket free and did not go to jail. I hope that someday I'll be able to check those two items off of my list of things to do.