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Unpacking a Compliment

"Young lady, you have a beautiful ring on that finger of yours." -- elderly woman at the chiropractor's office.

"Wow, your wedding ring is incredibly sparkly!" -- middle-aged cashier at Walmart.

"Now, who's the young man who gave you that eye-catching ring?" --lady at church I'd never seen before.

These are simply the compliments I've received on my wedding ring this week. Now, my rings' characteristics have not changed one iota since I had them soldered together. They are still sparkly, still mid-size, and still diamonds. But never have they attracted so much attention as in recent months. I certainly don't mind the compliments, but I'm pretty sure there's more to it.

Perhaps it's presumptuous of me, but it seems that all these compliments can be re-worded to more accurately reflect the giver's state of mind.

"Girl-who-looks-too-young-to-be-that-pregnant, I'm glad to see you with a band on that left-hand ring finger of yours." -- elderly woman at the chiropractor's office.

"Wow, most people who come to Walmart as tore up and pregnant as you don't actually have a wedding ring. Perhaps you're not pregnant white trash after all." -- middle-aged cashier at Walmart.

"Now, please point out to me the man who impregnated you so I can double check and make sure he's wearing a wedding ring as well." -- lady at church I'd never seen before.

Unpacking a Compliment

"Young lady, you have a beautiful ring on that finger of yours." -- elderly woman at the chiropractor's office.

"Wow, your wedding ring is incredibly sparkly!" -- middle-aged cashier at Walmart.

"Now, who's the young man who gave you that eye-catching ring?" --lady at church I'd never seen before.

These are simply the compliments I've received on my wedding ring this week. Now, my rings' characteristics have not changed one iota since I had them soldered together. They are still sparkly, still mid-size, and still diamonds. But never have they attracted so much attention as in recent months. I certainly don't mind the compliments, but I'm pretty sure there's more to it.

Perhaps it's presumptuous of me, but it seems that all these compliments can be re-worded to more accurately reflect the giver's state of mind.

"Girl-who-looks-too-young-to-be-that-pregnant, I'm glad to see you with a band on that left-hand ring finger of yours." -- elderly woman at the chiropractor's office.

"Wow, most people who come to Walmart as tore up and pregnant as you don't actually have a wedding ring. Perhaps you're not pregnant white trash after all." -- middle-aged cashier at Walmart.

"Now, please point out to me the man who impregnated you so I can double check and make sure he's wearing a wedding ring as well." -- lady at church I'd never seen before.

The Habit

Starbucks is habit-forming. Not only for the coffee, but for the intellectual stimulation I've grown used to finding there. Many years ago, during the development of my addiction, I visited Starbucks with others. I engaged my friends in conversation that revolutionized the way I thought about God, others, and me. Later, as life got me and everyone else, my Starbucks trips became more solitary-- my place to do homework, pray, journal, or read. Now, I go alone, or occasionally accompanied by my spouse or some other fellow reader with whom I don't need to interact.

But Starbucks is not the habit anymore; no, I have become addicted to my failure to interact. I have realized that I can't engage ideas. I can't engage others. I can't engage crowds or individuals or even academic stimulation. Has my brain turned to mush? Maybe, but I suspect it has more to with a protective shell I've sunk into. Over the last three years, I stopped the practice of connecting with others. I didn't have time, my friends moved away, my husband was busy, my homework came first. All of these are (I convince myself) valid excuses for my indifference. And yet, now that I have time, no homework, a husband who is home, and a new church with new (potential) friends, I feel stuck in a rut.

I'm just not interested in much anymore. I have become completely self-sufficient and independent, and there is very little wonder and awe in my life. I am sure some of that will return in a few weeks with the arrival of our daughter, but frankly, I am ready for God now. I want my soul to come alive to beauty and music and words the way it used to. I long to respond to ideas with passion, to friends with empathy, and to Jesus with humility. I've hit upon the formula: be less self-absorbed. get your thoughts in tangibility. devote yourself to Christ. Hopefully, Starbucks will be able to assist me in forming this new habit of outward looking!

Reading is Good

So I found myself wishing today for the books of my youth. Or more accurately-- the absorption in books that I had in my youth. I have been slugging through Les Miserables ("Shut up already, Monsieur Hugo!") and really missing the times when you couldn't get my attention for anything.

The problem is that now I know too much about literature to enjoy the stupid stuff, and the non-stupid stuff can honestly be a little depressing / annoying / heavy / thought-provoking, etc.

Sad! =(

Spring

There is one season I love-- warm but not humid. In California this is most of the year, but in Virginia that comes out to Spring and Fall. Spring is fantastic-- I love all the green and the beauty and how most of the bugs just haven't made it out of larvae stage yet. Unfortunately, it's also the time of the first invasion of the ants, not to mention the annual "spring cleaning".

With the arrival of the baby soon, and the amassing of stuff that we've been doing over the last two years, we realized how badly we needed more storage. We've pretty much exhausted the available space in the attic (you're not supposed to walk up there, so storage is limited to the immediate area surrounding the door), and our closets are chuck full of volleyballs, volleyball courts, and plyo boxes (the joys of off-season living), and our outdoor closet/shed has been occupied by bags of lime and seed and an old rug Johnathan wasn't certain he wanted to throw away. Solution on a tight budget? Sam's club and a small outdoor storage box. Now the lime and seed and ice chests have a home, and I can actually get to the tools at the back of the shed. Hurray for organization!

Now, it's time for some Southern sweet tea, front-porch sitting, to enjoy today's work!

That One Time I Got "Called Out"

I have been re-reading Les Miserables, an immense work that took half of my junior year to read. In high school I would tote these huge books to class and immerse myself in them; somehow I never got in trouble for it. So I extended that practice into college, where I busied myself first semester reading biographies.

One of my largest classes (which were always the safest for reading, as they are rather like London and Paris for getting lost in the humanity) was a Personal Evangelism class that everyone at Liberty is required to take. Our teacher was Dr. Lovett, who I thought was rather stupid, as he started off every class with a, "Jesus is what?" to which the congregational response was "AWESOME!" Then he proceeded to go through (pretty much verbatim) the workbook he'd had us fill out for homework.

Being one of those visual learners who doesn't require an aural repetition to remember material, I sat low in my seat and took out my C.S. Lewis biography. Typically when I read, you can only rouse me by calling my name, but one day I felt a stirring around me and looked up. Dr. Lovett had made his way up to my row and was staring right at me. "Young lady, are you a Christian?"

I closed my book. "Yes."

"And do you not think this material is important?"

(We were studying what Baptists term "The Roman Road"-- a collection of verses taken from Romans which is used as a guide to salvation.) So of course my reply was that I did think what we were studying was important.

"Do you know it by heart?"

(Probably, but if I said yes he would ask me to go through it and I worried I would make a mistake.) "No."

"And do you have friends and family that don't know Jesus?"

"Of course."

"And have you shared the salvation of Jesus with all of them?"

Honestly, I was pretty sure I had, but my answer was again negative. I feared that I would come across as arrogant and then ignorant.

"Then I'm going to assume what you're reading is less important than what I am teaching."

I was actually at the point where Tolkien is talking to Lewis about Christianity, and I was gleaning quite a bit from that, but I agreed.

He finally resumed his "lecture," but for quite some time I was known as "That Girl Who Got Called Out in Evangelism." Husband heard about it, and asked me a few days later if I had been in that class. I think maybe I blushed, "I was the one he'd caught reading." I think that was when Johnathan realized I wasn't as good as he thought.

Something Funny

So on Sunday mornings, Johnathan has to be at church at 6:45 to prepare for the 1st service. While I typically prefer the first service (less special music!) I have been attending the 10 AM service since I meet friends who can't get up any earlier. The routine sort of evolved where I head to Starbucks at 9 AM to enjoy a little Bible reading before church. Many times I meet the youth pastor, Jon, there, who reminds me of California home (he's from San Diego and looks like it.)

Anyway, on Sunday I was reading in this Bible that has the NIV on one side and the Message on the other. I flipped to Psalm 1-- you know, "Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers."

Guess what the Message pulled out of its butt? "How well God must like you-- you don't hang out at Sin Saloon, you don't slink along Dead-End Road, you don't go to Smart-Mouth College."

And all God's people said . . . AMEN!

Birth News

It turns out that Autum (the girl below in black, who IS smaller than me) is now much smaller than me. She gave birth to son Wyatt in an emergency c-section earlier today. Word is there is some trouble with his health (he's pretty small, and had the umbilical cord around his neck) so they are being kept until Tuesday. Please pray for full health for both Autum and the baby.

Johnathan and I are getting closer to meeting our little one, who is due to arrive in about 61/2 weeks. Someone just donated a crib and mattress to us, so the only piece of furniture left for us to get is a dresser. This is fine, as we don't actually get to move all of Aubriana's stuff into her room until our roommate Danielle moves out, about three weeks after the baby comes. I don't mind this, although I am having trouble finding places for all of the stuff-- baby clothes and other gifts-- that we have been receiving. It's driving me nuts-- apparently I'm overly zealous when it comes to clutter because I'm not allowed to clean Johnathan's office. Ever. I'm not even allowed to touch the various deodorants (at last count, 5!) lining the book shelves. So my patience is being a little stretched, although I have been getting creative.

The Pregnant Gals

Guess which one of us is the furthest along?  

Another One Bites the Dust

The Stingray conspiracy to be included on National Georgraphic's list of 10 most deadly animals is progressing nicely.

First Steve Irwin, whose fame brought intense media coverage, was picked off in a quick and deadly attack that took place underwater.

Second, a woman vacationing in the Florida Keys was targeted as the next-- albeit not as strategic-- victim. Full story here.