Top Thirteen with Thirteen Honorable Mentions from 2013

I struggled to write a "best of" list this year, because I can't with the "10 songs, 10 films, 10 books" view of media anymore.  It's incomplete and untrue to my actual favorite moments...moments of commanding performances, so full of laughter and inspiration and lordly wit that I can barely stand it. 
2013 was a good year for those moments.  
And so, here's my better-late-than-never short list of moments watched and lived in 2013.
 

THIRTEEN:

Youtube Awards live music video of Afterlife by Arcade Fire

Greta Gerwig, a queen among us.  Isn't she lovely and wild and free?

(Noah Baumbach's Frances Ha starring this lady is my #13 honorable mention).

TWELVE:

Yeezus

Six months later, still Yeezin.

(Honorable mention #12 is so good I have to post it too...Jenny from the Block honoring Celia Cruz.  Yeah girl.)

ELEVEN:

The Kinfolk Table

Not an overstatement:  I rejoiced when this book was announced.  And so did longtime Kinfolk lovers across the globe.  Every bit as elegant and insightful as we'd hoped...

 (#11 honorable mention is a completely inelegant change of pace... Andy Samberg at the James Franco roast.  He flipped the evening masterfully.  Quote: "Guys seriously, don't be homophobic, it's 2005.")

TEN:

Son of Rogues Gallery: Pirate Ballads, Sea Songs & Chanteys

 Beth Orton, Mary Margaret O'Hara, Tom Waits; a coalescence of musical fantasies and good pirate-y fun for all.

(My #10 honorable mention is this album art.  #obsessed.)

NINE:

The Way Way Back

Jim Rash, Nat Faxon, Toni Collete, Allison Janney, AnnaSophia Robb, Steve Carell, Maya Rudolph, Rob Corddry, Amanda Peet, Liam James, NEED I GO ON?!?!  Well I can't, that's damn near the whole cast.

Away We Go, Seeking a Friend..., and Little Miss Sunshine are three films (and scores) I could repeat perpetually.  When I found out there was a sampling of leads from those three in The Way Way Back, it was rain on desert sands; a summer miracle.  And it didn't disappoint.

(Honorable mention #9 goes out to a moment in Take This Waltz.  The film was released in 2011, but for nearly two years I searched for Feists cover of Leonard Cohens Closing Time, which is echoing in one of my favorite scenes.  I couldn't find it anywhere until this summer, some Danish saint made it available online...forever grateful).

EIGHT:

Stephen Merchant, JGL, & Jimmy Fallon

...because "Hold me closer, Tony Danzaaaa".
 

(Don Jon is honorable mention #8.  I paid real dollars to see it in theaters three times.)

SEVEN:

Lorde Pure Heroine

It was everything.

  (#7 HM: Agnes Opal Aventine.  It was a close second everything.)

SIX:

Adelaide Ames

Sweetest little rosy-cheeked cover you'll ever see.

(Big honorable mention #6:  Another daughter and dad moment, Roseanne Cash was through Austin this past October performing a few records from her new album The River & The Thread.  She told some pretty moving stories about Johnny, about Arkansas, and about why she had to leave the South.  She did a similar interview here).

FIVE:

Sam Amidon's Bright Sunny South.

 I love everything Sam Amidon has ever done (and I've done everything I can to get my hands on all of it this year).  Plus, he had the good sense to marry Beth Orton.

(Ain't them Bodies Saints, while we're on the subject of the South, is my #5 honorable mention.  No one said it better than Paste contributor Michael Dunaway when he said this film, "is not a movie; it's a feeling.")

FOUR:

rob delaney  

Mother. Wife. Sister. Human. Warrior. Falcon. Yardstick. Turban. Cabbage.

Yes, that's the title.  My review?  

Brilliant. Gross. Funny. Brave. Sad. Uncomfortable. Comforting. Handsome. French.

(#4 honorable mention...English comedian Simon Amstell.  I fell in love with his introspective storytelling/monologue after he wonderfully insulted the crowd of Austinites at Radiolab's live event [see #2] this past fall.)

THREE:

her.

 Joaquin Phoenix is the sweetest soul I (don't actually) know.  How dashing is he with that mustache?  All the pieces of my heart are still on the floor of the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema.

(Honorable mention #3: Christian Bale.  I'm the idiot who never paid attention to his acting chops until one afternoon while waiting to see Don Jon for a third time, I noticed back-to-back previews for American Hustle and Out of the Furnace.  And then I remembered he's English.  Floored.
I cannot wait to see him as Moses, which is my most anticipated moment of 2014.)

http://www.herthemovie.com/#/video

TWO:

Apocalyptical: Radiolab Live in Austin, TX.

Fortunate enough to have the most amazing roommate in the world.  She landed third row tickets to the event, sitting us stage left of the Brontosaurus.  Yes, Brontosaurus.... Apocalyptical was dynamic, generous, thought-provoking, science-y, and can boast a live score.  Also, DINOSAURS.  Watch it in completion here.

(Second to last honorable mention...Apocalypse Jam, live.)

ONE:

Bo Burnham's "We Think We Know You."

Number one looks like this: most caliber, most cathartic, most right.  The density and motion of Bo Burnham's show is unparalleled.   I think he's brave and raw and honest AND talented enough to not only capture a real moment, but to also perform at a level that takes an audience to that place alongside himself.  Hands down #1 moment of 2013.

(Bo's book Egghead is honorable mention #1.  You can also see him on Vine).

Election season and my brain.

I have a few rules, or ideas I've made up for myself to protect my mental health during election season. 

Numero Uno is, of course, to deactivate Facebook for the months of September-Thanksgiving.  It seems that no matter what sort of link I might share, whether it be sarcasm, light-hearted fun, or that oh-so rare unbiased news gem dug up from some am-writer in Potosi, Missouri, nothing is more depressing than knowing my "friends" (read: parents, grandparents, second grade teacher, rando who's generous with his conspiracy theory media, guy that knew a sibling and has infiltrated my news feed, girl who is ill-informed and doesn't know that choosing to ride her bike does more for gas prices than the POTUS, etc) are trolling my posts waiting to discern my political leanings, and feel that a public forum is the best possible place to leave me with an elaborate, electronic expression of their approval/disapproval, even if they haven't seen me in a decade.  I apologize for that paragraph being only two sentences.

But there's one thing even worse: Guy who says, "Can't we all just get along?!" and shares something about "Unity... anger is bad... disagreements are dumb... and that's why I'm not voting!"  Because his opinion of not having an opinion is, in his opinion, the ultimate opinion.  Then people "like" that status and I'm left wanting to throw my Mac out the window and move to an island of population me and my dog...  It's not your fault Facebook.  I have no willpower and can't bring myself to sift through the looney bin that has become my friend collection.

#2:  I want to read everything.  This one's hard because, like most everyone else, my life gets busy.  But I believe that if I really try to read everything, then I will feel more and understand more about Libya and Syria and Pakistan and Egypt and Spain and Greece and Venezuela, and will never, not even for a moment, let something dumb like "I'm not voting" occupy one ounce of my brain space.

#3:  I want to listen more than I speak.  And when I do speak, I have sub-rules:
   a) Don't repeat things that have already been said.
   b) Don't be overly condescending, or state the obvious, specifically like This Guy.  (If you don't understand where to put your hope or how to express it, you haven't understood the gospel.)
   c) As much as possible, and wherever appropriate, be funny.

#4:  I want to be honest, and this extends well beyond November 6th.  My pinch is that very little in the world feels honest enough.  Some are afraid to feel their feelings, to have hard conversations and say real things.  It can be hard to be vulnerable, or to be wrong.  Using your keyboard to say some things is okay; using your voice is better.  I continually want to be more aware of the living: my friends, and people, and the plight of people, and of my free time and wallet and public policy and my faith, and I want to press in to the full weight of heavy things more than I press in to comedy and fun.

I hope you vote.  I hope you've put in place ways to protect your mental/emotional/spiritual health as you decide who to vote for.  I hope you wrestle with what it is to be American, what it looks like, what responsibility it carries.  And mostly, I hope you are patient with me as I will surely fail at some or all of these ideals I aspire to uphold for myself.

Flula!

Y'all, I have kept Flula Borg a secret for too long.  This is the funniest, most adorable (and quotable!) German you'll ever meet... see on YouTube.



Angry Birds (of NYC)



Cats Pajamas, you do kill me.



Chip on a shoulder?



Balls to the Wall.  This is not effektive.



Name Three Germans!



And a bonus...Flula's Austin Texas Interview.

Families.

I don't know what normal parents do with their children on the weekends.  I suppose they take them to ball games, invite the neighbors over for a barbecue, and attend church.  My Saturdays were more like this:

"Okay, get your tennis shoes on and load up!"

"Where are we going?"

"Prairie State Park.  Gonna learn about the American buffalo and Westward Expansion."

The most terrified I've ever been.  Yellowstone, '94.

And that is a real conversation.  I was nine.  My mother had just remarried and moved us from Carthage to a town I couldn't pronounce (Oronogo), population 227.  I kept telling everyone we were moving to Oregon.  

My stepdad, Bob, is such a good man.  I mean "good" in the purest, most full sense of the word.  I once told him that when I became a millionaire, I would build him his own personal Bass Pro, and I meant it.  There were a few quirky things I learned growing up with him though.  I can name every historic home, battleground, and state park in a 50 mile radius, and I know how much zinc, sulfur, lead, etc to load into a buckshot casing.  I know the difference between strip mines and shaft mines, can name hundreds of them in the four-states, and know about their surrounding sub-watershed drainage patterns and potential to become sinkholes.  So...that's different than what you all did on Saturdays?

All day today I've been thinking about the wide array of (seemingly useless) things we learn from our families.  Here's a snippet of mine.  I leave their usefulness to your discretion.

My great great great grandparents, James & Hilda.  The oldest known family photo, 1882.

Our new house had a big yard with a wall of honeysuckle separating ours from the neighbors, a large vegetable garden, and eleven types of trees: Sassafrass, Pear, Red Bud, Loblolly (my least favorite...totally unclimbable), Maple, Silver Maple, Dogwood, Walnut, Lilac, Oak, and Alder.  I learned leaf structures, coniferous from deciduous, and the seasonal affects on them.   I know that early summer pear blooms bring bees in droves, and the sweet midsummer fruits that fall to the ground bring the largest assortment of butterflies I've ever seen.

I know that cucumbers need a fence to grow up on, zucchini plants need space, and that burning your garden after harvest releases nitrates back into that impossible rocky Missouri soil.  I know that garden spiders like their webs high between corn stalks, turtles prefer the taste of low hanging tomatoes, and small snakes eat mice and insects and are actually good for your garden (though once August hits and I can't see over the plants, I don't go near it).  I also know that instead of using chemical pesticides, you can plant peony bushes on the four corners of your garden to attract devouring insects.  Peony bushes bloom most of the summer and are among the most succulent, beautiful blooms I know, until of course they are eaten up.  

Bob in his garden with my neice, '03.

I know that Daffodils glory in March and April, wild orange Poppies in May, Naked Ladies in June, Tulips and Flags in July, and my all-time favorite flower/tree/scent, the mighty Magnolias in August.  My grandparents Floyd & Ginny had a Magnolia tree.  I loved the stout trunk, the thick, crunchy leaves, the pineapple-looking buds that littered the branches, and then finally, that big, beautiful, silky white flower that inoculated the air with its sweet redolence and blew right down into my face.  I was four, and in love with a tree.  It has proven to be a lasting love.

I know strange survival tips, such as the white cambium innards of Pine are edible, rich in Vitamins A & C, and can be eaten raw or dried for a quick immunity boost.  In addition, many poisonous snakes dwell in the mid-south.  Their venom coagulates the blood, and willow bark is not only edible, but contains aspirin (more specifically salicin) which functions as a blood thinner.  Native Americans also used to chew willow bark to relieve headaches and toothaches.

I know that sulfur burns blue, has more allotropes than all the other elements, and can crystallize into a pretty yellow stone. (Roche Jaune. Yellowstone.)  And yes, it is debated if that is how the river, and thus the park, got it's name.  Of course Bob swears by it, pointing to the cave systems discovered in the Rocky Mountain mines during the settlement, but the other, more widely accepted lore is because of the area's yellow-tinted sandstone bluffs.  

Yellowstone '92.

We visited the green walls of "Hardscrabble" just outside of St. Louis, and learned that Ulysses S. Grant, before Vicksburg and Chattanooga, and well before his Presidency, had a financially strenuous decade of failed farm life in Northern Missouri.  Regardless, when he moved his family, Grant chose to free his slaves instead of profiting a sale well before that was the norm.  This was an honorable man.

We toured the Badlands and Black Hills of South Dakota, and I learned about General Custer and the Indian Wars, in particular Little Bighorn (obvs).  I know how he split his troops into three battalions, how Reno's troops were outflanked from the South, then Crazy Horse and White Bull drove through the heart of Custer's northern skirmish line, and drove the remaining men up on the ridge.  And I know all of the disgusting details of how this battle ended.  This was a dishonorable man.

I didn't formally collect things as a child, but a strong case could be made for languages.  I learned very basic conversational French and Spanish, numeral German and Cherokee, and a bit of Tagalog and American Sign-Language.  French because, well, my birth parents are Kenneth LeRoy Sullivan (Cherokee, French, Irish) and Vicci Lynne Ball (French, Irish, Welsh).  As well, Floyd & Ginny lived in France in the sixties, with their then seven children (there would be eight).  Spanish was orally handed to me from my mother's acquisition of it in Colorado, German numerals from Ginny Max, Cherokee numerals from my dad Sullivan, Tagalog from my Filipino Aunt Adelina, and American Sign-Language from our Carthage neighbor Kim, who was deaf. 

Occasionally while driving you could see the hills blasted out to make state highways.  I would hear about the different sediments, about how that area was once a glacier, then an ocean, and now vastly prairie.  The base sediments contained denser, pressed volcanic stones, the middle ones fossils of prehistoric oceanic things I can't name, and then the malleable yellow and red clays, and finally, just a few layers down, you could find things like bison bones and arrowheads. 

Men and their cars.  Uncle Steve, Great Grandpa Charles, Grandpa Floyd.

And then there's the State of Missouri.  Oh high heaven, how much I was taught about my home state!  

There are the famous Missourians; Harry S. Truman, George Washington Carver, Langston Hughes, Scott Joplin, and of course, Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain), who once wrote of Tom Sawyer & Huck Finn, of youth and adventure.  I learned that everything else he wrote was snarky and condescending, and the better writers/poets that exposed the soul of nature and adventurous men were Whitman and Frost (Bob's direction).

Then there are the caves.  Six thousand caves, no telling how many of which we visited.  Show caves, like Fantastic Caverns and Branson, were the best, because you wouldn't unexpectedly run into a bat colony or those terrifying tiny albino lizards.  People did weird things in caves.  Many were used as speakeasys during the Prohibition.  I remember a radio show regularly broadcasted out of one in the Boothill, and one particular cave west of Carl Junction hosted an Easter morning sunrise service-- the only time I remember attending church with my parents.  There is no doubt we went simply because it was a cave.

We have swamps, wetlands, and all three types of prairies (dry, wet, mesic...is that takin you back to 5th grade?).  We catch drift rains from Gulf hurricanes, sit on the shaky New Madrid fault line, and are the head pin of tornado alley.  We also hosted the first summer Olympics in America.  St. Louis, 1904.

We like wine.  In fact, we're the third largest wine producing state.  We can't help it...we were settled by Frenchmen.  We don't make Napa wines though; we make wines from breeds of grapes that grow in rocky soil and fluctuating weather.  Keltoi winery in Oronogo was my first ever wine tour.  I've visited countless times since.  Go if you're near.

We also like beer.  A lot.  The German's settled in the Lou, and the rest is history.

I can't even begin to account for the nuanced knowledge I acquired in my childhood, but that, I feel, is a pretty fair snapshot.  I'm sort of glad for growing up in this way, away from television (save PBS and Nickelodeon), learning real things, even if I have no applicable use for it.  So cheers to fall, when the Magnolias fade and the last harvest comes, when the annual rainfall increases, and the river's pitch rises.  Cheers to cool weather and hard cider and bonfires and friends, and all things good in this season.

Great Grandparents & friends, '34.

Decade.

Today, I've been a Christian for ten years.  

One July night in 2002, mostly against my will (I'll save you the details), I found myself sitting front and center on the balcony of Shryock Auditorium in Carbondale, IL.  I was at a summer conference run by Christ in Youth, and the event theme was The Journey, which is about the most apt title it could have been given.

I was 14, and it was the summer before my freshman year of high school.  I was not a Christian, and despite growing up in Southwest Missouri, we can suffice it to say that I had next to no background in the church or understanding of the gospel.  Two nights of conference had come and gone.  Monday was entitled, "Coming to the Cross," and then there was Tuesday's, "Yielding to the Spirit," which upon reading my brain screamed, "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!??!"  Then Wednesday morning came.  I was given a small card the said something to the effect of "My Sin:___________."  The little unreformed philosopher blooming inside of me thought "sin" was a stupid concept, but there was something special about that day that compelled me so much that I spent all afternoon analyzing my personal tenets on the matter.  Sin, naturally, implies there's a standard to be sinned against, or as Christianity further teaches, there is a Being that I have personally sinned against.  For the first time all week, I was fully engaged.

I don't remember a word of the sermon that night, and I don't remember who was leading worship.  What I remember was that on the first floor, there were two large wooden crosses with buckets of nails and hammers nearby.  Then, somewhere over the course of two songs, "Here I am to Worship," and then "Oh the Wonderful Cross," the gospel was made clear... which is a really insignificant way to phrase it.  I was so overwhelmed that my heart felt as though it might burst through my chest!  Tears, snot, guilt, grace, the whole nine yards.  I penned "All of it" on my blank card, walked downstairs with two friends, and in the most blatant illustration I could have been given, I nailed my sin to the cross.  

** A little, but significant side note that I must interject here: God saved a 14 year old girl, from Missouri, at a youth summer conference, through an emotional worship experience.  That's when the veil was lifted.  Some of you hate that, because you or someone you know have had a perceived (or even more terrifying, a real) manipulative, emotional experience.  That is not my story.  And summer after summer, year after year, I see God continuing to transform and grow students through events like the one I attended.

The story advances.  About a week later, I came home from practice and went straight to my living room to watch MTV's TRL, per the usual.  But I couldn't focus.  I remember getting up, turning off the television, going into my bedroom, and thinking that since I was a Christian now, I should probably read the Bible.  So I did.  I opened up Genesis 1 and started reading.  About 10 minutes later my brain caught up with my actions, and I realized what I was doing, and thought, "Something changed.  Something has really changed because I would rather be doing this than anything else right now."  

Reading Scripture for the first time was crazy.  I journaled it, and here are my five favorite excerpts from summer/fall of '02:

"I read Genesis today.  I know I've heard of Noah and the flood, but I guess I just thought the whole God-destroys-humanity thing would've been a little later in the Bible, not chapter 7."

"So Jonah disobeys, gets swallowed by a whale, changed his mind, mission accomplished, and he's pissed?  And then the story just ends?"

"Did I just read about rape? In the Bible?"

"Today I read about humility, and all I keep thinking about is how terrible that sounds.  Humility.  Humiliated?  Surely they're different?"

"The more I read about Paul, the more I think I wouldn't like him in real life."

So I asked a lot of questions and got a lot of answers, and four months later was baptized (which was also my 15th birthday).  And now here I am, ten years later.  Last week I wondered what 14 year old Heather thinks about 24 year old Heather.  Then I imagined 34 year old Heather (ugh, 30...), and thought it must be the same: She's better, more put together, is accomplishing more for the Kingdom, and is definitely "holier" than the current me.  That was very revealing, and showed that I still have a long way to go in fully grasping the gospel, because I still want to trust in a better future me rather than the reality of grace today.  And by God's grace I will be better, but it shouldn't be where I direct my hope.  

Today marks a decade for me... one decade into eternity.

Truth.

It's funny that a great deal of suffering can bring about deep, lasting, unshakable joy. It's funny that death to self is life, and life abundantly. It's funny that war somewhere ensures peace elsewhere. It's funny that hope is birthed out of the depths of tribulation. Emptiness and fullness, gathering and scattering, slavery and freedom, on and on and on. It's funny, the incredible paradoxes that are life in the Kingdom.

Contrary to popular belief...

...I'm still alive. Friends, it's been a while!

All I have for today is this:

"Miss Heather Sullivan,

I have joy to greet you in the name of the Lord Jesus. I am fine and getting on well with my holiday of four weeks. I am getting on well with tuition there at school. My family is happy that you are communicating well with me your son, and God bless you so much. Pray for me and I will pray for you. Read Bible in Jeremiah 33:3. Thank you so much. Yours in love."

Jeremiah 33:3 says "Call to me, and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know."

That is a letter from Abdallah Shabani Kulule, an 11 yr. old from Tanzania that I've sponsored through Compassion Int'l for four years now. His letters are usually very long and include stories of soccer matches, his sisters, and schooling. This one just sounds so grown up. "Pray for me, and I will pray for you. Read Bible in Jeremiah 33:3." God is so good, and so providential, that He would use a young boy, half the world away, to bring me a timely word of encouragement. My heart is full of worship. How good is our God?! I can't wait to write him back...

Cabin Fever

Yes.  Today I got out and burned a whole tank of gas (you're welcome environment) because today is the first day I could drive more than 15 mph on most roads.  Two days of barely leaving my house is oh-so difficult for me.  I baked, I read, I texted, I was on facebook way too much, and I read some more.  Now I'm blah-ging some randomness.  The very first entry in my current journal is from August 22nd, 2007.  Here it is.

"Intro to twentysomething.

I bought this journal a week or two ago, and I've been waiting for just the right thought to enter my mind, sink to my heart, a verbalize through penwork.  It seems that in the midst of my waiting, I've had a few pretty decent thoughts come through, and I've done my best to retain them, but nothing worthy of the first page of this beautiful new journal I'm writing in.  I wanted my first words to be as exquisite and treasured as the decorated pages on which I write.  But the truth is, all of it is beautiful, even the messy stuff.  Especially the messy stuff.  I know right where stuff is in my mess.  

And at three months and nine days to 20, life is a little messy.  With college and career and love and loss and bills and wisdom bits, I'm thrown into life and deciphering through what I've heard, learned, and observed, and I'm expected to figure out who I am and where I'm going.  It's an impossible task if you ask me, but unavoidable.  So here it is, here's what I think and what I know and what I hope will be true.  Here's the wisdom I've been given by others, even if they don't believe it's profound, and even when they didn't know they were giving it.  Its a melange of something I'm making into life, and sharing with you, reader.  I invite you to dive into my twentysomething."

Weird, but I do write journals as if they'll be read one day, and almost in book form.  Sometimes I even write letters to grandchildren, especially of things I consider history, or of incredible ways God is moving me.  So here's my pearl of the day:  Write your life down, Christian.  It'll be worth reading about someday.

Battle

If there is one biblical truth I contend with the most, it is this: "...being confident in this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."  I have, many nights, wrestled here.  This is one of those nights.  

Where Paul is confident, I am not.  But Paul... I mean come on.  If Paul were around today, he'd be scaling Mt. Everest with a big velvet "P" on his pecs and his cape flapping in the wind, all the while preaching and proclaiming the gospel.  

No friends, I wrestle here, and I'm stubborn.  I mean really, really stubborn.  But contending with me is no match for a sovereign God.  Times like this are as frustrating as they are beautiful.  Chapter 2 of Hosea is on my heart; it is my favorite chapter in all of Scripture.  Verse 14 breaks my hard heart every time, and I am overwhelmed.  I suppose tonight will end with a little rest in those words.  All things are His.

Arrival

This post will be entirely dedicated to my love for the month of December, and in particular today, the pinnacle day of every year, which is December 1st.  I am perhaps slightly biased, since it is my birthday, but nonetheless, December 1st is epic.  If you don't share my sentiments, let me sway you with this entry.

  

Things I remember learning in school about December 1st:

*December 1st was the day Abraham Lincoln gave his famous State of the Union address ("Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history.  We of this Congress and this Administration will be remembered in spite of ourselves... We say we are for the Union; the world will not forget that we say this.")

*December 1st was the day that Rosa Parks was arrested in Montgomery, Alabama, an event leading to the Montgomery Bus Boycott.

*While sitting in Mrs. Scofield's 5th grade class in 1998, our principal interrupted class to talk about Exxon's acquisition of Mobil, thus creating Exxon-Mobil, the world's largest company.  Why talk about it to a bunch of cup-cake-faced 5th grader's, I have no idea, but it wasted an additional 20 minutes of class, so we were all for it.  (On a side note, why was it that you always supplied birthday fun for the whole class when it was your birthday?)

*Not really from school, but more from my friend Constantin Bosancianu of Romania, today is Romania's national day.

*From one of my bioengineering prof's in Fayetteville; today is World Aids Day.  We learned a little about the genetic tendencies of the virus, and we are, so I'm led to believe, within ten years of finding a prevention for AIDS (not curing or reversing, but developing immunizations.)  Apparently AIDS was officially recognized on December 1st, 1988.  Starbucks has chosen to highlight this, so get a cup of coffee every day for the entirety of December.

*Nine of my twenty-one December 1st's have marked the first snow of the year, and four of them have actually been snow-days, which is great when you're a kid, and even greater your freshman year of college.

*Today is also the birthday of the brilliant N.T. Wright.  Hm.

Yes friends, today is December 1st, 2008.  Today is my 21st birthday, and today, I have been baptized for 6 years.  Like I said, today is epic.  So let's relish together in the greatness of December, particularly this day, the pinnacle day of every year.  Convinced?

Dr. Frost. Okay, he's not really a doctor...

...But his words felt like a remedy.  

There is a nook among the alders

Still sleeping in the catbird's hush.

Below, a long stone-bridge is bending

Above the runnel's silent rush.

 

A dreamer hither often wanders

And gathers many a snow-white stone.

He weighs them, poised upon his finger

Divin'ng each one's silv'ry tone.

He drops them!  When the stream makes music

Fair visions with it's vault voiced-swell,

And so, for us, the future rises,

And thought-stones stir our hearts farewell.

-Robert Frost

I took an AP lit class my senior year, and towards the end (with graduation fast approaching), we had an assignment in which we were to pick a poet, delve into their work, and find a short, concise masterpiece to present.

I am a complete nerd, so stuff like this is tremendously enjoyable.  What's interesting to me two years later is not the paper I wrote (and recently found, which is why I'm taking this to blog world), but the process I went through, which comes back so vividly.  

With this sample, I did the glad work of breaking it apart, analyzing it, taking it on rabbit trails, testing it's malleability, stretching it, hating it (after I plateaued), wadding it up and throwing it out completely, picking it up again sometime later, smoothing it out, listing all the points of application, coming to great resolve, and then writing about the process. 

Interesting because one, I can now articulate that process, and two, because I am completely ridiculous.  I do this with just about everything.  Situations and stories are always 20-step mental processes for me.  My goal isn't to get over it, mostly because I don't think I can... it's how I'm wired.  But rather my goal is to be far less ridiculous in the future. :)   

I see a 10-step process on the horizon...

Lo! Tis found!

I FOUND MY JOURNAL!  So for those of you that have been keeping up, that doesn't mean I get to quit my stupid art journaling.  But it does mean that I am totally looking forward to the glorious cramped hand I'm sure I will have this afternoon.  

Other than that, I have nothing great for today.  So like the champ I am, when I have nothing to offer, I'll do the glad work of redirecting you to someone who has great things to say.  Check out Stuff Christians Like.  Usually full of hilariousness, but today, something great.  Go ahead, see for yourself.  

Lexicographical

I've always considered myself as a good-with-details kinda girl.  And then I watched Erin McKean's lecture at TED.  Take a few, watch it, then continue reading.

I can't think of a job more tedious than lexicography.  What I appreciate about Erin is her ability to take something as old as the hills (or at least the printing press) and twist it with a fresh perspective; an almost innovative idea.  What I appreciate too is that she's not pushing for avant-garde.  She says it best with, "I want him (her son) to think that this is what dictionaries used to look like... it's a format that died because it wasn't useful enough.  It wasn't really what people needed."  I also love that even though Erin is solely speaking of, oh let's call it communal lexicography, her words seem to transcend that topic alone, and hit points of application in almost every arena.  I've compiled some of my favorite quotes from the video, and added commentary.  Enjoy.

"When a guy who looks like that and has that hat is the face of modernity, you have a problem."

-Yes.  This conjures up that timeless debate of conventional vs. contemporary.  When does "tradition" go from being a legacy of something we are honored to be a part of, to becoming something that at best is ineffective and at worst is oppressive?  This carries over into family traditions, company traditions, ideological, religious, and cultural traditions, etc.  

"What a dictionary is, is it's Victorian design merged with a little bit of modern propulsion.  It's steampunk."  

-Absolutely!  In fact, when I think of a dictionary, encyclopedia, or thesaurus, the very first image I get is my grandmother Virginia's bookshelf in her Victorian-esque living room.  Even newer dictionaries often have a steampunk feel.  I think the important concept is, and yes I'm stealing this phrase, "timeless truth and timely methods."  The church, for instance, comes to mind.  Why is repackaging so important?  Not for the sake of being hip and trendy, but for the sake of being most effective.  That's just one.

"Online dictionaries replicate almost all the problems of print, except for searchability.  And when you improve searchability, you actually take away the one advantage of print, which is serendipity."

-I just like this because happenstance is one of my favorite pastimes.

"Lexicography is really more about material science.  We are studying the tolerances of materials that you use to build the structure of your expression; your speeches and your writing."

-It's odd to think that we all articulate the way we do because some detail-guy/lady cared enough to search a thing out and write it down.  A craftsman doesn't craft without tools built by another.  I don't compose without a lineage of lexicographers.  (Better yet, I don't alliterate well unless a lineage of lexicographers lead the way.  See how good I am?)

And kind of a tangent, but I like the concept of taking what you love into a science.  "The greats" (of anything really) always seemed to do this... to have nailed down their passions into a science; they know their forte inside and out so much so that  "a great" becomes "a great" by means of redefinition and innovation, whether that means bending the malleable parts, shaving corners, or adding to the existing.

"Lexicography is not rocket science, but even if it were, rocket science is being done by dedicated amateurs these days."

-Definitely.  I think a dedicated amateur can pull off a lot.  In fact, I think I'll begin to refer to myself as a dedicated amateur.

"I want him to think that this is what dictionaries used to look like... it's a format that died because it wasn't useful enough.  It wasn't really what people needed."

-I know it's already listed up there, but let's think it over.  What needs to die?  In your business, in your field of study, in your personal life.  What needs to begin to be looked at as history instead of modernity?

My final two cents about Erin... the last thing I appreciate is her enthusiasm.  I think I often underestimate the power of a passion.  When what you love exudes from you, you can't help but be contagious.  I gave lexicography a serious few seconds of thought as a career option after that lecture!  When I see someone talk about something they love, I want to love it too.  

You can find more from the quirky, lovable, thought-provoking Erin at: http://dictionaryevangelist.com.

All systems are go.

The woods were good; things are back to normal, with the exception of my incessant insomnia.  I really think it's the new apartment (although, it's not exactly new anymore...).  Creeks, noises, neighbors upstairs shuffling about, and that stinking train with it's blaring horn that comes by about 2 hours into my sleep... I'll get over it all eventually.  Maybe I should start praying for the conductor of that train... to find a new job.  We'll see.

Election season is finally over.  I'm thankful God doesn't have a race, gender, party-affiliation, or even nationality.  I also like that He's sovereign.  Regardless of who you voted for, I think we can all agree that we're a little bummed Heidi Klum & Seal aren't leaving the country now.  If only McCain would've pulled through for us there...

Sarah Basye Eidson gets the award for Best Election Season Facebook Status: "Sarah couldn't have handled another 4 years of whining and complaining anyways."  Funny.  

Tomorrow is my first country club gala event ever.  Our company did some fundraising for the ADA, and as fate would have it, we beat out all other competing Joplin businesses.  Another cool thing: I happened to tie with Teresa for top seller.  So the two of us, our GM, and the VP are taking a much needed Saturday night off and traveling out to the event.  Should be good for networking, if for nothing else.

And Sunday, my most favorite day, is D-group.  My co-leader and I know how much our girls love Starbucks, but since it's going to be in the 40's, and since two hours is a lot of time to try and keep eight 13 year olds contained in one building, we decided to set up a coffee bar in my apartment, play some board games, and start planning for our winterfest.

I really can't even articulate how much I love these girls.  Since I'm wordless, here's a peek into 3 recent conversations:  Wednesday night at youth group, our high schooler's took the night off (WC playoff game), so our junior high had the youth rooms all to themselves.  

Scenario 1:  Old mauve rocking chair that does a complete 360 happens to be vacant in the middle of the room.  What else would you do but spin each other around until someone gets hurt or until the chair tips and breaks?  We were so fortunate as to have both things happen at the same time.  Alexis flew out of the chair as it fell backwards, and Jordan, being a good friend, tried to catch her, but instead missed and jammed her finger.  Of course, when someone is hurt and needs ice, you don't just go alone... you traipse a flock of junior highers across a building to get it with you!  So we're laughing and shooshing down the hall when I noticed that some adult class off to our left is meeting in the lobby, with just a small partition to block distractions.  So, as not to be noticed, I suggested army crawling the 15' gap... which, obviously, is MUCH less noticable :).  

Scenario 2:  Toilet paper game.  Two of our girls, in particular, always think of creative ways to cheat in games, or to be completely absent from them.  Luke (our JH youth minister) pulls out a 12 pack of toilet paper and asks for volunteers.  I suggest to Phoenix that she go play, to which she reply's, "Ewe, no, it's not even Charmin!!"  

Scenario 3:  We are building a new building, so we think it best to grab a flashlight and travel out there to snoop around.  Setting is important here... it's completely dark, we're surrounded by farmland, and we are 3 junior highers and one leader sneaking around a fresh construction sight (which is probably... most likely... okay, definitely against a whole host of rules).  As we approach, fear sets in.  The following convo happens:

Sarah: "Guy's, what if there are like, bums and squatters living in here right now?!"

Maddie: "Oh, it's okay Sarah, I know French!"

See?  You love them too now, don't you.  They make it easy.

One last update:  Sometime in July, I lost one of my journals, a book, and my bible, all within a week.  For those who don't know, I'm a chronic journaler.  I write life down.  Losing that journal was particularly painful for me because this last year has been a very, very eventful one.  I was looking forward to opening it in 20 years and reliving some rough things and some good things, and tracing my growth.  Needless to say, I've been procrastinating on purchasing another one, because I still have ridiculous hopes of that one turning up.  I finally broke down Wednesday... but I didn't go conventional.  Over the summer, I read a particularly awful book (no seriously, awful) called "The Back of the Napkin," which deals with communicative sketches and doodles.  Even though the book was terrible (I mean really bad), I do agree it is a better way to communicate.  So instead of a journal, I bought a 100 pg sketch-pad, in which I have limited myself on wordage, and must draw out my day and thoughts.  This proves difficult because I have zero artistic abilities.  But who knows, maybe something will come out of it.  That being said, I'm off to art journal.  

Movies, woods, and words.

Friends, it's been a while.

Tomorrow (or today, since it is three in the morning) marks one month in my new apartment with my fantastic roommate, Emily.  Our friends always told us we were similar, but now that we live together, it's pretty ridiculous.  We really should be just one person. 

In the past week, I have seen, for the first time ever: Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail, The Truman Show, and three episodes of Lost from season 2 (in which I was completely lost, because I have yet to see anything from any other season).  My d-group of 8th grade girls reminded me that I am completely uncultured in movie history, and next on their list is the Star Wars saga.  Apparently there are 6 films??  

Today I hit a bit of a low-point (as in I cried.  a lot).  I am emotionally tapped out this week, folks.  Lot's of people with all their problems, and I can't fix them.  Quite frankly I don't want to.  God's sovereignty takes a lot off of my shoulders.  My emotional bucket emptied not because of the volume that I dealt with this week (which was above average), but because of the hard words needed in a few situations.  There's a big difference between real crisis and complainers.  I had a lot of bitter, controlling complainers this week, to which I do not lend my sympathy.  When I have a best friend who's 50 year old mother (who weighs 82 lbs) is on her death bed after a 7 year down-hill battle with lung cancer, it's hard for me to deal with petty things.  There's a difference between "prayer intercessor's" and gossips trying to make themselves look righteous compared to their peers.  Compare yourself to Jesus and tell me how righteous you find yourself.  Hard words wear me out quicker than anything.  

This week, as soon as possible, I will hike with no books, no cell phone, no facebook, no email, no voices, no people, no hard words, and no confrontation, in the woods north Arkansas.  I am a realist who often errs on the side of cold heartedness.  Right now I feel that I am cold, harsh, distant, unsympathetic, and completely lacking in compassion and grace for others.  When I get in modes like this, it is easy for me to stick my nose into some long, dry systematic theology book and stay lost in my own thoughts for a time.  But it's not summer anymore, and I don't get to do whatever the heck I want.  The reality is that I will be around a lot of people for 6 of 7 days a week.  I need a day to think about my response to grace and the gospel.  With that in perspective, I'll think about my response to other's and their situations.  Usually when this happens to me it reveals my own prideful heart, one that's full of advice but can never seem to take any.  My goal is to dig, repent, and come home as a more balanced compassionate contender for truth.  I can't wait for the woods.

I'l keep you posted...

Worst Book of the Year

That's right. "Jim and Casper go to Church." Worst. Go ahead, throw your stones, but I was seriously disappointed for five reasons, all of which you are free to disagree with.

1.) Jim Henderson is a pansy. Plain and simple.

2.) The "Here's what's wrong with your church" attitude reeks of pride (the mother of all sin). The church is an institution stewarded by regenerated sinner's who are attempting to teach God's word to the masses. By nature we are sinner's and by nature we fail. I don't need an atheist to reemphasize this. This is what grace is for.

3.) This book insinuates that if you look at your church through the eyes of non christians and cater to them, you will find faults that can be fixed, and thus your church will be more effective and will grow. Wrong! I hate almost every stinking book about church growth. Ultimately, Jesus is the head of the church, and it's up to Him to grow it. The Spirit will work on the hearts of the people through the mouths of leaders, and there aren't 10-easy steps to make this happen. It's ordained authority, and this book is a nice piece on reductionism. What I mean is that Jim Henderson doesn't say all the wrong things, he just doesn't say everything he needs to say. Altering the corporate ways in which we worship and commune with God and His people will not, in and of itself, strengthen your church. It's watered down Christianity, and it sucks.

4.) Let me elaborate in this way: The church is NOT for non-christians. They are welcome, we LOVE them, but they don't get to dictate what happens. I assure you, seeker insensitivity is as hot as ever!

Like I said, there are things we do as Christians that seem odd, or even foolish to outsiders, especially in a corporate setting, take for instance communion and offering. Taking bread and juice and thinking over, "This is My body, this is My blood," well all of that does sound a bit odd. And in a culture where money is an idol, I'm sure the principle of stewardship sounds insane. "I went to college to get this degree, to get this job, to make this amount of money, and therefore I worked for it, I own it, and I'll do with it as I please." Let me submit to you that God gave you the mind with which you think, the job opportunities that came your way (and all the paychecks along with it), and if you worship the Creator God and not currency, then you'll want to be obedient and give sacrificially to be effective for His kingdom. For some of us, that's way more than 10%. That makes no sense if your heart is not regenerated. All this to say that I didn't have to pay an atheist to travel around to America's megachurch's, let him log his complaints into book form, and sell it to the masses to figure that out.

5.) Jim Henderson is still a pansy.

Ascend

NYR set up has begun!  In 20 minutes, I will be up a mountain with no wifi, tv, or cell phone, etc. for two whole weeks.  Bliss.

See you in august.

Share your library.

"I marvel that church people are so indifferent to, and neglectful of, the book that tells them about their Saviour. But I marvel more that church LEADERS are doing so little about it. Unquestionably the most fatal weakness of the present day Church is the lack of leadership in the pulpit on this one point of guiding and leading its people into the ONE HABIT that is the source and basis of everything that the church exists to accomplish in its people. ... If it isn't the pulpit's business, then just what is the pulpit's business?

What the church is for: To HOLD CHRIST before the people. The church was not invented by men. Men have used it and misused it. But the church was founded by Christ. Christ is the heart of the church, and it's Lord. The church exists to bear witness to Christ.  Christ himself, not the church, is the transforming power in men's lives.  The mission of the church is to exalt Christ, so that He Himself may do his own blessed work on the hearts of men."

I took this from Halley's Bible Handbook by Henry H. Halley (Zondervan, 1965), in which the front page says "The most important Page in This Book is 814."  Those paragraphs are what I found on page 814.  All of the capitalized statements are not my own, but are actually in print as such.  

Having only been a Christian for 5 years, and having only experienced one church community (which is wonderful), there are a lot of questions I haven't thought about, like, "What constitutes a church?",  "Is megachurch a fad?",  "What is the best, most effective way to grow a church?",  and "What has to change organizationally as a church grows?"  Only recently have I come into those discussions, and in doing so, I realized I have a huge lack of sound doctrine.   There's a lot that I don't know about church history, and I am fresh in my study of patristics.

I've picked up a few biographies, autobiographies, and books on church history, and it seems for every one I read, I need ten more to elaborate.  Feel free to recommend anything from your library.     

From all of that, here's the first foundation I've come to:  Recognizing Christ as the head of the church and realizing that ultimately it's up to Jesus to grow His church is necessary, and liberating.   I can worry much less about keeping my options open because God creates opportunities.  I don't grow the church, but I should be obedient and use my gifts (from God) for the opportunities (from God) in whatever location or organization He appoints for me.  All of life becomes much less about me and the things I need to do, and much more focused on what He has already done, and where I fit into what He's doing.

I'm learning I think a very important lesson.

Life lessons at Sea World

Last Tuesday we drove home from our Texas vacation.  Of the 20 times I've been to Texas, I've hated it 19.  I'm a minimalist who doesn't like humidity.  In that sauna of a state, everything is huge, large, grand, and arrogant.  Doesn't get much worse for me.  My sister Heidi, however, is queen of persuasion, and offered me a free trip to San Antonio with her, her husband Jay, and their three children (Ashtynne 7, Tarynne 3, Brody 1).  The catch?  Babysit so Jay & Heidi could have a couple of date nights.  Aunt Heather is my favorite of all of my roles in life, and with that, off we were for 9 days of bliss (in spite of Texas).  Little did I know, I was going to learn a great big lesson from three little people. 

We stayed at a very cool hotel in San Antonio.  It was an Inn & Suite, with a giant pool, cabana, play ground area, and a secluded jungle-esque hot tub.  The two girls LOVE to swim.  They would swim, eat, play in the playground, swim some more, sleep, wake up, and want to swim again.  On the 4th & 5th, we had a two day pass to Sea World.  This was my first time to Sea World, and it was AMAZING!  I'm not a big fan of theme parks usually, but this one tops the charts.  All of the shows were amazing, the 4D theater was amazing, the frozen lemonade was amazing, even the fireworks were great (although we cut it short to beat some traffic). We were there for 13 hours on the 4th.  We left very tired, but very ready to sleep well and hit up day 2.

So we wake up and start to get around, and were immediately bombarded with questions of, "Can we play on the playground?" followed by ten additions of  "But pretty please? ... pretty, pretty, PRETTY please?!"   Really?  You're not ready for Sea World again?  Then it was, "Well can we at least swim?"  What?!  There's a whole water park IN Sea World!  How naive!  There's something much better about 20 minutes away...  just trust us on this one!  Did you forget already?  It may be one thing if we had only talked about Sea World, and they had never experienced it, but they KNEW the greatness of Sea World!  Why would they put it off?  How could they choose anything less?  

I see people, even myself, naively choose a sandbox over Sea World.  I feel like God says, "Really?  I mean there's Jesus.  You know Him, and love Him.  You've felt grace and you've felt life, and you're choosing that?  You're choosing less?  Did you forget already?"  Thank you Jesus for grace and always remind me lest I forget and choose less.

   

Green

I like Missouri.  There's land and family and roots and room to breathe and community and a church I love with people I love and a job I love.  And life, life gets a little clearer with a garden around.

I dig up our yard every spring.  I like to plant and watch things grow.  It's a good thing, to work with your hands and get some dirt under your nails.  I have a favorite spot in our yard by a rock where I pick a new annual to plant every year.  This year I went to four stores until I found the seeds I wanted.  And when you find the perfect plant, you need to buy the perfect soil, which took me to two other stores.  I came home and dug out the gardening tools and my big grandma-esque gardening hat, and dug up some earth.  I planted, watered, pulled out the weeds, monitored, watered some more, until finally three weeks later, out from seeds came a stalk and a bud, and this morning, a big beautiful dahlia. 

 It's also a good thing to see your efforts bloom.

I'm 20.  I'm green.  Not the environmentalist, save-the-planet-with-your-8-compartments-of-a-trash-can-green, but green as in new.  Young.  Inexperienced at life and always looking for a little direction.  Gardening gives perspective.  I get seasons.  They make sense.  It helps me understand growth, and what it means to wait for a good thing.  And what it is when a good thing is at it's end.  I understand what it is to plant, and to work for something.  Gardening, well, the whole act of it is really just one big metaphor, isn't it?