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?  

Heather thinks...

... that when life gives you lemons, you should turn those lemons into profit by donating them to charity to get a tax write off.  I guess you could go the route of making lemonade... that's only beneficial if you sell it from your driveway, and if you choose this lesser option,  make sure you keep up with inflation rates!  Don't get handled!

... that Young at Heart (check it out at The Moxie) was amazing, and is considering putting an "Ask Virginia" section in our magazine, or maybe a "Meet Virginia" section, like the great Train song.  Who's Virginia?  My 79 year old grandmother, more commonly known as Grandma Ginny, Ginny Maxine, or Grams.  Whichever you'd prefer.  Watch the movie... all of the nonsense following will make much more sense.

... that Isagenix is a pain in the neck, but I already feel better and I'm on day 3.  So buy some.

... that there is not enough information about creative class cities on the internet, and Dr. Richard Florida needs to do something about that.

... that this video is hilarious.

This guy had to be from Joplin.  Maybe Oronogo.

Obama, Obama

I saw this very inspiring political ad today that filled my heart with hope, and I was impressed with a few things; the number of endorsements, the many ethnicities, the music, his name becoming the mantra for change (Obama, Obama).  His campaign team, they are great, really they are.  Creating a video that resonates so well with a broad, diverse America is tough to do.  Tugging on those heartstrings of hope is impossible to resist.  Almost.  

They're so good, that they almost had me.  Then I remembered his spending budget.  I thought, "With this being the first election I can vote in, why would I possibly choose another ludicrous spender?" Don't tell me what you value.  Show me your budget, and I'll tell you what you value.  Here's how I feel about him today: a demagogue who has nothing in his boat but old class-warfare speeches and a new political universalism.  

There are so many good things about him, but for my vote, nothing trumps how he spends my (and your) money. 

Name that Ball!

Tonight we wrapped up Wednesday nights with our junior high students, and it was a BLAST!  We had games, snacks, and a whole lotta laughs.  I think the room and surrounding hallways smelled like b.o. in about 10 minutes, which might be a new record.  Lito Solorio had two sweet games planned, both of which I've never played before.  

The first was a sock game, where everyone stands in a circle around a trash can.  You put a sock between two people, and the object is to yank the sock out of the person's hand standing next to you, or make them hit the trash can, and they're out.  Last one standing wins.  At first it was just a lot of tugging, pulling, and dodging of the trash can, but after a while, some students got pretty strategic and ganged up on the sponsor's by clothes lining them to the ground.  Genius.

The next game might've been even better.  "Name that Ball!" is probably the best game we've played all year.  Here's how it works:  Get 10 or so kids and send 'em out to the hallway.  Find a youth leader (usually a guy who can make a scary face) and put his head between two 6' tables.  Along the tables, you place different kinds of balls.  We had  a purple bouncy ball, a basketball, KJ's head, and then a frisbee (again, funny Lito).  You cover the table with black table cloth's (hiding KJ's body),  then put the balls on the table, and put t-shirts over the balls.  The student's walk in one at a time, and the crowd cheers them on.  You tell them that the object of the game is to lift up the t-shirt and "Name that Ball!" and whoever does it in the fastest time wins.  Greg Hafer was "timing" the game, but actually timing the screams.  One of our 7th grade girls won with a record 3 seconds.  Our last contestant was Dan Mitchell, who had happened to play the game before.  To KJ's surprise, he didn't scream, but instead smashed a whip cream pie in KJ's face, which is fun for pretty much everyone except KJ.

It was a good wrap up with lots of laughs and memories.  Friday night we have our 8th grade girls slumber party, so that'll actually be the last time with my girls before they head off to high school.  This is the completion of my 2nd year as a junior high volunteer, and honestly, I don't think ministry gets better than this.  It's a smelly, funny, difficult, inquisitive, awkward, wholly lovable age group, and I'm hooked.

Strangers?

Last night on my way out of Joplin, I noticed my car looked like crap (thanks rainstorm).  So I thought I'd run it by the wash on 20th and Rangeline... you know, the shady one with bad lighting and bums everywhere.

I pull in and notice a couple of semi's in the back with the driver's standing outside next to two very scandalously dressed ladies.  Well, "ladies" is probably a bit of a reach.  I go through the wash and then drive around to the vacuum's, where I notice a man pacing back and forth.

Before I continue, let me fill you in on something.  I'm very...stupidly-brave.  I've picked up hitch-hiker's, camped alone, talked to stranger's in the abandoned train station by Landreth Park, and all sorts of other things I would never tell my parents.  And as crazy as this sounds, I have good judgement.   These things all sound unsafe, but I feel okay about them.  There are times when I've said no because it was too dangerous, or I had a bad feeling, but not many.   I mean, as a Christian, what's the worst that could happen...heaven?

So back to the man.  He's standing towards the front of my car with a white trash bag over his shoulder.  He's talking (to no one), and pacing.   He looks about 40 with a balding head and glasses that cover his face.  If you put him in a suit, he would look like your friendly neighborhood investor.  If you gave him a mug shot, he would look like a serial killer.  I wouldn't be surprised if I saw him at Edward Jones or on the 10 o'clock news.

I get out of my car and start organizing all my crap, and at this point he's on my left and moving further away from me. Five minutes later I'm done and I start to reach for the vacuum, and he's standing to my immediate right... like we're talking within my arm span, which bothers me for two reasons: 1) I'm usually very aware of my surroundings, and the fact that I didn't see (or even hear) him circle around and start walking towards me in that HUGE open area was unreal, and 2) I had no idea how long he'd been standing there, that close to me.  And let's add a third: His trash bag was on the ground next to him and he had one hand in his coat pocket and the other in his jean pocket.

This is one of those times when I just didn't feel scared.  I was a little startled, but I don't even think I jumped, and I certainly didn't show it in my face.  I guess more than anything I was pissed that I didn't notice him sooner, and I was a little curious as to why I couldn't see his hands, but I didn't feel the need to get away.  Maybe I've got more fight than flight in me.

He started stuttering.  "S-sss-sp-spare a quarter for a loaf of bread?"  He was making direct eye contact with me, and he never broke it, which is good.  Now that he was closer, I noticed other things, like that he was clean-shaven, he didn't really smell like a bum, and he had a burn-tan, like the kind you get when you work in your yard all day.  He wasn't fidgety, he wasn't scary, he didn't look cracked out... he was just a guy.  I said, "Yeah, actually I have a couple of bucks," and handed him the cash in my back pocket.   He took it, said, "Have a good night," picked up his trash bag, and walked away.   I vacuumed my car and headed for home.  I turned down 20th street and there he was, walking by Aldi's with a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk.   He actually bought groceries.

I wish I knew his name, and his story.  I wish I knew where he was from, what growing up was like, and what his family was/is like.  And I wonder if he ever thinks about Jesus...if he's bitter, if he's apathetic, if he's a follower.  I guess I really want to know how alike we are, because I bet it's more than I could imagine.