A Year of New Things

Tonight Kirk and I sat at the farm table in our front room, fresh off a competitive game of Phase 10 and contemplating how to spend the rest of our evening together, when I asked him: What happened this year that we didn't know would happen at this time last year?

As of last Thanksgiving, we didn't know we would seriously consider moving our life to California this year. We didn't know we would both apply for graduate school in California, begin the house-hunting process, and then make a concerted, hard, but unanimous decision to stay here in Florida.

This time last year, I hadn't yet met the group of girls who have now become good friends, all because we shared one friend in common and had a similar heart for ministry at our church.

At this time last year, Kirk and I didn't know we would both graduate from Full Sail with valedictorian honors. We didn't know that I would give my first public speech and, in doing so, find a way to share truths from my deep heart with a room full of strangers.

We didn't know that I would decide against birthing Storychange into the world, at least for now.

This time last year, we didn't know that I would find the spiritual formation program at Spring Arbor, and that I would love it so much. We didn't know I would feel like I'd come home.

We didn't know that Kirk would pursue a second master's degree in educational design and media technology, or that it would draw out his natural talent and love for the creative design process and educational theory.

Last Thanksgiving, we didn't know we would, together, embark upon a three-year training program in spiritual direction, or that we would do this with a diverse and loving and joy-filled group of 20 strangers who drive from all over the state of Florida one Saturday each month to learn together about the work of spiritual listening and companioning. We didn't know we would find our own spiritual directors and begin to meet regularly with them.

It amazes me what can happen in one year of life. I'm glad I'm sharing each day of it with this beautiful, talented, creative, strong, loving man.

all photos taken by kirkum and christianne

stone mountain, georgia

january 2006

I Used to Rule the World . . .

My goodness. Have you guys seen this? It is the PS22 Chorus, a group of 60 fifth graders in an underprivileged district of the New York public school system, performing Coldplay's song "Viva la Vida."

I happened upon this clip last night and have probably watched it at least ten times already. The song gets stuck in a loop in my head, and I hum it as I'm walking around the house and sitting at my desk and hanging out with Kirk. I can see the individual kids pop into my mind's eye as I do this, and I can't help but pray for them, wondering about their stories, their futures, what they may be facing in their lives outside this music room. I'm moved by their fire, their full involvement, their voices, their laughter, their innocence, their body language. I feel like I'm watching a church service of sorts, or listening to an angelic choir singing over all of us.

I can't help but give thanks for this kind of music program that is empowering these impressionable young kids, building up their confidence, giving them a place to belong, and drawing out their natural talent and ability. Mr. B. started this chorus to promote the value of music and the arts in the public school system, and, just through this one clip, he's made a believer out of me.

Here are the lyrics to the song they're singing . . . which, by the way, I've heard lots of churches are singing these days. I find this interesting, that Coldplay has made it into the halls of churches, but then I keep thinking about the line, "I used to rule the world . . . " and I think, "Yeah. I know about that. I used to rule the world, too, in my own small way. The way of Christ is teaching me to let my aggrandizement go."

Viva la Vida

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sweep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own
I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing:
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"
One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt, pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once, you know, there was never,
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become
Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh, who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once, you know, there was never,
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once, you know, there was never,
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

Spending Time with Her

The main reason Kirk and I went to New England this month was to spend time with Diana. This female warrior in Kirk's life is facing stage 4, metastatic breast cancer. This isn't her first time with breast cancer. Twenty years ago she braved and conquered it into remission. But the cancer recurred last year, and it has now advanced to stage 4, spreading into other regions of her body despite the many treatments she has sought.

Prior to this visit, I had only met Diana once. She came last year with the majority of her family tribe to visit Florida, and we were able to spend one evening with her and the rest of the family at a gathering that Kirk's sister arranged. At the time, I was struck by her sincerity and presence. When Diana sits with you, she asks questions you know she really cares to hear you answer. She laughs a lot and joshes her brother (Kirk's dad) around. She makes you feel so at ease.

One afternoon during our visit with her in New York, she took us on one of her favorite hikes to a place called Huckleberry Point. Snow had reached the region that week, and it was starting to thaw. This made the trail quite mushy with mud and water. There were places we had to step delicately and others that required advance strategy. At one point we even forded a river, the three of us cheering and hooting as, one by one, we crossed several thin and slippery logs, hoping to goodness we didn't fall in.

What amazed me most about Diana was her hardiness. Here is a 70-year-old woman in advanced stages of cancer who could trot through several miles of uneven climbing trails as though breezily riding a bike. Many times, especially on the return hike back, she left Kirk and I in the dust. We were huffing and puffing along, our poorly shod feet very wet and very cold and very sore, yet she was dozens of yards ahead of us, loping along with a hiking stick and rarely stopping for breath.

But the trip to the top was different. On the trip to the top, we walked and talked in tandem. What emerged was a conversation I will never forget.

Soon into the hike, Diana and I discovered we had both struggled in our lives with perfectionism. We talked about the root of this, what this says about our lack of trust in ourselves and other people for grace and room to learn. We talked about how rules and regulations and following what other people tell us to do ultimately prevents us from being responsible for the results of our own lives, and how sometimes there's an uneasy comfort to be found in this kind of escape artistry.

We ventured pretty easily into the corridors of faith and religion. Diana wanted to know what caused the Protestant Reformation and why Christians believe Jesus is the only way to God. She shared her respect for different faith traditions, and how one specific Buddhist teaching has been helpful for her, teaching her that fear and hope are more alike than different: both keep us locked in the potential future while preventing us from living in the actual present. We moved across narcissism several times and discussed the capacity for choosing good or evil that lies inside each one of us. Somehow, we also managed to cover evolution, abortion, and stem cell research before reaching the top of the mountain.

What I loved about this conversation was how easily it flowed between us. I didn't feel any pressure to have answers for every subject she raised, and it was easy for me to say, "You know what? I'm not sure what I think about that." There were times when I could say, "Because of my faith, I believe such and such to be true. But I'd love for you to help me understand the view that differs from mine." Both of us bumped up against the limits of our knowledge and belief in different ways, but there was an easiness that allowed us to acknowledge to the other when this happened and even laugh about it when it did.

It meant so much to me that Diana and I could penetrate such depths with vulnerability, care, and openness so quickly. I think this has a lot to do with the kind of person she is. She is a safe person. She is intellectually curious but intensely caring, which is what I believe enables her to carry a complex conversation with someone who believes different things than she does without it becoming threatening for either person. She has a noble spirit, and she draws out the noble spirit in others.

Diana is precious to me. The time we spent with her is precious to me. The chance to inhabit her home, get to know her family, and talk about things that matter to us both is precious to me.

Last week I was talking with K., my spiritual director, about why Diana moves me. I shared that it's because she is fully herself, at home in her own skin, fully alive to life and people and questions and joy, and that she creates safe space for others. "Perhaps in Diana," K. said, "you see the hope of your own future, the person you're poised to become, the kind of life you want to embody yourself."

She's right. I hope that at age 70, I too will be a person who makes a 29-year-old girl feel right at home, an equal and a peer, and also like a sister.

Aftermath

There were so many times throughout the campaign season that I tried to set down into words all the reasons I was voting for Barack Obama. I made lists, started typing, and eventually tossed all those lists and words away. I couldn't find a way to share that comprehended all that mattered.

Yesterday I read an article that expressed another conservative Christian's perspective on voting for Barack Obama. I typed up a short little post that said, "Here. Read this. It pretty much encapsulates my view." Except it didn't. It fell short in many ways. Some of my views overlapped with his, but they didn't equate completely. I couldn't let his view represent or replace my own. I deleted the post shortly after I published it.

In the end, it still feels too personal. Not that my reasons are too personal to share, but that it is yet too close to distill into words. And I think this is because my journey to supporting Barack Obama is tied to deep-seated values that have developed in me slowly, subtly, incrementally over the past several years. How do I connect all the dots in a way that makes sense to someone outside my own head? The journey itself is still too large.

I feel disappointed that I couldn't write the essay I'd hoped to write. I would have liked to have it all laid out, a keepsake of sorts for my soul that also shared a greater glimpse into my take on the subject with you. But for now I have to be content with where I am, unable to articulate all that I think, intuit, feel, believe, and value on this subject, knowing that eventually, as I articulate all that I think, intuit, feel, believe, and value on a grander scale in the scope of life and faith, it will all come together, all together much easier to share.

Perhaps someday a fitting reason for writing that essay will present itself. Perhaps it won't, and I'll content myself with carrying it inside, unexpressed to all but me.

But for now, I celebrate. What millions had hoped for and worked for and voted for came to pass. A truly historic moment came to meet us on the road, swifter than most had expected, more declarative than many dared hope. Like so many, I screeched with elation when the announcement came and then immediately began crying tears. Kirk and I held each other with eyes glued to the screen, elated with the millions in the streets that were crying and dancing and hugging and laughing.

A new era has dawned. This fact is inescapable. We will pray for him as we go.

My friend Clayton has written a beautiful short piece on what this has personally meant to him to experience. I invite you to read it here.

Be Mine, New Hampshire

After a day spent driving along Lake George and the Adirondack mountains in upstate New York, we made our way into Burlington, Vermont, where we stayed for the night. It's a college town and, as one would expect, cozy and cute. The next morning, as we drove into the surrounding countryside to make our way across the state, I told Kirk that Vermont looked exactly as I'd always imagined it would. "This is a place I've always wanted to visit, ever since I first heard about it. Like, since I was a little kid," I told him. It was fun to see it looked exactly as I'd imagined it.

Except I'd spoken too soon.

It turns out Burlington and its immediate vicinity are likely the most cute and cozy parts of the entire state. The rest of the state that we saw was more rural than I expected. Yes, there are mountains. Yes, there is likely a beautiful ski scene in the winter. And yes, there are likely parts that are amazing that we didn't see and which may also be very different at a different time of year than right now. But much of what we saw in Vermont, both along the major highway and the more rural country routes, fell squarely in the category of what Kirk and I have come to call "Wiggyville." Unfortunately.

But oh, New Hampshire.

New Hampshire stole my heart. It feels open and hardy. The trees sprout everywhere. They line the streets and cluster all over the hills and mountainsides. There are some gorgeous lakes, namely Squam Lake and Lake Winnipesaukee. The people are friendly and strong. And even though we missed the bountiful turning of the leaves by a couple weeks, we still managed, along our entire route from upstate New York down the central cut of Vermont and across central New Hampshire, to follow the last of the colored leaves that had hung onto the trees. It was almost like they hung on just for us until we got to New Hampshire and stayed for a couple more days, as the crowds had come and gone, many of the tourist trappings had closed for the winter season, and it was mostly us and the road and the remaining glorious color.

Hey, we'll take it. In fact, that is our preference! The less crowds, the better. Just us and some trees, some good roads and some great conversation.

We stayed in a cute bed and breakfast for two nights. The first night we sustained a massive rainstorm, fully expecting to wake to trees that had been shaken bare of their remaining leaves. But, no. Like I said, those leaves seemed hardy for the benefit of our enjoyment. We spent that next day taking a circuitous route along the two major lakes, stopping in the quaint villages along the way, taking lunch and browsing bookshops and even snacking on some local Ben and Jerry's despite the cold. Oh, and stopping at the scenic lookouts.

Unfortunately, the wi-fi access that our bed and breakfast advertised when we booked the room didn't take too kindly to our Mac laptops, and we got booted off the system every time we tried logging on. Then the rest stops that advertised free wi-fi access weren't working, either. And the monastery in New York where we're staying now? You guessed it; those monks aren't too hip on hooking up the residents.

For a vacation, I've kept trying to let this be okay. It's tough, though, especially in the week before such a historic election, one in which I'm deeply invested. And especially because we hadn't planned for this trip to be one intentionally for unplugging. With both of us in online programs right now, internet access is an essential part of our life, and part of the fun of taking online programs is the freedom to take off and go places while keeping up with school anytime and anyplace. We were looking forward to testing this part of the online education experience firsthand with this trip! (Maybe we've learned that though there's the freedom to do this, it needs to be undertaken with greater preparation and contingency plans.)

Now we're back in New York, concurrently working on the new online classes that started this week for both of us and visiting with Diana. More on the specific goings-on of this part of the trip in my next installment!

Hello, New York

Yesterday, Kirk and I headed north for a 10-day visit to the land of ultimate fall foliage. We've come to New York to visit his aunt Diana, who demonstrates what it means to be a true warrior in her fight against breast cancer. I've gotten to meet her once before, and she brings so much light and sincerity everywhere she goes. We're looking forward to seeing her in this upcoming week -- and we've already been warned that she wants to go hiking!

In the meantime, we've been heading north. We flew into Albany, picked up our rental car, and started heading toward Lake George and then the Vermont border. (The photographs in this post were taken at the south tip of Lake George, right where it begins. Kirk's grandpop, one of the foremost influences in his life, spent a lot of time in this very place.)

The drive was gorgeous, and that is an understatement. All of the leaves on the trees have been turning, and the trees are everywhere. There are lots of wooded areas, and the Adirondack mountains are just to the left of the highway we've been climbing along. Today we'll be crossing the width of Vermont (which in such a small, modest state should only take about two hours), and then we'll spend the next two days near Squam Lake in New Hampshire before heading back to New York to visit with Diana.

I've been absent from blogging for a few weeks, and the time away has been good. I've been able to focus on school and finishing my first full class at Spring Arbor. (Wow! I can hardly believe I've already finished one full class!) Kirk and I took a weekend trip to visit his mom up in Georgia. And I've been working on a new secret project.

Through all this time, I've been thinking a lot about what feels like a very new season of life I'm stepping into. I recently wrote about this on the Also Only/Even If blog, describing it as a gentle nudge toward change that feels impending, natural, but also scary. You can read my thoughts and experience of this change here.

Blogging Break

Hey, everybody.

I've decided to take a little hiatus on blogging here. A lot is swirling around in my heart and brain these days, but I haven't found the ability to put these things into words yet. I'm going to take a little breather from this blog so that my insides can have greater freedom to roam around and sort things out.

Most of this has to do with school and how I'm growing professionally. There's a lot to think on and share about there, but I can't find the words to express that here.

In the meantime, I'm still part of the beautiful collaboration over at Also Only / Even If. I'll still be reading and commenting on your blogs as usual. And you'll still find me playing around over on Facebook, my latest indulgence. (If I haven't found you over there yet, feel free to look me up!)

Thanks for your patience with me as I mull things around over here.

Love,

Christianne

Photo Plunge

Hi, friends. We've been busy over here in Florida-land, wading through massive rainstorms and enjoying breezes with the windows down, taking naps after the Winter Park boat tour lulled us into a drowsy doze, and catching movies and playing cards. Oh, yes -- and Disney.

At the Magic Kingdom, we traversed every land, hopped on all the major rides, watched the night parade and fireworks show, and met one massive challenge: to eat at least one item in every land in the park. At final count, we ate Pineapple Dole Whip, churros, hot dogs, fish and chips, popcorn, funnel cake, chicken strips, grapes, swirl soft-serve, french fries, chili, corn dog nuggets, and ice cream bars. (Yeah, don't say it. It's making us ill, too, just thinking about it. But please note: these items were mostly shared, not individually consumed -- and note the inclusion of grapes! At least one of us -- ahem, Ana -- was healthy to some degree that day.)

This week, the lovely McCabe from Dancing Mermaid has issued a 7-day photo challenge that I've decided to try. I'll be documenting my days with photos for 7 days straight, starting tomorrow. But to get us started, here are a few photos from this past week with Bobby and Ana. (Sorry for the absence of Kirkum -- he had several commitments, including a jaunt up to Atlanta for a social justice & film conference, that pulled him away for some of the week.) Enjoy!

Bobby is definitely too cool for school.

The sweet and happy couple getting married next September!

Mmmm . . . afternoon naps are the best!

Bobby was addicted to his spy thriller novel in the quiet hours.

Hmmm . . . where do we want to go first?

Loving my bro-ham.

Bro-Ham in the House

My bro-ham Bobby and his fiancee Ana fly into town today to stay with us this week. I can't wait to show them Winter Park, Kirk-and-Christianne-style! I'm pretty sure there will be lots of big-brother razzing of the little sister, because that's just how our family rolls, plus lots of laughter and silliness. My bro-ham is someone with whom silliness abounds. But I'm also pretty sure it will just be darn cool to hang out with them for a week, whether at Disney, around town, or at home. Especially if I can beat everyone handily at Skip-Bo. (What, me? Competitive?)

I See Feathers on Your Lips

Real conversation between me and Kirk this afternoon, after a few days spent maxing my brain on some pretty rock-awesome books . . .

Me: Sometimes I think I'm getting dumber as I get older. I feel myself trying to integrate all that I'm learning, trying to hold on to the different thoughts in my head going different directions, and I feel like I can barely contain them all.

Kirk: Well, you've got a lot on your mind these days.

Me: I know. But this used to be so easy for me. I just feel like I'm getting dumber.

[Pause.]

Me: Maybe this has to do with a shift in values, though.

Kirk: Yeah? How so?

Me: Like, I used to be all about integrating ideas, drawing connections between things, putting together arguments that made sense of how things work. That's who I was. Now just the thought of that makes me tired. It's not what I'm about anymore.

Kirk: Yeah. That's true.

Me: But I'm still afraid I'm going to miss something, or drop some important piece on the ground and not even realize it because I'm not working my brain on overtime. I'm afraid that will be detrimental to my process somehow. I mean, I want to fully harvest this season, and I want to serve the subject well. I'm just afraid of missing or forgetting something I'm not supposed to miss.

Long pause, both of us thinking.

Kirk: I think you're growing in wisdom.

Me: You do?

Kirk: [Nods.] It's a bigger picture for you now. It's not just about information. There's more involved in the process.

Me: Huh. I guess that's true . . .

Kirk: Besides, you know how I know?

Me: No. How?

Kirk: I see feathers on your lips.

To understand the sweetness of this comment, find the context here.

Myers-Briggs and Our Four-Legged Friends

I spent most of Tuesday working on a reflection assignment for my Intro to Christian Spirituality class. It was a five-part assignment, with the first part being an exploration of my personality preference type and how that impacts the way I relate to God and express my faith. I thought a lot about being an INTJ for just over 20 years of my life but having transmorphed into an INFP over the past several years, due to growth in some pretty foundational areas.

Did you know you could change personality profiles? That's pretty amazing to me. I noticed the text I was reading referred to them as personality preference types, which helped me make sense of how this could happen (and did happen for me), since your preferences can change as your values change . . . and my values have certainly changed in a slow process over the past ten years.

So, since I spent most of Tuesday thinking in terms of Myers-Briggs, it seemed only natural that I begin psychoanalyzing Diva when I came to bed that night.

What's that you say? You've never heard of Myers-Briggs? Oh. Well, let me give you a short primer. Determine your personality preference type in four easy steps.

E-I: Extroversion or Introversion. If you're a people person, thrive in group settings, and find yourself gaining energy when around other people, you're likely an extrovert. If you protect your alone time carefully and find you need it to recharge and regain your center, you're likely an introvert.

S-N: Sensing or iNtuitive. How do you take in data when you're interacting in the world? If you rely heavily on your sensing organs and gravitate toward tactile, kinesthetic experiences, you're probably a sensing being. If you've learned you can trust inner promptings, have a discerning spirit, or often feel the pulse of what lies beneath or behind the surface of reality, you can bet you're an intuitive.

T-F: Thinking or Feeling. This one's pretty straightforward. Do you rely on analysis and objectivity to process and make decisions, or do you find yourself more often delving into the subjective realm of feelings when you're making sense of things?

J-P: Judging or Perceiving. Do you like to bring order, discipline, and resolution to the world around you? If so, you're likely a J. Are you more comfortable with spontaneity, messiness, and the open-ended, ambiguous side of life? In this case, you're probably a P.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program. On Tuesday night, I got only so far as proclaiming Diva an introvert before she scuttled from the room to take up residence on the farthest corner of the couch in our least-used room. Go figure.

So the next day, I resumed the conversation, this time involving Kirk as Diva nestled between us in a cavern of blankets. What personality type, I mused aloud, is Diva?

Definitely an introvert. She runs from other people and only really trusts one person implicitly: me. I got stuck trying to decide between sensing or intuitive; her incessant paw-pawing of blankets and her obsequious need for my physical touch would seem to make her a sensor, but whenever I'm feeling down, she seems to have a sixth sense about snuggling into my side and offering comfort. We decided that last part qualified her as a feeler for the third category, which freed us up to declare her a sensor in the second category. And finally, since she cleans herself obsessively, keeping her paws daintily pink and her white fur spots like snow, and she also likes to sit at windows for hours at a time, presiding over the rest of the creation under her purview, we decided she must fall into the orderly judging category.

Final score: Diva = ISFJ

This was fun. Kirk decided to issue a challenge. Name me any animal, he said, and I'll determine their personality profile.

Sure. How about Christian the Lion?

This lion, as the video demonstrates, loves people. He's practically giddy whenever he's with his favorite humans. Extrovert, for sure. Sensor, too, given the way he loves to play soccer and lope all over the African terrain as the head of his pride. And he's definitely a feeler; what else but love could overtake his natural lion instincts to eat humans when he stumbled upon his former owners in the lonely desert? He also must be a perceiver. Give him a London flat, a church courtyard, an African plain, or a human reunion tour . . . he'll roll with any of those punches.

Final score: Christian the Lion = ESFP

Okay, another. Curious George?

Totally an ESTP. He loves going on adventures and meeting new people with the Man in the Yellow Hat, which makes him an extrovert. He's always exploring new things in the world around him, which makes him a sensor. He's into figuring stuff out when he discovers it, so he's a thinker. And he gets himself in lots of scrapes, which only make him smile harder; that's the mark of a perceiver. (For the record, I know Curious George is not a four-legged friend, but let's just roll with it. It's a fun game, isn't it?)

Final score: Curious George = ESTP

But what about Solomon?

That's easy, Kirk said. F-A-T-Z.

Aww. Poor Sollie.

For the record, we decided he's an ESFP. He positively comes alive when Kirk enters the room, and he gets lazy, sleepy, and mopey when he's left alone for too long, all of which indicate he's an extrovert. He's all about eating plastic bags, graham crackers, fortune cookies, cheetos, and cheese, and all those textures on his palette must indicate he's into the sensory side of life. Our Sollie's a little . . . slow, so we're giving him the benefit of being strong on feelings. And since he often lolls onto his back when we walk into the room, letting his belly hang out with no shame, and regularly clambers onto our chests with pine dust from the litter box powdered all over his face, we're gonna have to say that indicates a little more absent-mindedness and a little more messiness went into that boy's makeup. That's right; our boy is a perceiver.

Final score: King Solomon = ESFP.

But there's still one final question: What personality type are you, and why?

Um, This Is My Pastor

Several months ago, my pastor returned from Washington, DC, to say he'd just had a meeting with Howard Dean. Kirk and I turned to each other and raised our eyebrows. Although Dr. Hunter has been interviewed on CNN, MSNBC, and Nightline, been invited to world forums on climate change, got invited to pose a question to Hillary Clinton during a compassion forum for the Democratic candidates earlier this year, and participates regularly in interfaith dialogues around the world, sitting on the couch with Howard Dean was a new one. I mean, what pastor does that? Apparently, ours does.

He didn't say much about what the meeting entailed at the time, but Kirk and I think we have figured it out. Look at what we found on the docket for this evening's big event at the Democratic National Convention . . .

I'll say for the record that our pastor does not endorse Barack Obama and even told the New Yorker magazine that he hasn't yet decided who he'll vote for in the general election. But he is part of the growing movement of evangelicals who are extending the conversation about politics into new territories. You can read his reasons for agreeing to give the benediction at tonight's major event here.

I personally think it's pretty darn cool that he's stepping onto the podium after Barack formally accepts the nomination tonight. But then, you guys already knew I'd feel that way, right?

PS: One of my classmates shared a video of Donald Miller being interviewed before he gave the closing prayer at the DNC several nights ago. I found his perspective and winsomeness thoroughly encouraging. Take a look.

just what i needed

sigh.

as the title of this post suggests, this past week in the virgin islands was exactly what i needed. wow.

it wasn't until the third day of our trip, as i was bounding down the outside steps from our room to the living area on the main deck, that it hit me: i hadn't thought once about home. it was like i'd stepped into some alternate reality in which all that existed was the exact present moment. what's more, any attempt to think about home, school, florida, the outside world, or even our cats proved futile. my mind, my senses, and the fullness of my being seemed able only to comprehend the exact moment in which i found myself. it was a heavenly freedom.

on our first full day in st. thomas, we made the happy discovery of lindquist beach. we also discovered something truly terrific to do that we referred to for the rest of the week simply as floating.

it's simple, really. all you do is blow up a full-body raft, walk into the clear, warm water, and paddle yourself out to the buoy. then, you lay back in the raft, close your eyes, and let the gentle waves rock you back and forth like a baby. with the warm sun on your face and the cool water lapping against the fingertips you drop into the water, you will find the rest of the world falls away. everything has stilled. you wonder, in fact, if anything else in the world but that moment even exists. the weight of every possible concern floats off your shoulders, your chest, your abdomen, and your legs, all the way down to the tips of your toes, and you become simply: weightless.

the eight of us chartered a boat the next day, and we wove our way through many of the u.s. and british virgin islands. our favorite captain for these chartered boat trips, captain raymond, anchored us offshore of some snorkeling caves for a spell, and i enjoyed playing around with my camera [and the a-m-a-z-i-n-g camera one of our friends had brought with him] to practice what i'm learning about digital photography these days. 

later that afternoon, we docked at a private island for lunch and enjoyed yummy BBCs [the ultimate island frozen drink] and terrific service by an island woman named susan who told us about some of the famous people she's met in her time of working there. she was really sweet and enjoyed teasing our friend tom by calling him by a totally different name the entire time we were there, as though he were some famous person trying to keep his real identity a fast-held secret. of course, he loved this. he ate it up, really. can't you tell [below] he's the kind of guy who would totally eat that up?

most of the other days, it was beach, beach, and more beach. sapphire beach is a group favorite. it's the beach that inspired tom and cindy to purchase property several years ago, and it is known to host great views both above and below the water. [in other words, it's also a great beach for snorkeling.] even the ducks cannot help but enjoy this place, and can you really blame them?

personally, i enjoyed renting a chair on this beach, plopping down into it, and relaxing the entire time with a really good book that without fail turned into a really good nap.

our trip was earmarked on both ends by two rather bizarre incidents. first, kirk and i spent four hours in the ER on our first night in st. thomas. this was due to some shooting head pain on the back right of my skull that had started the night before we left on our trip and had intensified in duration and frequency by the time we arrived the next day.

that was kinda scary, not only to be in the hospital in a foreign country but also to wonder what the heck was wrong with my head. i felt like someone was taking the sharp, pointy end of a letter opener and jamming it into the back of my skull every 20 minutes . . . then every 10 minutes . . . then every 15-45 seconds, and then, toward the end, kinda pushing and turning that pointy end around in there for a bit. [my apologies for the somewhat graphic description, but this is truly the best way to explain how it felt to be me for those 24 hours.]

after an excruciatingly long and painful four hours in the ER, which included an arm shot and my first-ever CT scan, this mysterious pain was determined to be merely a tension headache for which they prescribed some pretty strong drugs. [note to self on future trips to the islands: take the medication warnings seriously and do not combine these drugs with a BBC drink. otherwise, you will find yourself really loopy and really sleepy on that special chartered boat trip, unable to truly enjoy the lunch on that special private island or snorkel through those special beautiful caves for which we had anchored offshore.]

making for what seemed like a planned bookend to the ER trip on the front end of the trip was a blowout tire on the back end of our trip . . . at midnight . . . on the way home from the airport . . . in a not-so-nice section of downtown orlando . . . when we were already really tired from a full day of travel and wanted only to be home in bed. but thankfully, we felt ourselves protected from true harm again, as we were able to maneuver off the freeway safely, find a well-lit place to park shortly off the ramp, and be serviced by a AAA towtruck driver from the bronx who couldn't have been more pleasant, considerate, and funny. thanks be to God for that!

hello, my lovelies

kirk and i returned home from st. thomas last night, and i look forward to sharing pictures and stories with you soon. for now, however, i'll just share this lovely word doodle of my blog. wordle is a service that creates visual word maps of any website, including personal blogs, to showcase the words most used and rank their use by size. i find it simply lovely that the word heart carries the greatest prevalence on this two-years-young blog of mine. how appropriate.

p.s. you can click the photo to enlarge and explore.

return to st. thomas

kirk and i are going away for the week to stay in this villa with three other couples. our friend tom is generous to invite us down to his island paradise. it will be a much-needed break for all of us, and i look forward to sharing some beautiful views when we return. until then . . . peace and grace.

my space

welcome to the little space i have come to call my own in our little home.

on most mornings, if i'm smart, i wake early to brew a pot of hot water for tea and settle into this quiet corner for about an hour. if i'm even smarter, i will resist the urge to open the computer lid to check blogs and e-mail, reminding myself that this time is reserved for opening my heart to God. i will sit with a psalm or two and pray quietly, and then i will read a small section of two books by henri nouwen that are teaching me much these days about silence and prayer, and about the selfless way of christ.

i have come to need this morning time spent in my quiet little space each day. on the mornings i do get up to spend time here before formally entering back into the dailyness of the world, i feel such a tremendous difference in the tenor of my day. i carry a greater peace with me, a greater sense of centeredness, and the little gremlins that often tear at my heart seem to flee far from me. i'm always so grateful for the time i spent with God in that space, and i'm always aware of having missed it when i don't make the time for it. it has become a discipline, but also a gift.

as a sidenote, i'm positive this little desk wanted to be discovered by us. back when kirk and i had the conversation that led to our decision to stay in florida, we decided to start investing more of ourselves into furnishing our little house. this little desk was a great find we discovered on the first day we went on the hunt, but it was a total surprise. not only was it nestled in a crowded corner of the very last antique shop we visited that day, but it was also covered in just the kind of trinkets that normally give me the willies. somehow, though, i was drawn closer to the desk in that shop and became completely dazzled by its beauty.

i love the simplicity of its basic design combined with the intricacy of the wood carvings on its sides. i love its thin, spindly legs. i love the darkness of the wood. i love that it is totally feminine and totally me.

as a bonus, the owner of the shop wanted to sell it. for this early-1900s antique desk that was priced at $225, we got it for just $100. what a steal!

well, that's one solution to a lighter head . . .

i cut my hair!

*many thanks to lauren for a great stylist recommendation.

woot-woot!

kirk and i came home from an incredible concert experience with jakob dylan tonight (more to come on this later) to the news that barack obama has secured the democratic nomination for president. this news deserves a hearty woot-woot!

photo by barack obama on flickr

i, for one, have been zinging around the house in a euphoric cloud, whooping it up at the top of my lungs, and just generally being a silly face. i'm so stoked! 

i have hesitated to post political thoughts on this blog in recent months, as i don't want to turn readers off or seem in-your-face or pushy. that would certainly never be my intent. but the truth is, i'm a huge admirer of barack obama, and he has had my vote for many months now. 

i've followed this primary season with unabated vigor, not for the typical history-making reasons but because i've been reading obama's books, learning who he is, and following his leadership of his campaign with increasing interest. simply put, his ideology and approach have turned my head. for the first time in my life, i truly care what happens. i want to do my part to make a difference.

goodness knows, obama is not perfect. i'm not trying to claim that he is (and let's face it, none of the candidates thus far could ever claim to be, either). but he carries himself with great dignity and grace. he treats others, even his worst critics, with the same. he believes we all have a part to play in the making of this nation. and i want someone with his principles and vision leading me, and leading us.

so, in short, here are 10 quick reasons barack obama has my vote . . . 

he embodies leadership. he has run an exceptional campaign. he has invited the american people into the political process. he is committed to honesty and transparency in washington. he doesn't give easy answers. in fact, he'll give you the hard answers if they are the honest-to-goodness truth. he speaks his convictions. he listens. he's a forward thinker. he's got confidence, verviness, and guts. and, what's more, he has class.

a visit to love

christianne & kirsten, january 2008

i love this photo of me and the lovely kirsten-girl. it speaks so much . . . laughter, closeness, friendship, love. there's a easiness between us. can you feel it? you'd never know this shot was taken on the first day we spent together in real life since blogging reconnected us over a year ago. it's pretty amazing what a blog can do.

speaking of what a blog can do, it can communicate the raw truth about a hurting heart. big questions. deafening silence. the pain of bodily confusion. an ecstatic journey turned solemn. lots of wondering. sitting in quiet. looking around. falling down. full, unapologetic tears.

all things my kirsten-girl has been feeling these days in mighty large doses . . . while i look on, helpless but for prayer and conversation offered from a far-felt distance of more than 3000 miles. washington to florida. too far. so hard.

just for now, though, because our God is lavish.

today i had the full joy of calling this dear friend to share the news: i just booked my flight. been checking on flights for days. the ticket price on this particular handful of days is, for some unknown reason, low. it even sunk $30 lower this very morning. kirk agrees this one's a no-brainer. here i come, friend. we'll be together soon.

and so, in a period of approximately two and a half months, i'll be seeing this beautiful girl once more. it's a visit to love . . . for a friend who needs all the love our God and her friends have to offer these days. love you, girl. love you so much.

kiva love

some time ago, when we were taking a really useful finance class for our master's degrees here at full sail, kirk and i both learned about an organization called kiva that provides a way for everyday people like you and me to help fund business loans to individuals living in third-world countries. these can be people running established businesses who need extra capital to expand their existing product offerings, staff size, or inventory, or these can be people who want to start something new to help improve the quality of their lives through their established trade and abilities.

what's interesting about kiva is that it's in the business of making loans, rather than donating free money. i like the feeling of empowerment that gives the individuals who receive the loans, like they are receiving our faith in their character and their trade to keep making a living so that they can steadily pay back the loan.

these are short-term loans that are provided by the collective good will of many, many people. let me tell you how it works by sharing the story of ludmila.

this is ludmila yenina. she lives in the ukraine, where she is married and has one daughter. for two years, she has been running a nail care salon in a very popular area of town that attracts many new clients. she has invested $3000 in her business in the last two years, and she currently makes a profit of $1000 per month.

what first drew me to ludmila was her smile. isn't it great? then i learned the name of her nail center is mriya, which translates "dream." i loved that, too.

but the clincher was learning the following about who ludmila is:

ludmila has a unique ability to understand people and build relationships with her customers. moreover, she can generate new business ideas and handle stress very well.

i loved learning that ludmila instinctively knows how to care for people, but that she also knows how to run a business. both are essential for someone in a service-based industry, don't you think? of course, knowing me, what drew me to her the most was getting that little glimpse into her heart by learning how she cares for her customers.

but here's the amazing part. when i found ludmila's profile page last night, when i was hunting around for just the right person to help with my first-ever kiva loan, i saw that about 10 people had already contributed to ludmila's loan request of $1,075. together, they had contributed about $350 of this amount. after my small contribution of $25, she still needed $700.

what's amazing to me is that this morning, less than 24 hours later, i learned that the balance of the loan had already been fully funded. what's more, the entire loan amount had already been transferred to ludmila's account in the ukraine. whoa! talk about a great way to learn firsthand the power of this great organization that is kiva . . . $700 in less than 24 hours?! i checked back on her loan page and saw that about 9 people had come along behind me since about 11 o'clock last night to contribute that last $700 chunk. wow.

i really thought it would take quite a long time to get the balance of ludmila's loan funded; i anticipated checking the current loaned amount quite regularly, cheering her on as the number slowly inched upward. i was blown away to learn that all the money she needed was secured already this morning and that her loan had already been transferred into her account, moving it into active status. now, instead of watching the loan funds accrue to reach the amount she needed, i can watch the progress of her repayment of the loan back to all of us, which will be fully repaid in 8 months.

it feels so good to be a part of something like this, to know that ludmila is over on the other side of the world right now, thrilled and thankful to have just received the monies she needs to help improve her business and provide even more favorably for her family. i love knowing what her smile looks like in this exact moment. and it feels good, too, to know this was a collective effort among 20 strangers living all over the world, who decided to play a part, big or small, in helping to make it happen because they care.

as i share on my kiva profile page that i created last night, after contributing to this process for the very first time: i loan because i admire bravery. ludmila is a brave, strong woman, and i honor her right now.