Why "bad" things happen to "good" people

First, God will do what He will do.  We are the pots – the clay.  We have no clue to our purpose other than we do on a daily basis.  If today I minister to this person, my purpose is to minister to this person today.  If tomorrow I praise God in that way, my purpose is to praise God in that way tomorrow.

Second, life does not have a timeline designed for our comfort or our approval.  We are alive for the pleasure and glory of our Creator.  We are the bride of Christ in development.  Our time on this planet is nothing more than the beginning of our eternal life with Christ for the glory of the Father.

We think that the death of a body is a tragedy when it is only the emergence of a life from the temporal to the eternal.  We are offended when the best are taken up to their Creator, as if it was something unfair.  It is the most fair.  Why should we demand that the best be subject to the most refining?  Does that even make sense?  Are we not here to be refined?  Does it not make sense that those who are nearest to purity would be done with the refining process soonest?

This world is absolutely broken and downright disgusting because of the fall.  Do we forget that?  Of course, the fingerprints of the Creator are everywhere, but that does not diminish the awfulness of what this place has become.  It is groaning – not because it likes the sound, but because it feels like death; because it is dying.  The earth is BEGGING to be released from its body of death and restored to the glory it once enjoyed. 

It’s one thing to miss a person who we love.  It’s a completely different thing to blame God for taking him or her.  He or she was MADE to be taken out of this place.  So were you.  So was I.  Perhaps it is the violence or injustice that ticks us off.  Even so, why are we surprised by violence or injustice in a world that is still governed by Lucifer?  We totally get it when we read about Job.  God laid it out pretty plainly there.  Do we think it’s just a nice, instructive tale? 

Someday, I hope to meet Uriah.  I hope that I can tell him how proud I am of him for fulfilling his duty to his king, even if his king was conspiring against him.  I hope I can tell him that I’m grateful for his example in remaining loyal to the point of death.  I hope I can tell him that I’m sorry that he had to move from this life to the next in such a violent and unjust manner.  I also hope that even now, as he is able to see his legacy, he realizes that we will never be able to forget what was done to him.  Indeed, his death was the asterisk applied to David’s legacy until the end of time as evidenced in I Kings 15:5.

Finding Time

It's been said that life goes by in a blink.  Of course, when you're young, you think everything takes too long.  It's only when those babies have turned into adults and the demands of life multiply, that we realize there will never be enough time to do everything.

Blogs are part of that everything.  Although I have plenty of time to think (driving a ton helps that), until I figure out how to do voice-to-text while I'm driving, writing will be one of those luxurious things that I can only do very infrequently.  Even so - I'm taking the time today....just to say that I've taken the time.  Although there's nothing particularly interesting here, I thought I'd say "hey" while I add a few organizational features including a couple lists of links.  As a librarian, I suppose I should be using some cool social bookmarking site or other social networking tool.  Honestly, I like the ease of a blog.  Maybe I'll transition to something more cool when I become more cool.

I've Got a Crush On You

This has been a hard post to articulate.  I think one of the coolest and most fun things is having a crush.  Some people probably think it's hard-rending, but I think it's awesome.  Maybe the difference is that I don't take crushes very seriously.  Oh, I definitely have in the past because I learned how much fun a crush could be if you just enjoyed it and took it for what it was.  I've never thought that having a crush meant that you were in love.  Of course, you can be in love and have a crush on the same person.  Or, you can be in love and NOT have a crush on that person.  Let me tell you what, though....the crush is the fun part.  It's that level of obsession that draws you to a person (but not the level of obsession that turns you into a stalker).  Your day gets instantly better when you see them.  You belief that your life has been blessed when they actually talk to you.  Your dream is to spend more time with them, learning more about them.  THAT's a crush...and it feels good.

I've have a TON of crushes in my life.  Sometimes, friendship or love actually developed.  More often than not....I just traded one crush for the next.  The thing is, even though each of my crushes was pretty transient and required no loyalty on my part, I still treasure their memory.  I honestly don't wish they'd become something they didn't.  In fact, I plan to have more crushes in the future.  I can hear some of my friends and acquaintances right now saying, "But, you're a married woman."  Yes.  Yes, I am and I love my husband more than anyone.  He's my best friend.  But, I'm still going to have crushes on people that aren't him.  This would be the perfect time to label me, if you'd like ;-).

Oh, you're still reading?  Well, in that case, here's my list of the most powerful crushes I've had.  Keep in mind that there were hundreds (yes...hundreds) more that lasted an hour or a day...or a week.  The people on this list, however, made a lasting impression on me.  So, from youngest to oldest...and subject to future editing, here it is.

1.  Michael Jarvis - He and his twin sister started going to West Godwin Elementary School in 2nd Grade.  He lived at the corner of 34th street and Clyde Park.  I wanted to be his friend more than anything.  Those stars, however, never aligned.

2.  A.J. Morris - From 4th grade to current.  I think I'll have a crush on him forever.  If he's turned out anything like his dad, it'll be a fun crush to have. 

3.  Jim Boice - Part of 7th grade...and then I didn't.  Maybe part of having a crush is not knowing someone very well.  Once I got to know him, the crush dissipated. 

4.  Matt/Nate York - 6th - 8th grade?  This was one of those crushes that was not individual specific.  I liked them both.

5.  Les Williamson - High School - But seriously, is there a girl that didn't have a crush on him?  Man, high school crushes are a little more intense than the earlier ones (if not as much fun).  Even now I think "Damn, he was hot" and it was the early nineties.  Nobody was hot.

5b.  Chris Smith - Senior Year - but I'm not sure that that was a good crush because it wasn't as much fun.

6.  John Volker - freshman year of college.....everyone needs a bad boy crush.  He was definitely it. 

Then I was done for crushes for awhile.....and then....

7.  Josh Mason - that started out with a crush and ended up with a supernova catastrophe.  Maybe that's why I think crushes are best left to enjoy but not to indulge.

Then....the beginning of the star-struck crush...which is totally different.  When you have the star-struck crush early on, it translates into something like Bieber Fever or that...well...crap.  When you're older, however, it seems to be different.  It's more mellow perhaps?  But, it's not mellow.

Which brings me to 8.

8.  Jang Hyuk - current(ish) a comfortable crush

9.  Lee Minho - A Les Williamson crush.

On the eve of a 20 year reunion...

A 20 year reunion which I won't be attending.

My school years are such a strange product, it's difficult to really make sense of them even this far out.

I started out as a pretty regular, if extremely shy, girl that did pretty well in school but wasn't much of a stand out at anything.  Reading comments from grade school teachers on my earliest report cards, everything seems pretty normal.  When we moved from West Godwin Elementary to Godfrey Lee Elementary, however, something changed.  I'm not sure really what it was.  Obviously, I was torn from a school life that I'd only just begun to make my own.  At Godfrey, I slowly made new friends, but it was harder, probably because we were older and getting ready to go through puberty.  I'm not sure that I'd say it was worse or better.  It was just different.  Instead of rollerskating at recess (when you could still do that), we did gymnastics on the steel bars throughout the playground.  Fourth and fifth grade were the years of being a "safety" and riding bikes everywhere. 

Then came Doug Hoogerhyde.  He got sent back from 6th grade to 5th grade.  He was a legend because he was older.  During this time, I had a pretty major crush on A.J. Morris (I even left a "love" letter in the spokes of his bike wheel one day).  Doug didn't matter much to me.  I just knew that he lived close by (around the corner actually...but our worlds are so narrow when we're young...around the corner might as well have been another planet).  Honestly, Doug wouldn't have mattered at all if I hadn't been bored and wandering around the neighborhood.  I'm not sure how it happened, but we started hanging out...and yeah.  It's not something I want to go into now.  Not because it's embarrassing.  It's just a long story, and not my point.

Suffice to say, middle school was dramatic.  Middle school was so dramatic, that I ended up dropping out of my freshman year at Lee High School.  Looking back, even though I left Lee, it never really left me.  Although all contact with Doug was cut off, I was still involved with other friends....and my heart really never left that old building on the border between Wyoming and Grand Rapids.

And, then I enrolled at Wyoming Park H.S.   Let's be honest.  I didn't belong there.  It was much too clean.  It was much too normal.  It was much too "high school."  The kids were too well behaved (even the bad ones).  It was very "Breakfast Club."  I was very lost.  Maybe that sounds like it was a disaster.  The funny thing is....it wasn't.  It was just a haze.  I made friends....but only a few really important ones.  I have memories, but they seem so small and transient.  I look at pictures from those days and remember them....but I remember them from the outside. 

I suspect that I'm not the only person that has this type of impression.  I honestly can only remember a few teachers from Wyoming Park.  Mr. Black because he was annoying and creepy but smart...Mr. Barnes because he was a Christian and easy to be around...Mr. McDowell because he was just out of school and his brother was just a year older (and good looking)...and that's it.  I remember the teacher who led the drama club (of which I was only the student director) and the girls track team my senior year (of which I was only the manager).  I can't remember his name though.  And that's it.  I remember presences...and classes....and where I would sit...and how light or dark the room was.  Nothing more of those people that were supposed to have such an impact.  I don't remember homecomings or football games....or basketball games....or hall decoration...or any of that stuff.  I wasn't involved in it.  Now, I have some regrets...except that were I to go back....I don't think I could do better.

I was too full of guilt for being the girl with the secret pregnancy, the secret baby, the secret adoption.  I was too sure that nobody would, not only understand, give me a real second chance at normal.  I was the girl with the asterisks.

What does that mean now?  Not much.  I'm not sure what there is to come to terms with.  Probably my largest regret is not investing more in those earliest friendships.  Over the years, I've seen the joys and pains of my peers.  I've been so impressed by the people they've become, and so proud to have been caught in their orbits for a time.  Even so, I'm still an outer planet in that high school solar system - not because anyone sent me spinning away, but because I was too afraid to fly closer.

So, on the eve of a 20 year reunion of which I will I will not be attending, I just have to say...I'm grateful that, although my school years are still muddy and not as rich as they might have been, there is a group of people that are worth my regret.

Mondays and Playlists

Mondays are.....

Well, Mondays in autumn are......

Um.  Mondays.  Our week would be a day shorter without them.

Anyway.  It's Monday.  I'm still feeling shell shocked from last week.  I'm looking around my office and seeing all of the little things that need to get done.  I've decided....I'll get done what I get done and worry about the leftovers tomorrow.

So, last week was a week of funerals and meetings and constant motion.  There might have been a time in life when I was better equipped to deal with it.  But then, I think life was less busy when I had more energy.  Now, it's constant mental and emotional motion, even if it's not always constant physical motion.  The only time to really be alone (something that I'm more and more jealous of) is driving too and from work. 

That drive - as much as I love and hate it - is often my saving grace.  It's the time to reconnect with the broader world or disconnect from the narrower one.  It's the time to pray earnestly, cry with abandon, and think.  One thing that I've been thinking about for over ten years (one of the benefits of getting older is that you get to lay claim to having thought about something for a substantial period of time...rather than...say...a week) is my funeral playlist.  I actually had several songs written down at one point, but that list has long since been lost to humanity. 

Why a funeral playlist?  Well, maybe it's better to call it a "death event" playlist to encompass any callings and funerals and whatnot.  There are a few reasons. 

First, I love music.  I think it's the best way to say something with impact while avoiding a confrontational tone.  I can sing things that would be too hard to say.  In the same way, I can hear a difficult message in a song that would be too hard to listen to if spoken.  If you are going to have flowers to memorialize my passing, you have to have twice as much music. 

Second, if you know me, you know I have something to say.  I have something to say about a lot of things.  When I'm dead, I'll still have something to say, and I'll leave most of behind in that playlist. 

Finally, I believe that music is medicinal.  It's a balm for our spirits and a boon for our souls.  It gives us courage and sets our mood.  When I'm dead, I don't want people to be broken.  I want to be remembered (the good AND the bad), and I want to be missed (for awhile, at least).  I don't want anyone's life, however, to stop because of me (well, maybe for a day or two).  I hope my playlist will be a reminder of my stepping out of this small world and into the greater, tangible presence of YHWH.  I hope that it will make people smile and cry and ponder their own movement through the proving ground of Earth (or whatever other place we might have gotten to by that point).

So, just so you know - I'm adding the playlist over there on the side so that I can easily update it, and you can easily find it.

What the heck is up with all the dang Korean?

So, yeah.  Korean.  I like it.  I like the language.  I like the culture(s).  I like the people.  I like the history.  I even like some of the food.  Oh, and I like the technology, but that's a different kettle of fish.  Anyway....why Korean?  I'll tell you, but I warn you that it's a little circuitous...so you might want to bail now before you get sucked into the explanation.

Here goes....

Right...

Here.

A long time ago....in a galaxy far, far away....there was a librarian who'd been briefly introduced to anime by a young Brit (Akira was the anime, if you're interested....it's an anime classic).  Being a brief fine arts major and a lifelong lover of comic books and graphic arts, this librarian fell into an infatuous relationship with Japanese anime and began to consume it voraciously.  Over the course of a few years, she watched thousands of episodes from hundreds of series.  And then it was over.  Like any infatuation, it runs out unless something deeper has formed.  She was no longer mesmerized by the artwork (okay, there were exceptions).  She was no longer surprised by the twists and turns of the story line.  She was tired of exaggerated and shallow characters. 

She'd fallen out of love....but she knew that the relationship hadn't been all bad.  During her time with anime, the librarian had become enthralled by the cultures of the Far East.  Beneath the pen and ink (and digital media), she'd seen a beauty that only drew her further in even as anime was pushing her away.  Not willing to let go of that beauty, the librarian then began looking for live-action programs from the Far East that could shed a more realistic light on the region.  She didn't know what she was looking for, but she eventually happened upon something called kdrama (Korean drama).  In fact, she began watching "Snow Queen."  It was a tragic love story (as so many kdramas are) that fascinated the librarian.  She knew she'd found something that was better than the anime that she'd chased after for so long.  The first days with kdrama weren't as exciting as they'd been with anime, but there was something more tangible...more imperative.  Even so, it wasn't until the librarian watched "Deep Rooted Tree" about the Great King Sejong of Choseon (before modern-day Korea) who developed and introduced the Korean alphabet, 한글 (hangul), that she knew that she'd fallen irrevocably in love.  

So, what is there to love about Korea?  First, I love the language and am slowly.......s....l.....o....w.....l....y....learning it.  Second, and much more importantly, are the people.  I'll say more about it later, I'm sure, but I love how deeply they feel things....how hard they try....how silly they act....how loud they live....how lightly they walk....how proud and how humble they can be in one moment.  I love the ridiculous....and I love the gravity.

So, anime....thank you.  Thank you for introducing me to Korea (South Korea, specifically...but also North Korea briefly).  Yes, you and I can still be friends.  My heart, however, belongs to another....that little peninsula to the west of you.

Too. Much Writing.

Yeah, so there have been some things that I've wanted to write about for awhile.  So what am I doing?  Throwing them all in this stupid blog.  Why?  Why not.

So, I like analyzing my past.  It's not because I'm trying to figure out crap about myself.  It's just the story that I'm most familiar with, and I love stories.  I love MY story.  Does that seem narcissistic?  Hmm, it might be.  I dunno. 

Anyway - the day I knew I was weird.  I was seven.  So imagine this, a fairly average little girl - walking down the sidewalk of her street - looking at the houses that she passed...some being the homes of friends she'd known forever or known for a short time.  She knows the backyards.  She even knows some shortcuts.  She's even old enough to sometimes cross the street on her own to go to her friend's house with the dirt backyard and the German Shepherd.  As she's walking from the corner back toward home - the house with the big yard.....Daniel/Danielle's house....the lot....Nicky and Melanie's house....the dark house....the Zoots/Amy's House....home.  Right before Nicky and Melanie's house...a thought.  "What if I'm not real?  What if I'm just someone else's dream?  What if dying is just someone else waking up?"

That's the day I knew I was weird.  Whoever is dreaming hasn't woken up yet.