New Year, New What?

The start of a new year inspires every human soul. Even those cynics who coolly condemn making resolutions experience a stirring of their spirit when the concept of a fresh start accompanies the turning of the calendar. I'll admit that I have sometimes fallen into that cynic category, not wanting to giddily jump on the resolutions bandwagon just to experience a disgraceful tumble into the dirt a few weeks later.

The year 2010 has started off with no official resolutions in my life. That does not, however, mean that I am not contemplating what ways I need to challenge myself in the coming months. The growing theme on my heart has been my walk with God. In the end, nothing else matters. Without faith it is impossible to please God (Hebrews 11:6). Without faith, it is impossible to fulfill the great commission that Jesus gave in Matthew 28. As a believer, what goal should I have other than to please and glorify God and to further His Kingdom? To this I cannot procure a satisfactory answer. To live a surrendered life on fire for Christ should be my one ambition.

Yet, my life is often backwards from this. I strain and struggle to make myself more attractive via material means, intellectual pursuits, or physical challenges. I try to balance myself atop a flimsy self-perception, caring far too much far too often about how others view me. I fancy myself adorable when others applaud me and endlessly critique myself when lonely nights appear. I am given to selfish pursuits and self-gratifying prayers. In the meantime, I dabble in my walk with God. If asked for the top priority in my life, I would deem myself honest if I said God but would know that the pattern of my life does not completely support such a proclamation. I want to be on fire for Christ but somehow imagine it will happen without putting in the effort and passion that such a fervor requires.

In recent years, I have whined and grumbled and groveled for a change in this or that circumstance. I have fretted over my lot in life and have envied others for what they have. I have made my dreams and self-made visions my goals and have expected that God will be on board with my plans. Multiple times He has shut the door on my ideas. Multiple times, I have stumbled back only to again jump up in pursuit of a new thought-up idea like a dumb dog who learns not that his master is slapping him with the paper for a reason.

Such an analysis of my recent life may seem harsh, although I believe it to be painfully accurate. It's not that I have not desired intimacy with Christ. It is rather that I have not been willing to surrender myself to Him to gain His close friendship. I have not given adequate time or passion to pursuing His will, His vision, and His guidance in my life.

So, in thinking on this new year, my one goal is to get to know my Creator on a deeper level. My aim is seek His face. My desire is to stop wiggling in my seat and to cease fidgeting before Him. May I learn to "Be still and know" that He is God (Ps. 46:10). Let every other thing in my life unfold as it may. If nothing but a closer walk with God and a life that is a more constant testament to the Gospel of Christ is attained in 2010, may I count myself blessed.

Pride and Prejudice

On a whim, I bought Pride and Prejudice at Barnes and Noble about a month ago. I suppose I did so in response to a sudden urge to become more well-versed in the classics. I had always heard reports of how amazing this book is and enjoyed the movies portraying the work, so I figured it was safe to invest 10 bucks in checking out the writing for myself.

As is often the case for me when reading, I experienced a slow start in my relationship with the story. A chapter here...a few days passed...a chapter there...a week expired...another chapter covered. You know, a half-hearted, I-think-I-should-at-least-work-at-this sort of reading habit. Not that the book was boring at the beginning, but my heart wasn't invested and my time was often cramped.

Then, suddenly, something changed. At some point, I was not just hooked on the book, I was mesmerized. I found the language captivating, the story enthralling, and the characters so very real. The relationship woes of folks in 1813 apparently mirror relationship issues of today. How incredible!, I would think to myself as I read the sentiments that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet felt that so reflected my own thoughts on many occasions.

As I wound myself through the story, the character of Mr. Darcy became continually more attractive to me. No doubt, the number of papers and books penned on the subject of Mr. Darcy's character are numerous and my discoveries not as novel as they seem to me. But, I must divulge.

Mr. Darcy, I decided, is the supreme example of a romantic man. He does not use flowery words. No, in fact, he is a bit stilted socially. He does not attempt nor bother to woe women with gifts, flattery, or constant attention. Yet, he is a supremely attractive man because of his character and because of what he sacrifices for Elizabeth. As I read of his extraordinary love toward Elizabeth shown in his remarkable kindness toward her (though she was not at all deserving of his kindness), I found that his actions resonated with my heart in ways I have never before experienced while reading fiction.

While I basked in the refreshing balm this book poured on my feminine soul, I suddenly realized that the reason Darcy's actions seemed pristine was that they were a picture of Christ's love for His bride, the church. Christ sacrificed much for his undeserving bride just as Darcy sacrificed much for undeserving Elizabeth Bennet. Obviously, nothing can truly compare to Christ's sacrifice, but the analogy was poignant in my mind.

I marvel at how "all truth is God's truth". I believe that when any author, artist, playwright, composer, etc. hits on a profound truth, the human heart sings in response. Jane Austen hit on a profound truth of what romance was created to be and how that picture of romance is supposed to reflect the picture of Christ's love and sacrifice for the church.

Wow. That's it. That's how I feel about this book and its story. No recommendation to read the book is necessary at this point. How more obvious could I be that it is a tale worth your time?

Less Stress

My goal for this year has been to get rid of as much excess obligation in my life as possible. I find that I easily over-committ and then kick myself for it the rest of the year. Then, I don't enjoy my job and feel like a piece of taffy stretched far too wide. No more of that this year.

So, thus far, I have accomplished said goal. I only teach one piano lesson outside of school. That's it. No other permanent obligations with ministries, friends, or school. Perhaps it won't stay this way forever, but for right now, it's perfect. I can feel the positive effects already. I have time to exercise, time to read, time to enjoy life. Plus, I am loving my job more than I thought possible. It's a small miracle.

As part of my new goal, I am attempting to get back into good physical condition. I have begun running after work with a colleague. Today, however, my colleague couldn't run because of another obligation. So, I drove home (which is now just four minutes away from school!), grabbed my iPod and made myself jog on my own anyway.

As I rounded the last corner of my route and faced a gradual uphill for almost the last mile, I passed one of the students from my school who was sprinting the other way. I threw a wave like the friendly teacher I should be, wondering all the while what the heck he thought of a sweaty, beet-faced me.

Then, another student jogged past. "Wait a minute," I thought. "Is that a whole hoard or middle schoolers running my way?" Yep. The cross-country team from my school was jogging my route backwards...or at least that stretch backwards. So, I had the pleasure of bumbling past many of my students, trying to look chipper and vivacious while stuffing my angst about what I might look like at this point in my run. After all, some of them looked a bit bedraggled...but I, I must have really looked like a beaten horse due to my less-than-stellar physical condition at the moment.

I exchanged niceties with the students I passed while laughing to myself for getting into this predicament. I laughed out loud when I passed one of the coaches, making a lame joke about going the wrong way. He smiled and laughed too, even giving me a high five as we passed each other. I mean, it really wasn't that bad, but was just one of those events that I wouldn't have chosen to occur, you know? Pathetic, I realize.

At least when I'm teaching something in music class and a student feels confused, intimidated or just plain bored (though boredom never happens in my class, I promise), he can simply recall me staggering along the sidewalk in a hopeful jog and the memory will create a momentary amusement.

Ah, the joys of teaching middle school!

Overcast Bliss

I'm a strange person. I love overcast days. In actuality, I suppose there are a number of people who enjoy a drizzly day even if they won't admit it. But, for me, a gloomy day gives me a sense of calm that I never fail to appreciate. Too many gloomy days in a row can be overwhelming, but, in general, a rainy day is welcome in my world.

So, not only is today such an overcast wonder, but it is also the first day I have experienced the new found, free Wi-Fi at Barnes and Noble. Add this place to my roster of computer-outing hot spots. Love it. Could my day be any better? Doubtful, unless Matthew Fox strolled in right now, spotted me, and sat with me for a good hour-long chat. He would notice me, you know. We are both from Wyoming and that makes us two of a kind.

Anyway, the other night, I saw the movie Julie and Julia (or the other way around?). For a movie title that's so confusing, it was a quaint and refreshing flick. Beyond the fact that Meryl Streep made an honestly fabulous Julia Childs, the film also inspired me to get into my blog again...while it also reminded me how narcissistic blogging is. I really have no clue if anybody short of my family reads my blog, but I find blogging therapeutic and fun nonetheless. Way to go, Hollywood, for pushing me to be all that I can be. Maybe?

This afternoon, I am going to return an incredibly overdue movie to the store from which I rented it, chat with my roommate who just returned from overseas, lie down for a nap, ponder the graciousness of God, and prepare myself for another week at school. That's a lot to do on one rainy day where nothing but reading, sipping warm liquids, and snoozing sounds appealing.

Until next time...

I've Fallen in Love

With the East Coast. After spending two straight weeks back there and a total of nearly three weeks this summer in East Coast cities, I am aware that something new is in my blood. I love the subways, the varied people, the ballparks, the museums, the restaurants, and most of all, the rich history back East. I've fallen in love.

Not that I have lost my love of the West. Not that I had never spent time in cities or back East before. Not that I always appreciate the hurried pace of life in the big cities. Not that I'll ever move back there.

Instead, I just felt like I matured as an American by steeping myself in historical sites and iconic East Coast culture. I have an even greater attachment to our great country now and a greater appreciation of how our country began. I hope.

I also know how to navigate subway systems and feel my way around a city like the best of them. (Yet, I still do have a tendency to somtimes over-think navigation or throw it out the window and wander). I know how to blend in a bit more....though my conspicuous camera and eager-beaver tourist face is nearly impossible to hide. I know how to be a good New Yorker and disregard signs when a more common sense approach is available. No need to wait for the crosswalk sign to change to the chipper white walking guy. No, as a fake New Yorker, I know how to burst onto the street as soon as a Taxi is not 30 feet near me and push my way across the street to the tune of honks and squeels. Take that, red stop-signal hand!!

So, here I am back in Colorado Springs. While my being is taking a sigh of relief in many ways, I am like a lover longing already to go back to her beloved. Okay, that's a bit ridiculuos, but it does tell you that I loved my East Coast trip, does it not?

I hope our long-distance relationship works out well.

Perspective

The coffee I made this morning isn't stellar. I think it's been sitting in my cupboard too long. Opened coffee isn't really even supposed to be stored in a cupboard, right? It should probably be in the fridge. Whatever the case, the cup of joe I'm sipping is mediocre at best. Yet, it still made me want to write a paragraph or two before readying for church.

I was thinking back on my NYC trip a few weeks ago and was reminded of one of the funniest happenings during our time there. Traveling with middle schoolers is both entertaining and stressful. Our tour group consisted of students from Wyoming, Texas, and Colorado. For some of these students, the atmosphere of NYC produced massive culture shock. So, the first evening of herding our large group through the streets of Manhattan was like throwing a bunny into the midst of a horse race and expecting it to keep up. We formed a massive tumor blocking the flowing arteries on the streets. Attempting to board the Subway was crazy too...it took a few times for some to realize that you have to push your way on or you may not make it before the doors shut.

So, there we were, fresh off the airplane, testing our legs on the Manhattan ground, trying to resist the temptation of constantly looking around at everything but the path in front. Yes, we were typical tourists taking pictures of everything mundane just because it was in New York. A nice older woman noticed our group and struck up a conversation with one of our Wyoming students as we waited at a light. She asked him where he was from. He answered, "Rawlins."

I bit my lip to keep from smiling too broad or even laughing. The blank look on the woman's face said it all. She faltered a bit. "Rawlins?" The light bulb then flickered on in the Wyoming boy's mind. "Rawlins, Wyoming."

In a matter of minutes, the needed clarification was there. But, it made me laugh inside. We had been in NYC for just a few hours. The boy's perspective hadn't shifted yet. I'm sure where he's from and where he usually travels, answering simply "Rawlins" is sufficient. He had not realized at first that we were in New York and he'd be lucky if people knew where Cheyenne (WY) was let alone Rawlins, a little town in the middle of nowhere.

It made me think of perspective and life experience and how those aspects so affect our ability to communicate and understand one another. It also made me appreciate anew how traveling adds incredible dimension to perspective. I'm just like that Wyoming boy sometimes with my perspective. But, just like he quickly adjusted, I hope I never lose that ability to adjust my perspective when it is necessary. That's a good skill to have.

Contrast

As I roamed the streets and halls of New York City's most renowned sites last week, my mind was constantly gulping, trying to swallow the massive amount of stimuli being shoved my way. I found myself grasping many truths anew from all that I saw and experienced. Lesson one: Contrast.

Two weeks ago, I was in my Wyoming home. While there, I spent many hours playing with my nieces, baking bread, and working on a mind-numbing bird puzzle. And, though my home town is not the smallest nor the quietest place, it is geographically located in a remote patch of the map. Thus, as I drove back to Colorado at the end of my stay, I was surrounded by massive stretches of lonely, albeit enticing, landscape. Antelope, sheep, and deer were far more abundant than people as I made my way down WY.

As soon as I arrived home that day, I scrambled to do laundry, reorganize and pack again for my departure to New York City early the next morning. In a whirlwind of light naps, coffee sips, newspapers, purse and bag lugging, safety instructions, seat-belt signs, and restless legs, I was whisked to the Big Apple.

It didn't take long to feel the contrast. One day I was in the boondocks. The next day I was in one of the most famous and frenzied cities in the world. You may ask me to choose which I like better. The answer would depend on when you asked. I don't much prefer ice cream first thing in the morning. Late afternoon or early evening, however, ice cream is quite appealing. So, NYC or remote WY? Just depends.

One thing is true, however. Humans are still human in NYC. Brilliant discovery, I know. The difference in style and interests between a Wyoming coal miner and a Broadway artist may be astounding, but they both need food, rest, and companionship. They both get their feelings hurt, feel vulnerable, or have moments of elation.

So it is that this huge and sudden contrast between these two locations made me wish to be an anthropologist.

I am intrigued.