Rosemary Kennedy and Uncle Bob

So today has been, on the whole, a “blah” day.  Not bad, not good, just was.  I went to class, and it was nice.  Then I went around and experienced a little more of Eureka. I found the post office and picked up more stamps for my writings.  Then I went to Uncle Bob’s Ice Cream and I ate the most delicious ice cream I have ever had.  It put cold stone or the marble slab or even Braum’s to shame; literally the creamiest ice cream I have ever had.

Trying to work up the motivation to do the homework for tomorrow, which is harder tonight than normal.  Somewhere in today I have lost my oomph, which I’ll get back tomorrow.  I just feel lethargic!  Some of it is that I know I have tomorrow morning to do the work, which I will most likely take advantage of.  Part of me knows that I will do the lion’s share tonight still.  Some of me just wants to go to bed and wake up at five. 

Some of what has got me down is Rosemary Kennedy.  That is a really depressing story.  I am not sure if it was just arrogance or a father trying to truly help his child, but at the end of the day it is a story that just sucks the soul out of me.  To think of a girl of 23, while not the smartest and probably mentally handicapped, was removed of higher conscious thought is just a horror story to me.  It is a fate worse than death. 

It is stories like these that make me question all of universe. 

My Mother's Bravery

Lots of photos today the first and second pictures are my card from President Hargrave of East Central University. The good Shelley Ross Hamby presented him with the blog “How Much to Give” and he mailed this card to me!  I was honored to be sure.  It is so powerful to me that this simple little blog is making it so much farther than I ever dreamed.  Thank you my faithful readers!  It really means to the world to me and I consider blogging to be one of the major parts of my day.

The third is a collage of photos from convocation (which included the ivy ceremony… this was described in the blog “How Much to Give” from a couple of days ago).  I got “pic-ed” (Isn’t that a ‘punny’ word?) twice!  I was thrilled because the ceremony meant so much to me that I am glad to represent in in pictorial form.

Today was a very relaxing day as most of my Tuesdays and Thursdays are.  I don’t have class until 11:00, and then it is what I consider the more interesting of my classes as today was Modern Philosophy, Greek, and Freshman Seminar.  So this morning I woke up late (well, 7:30, but it’s kind of late to me), I read for my Academic Writing and Research homework, wrote my daily three letters (which if you want me to write to you, just send me your address OR write me first!  I will reply!!), and I ate a bagel in my room as I thought about what I would blog today.  I ultimately ran out of time, so it was in vain anyhow. 

I’m glad I didn’t start because it was when I was sitting down in the swivel chairs of 205 Burgess Hall that it came to me.  I was pondering the things going around me, looking at all of the youthful faces and listening to the conversations.  I suddenly thought, “I have not a clue how a non-traditional student would do this!”

Then I remembered that my mother was a non-traditional student.  She started her college career long after it was considered normal- she was a wife and a mother, really in the height of her “prime” instead of just starting out, which is when we usually think of people going to college.  She worked and raised babies before going after a degree and a career.

I could barely understand what the students around me were saying, how could my mother have understood what these people were talking being in her early forties?  The way these young adults dressed was so foreign to me, what would it have been like to her who could easily have been some of these kid’s mother? 

In that moment I gained a lot of respect for my mom.  How difficult it must have been to be in an environment every day when you’re not only compared with people of the younger generation but you are actually expected to live in and among them.  My mother was brave to go to school as a non-traditional student.

Who would she have sat with?  With people that could have been my older brothers and sisters?  Would she have tried to seek out other older students that knew where she came from in life?  Where in the classroom would she have placed herself- up front to prove her intent to do this thing called college or in the back so she would not be seen and her significant difference not known?  Would the professors have taken her less seriously or more so because she had to want it to go at that age? 

Not only did I feel a connection with Mom that I haven’t felt in years, I also gained so much compassion for her and all non-traditional students.  When I think of all the campus groups, activities, clubs, and other organizations designed for student outreach, I wonder what’s there for those that came to school later in life.  Is there anything?  If not, why not? 

Students should be trying to reach out with these older and much wiser students.  They have years behind them- educational meat on their bones, if you will.  They know what life is like without a college degree, there’s a reason they came back!  As I gain compassion for these students that so often lurk in the shadows of education, I hope that God will show me a way that I can reach out to them and for them.

Today in class, just for a moment, if felt like Mom was sitting next to me.  It was a good class; she had a lot to say. 



Accents

This is what we had for lunch.  Not sure what it was called, or how healthy it is for you, but it was sure tasty!  It had Texas toast (reminded me of home!), turkey, ham, French fries, and cheese sauce.  I’m most concerned about cheese sauce- seriously, where does it come from? 

EDIT: According to my friend Lindsay Rittgers, who also went to Eureka, this is a "Horseshoe" and it is a common meal for northerners.  It is also served in cafes and the like.  Still looks like half a sandwich to me!

Today was pleasant.  My modern philosophy homework is due tomorrow, so that is most of what is consuming me right now.  I need to make a short Wal-Mart run tonight, which I intend on doing.  I have four short answer (really short essay) questions to do, so I split them up between everything else I have to do so that I don’t get too taxed.  It gets easy to get bogged down by a 17^th century philosopher!  Actually, I like reading what he has to say, not too bad of a thinker if I do say so myself, but his homework, designed by a 21^st century philosophy professor, is much harder.

Have you ever really thought about accents?  Over the last few days, I have.  It is rather humorous; I have spent as long as I can remember ensuring that I don’t get that “Okie” accent which is a mix of West, South and Texas, and now as I am ‘exotic’ in Illinois, I wish I had it so that I stood out by my heritage.  However, I do not have the Chicago accent that so many up here have, so that is something to be thankful for. 

I have made a dear friend from New Zealand here at the college and she has, what sounds like to my uneducated ear, a mix of Aussie and British.  However, I know that in the end it is just “New Zealandish”, but how did she get it?  She was actually originally born in the states and spent most of her life here in this area of the world.  How can she, who speaks the same language I do, who reads the same books, who uses the same dictionary that I do, sound so different?  It is naturally because of the people that we come into contact with (which this would be a good point to jump to- just goes to show, you are affected by who you run around with! But that is not really the purpose of this blog). 

Think of the enormity of our speech.  Someone at some time way back when must have sounded different on that island… and from there they changed the way everyone speaks.  Maybe it was one change, then another, or maybe it was a shift so gradual it could not have been perceived.  However, what is amazing is that it HAS changed and it wasn’t anything other than small differences made by people.

                                                                                                                                              

It wasn’t anything planned, it wasn’t forced to be that way.  People in their lives, unknowingly, changed a WHOLE culture without the intention just by speaking the way they did.

I think that is also how Jesus wants us to change the game.  Not by preaching, but be being solid in the way we do things and by doing it especially and differently.  Slowly, but boldly, we make a little change here and it carries.  We speak differently on this and people catch on, we go and go and go and in our difference, which catches on because it is better (PS- it has to be better to catch on, consider this) we can transform entire cultures.

Which ends with my friend from Colorado, that now lives with my New Zealand friend, going, “No worries!”   

The Great Illinois Church Hunt!

So when I knew that I was coming to Eureka, I knew that I would want to find a church.  Church has for the longest time been a refuge, a place of strength, and a pillar of hope in this tormented world.  The question was... where? 

So I decided that I would go to all the Disciples of Christ churches with in a reasonable driving area and then pick the one that I really liked the most and gave to me what I needed, but also had a place where I could fit in and be able to be a useful giver. 

Today's pick was Eureka Christian Church and it was actually in walking distance.  I visited that historic congregation that has deep ties to the college.  The founders were the same for both institutions, the church and the college, so there is a deep sisterhood between the two. 

The interesting factor about ECC was that a large number of professors fromt the college go there, roughly ten.  That fact is both very cool and could be a good reason to go, but it also could be a reason to stay away as I see them Monday to Friday anyhow.  Stretch the boundaries of community, ya know? 

So I will go to the next place on my Great Church Hunt list next Sunday.  Not sure if I want to go in order by miles away, which would be going to Carlock Christian Church seven miles away, or if I want to take a longer trip because next weekend is Labor Day weekend and I have the time.  If so, I would probably go to the farthest of the twenty three I am checking out, which would be the First Christian Church of Pontiac (they have one of the biggest bestest prisons in ALL of Illinois!). 

So that is the update on my churching adventures and by the end of this school year I hope to have a church home for next school year! 



By the way, my dearest grandmother wanted me to start putting pictures in my blog, so you have the bulletin from ECC.  I'll try to add more pictures when I can.

Now I am off to the Illinois Valley Cluster Meeting with a reinactment of what a revival at Cane Ridge would have been like!

Explorations

Oh what a beautiful Saturday here in the Great Green North!  I had a relaxing morning with many adventures and events that could only occur here.  I saw many things for the first time, like an electric lawn mower, a single cab Ford F-250, and a “rummage sale” instead of a yard sale (trust me, wasn’t classy enough to be a rummage sale… much too junky). 

I woke up early this morning to no one being awake.  I’m an abnormal college kid, so when you wake up at 7:30 in the morning you are quite alone.  I grabbed my essay, “Dehumanized: When Math and Science Rule the School” by Mark Slouka (excellent read on the marginalization of the humanities- I recommend everyone read it) and finished it for Freshman Seminar on Tuesday.  I was just starting on Descartes’ Discourse on Human Method for my Modern Philosophy class when I realized that I was: a) bored, b) hungry, c) ready to explore, so I dressed, grabbed my book and headed off to see the big city. 

Note the sarcasm of “big city” as I walked through the streets of Eureka.  I left the campus with a pep in my step and a bit of pride in my stride.  I went down one avenue where I walked past the home of two professors here at the college, one who is my advisor, one who is my honor’s advisor (they’re married). My honor’s advisor was mowing the grass and she stopped her (electric) lawn mower to ask how my first Saturday was and I replied with a “just fabulous.”  I then asked her how to wander over to Main Street and she pointed to my left and said, “It’s one block that way.”

Not wanting to be awkward, I kept on my trail as she was busy and I was on a quest to see things previously unseen.  I went on and eventually turned and I found the business section of Eureka.  Unlike in Oklahoma, here the downtown is still the center and the buildings are all occupied so everything looks good, used, happy and whole.  I found what I was looking for, which was Mika’s Coffee House.  I had heard about Mika’s from both my senior ministry fellow friend and from the provost of the college.  (I had never heard of “provost” before coming to Eureka, but to my understanding it is the coordinator/leader of all aspects of student life: academics, athletics, and housing/programming.) 

As I was walking I happened to spy my appearance in the windows of the shops.  I looked like I just rolled out of bed, which indeed is what I had done, but I didn’t want anybody else to know that (except you, my loyal readers).  No wonder Dr. Barr looked at me funny!  At first I feared people thinking I was trying to “work last night out of me” but I realized if I had had a last night like the some of the people still in bed, I would still be in bed.  In short, I looked like a teenaged version of either a tweaker or a college student lackadaisical about his appearance.  I think I hope people thought the later. 

It was a quaint little place.  They used dining room furniture for the tables where they could; couches and knick knacks lined the walls.  It was a coffee shop indeed!  I had a blueberry bagel and a cup of Mocha something or other.  It came out to $5, but considering that is all the money I have spent this week, other than the Wal-Mart shopping I did to make my dorm room more functional, I was happy to spend a bit.  I sat and ate and observed the people coming and going. 

One man spied the Descartes book I had brought along in case I felt the urge to read (I didn’t).  He asked if I was a philosophy major with a knowing grin on his face.  I hate being branded, but he caught me so I simply replied, “How did you know?”

“Well, most people don’t read Descartes for fun on a Saturday morning.”

“Drat,” I thought, “caught again.”  We talked on and off about the book, he knew much about it, but I had no clue as I had not read but the first section, so it was an educational experience.  He goes to another school as a commuter; he also lives on the second floor in the adjacent building and affectionately calls Mika’s his ‘living room’. 

After spending some time in the café (about an hour- Mika’s has Wi-Fi that worked on my iPhone, which Eureka seldom does) and only seeing families, a middle aged women’s bible study, junior high girls, and some Reagan Fest 5K runners, I determined it was time to set out again to explore my new home.  I walked south (I think it was south… for the purpose of today it was south) and went by Eureka Christian Church, which is where I will church tomorrow.  I turned west and saw the rummage sale.  It was mostly flasks, shot glasses, piggy banks, and wall ornaments.  The vendor and presumed occupant of the house was a wonderful man though and he had a precious dog that was a half chow/lab mix.  Sweet dog, but definitely made for cooler weather and I disappointed her by not having a dog biscuit like the last shopper. 

From there I went on the local grocery store, which is an IGA.  It is similar to Apple Market or maybe Save-a-Lot in Ada, except a bit more condensed.  It definitely had every food staple I could think of; however, if it wasn’t food, it would not be in IGA.   I trekked for a few more blocks and spied I good ledge where I could plop down and call Kathy to compare my northern living notes to hers. 

It was interesting to me how compact the towns are.  They were designed to be walked, and indeed I could walk everywhere.  School, church, store, shopping- I could do it all by foot and more.  Unlike the cities on “the other side” of the Mississippi, Eureka had been urbanized long before the automobile and had much less room to grow when the car came.  If I was to guess, it was made small by choice, simply for easier mobility and community.  The lots are smaller than at home, I would say two of our lots make three of theirs (except in places like OKC or in the hearts of rural communities- think like the lots by East Central).  When the horseless carriage came, they had set up a way of life and were forced to accommodate.  Okies, on the other hand, built most of our cities with driving in my mind and as the primary source of transportation (think of how hard it is to get to Valley View, the store, school, etc., without a car in Ada).  

After talking with Kathy for a time (during the conversation my philosophy professor drove by and waved) I started walking east again to head home at the college.  After passing the two storied, bay windowed, wood sided homes I came back onto campus glistening as the sun had made its influence known.

Now I am here with a bit more knowledge of my new community but still haunted by section two of Discourse on Human Method but happy.  I’ll do some laundry, grab my book, maybe see parts of the football scrimmage, and enjoy the rest of my Saturday here in Eureka, Illinois.

If Saturdays are all like this (and I know they won’t be- but I can hope) I will enjoy Eureka much more.  If they’re not, I’ll live, as I have enough homework to keep a rented mule occupied. 

By the by- two things!  First is I have SO many blog topics!  Don’t worry, I won’t run out soon (in the course of a day, I normally write one and think of two more).  However, it is hard to write more than one as just writing the one usually takes a good thirty minutes.

Second is if you ever want to get me a gift I always need stamps.  I like to write letters (eventually you all will get a letter if I have anything to say about it) but the postal service is rather expensive.  So if you want to send something my way, stamps are always a good option. 

Thanks!  Con mucho amor,

Colton

Cognitive Dissonance, the Credibility of Christianity, and Adam and Eve

http://www.abpnews.com/content/view/6666/53/

I would request that you read this before you read the rest of this blog.

Now normally I don’t flip out over what other religious teachers say… unless they really trigger an emotional response, such as this one.  The number one way to trigger the switch is to alienate others, particularly those who are not of the faith or those who are and not really sure what to do OR you cause a credibility problem.  This does both.

It’s not that I have a beef with him believing the earth was made in six literal days.  Yeah, I think he’s wrong, but I know I’m wrong about a few things myself.  It’s the fact that he wants to hinge everything on this story.

The purpose of Jesus was to stop what Adam started?  That sounds wrong to me.  I thought the purpose of Jesus was to show the Way (not just the way to heaven, although that is included, but the way to be the servant leader, the way to be peaceful, the way to join in higher and better community, the way to…), not to rectify the idea that Adam sinned so we all had to sin after him because that’s the way it is.

I get so sad when we try to reduce all of Christianity down to a math equation.  We are so guilty of being the Pharisees and setting rules that we expect all others to meet and by setting hoops to jump through so that they can be “one of us”.  By boiling it all down to we are horrible people (thanks to a person who may or may not have literally existed) and we needed the son of God to die to get to heaven… it just doesn’t work out for me.  If that was all Jesus existed for, why was he not killed as a baby by Herod? 

I’m sure that Mr. Mohler would not say directly that that was Jesus’ only purpose, but it is things like this that create a credibility problem.  As twenty first century Christians, it is our duty to marry faith and reason and prove that both can live in the same house.  We cannot keep fighting for stupid things.  Placing our whole credibility on whether Adam and Eve were literal or figurative is silly to me.  When the Catholic Church told Galileo he was wrong, they won the battle, but they lost big time and now, to this very day, are forced to eat a lot of crow for their work at halting scientific and artistic advancement during the Renaissance. 

In the end it is all about a psychological event called ‘cognitive dissonance’.  In cognitive dissonance, which is when two ideas conflict, the human mind has to reconcile them or it will go insane.  Like this example, “My parents told me green people are mean.  But Billy (who happens to be green) is nice.”  In this example, we would reconcile this by saying, “not all green people are mean” or even more maturely, “the color of people doesn’t determine if they are nice or mean.”  What Mr. Mohler has done is this.  “The bible says God made the world and the first humans were named Adam and Eve.  But modern science says that life was evolved over millions of years and that the traditional idea of Adam and Eve cannot possibly compute.”  Instead of trying to reconcile this, he throws the second statement under the bus.  This is called ignoring the problem.  The only problem is that our peers aren’t ignoring the problem; they are seeing that we have no credible answer and therefore are not credible ourselves.

I leave you with this idea, taken from one of my favorite teachers, Kay Gamble.  This was originally printed in Doonesbury and hangs in her office (cartoon style of course).  [as the cartoon is 700 miles away, I cannot quote it directly for you, but I can give you the ‘gist’]

“What!?  This calculator didn’t give me the answer I wanted!  It must be broken let me try another.  What?! This calculator must be broken too!  Those calculator manufacturers sure are wrong!”

Circles

Disclamer: For those of you who haven’t noticed, I LOVE using parentheses and parenthetical thoughts because that is how my brain works.  When I blog, I am normally writing down what I want to write and the parentheses ( ) are what my stream of consciousness is saying in the meantime.  There is a LOT of parentheses today.  Have fun!

And the first week of college (even though it was only a half week, it counts!) is done.  Over the past week (isn’t amazing that tomorrow makes a full week?!) I have made many new friends, have arranged something resembling a living space, dealt with an obnoxious drunk (who happens to be in the lounge outside my room right now, thankfully sober but still obnoxious), sent roughly 15 letters to various individuals, completed my Office Verification, purchased most of my books (that was tough emotionally), received entrance counseling for the student loan I took out (literally felt like I was signing away my soul), and made something I can call a life in the great green/white north.

As I was coming back from lunch after eating with my friends Belle, Ella, and Lauren (can you tell in which gender my friends lie?) I started up the staircase to my floor where I live.  As I went up I had the thought, “I have friends!” and I was happy until sadness popped up.  I looked at Sadness and said to her, “What up Sadness, what are you doing here?”

This old emotional friend told me that she had come because while it was a good thing to make friends, I now needed to mourn over the loss of others I left at home.  I’m not sad now, so don’t freak out (that means you Beckie!), but I thought for a moment about the problems with dual community. 

When I was in high school (that sounds so weird to say) I had what I called “circles” which I explained to Kathy Standridge one time.  She didn’t get it, but I hope you all can do better.  I had circles I ran with, such as my Ada Circle, Camp Circle, and Swimming Circle, and more often than not, these circles never touched.  I was a different person in each of these groups, and that is how I liked to keep it.  When I was at Ada High, people saw me as more of a brainiac and the typical straight A nerd.  In camp I was the spiritual, popular, leader, crazy kid that you loved or well, I think everyone loved me.  At swimming I was an older brother, hard worker, put up with no nonsense kind of person.  I was the same person at each place, ultimately, but I let one side of me show over another.  It was not acting, as some of you may think, but it really was just one of my many… hats. 

There was never a problem until Dalton Walker, one of my good swimming buddies came to camp.  Then my circles started “touching” and my home people became camp people and my camp people knew about my home people.  It reminds me of when I met Mila Loya.  My favorite teacher in junior high was Nadine Cooper, who taught advanced reading and other fun things (I.L.O. for those Adans who know what I’m talking about) and she would tell us stories about her family for teaching.  Well, Mila is her daughter, and I already knew more about her than she ever imagined through her mother.  As Mrs. Cooper said, “you were never supposed to actually MEET these people!”

So why do I digress on this subject about circles and teachers and friends?  Because it is Kathy laughing at me and telling me how silly I was for having circles.  I was reminded of that and even though I have two very definite circles going on- Eureka and Home, I can’t live between the circles.  I have to live in them.  For a normal person, I suppose the advice would be to live in one, but I cannot do that.  I hate being normal, despise it. So for the time being, at least, I’m going to live in as much of both circles, not between them, as I possibly can. 

Whether I can or not is to be determined, but that means I have to be a part of this circle fully, but still connected to what I left behind irrevocably and positively.  I am certain I will try to do my best, and wish me luck as I go on.  Most of all help me to be a part of the community I just left from a distance.  I want to, help me be able to.

Thank you and I love you all.

By the way, if you comment on my blogs I appreciate it immensely, but I do not know how to comment back!  Some of you mention frustration about commenting, if you cannot comment on the blog itself, comment of my Facebook status- I read both! 

I don’t understand why I cannot comment as I WRITE the blog, but it says I don’t have the access.  Hmph!

How Much To Give?

Today was my first day in the second half of my classes and I must say they were exciting.  These classes were more in line with my actual interests as I was in Modern Philosophy (seems like the hardest class I have this semester), Ancient Greek (potentially the easiest class as it takes a lot of effort and memorization and not too much else), and Freshman Seminar (which is just a mixed bag of tricks).  So today was long, but it was enjoyable.

However, I want to discuss something important that happened on Tuesday that really was cool to me.  Each year Eureka College does the Ivy Ceremony and it technically has two parts.  You do the first part at the beginning of your freshman year and the last part at the end of your senior year and it is a symbolic ceremony that goes like this.  The Eureka College class of 1900 went to the grave of Alexander Campbell at Bethany College and snipped some of the ivy (with permission) from his grave and attached it to the walls of our oldest building, Burris Dickenson Hall.  Each freshman class takes a sprig of this ivy and places it in a common bowl and then when they become seniors and the time for graduation takes place, they then cut out a section of ivy to take with them as they go.  In effect, this is to recognize the intentional coming together to grow and then the time when it comes to leave and to be planted elsewhere. Being the sentimental person that I delightfully am, I enjoyed all of this going on.

[It is interesting to note that I have looked all over Burris Dickinson Hall and have found no ivy.  I don’t know if they relocated the ivy or if they killed it off at one time or if it is all a myth.  What a wonderful mystery, eh?]

As I was sitting in my chair, waiting for the time to deposit my ivy, a thought occurred to me.  I could take a leaf from this vine, just a small one.  There was a dozen ivy leaves and I spied a new leaf that would not easily be missed. I could quickly pick it and stick it in my pocket then take it back to my dorm room to press into a book as a constant reminder of this day when I commit myself in symbolism to the college and all of those around me. 

However, I soon realized that as much as I wanted to, I could not really do that.  If I was to give myself symbolically to the college and the other students around me, I had to give my whole self.  I couldn’t give my ivy minus a leaf because then I would be keeping a little bit back, a little bit that wouldn’t join in community and would be left to rot away untouched and unchanged by the forces that come to work in this time of life.  Faced with this analogy, I knew that I had to keep this memory in my heart and to give the whole sprig with nothing held back. 

Here is to a college experience where nothing is held back and everything is placed on the butcher’s block to be worked over, cut up, and re-presented as a useable and tasty morsel. 

The Gift of Undeserved Opportunity

Today was exciting and new.  It was the first day of new beginnings after my summer of transformation as today I, in so many ways, became a college student with my first college class.  Not that we did much of anything except listen to what the class would be like, but it felt collegiate with the wood floors and the desks on risers so all students could adequately see the lecture.  The professors had initials in front of their name that made them seem at an upper echelon than any other teacher I have had thus far, except the Dr. Harris. 

Not that this is true, as I have had very high quality instructors.  Some of the best teachers of what they do have taught me and I could rattle off a list right now, except it is irrelevant to what I am about to write about.  What made an impression so strongly on me this morning as I was walking to the commons for a bagel, banana, and a glass of chocolate milk was that soon (four years- your determination if this is soon or not) I would be a highly educated person.  In America, I would be what I think of as “moderately educated” with a college degree.  However, moderately educated is really just a scratch on the surface, until you realize that so many walking around do not have a degree of any sort.  Just having the high school diploma already sets me apart in one sense on my educational journey with roughly 13% of the US population never having obtained a high school degree.  If I was to snag my college degree, I would then join 39% of our population.  Then going forward, if I was to get that Masters of Divinity that sounds so appealing to me, I would join 8% of the United States.  [This brings up an interesting question, however.  If teachers are required to get a master’s degree, which puts them in the top 8% of our educated class, why are they not paid in the top 8% bracket?].  My new teachers, many of whom have doctorates or the equivalent degree, make up only 3% of our population.¹

Then I started thinking about the world.  In this world, with almost seven billion inhabitants (which, by the way, is way too many) how high am I already?  How far will I go compared to others who will never have the opportunity to go higher than what they learned at home.  Not only did I become more confident for my day as a college student, but I also paused to remember how greatly I have been blessed to be in a country with such a large value on education.  

All I can be is thankful: thankful for what was given to me, unfairly, at birth, thankful for the opportunity to go to this college, and thankful for the gift of chocolate milk which I greedily devoured.   

¹Numbers from "Educational Attainment in the United States: 2009". U.S. Census Bureau. 22 September 2010. http://www.census.gov/hhes/socdemo/education/data/cps/2009/tables.html.

The Eureka! Moment

Sorry for the lack of blogging as of late.  I’m sure some of you have now concluded that I have moved on and will stop this web log so appropriately entitled “Minor Musings”.  However, I apologetically inform you that you have not heard the last of me and that I will indeed write more on my comings, goings, and experiences while in college. 

It has dawned on me that this is the first blog that I have written where my description of the whole blog is not a lie.  I am now genuinely a transplant and I am a college student at the great Eureka College.  Move in day was exciting and sad and memorable and… you can fill in the blank.

My family caravanned across the country to get all the way to the great green north known as Illinois.  We left Friday in the morning and arrived in Bloomington in the night.  The following morning was The Day, and my father wanted to go across the street from our hotel to pick up a soda pop before we made the last leg of my journey to college.  As we crossed the busy road we came upon a bridge and as we were going on, we were over a creek. 

The creek bed was shallow but very wide.  The grass surrounding it was lush, green, and full.  Roughly three fifths of the bed was dry and made of small river stones and pebbles, the remaining forty percent was water moving so slow the eye could barely perceive movement.  In the water was a fattened raccoon.  For those who may not know, coons are extremely important to my family.  Whether I like the animal or not is rather irrelevant as I will always appreciate the influence raccoons, and more specifically Coon Hunting, has had on my family.  My father is an avid coon hunter and quite good at it, but as it was important to him it became part of my life and I enjoy seeing coons frolic as it represents that link to the past.

In my mind, I knew that this was the moment.  When I would look back on my move in day, that specific time I gained gobs of freedom and started breaking the childhood ties, I would think of this moment.  When I looked out on a bit of untouched nature in such a large city and saw a creature simply being…it was a powerful sight and the deeper part of me understood this.  However, the normal side of me only understood that the deep side was telling it to pay attention.  There were no further details to pick up. 

So now I have come to realize what I was told then.  It was a special time, carved out of a hectic period that I was able to share with Dad on that bridge.  We got to see the raccoon scurry away, farther down the creek and slowly disappear as he moved away into the water and vegetation.  Maybe there is a stronger symbolism here, and I may just see it, but until I see more of the picture, all I can concretely comprehend is that it was a golden moment. 

    

Blessing or a Curse?

Somehow it came up over the last few days about “curses” and “blessings” from God.  I enjoy the discussions that weave in how God works and how the Creator chooses to operate in magnificence and grace.  One of the ways most people think that He (or for some She) works is in blessing people and their descendants and/or by cursing individuals and their children.  I cannot quote the scripture (someone please help me out?) but I do recall that curses last a long time but blessings run their course for even longer.

To me the idea of this is best explained not by what God gives, but by what we give ourselves.  Not only are these words a… notice from God about what He will do, it is also a warning to The Children about what they can do.  Now, that is not the same as saying that God does not act, but it is saying that blessings and curses not only come from God, but most of all come from within us.  When a father beats a mother… there is a child watching and taking observations.  When there is a grandmother who takes in orphaned and injured animals… there is a little girl from across the street taking in the experience alongside her.  When we’re at work, someone watches if we tip extra or if we steal the sugar packets.

We teach and we pass on our souls.  We give and receive our inmost feelings and actions and those around us see the blessings we give to others… and they see the curses as well.  We can destroy the world by our example, or we can aid for generations to come. 

Remember, “out of 100 people, one will read the bible, ninety-nine will read the Christian” (from Minister Tim Kowalski).

Air Conditioning, Television, and Front Porches

The other night I was discussing with Story Tellers (church study group) about how life had changed since the "Old Days".  Old Days here means the times where most people generally lived like we do now, but without all of the modern conveniences.  One of my dear friends, Lloyd, described how he started up an insurance agency in Ada for State Farm.

Just like how we think of “old school” evangelism, old school marketing is the same.  You would go door to door, just talk to people and make your case, and then leave the appropriate information and do follow up calls as needed.  This works fine in theory, but the problem is that you have to meet the people in order to talk to them… So how do you meet people again…?

Back in the “Old Days” people sat on their porches of a night.  The difference was likely for two reasons.  First was that television was not as prevalent as it is now.  Second is that there was not a quality of air conditioning (if any at all) then like there is now.  Those two forces combined drove people outside for entertainment and a breeze. 

It’s not nearly as intimidating to go up in a lawn or to a front porch, it was a place generally welcomed by all.  You could come calling about all things, and for those that lived near one another, it could create… (the big word!) community.  Inside houses, on the other hand, are a different animal.  I was always taught it was rude to call on a house uninvited, and indeed, it normally is.   

So what does this mean for us besides visiting homes is a harder task?  Among many things, the most important is that community is not made by who you live by.  It is made based on where you are in life rather than physical address.  Work… play… church… civic organizations…

Thanks to the social revolution, it is not hard to keep friends afar, but it seems it is harder to keep friends close.  You have to have friends near and dear and most of accessible.  Sadly, it was reported that Americans have only two close friends on average.  TWO!  Only two people that you can trust your life with.  Only two people that secrets and hopes, fears and frustrations, dreams and events can be shared with on a more intimate level. 

It is time we worked at building communities based on where we live once more.  Jesus drove home the point that whoever needed us was our neighbor.  What we have failed to notice is the people who may need us most live in the house next door.

That Warm Feeling

This blog will most likely be strange, wonderful, and short, which is kinda like a good sermon.  Most good sermons have strong beginnings, powerful endings and the two are very close together.

However, have you ever noticed that when you feel cold, your whole body can warm up when one part of the body is warmed?  Yesterday I was extremely chilled in my bedroom (my family keeps the house in the 60's year round and my bedroom is the chilliest) so I went to the kitchen and I put my hands under warm water.  Instantly my legs, which had goose bumps just seconds before, started to radiate heat.  Small?  Yes.  Real? Not a clue.  Effective? Absolutely.

So as I thought about how the simple water warmed by body, I wondered where this experience could equally apply. 

Have fun :)

Homesickness etc

I never thought I'd be homesick.  Okay, yeah, I realized that one day I would be homesick and that I'd want to come home more than I would anything else, including, but not limited to eating, sleeping, and breathing. 

Little did I ever know that I would be homesick before I left home.  In some ways, as I am still home, I guess it would more appropriately be labeled just sick, but it doesn't feel right.  Most correctly, I presume, would be to call what I've been feeling today "seperation anxiety". 

I was fine with leaving for a while now, but slowly the fears and worries and most of all sadness creep in.  Leaving behind all of this life in one way, yet carrying it with me 702 miles in another... it is hard to comprehend until I actually do it.  However, I am getting a taste of it now. 

It started in slow ways.  The realization that I may have saw someone for the "last time in a long time".  The idea that I may never eat in a certain restaurant again.  The fear that I won't ever be on the same relationship level that I am now with anybody I know.

And the simple truth is no.  It is comforting to know that relationships, people, and the state of eating establishments are always in flux anyhow.  Now it just seems more aggravated, like when I went away for camp and the newspaper changed its name.  Imagine everyone changing their name when I go to college and that's the feeling I get.

The simple truth is now I get resistance.  Never before in my life have I met a challenge quite like this and for that I am grateful.  I am also appreciative of modern technology and the fact that even though I will be 702 miles away, door step to door step, I can still see the face of my loved ones and can still text my friends or Facebook just about anybody in the world.

But still- resistance.  I will know nobody there like I know anybody here.  It is a mystery in itself, but because of it I can drink deep and grow strong. 

I leave this (unintentionally depressing) blog with this story (second hand from a classmate so the wording is by NO means a quotation) from one of the most interesting people, Mr. Faulkner.-

In the self contained enviroments the scientists would grow trees and they would get tall and massive and then one day they would just fall down.  Collapse, TIMBER! down because they were too heavy.  Trees are heavy things, but trees in nature have resistence they must overcome to keep standing tall and they grow stronger and more solid every day.  When you take away the problems an every day tree faces, it simply is no longer a strong tree.

Food, or trees, for thought.

Bully or Vigilante?

Today I am talking about the problem with stirring up garbage... by discussing people who discuss things.  Is this hypocritical?  Maybe.  Will it help to stop a problem I see?  Hopefully.

There is a particularly nasty Twitter account going around right now.  For those of you who don't know, Twitter can be very anonymous.  As the idea behind Facebook is each person has their own profile where friends can then find them, Twitter is slightly different.  It is, more correctly, a microblogging site than a networking site like Facebook. 

In essence, you could be anonymous as you wanted to, just as I could be as anonymous as I wanted to be on here.  The two are very similar, except they differ in their approach to the generations.  Twitter is definitely a Gen Y thing as you can barely squeeze two sentences out in a post.  Blogging is close to essay length.  Being the old man at heart that I am, blogging is enjoyable to me. (Journaling, which is a "cousin" to blogging is not nearly as enjoyable because I crave people to read, think, review... I am a very public person who generally likes the audience).  Twitter is also very enjoyable because it is one thought... one moment... one phrase.

Going on the Twitter "feed" is a person who knows many people from my high school around my age and they tend to call out "convenient" Christians from behind the mask of Satan.  It has escalated to the a comical point in that there is counter accounts like Jesus trying to discredit the whistle-blowing Satan.

Talking to friends, most people see to be apathetic and occaisionally supportive of this person who "calls out" those who feel they live righteous lives, but who have done their own fair share of sinning, or so the allegations seem to imply.  My peers also seem to not mind because this account really holds nothing back on anyone, so it is, in a way, fair.  In addition, it is things that generally everybody knows, just a whole lot funnier from the anonymous face in the public square.

I won't linger on the question of cowardice or bravery... right or wrong... just a joke or way more... or even bully or vigilante... 

I will linger on the fact that it just rips me up.  To me it is excessive cruelty to the people accused, simply because it is not right when you are being shot at, but it is far worse when you are getting shot at in the dark.  It is a lonely place, compounded by the fact that it is even lonlier because the accusations are about alienation from God.  The internet is a public square held in a community-less space. While everyone reads and interacts, only the person sitting at the desk or on the couch deal with the pain, joys, triumphs and hardships of everyday life.  Very rarely do we see a support system appear to brace one another, to be real to one another, and to share in what we traditionally called life.  There it is just cyberspace.  Then to have the ways we have fragmented our relationship with the Father be the very hardship makes it even more difficult to find comfort in his grace. 

Hopefully, though, some will find even more comfort in his grace and forgiveness, and we must hope and pray for that. 

It also is horrid to me because when you have a secret that you want to die, or a public truth (which is just as hard to live with as a secret in many circumstances) that you want to see dissolve away from memory suddenly pop back up to many of your peers and friends, it suddenly comes back.  Not only does it reappear, but it comes back with a vengeance and it haunts you.  What was thought of as forgiven and forgotten is now back in our face with overwhelming conviction.  Again, how lonely we can make one another feel.

In a world as fragmented as ours, the last thing we need is to further fissure our small communites that we work so hard to build.  I hope that those reading this will think about how we do the same behind our masks of anonymity. 

The comments we say under the premise of, "Well, they'll never know".  Or the embarrassments we create under the banner of, "Well, it was funny!".  Or the stories we retell because, "In the end, it was better for Suzy to know what's going on with Tommy".

We all cross the line.  Not saying we shouldn't have confidants with which we can trust everything and more.  Rather, it is time that confidants stayed confidential.  More than anything, though, it is time we worked at healing our micro-communities instead of cracking them like glass.

Car Conversations- At night!

The buzz of talking friends surround my ears as we approach Lubbock to see Alyssa and Dirk get hitched.  Words are flying as each of us explain our views, defend our opinions, and question the perspective of others. 

I have always loved car trips because something in me clicks. Inhibition leaves... Jaws unclench... And words flow.  I can let my opinions (dare I say true colors?) show. My hopes and fears, angers and joys can be expressed and somehow as the road flies underneath the vehicle, the fear I had goes with it. 

To this day the best conversations I've had with my father where in the car. The only time I ever deeply spoke of religion with my grandmother was equally in the car. 

Just as communion is the essential community builder (among more things than I can list here) riding in a car is the essential conversation starter. At least to me. 

Estimated time of arrival is 2:20 AM. Best of luck being bright eyed and bushy tailed!!

Weddings! Celebration of Love?

I am excited today and a bit sad.  The reason these two emotions are so close together (and they have been a lot lately as I prepare for the "transplant") is that I get to take a road trip with some of my very best friends as we sojourn to Lubbock, TX to partake in a wedding.

This trip is unusual for a multitude of reasons.  First is these are my camp friends, and as such we rarely get to do things outside of camp all together, much less travel out of STATE together.  Seven of us are going!  That is a huge chunk of the people I look forward to seeing every year.  Or rather, used to, as my camper days are now done.  That is where the sadness comes in.  This is the last time this group of people will get to experience something like this.  Every summer for so long, we would come together in an intentional Christian community to grow and change and live life together.  We formed a tight group, but as I, along with Savanah and Taylor, are the oldest of the group and we are Seniors, the group is slowly fragmenting away with age. 

Coming from a by-and-large youth-less church, I have not had to deal with people graduating and moving on.  The closest I ever got to that experience would be when an elderly couple relocates to be closer to children or grandchildren.  Even at camp, which is supposed to be a rotating crop of kids, the immediate years above me had few campers.  To be exact, there has been only four senior campers in the last three years. 

Second reason for abnormality is not only that this wedding is a long drive away, but this wedding is between not one but TWO camp counselors.  They are mentors and most of all wonderful friends that have helped each of us going tonight greatly in our Chrisitan walk.  These two are on fire and they are drinking deep from the spiritual fountain right now.  Praise God!

However, camp woes was not the intent of this particular blog, but rather the thing about weddings.  I spent a time with the Reverend Skaggs of Tulsa and as he officiated an non-orthodox wedding he put it into perspective.  It's a big day!  But the people being joined want it to also be a perfect day.  As clergy, it is our responsibility to make this day meaningful and memorable as both of them are now going forth to live life in a new way as both of them have given up signficant freedom to the other. 

Which is great, and I agree whole-heartedly, but in the "spirit" of the wedding, how often I think couples lose that focus.  It becomes, not about the union, but about the guests... and the dress... and the cakes... and the venue... and the...

Basically, everything except what it should be.  Bridezillas drive me nuts, but in the end, they're not all that common, I suppose (?).  It is simply that I worry about weddings like one of my 'trainers' Reverend Davison worried about my graduation.  He simply said to make sure that you draw it in and remember because it is a whirlwind that will suck up all of your attention (some of his words, some of mine taken from translation and now experience).  It is so true though.  You blink and the whole ceremony is over.  Why did we waste all this time, resources, and money? 

Simply to make good memories and to celebrate our remembrances I suppose.  That is why in all that I worry about weddings. 

I'm confident about my friends Dirk and Alyssa though.  They be smart.  

Recycling: God, the Planet, and the Lazy Human

As I was taking out my trash today, I became infuriated once more at my family for something that I feel we should have worked out a LONG time ago.  What would that be, you might ask?  For those of you who are wise enough to read the title so boldly put at the top of this blog know that it is over recycling. 

I'd like to think of myself as a "green" advocate (it is my favorite color, if nothing else). After all I made the bulk of my car shopping decision a few months ago in miles per gallon (which, I won. 35 MPG on a cheap GM product!).  However, the actual manner in which I live is horrid, black as opposed to green.  Or technically red, as I believe red and green are opposites on the color wheel.

I blame a great deal of my red-ness (which does NOT imply red-NECK-ed-ness, although non-recycling tends to be one of their hallmarks) on my father and partially my mother.  It was my father who said that recycling was a hastle and would stink up the house.  Trash men ran by the house, recycle men did not. 

So what do I do when I get mad?  I suppose some would say I put God in a box, grab my Bible, and find a scripture to back me up.  Or I try to explain, peacefully, and not just for the sake of arguement, my position which may or may not include biblical texts.  This one does though.

From Genesis 1:28 (The Message) "God blessed them: 'Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Earth! Take Charge! Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the ari, for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth."

Whether we believe in a literal creation story or not, the point of the author of Genesis (traditionally Moses) is clear- Take care of this world.  We are to be in charge of, or to a more refined point, stewards of all of God's creation.  By the gift of life, we find that we have to accept God's first commandment to man- love his creation and treat it like a gift that God has made especially and uniquely for you.  And indeed- he has!

So as I took out the trash my family collected over a period of time (my guess is roughly three weeks... long enough to produce a truck bed full of full bags) I realized that I have to act.  We can wait for someone else, but in the end we almost always come to realize the fact that WE are it.

Soon I will live on my own, soon I will make my own rules.  So, soon I will be a recycler in all that I can be. 

Amen

Where to Start?

Well, I am at the church today (where I will work for the next week and a half before I am officially "transplanted") and got a tad bit bored, but also... enthused(?) with the idea of sharing my thoughts, but most of all hearing replies to those thoughts. 

So I started blogging.  Because that is what EVERYONE in this world needs more of, right?  Maybe... maybe not.  I hope that someone out there needs a bit of this kid (guy... whatevs) talking in there ear. 

Start small, work big... and then.  No one says much of what happens then, I think.  But it is supposed that then you become successful, whatever that is. 

More to come, but the first one is always awkward, and it is always rough.  Oh well.