This Run’s for Jack

Okay, Tracy, this update’s for you. 

So I have been blog-absent the past couple months, and for good reason.  You know you are crazy busy when you feel guilty sleeping/working out/taking showers/putting on makeup because by doing so you’re neglecting homework.  However just today I turned in the last of my three 3000 word papers to complete (along with 1000+ pages reading and 10 hours of Hebrew translation … yeah, came up a little short on those) my TWO HOUR A-quad class.  Yes, two hours.  Two hours of just as much work if not more than any four hour class I’ve taken in my program thus far.  But that is not what this blog’s about, so we’ll desist with the axe grinding.

Actually, as much as I felt overwhelmed with the workload in that class, I’d have to say it’s one of the best I’ve ever taken.  Probably the closest to my hermeneutics class in undergrad, it’s given me a lot to think about.  And write about.  So hopefully that will come soon.

But on to this blog.  This blog’s for Jack.  So for the past year I’ve worked part time as a test prep tutor, helping high school students improve their ACT and SAT scores.  This summer I was assigned to a wonderful family that I immediately clicked with over a mutual love for running.  It turned out that Sharon had lost her husband to Melanoma four years ago and had since started a running charity to raise money for Melanoma research and awareness.  Teams raise support and then run in marathons and half marathons all over the country, and in the fall, the charity sponsors a local 5K race called “This Run’s for Jack.”  One afternoon tutoring session, Sharon came up with a handful of old race shirts and a stack of brochures, encouraging me to run this year’s race and anyone else I could convince as well.

Over the summer I had trained for the Chicago Half Marathon in September.  Training went well, although it took up a lot of time.  However, race day was kinda sucky.  It was hot (for Chicago in September) and humid, and the course was really boring.  I’m not a fan of there-and-backs, and running one alone sans music is really not fun.  I didn’t meet my goal, although I did beat my first half marathon time from a few years back.  Anyway, I was glad to see the day come and go and was thankful for the added time in my schedule … remember the whole guilt trip for working out?    But the thought of a 5K was appealing; workout-wise, it’s good for me to have goals I’m working toward.

So I ran a couple miles here and there, just figuring the 5K would be a fun race.  I convinced my cousin to run with me, knowing that she’d push me come race day.  However, the week before I got a message on Facebook announcing the results of a 5K some friends of mine in Oklahoma did.  They did a great job, a couple of them placing in their age divisions.  And here’s where my competitive spirit raised its pretty head.    One of these people who happened to place, I happened to have dated, and suddenly I happened to want to beat him.  I told my cousin as much, so that was our goal for race day.

So fast forward to race morning.  My plan was to get up early and take a pre-race shower.  When I told my roommate this, she looked at me like I was completely ridiculous.  What is the point of showering right before you’re gonna get sweaty and gross, you might ask.  I’ll tell you the point, friends.  It’s hot water.  It’s a miracle waker-upper.  And it doesn’t hurt to look clean and put together at any gathering with potentially available physically fit males, either.    So the whole shower thing was the plan, but at 7:11 that morning I woke up to a text message from Jayme asking where I was.  The late night scary movie with the roommate the night before proved to be my undoing as evidently I had slept through my alarm.  Frantically I raced around, throwing on clothes and grabbing a piece of cinnamon raisin bread and some gatorade as I head out the door, however forgetting my super-fantastic GPS watch.

Anyway, we fortunately made it to the race site with time to spare, and Jayme was able to pick up her packet with no hassle.  And then we raced.

Glen Ellyn in the fall is incredibly beautiful.  The course meandered through neighborhoods with elegant old houses and trees with leaves of every fall color imaginable kissing in the middle of the street.  Without my watch to tell us how far we’d gone and how much time had passed, we were left guessing until we saw the clock at mile one.  I was a little worried because I thought we’d started too fast and didn’t think I’d be able to keep up that pace.  We ran up some difficult hills and made up some time on a fabulous long downhill just before rounding a lovely little lake.  We circled back to the park where the race began and strided in that last .1 of a mile.  And let me just tell you how thankful I am for my speedy little cousin, because we finished over two minutes under our goal.

And as if that wasn’t enough, it turns out that we placed!  Jayme got 3rd in the women’s 20-24 division, and I got 2nd in the women’s 25-29.  So it was a pretty good day for us; now if we can just convince our family to run in the Amarillo Turkey Trot with us on Thanksgiving Day …

Pre-Race

Post-Race

Time for a New One of These …

Geez Louise, it’s been a month since I last posted.  Let’s see, I don’t know when I’ve researched more, written more, stressed more, cried more, and slept less than in the past month.  To use my roommate’s term, this semester has been the perfect storm of classes, work, and procrastination resulting in the culminating hurricane that was the past two weeks.

But it’s over.  Clem and Clem are off my chest.  (Okay, I couldn’t find the YouTube clip, so this will have to do … scroll to the quotes.)  I can actually go grocery shopping, work out, and paint my toenails!  I have a super fabulous week ahead of me before my summer school class begins the following week, and I am feeling pret-ty good.

I hope to write a lot more this summer because #1: I enjoy it, and #2: it’s a good skill to develop … even on a blog.  Hmm … maybe I’ll even do a series or something.  There are thoughts simmering, friends, but considering I just took my last final yesterday I’m not quite ready to dive into the whole thinking coherently thing.

Anyway, all that to say that after my finals/papers induced hibernation period, it’s good to be back.

The Trickle Down Effect

This week I went to the library.  I really love libraries (case in point here); I take after my dad that way.  Anyway, I particularly love the Wheaton Public Library.  It’s ranked #8 in the nation (serving populations between 50,000-100,000), FYI.  I often study there rather than the Wheaton College library due to it’s comfortable chairs and scenic view overlooking a downtown park.  I also am a big fan of their DVD selection.  They have almost every TV show imaginable on DVD.  My So Called Life?  Check.  Faerie Tale Theatre?  Check.  (Remember The Frog Prince with Robin Williams and Teri Garr? Classic!)  Anyway, I was unpleasantly surprised this past week when I learned that because of budget cuts, the library will no longer be checking out movies for free but rather renting them for $1 each.

Well, if there was any doubt in my mind concerning the floundering economy after that, today certainly cleared it up.  I went to work this afternoon (my primary and favorite of my three jobs) only to learn that my boss had been laid off from her job the day before.  Being that my job is basically to play “mom” in her absence, and seeing that there is no longer a need for her to be absent, I too am left without a job come this summer.  I take that back; I technically still have two other jobs.  However, neither is dependable when it comes to getting hours, and one only pays minimum wage.  I was so thankful for the nanny gig; I really liked the family, they paid well, and the hours were convenient.  Babysitting jobs are pretty lucrative here in the ‘burbs, but I doubt that I will find another family needing my services with kids ages 10 & 13 … no changing diapers for me!

So looking toward the summer, I am once again in job hunt mode.  My heart goes out to those in similar or worse circumstances.  I can’t imagine working full time and the rug suddenly being pulled out from under you.  It’s one thing to lose your job; it’s another to have to find one in a climate such as this.

That being said, I am officially taking suggestions for summer work.  And don’t say swimming lessons instructor … I’ve already done that, and it was NOT for me. 

2008: Another Illustrated Year in Review

Last year I started a new tradition.  Rather than sending out a Christmas card letter, I wrote a Christmas card letter blog … 2007: An Illustrated Year in Review.  It was a great way to reflect on the past year (good times and bad) and share my experiences with others, not to mention giving myself something to look back on and remember 2007.  So as 2008 has come and gone, I am attempting to answer Jonathan Larson’s melodic question, “How do you measure, measure a year?”

IN JOBS

2008 was my last year in residence life after three years as an RA and four as a Hall Director.  After deciding (finally) to go back to school in the fall, I closed down West Hall for the last time in May.  I have so many great memories from my years at UCO, and it was certainly hard to leave.  I especially miss all my RAs (my favorite part of the job was leading the staff) and fellow HDs.  Soon after moving to Wheaton, I began working at Bath & Bodyworks and then in the fall picked up a job watching a couple boys after school three days a week.  About midway through the semester I also started tutoring a girl for the ACT.  I didn’t necessarily plan to work that much, and it was definitely a hard balancing act with the demands of graduate school.  I hope to cut back or at least balance a little better this spring.

IN MILES

Hmm, I guess this applies in more ways than one!  If I hadn’t completely uprooted and driven over a thousand miles across the country to begin school this fall, I would certainly count running a marathon as the year’s highlight.  Back last fall my good friend Jamie volunteered to train and one my first marathon with me in April.  We logged many a mile over our five months of training, becoming quite1450 familiar with almost every street in Edmond and on a few long runs, Oklahoma City as well.  We had a good race and met my initial goal of breaking five hours with a time of 4:43:34.  I was a little disappointed that I didn’t beat Oprah, but there’s always next time … the Chicago marathon is calling my name!

IN GOODBYES

After graduating from OBU in 2004, I immediately moved to Edmond to start my job at UCO.  For four fun years I lived there, and deciding to move away brought a lot of sad goodbyes.  I had the best friends!  A few weeks before I left, my friend Melissa arranged a “slumber party card night” for a few of us that usually got together on Sunday nights.  When I got to her house, it turned out that it was actually a surprise Chicago themed going away party!  Sydnie (one of my very best friends who moved away at the beginning of the year) drove in from Tulsa, and a couple other friends were in from out of town as well.  We played cards (of course) and ate Old Chicago pizza while listening to Chicago (the band) and then watched Chicago (the movie).  The highlight of the night was when the doorbell rang and Candace and Melissa were nowhere to be found.  Everyone looked at me as if it was my responsibility to answer the door.  When I opened it, Candace and Melissa were standing beside a brand new bike with a bow on it!  My sweet friends had all gone in together to replace my bike that was stolen earlier in the summer.  Yeah, did I mention I have the best friends?  The young adult pastor at my church also threw a going away swim party, and I was incredibly blessed by the prayers and encouragement from my brothers and sisters I had so grown to love over the past few years (not to mention being blessed by the amazing bible software I got as a going away gift).  Several of these same friends also showed up to carry boxes and furniture down a pretty narrow stairwell come moving day.  I tried to cram in as much quality time as possible my last night there: dinner with Stacey, prayer time with Conversation Cafe friends, a Wal-Mart run with Rodney, one last game of cards with Melissa, Candace, AnaLeah, and Michelle, and then a goodbye to Todd, Jeanna and Caed (in utero).  I think I cried at each goodbye.

IN FAMILY

I love my family so much, so I’m pretty excited for any occasion that brings us together.  I can count on Thanksgiving and Christmas, but this year my cousin Ericka graduated from high school thus bringing us all together again.  I couldn’t wait to see my uncle Jay and give him the Tim Duncan jersey I got for $3 at a garage sale with Sydnie!  He wore it the next Spurs playoff game which unfortunately they lost.  This year also marked another momentous family occasion … Jayme & I getting to live in the same town!  Man, I love that girl; she’s the closest thing I have to a sister and I get to see her all the time now as we’re both at Wheaton.    My sweet, sweet parents and brother helped me get up there, and on the way we stopped in at my great aunt and uncle’s home in Iowa.  Of course we had to watch Field of Dreams.  The last time I’d visited there was about twenty years ago, so it was so interesting to see my grandfather’s home with grown up eyes.

IN CLASSES

The biggest change in my life over the past year was definitely my return to the classroom.  After tossing around the thought for several years, I finally decided on Wheaton and began their Biblical Exegesis program this fall.  This past semester I took Intermediate Greek, New Testament Theology, and Principles of Interpretation (the level of difficulty increasing respectively).  Principles was certainly baptism by fire.  I made it through my twelve page exegesis paper somewhat unscathed, however, and funfetti cupcakes have become my new celebratory indulgence.

IN VISITS

One of the best things about living in such close proximity to Chicago is people’s willingness to come and visit!  A couple weeks after I moved to Wheaton, a couple HHBC friends stopped in for a couple days on their way back to Oklahoma from Michigan.  I had such a blast with Rachel and Jenny and got my first chance to play tour guide … walking tour guide that is.  I bet we walked fifteen miles in one day.  In October my sweet friend and marathon partner Jamie came for a visit.  I gave her a jogging tour of Wheaton in addition to the soon to be trademarked “Sarah’s Walking Tour o’ Chicago.”  We entered our name into a drawing to win vouchers for discounted front row tickets to Wicked, and we won!  My aunt Kaye came up a few weeks later to bring my cousin her car, so the three of us put in the Chicago miles as well.  My last visit of the semester was from three of the card girls.  I was so happy to have AnaLeah, Michelle and Kelsey with me on their fall break.  They came to my NT Theo class Thursday night and then we spent the rest of the weekend in the city.  I won Wicked vouchers AGAIN, so Michelle got to sit front row on her birthday after having a hilarious birthday lunch at Ed Debevic’s.  We shopped the Mag Mile and did other touristy stuff having an incredible time.  Anyone else wanna come visit?  I’ve got the tour guide thing down.

IN FRIENDSHIPS

One of the hardest things about moving was leaving behind some incredible friendships.  From the card girls, to church friends, to the House Church/Coversation Cafe crowd, to coworkers, to Stacey (who defies any category), I was incredibly blessed in Oklahoma, and I knew those friendships couldn’t be replaced wherever I went.  Thankfully, there are great people in Illinois too!  I found a church I really loved relatively quickly after moving, and Susan and Marshall have been incredibly generous to host a 20-somethings small group in their home each week.  I became quick friends with Sharon, Jill and Kristi.  I also made a good friend my first week here after attending a random discussion group.  Kristine has since become my faithful concert buddy.  I’ve been nothing but impressed with my classmates and was thankful to have my co-exegesis friends Angie and Ashley each in one of my classes.  Emily’s a great roommate, and I couldn’t be more excited to have Jayme living just over a mile away.  She makes the family and the friendship category. 

IN CONCERTS

Yes, no end of year summation would be complete without a concert tribute.  I’ve already written about most of these, so we’ll just go with this year’s list:

• Derek Webb – University Baptist Church, Shawnee, OK
• Caedmon’s Call – The Door, Dallas
• Jenny Lewis – Epiphany, Chicago
• Rachel Unthank & The Winterset – Schuba’s, Chicago
• Don Chaffer – The Union, Naperville, IL
• Ray LaMontagne – Chicago Theatre, Chicago
• Andrew Peterson – Hickory Creek Community Church, Frankfort, IL
• Conor Oberst – The Vic, Chicago
• Over the Rhine – The Union, Naperville, IL
• Shawn McDonald – Willow Creek, South Barrington, IL
• Over the Rhine – Double Door, Chicago

Now that I have access to a plethora of great shows, I have reason to add a new list to this category … Shows I Wish I’d Been Able to See:

• Sam Phillips: No excuse!  I should have gone.  Looking back, I would have even taken a loss on a second ticket just to be there.
• Andrew Peterson’s Behold the Lamb of God tour: Who cares that it was nearly two hours away on a school night?  I’ve been wanting to see this Christmas show for years, and it was finally going to be within a feasible driving distance.  A plague upon the paper that kept me at home!
• Derek Webb:  Only one thing could keep me from a solo acoustic Derek Webb show, and that would be the afore-cursed paper.  Yeah, I couldn’t really justify going the day before it was due.  I had hoped; it just didn’t happen.
• Bon Iver: A friend introduced me to this beautiful band earlier in the semester, and I was so excited to see he was playing The Vic in December.  Then I noticed the date was the same as one of my finals.  Seriously, Wheaton, you are completely interfering with my true purpose in living here!

IN MISCELLANEOUS

These are my honorable mentions, I suppose.  I certainly don’t want to forget:

• Volleyball nights at HHBC & Parkview
• My “Tribute to the Twenties” Finer Things Club invitation … No paper.  No plastic.  No talking about work.
• Henderson’s 20 Something Date Auction & subsequent date … Jamie and I raised over $400 auctioning ourselves off for missions, and we got to see Derek Webb. 
• Thursday night LOST parties with Todd & Jeanna
• My last West Hall Academy Awards Gala
• My last Strangers in the Night … my girls got me a date this year!
• Three weddings in two weeks … Kelsey, Anna and then Dave & Teresa
• Last weekend in OK road trip to Dallas … Jamie and I visited Kelly and got to see Shane Claiborne on the Jesus for President book tour.

Well, that about sums it up.  Until next year, friends …

Penny Questions

There’s a game I like to play.  It’s actually more of an opportunity for me to flaunt my sometimes obscure musical knowledge.  It works like this: whenever I’m with someone and a song is playing in the background and I think there’s a good chance he or she doesn’t know it, I say, “I’ll give you a penny if you can tell me who sings this.”  The penny is brilliant, really.  The game is fun because of the wager (as insignificant as it is), but should my friend actually know the song, I’m only out a penny.  Sometimes I’m surprised, but for the most part, I haven’t given out many pennies.

I recently started working for a family as nanny/errand runner, and this afternoon I was having a snack with one of the boys. There happens to be an iPod dock conveniently located in their kitchen, of which I frequently make use.  Today I had my iPod on shuffle, and we’d already heard from Tom Petty, Ben Harper, even Toto, when a “penny question” song came on.  Considering that the song playing was way before his time, I told Bill I would give him a penny if he could “name that band.”  He smiled his smirky little ten year old smile and told me matter of factly, “The Beatles.  And I know the song, too.  With A Little Help From My Friends.  And I know the album.  Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”  To which I replied, “Wow, Bill.  I owe you a penny.”  More like three.

Now there’s a kid that’s being raised right!

Small Town Girl Meets the Big City

I’m not really a small town girl. I grew up in what I would consider a moderate sized city and for the past four years, I lived in the OKC metro area. I’m used to driving in traffic and am not particularly intimidated by big cities. All this to say, however, that today my new “big city” sure made me feel like a small town girl.

It’s not like it’s the first time I visited. Perhaps that’s the problem … today I wasn’t a visitor. I was there on business. I wasn’t my usual touristy self, aimlessly walking downtown taking in the sites. Today I had a purpose, a job interview in fact. A job interview that required I leave my safe suburban bubble and venture out into new Chicago territory. I was almost as excited for that as the actual job prospect itself.

I’ve only driven into the city a couple times; I usually try to opt for public transportation considering the better cost and convenience. But I was informed that I could find free (or at least metered) parking near the site of my interview. So rather than running the risk that I might miss my train, misread the train schedule, or get lost on the El, I opted for driving in.

This being an interview and all, I wanted to make sure I was on time. Although MapQuest told me that I could make it in 47 minutes, I gave myself a good two hour cushion not knowing what traffic/construction would be like. About fifteen minutes into my commute, I remembered that I forgot to print off my transcript (which I was supposed to bring to the interview), so for the next twenty minutes or so I juggled coffee, egg soufflé, and cell phone as I maneuvered various interstates. I called three different offices at OBU trying to get a pin number that would allow me to access my transcript online so I could at least print it off when I got there. I even tried to get my roommate to go back to our apartment and rustle through my important papers to find the pin that I had written down somewhere. Nothing really worked out, although I did get to have a nice little chat with one of my former professors.

So I already felt a little frazzled going into an interview not completely prepared. However, MapQuest steered me right, and I easily found the place. Next was parking.

See, I have a relatively new realized fear. We’ll call it “One Way Phobia.” When driving in areas with a proliferation of one way streets, I am constantly worried that I will inadvertently go the wrong way. This causes me to drive particularly slow, sometimes starting and then breaking again quickly because I’m unsure if I’ve judged the street correctly. Couple this delightful driving tendency with my Texas license plates, and I’m sure the true Chicagoans love me.

Well, once I firmly established that I was not in fact turning the wrong way down the street with free parking, I was excited to see a nice open spot. Oops, a fire hydrant. I figured there was enough room up in front however, and it wasn’t until after I had finished parking and got out of my car that I realized I was still over the line. Back in the car, and further up the street I went. I was barely able to avoid the sprinkler that accounted for the other open space on the street, but I did and enjoyed my short walk to the office building. I felt like I was on the Cosby show … all the cute houses side by side with their little 4×6 foot yards. I half expected to run into Cliff helping Rudy ride her bike down the street.

Time to find my interview spot. I was armed with an address and suite number, walking down the right street, and with a good thirty minutes to spare. I passed a young business man outside on a smoke break, and I wondered to myself if he could tell I didn’t belong there. Well, I soon got my answer once I realized I had passed the office I was aiming for as the numbers began to get smaller and not larger. I sheepishly turned around, not fifteen feet after passing him, smiled what I’ll call my small town girl smile, and passed him again, this time paying much closer attention to the numbers.

I eventually found the right one, but was surprised to find that the building was locked. Surely this couldn’t be right … was there another entrance I didn’t notice? I tried the door again, thinking perhaps it was just a little harder to open, but no, it really was locked. This was perhaps my biggest small town moment of the day until I realized that this was one of those buildings where you have to be buzzed up. Now, not only did I feel like I was on the Cosby show, but I just knew if I scanned the resident/office list to the side of the door I would find “Seinfeld, J.” somewhere near the top. Granted, both Cliff and Jerry lived in New York (and were not real … just in case you thought I was really crazy), but those big city lessons I learned via their shows still applied. I was just getting ready to “buzz” Suite 202 when Smoke Break Guy walks up (it happened to be his building too) and says, “Here, I’ll help.” I guess he had witnessed my two failed attempts at opening the door. I was grateful, a little embarrassed, and a little disappointed. I was on my way to figuring it out … five seconds later and I would have been buzzed in, completely on my own. I thanked Smoke Break Guy and walked in, having successfully reached my destination.

The interview went well; barring failed background and reference checks, I should have a second (and better paying) job this fall. My lack of transcript was no big deal, and about an hour later (including my getting there super early), I was out the door. I took a little time to walk around the neighborhood. I visited a thrift store and almost bought a t-shirt with the Hebrew word for righteousness on the front. I didn’t have any cash, however, and wasn’t going to spend nine extra dollars to be able to use my debit card. Walking back to my car, a guy offered to wash my feet, which really completed the whole big city experience for me, I would say.

I drove around a little before heading back to the ‘burbs. I navigated my way to Wrigley Field which was nearby. I’m not a huge baseball fan, but even I have heard of and seen pictures of Wrigley Field. My first thought upon seeing it was, “Wow, where is all the parking?” I guess I just remembered walking through the massive parking lots outside the Arlington Ballpark the few times I went as a child. Poor baseball fan that I am, however, I would love to catch a game there sometime.

Anyway, I made it back a little older and wiser, I suppose. Perhaps a bit more humble. I hope this is just the first of Small Town Sarah’s adventures in the big city!

Entertainer Third, Boss Second, Friend First

While I am completely excited about the upcoming year and all the plans and preparation involved, I must admit that today I am a little sad about the close of this year. I’m already missing the girls’ voices filling West Hall. I’ve had to say some sad goodbyes to residents and RAs that I might not ever see again. And all the doors are naked! It’s kind of depressing walking down the bare hallways without the amazing decorations the RAs worked so hard on. I told Kali that I was keeping my door tag up.

Before the RAs moved in this year, I made them all “Office” themed door tags. Each girl had a different Office character “welcoming” them to West Hall, complete with a hilarious quote. Probably my favorite was Ashley’s. Dwight welcomed her to West saying, “When my mother was pregnant with me, they did an ultrasound and found she was having twins, and when they did another ultrasound a few weeks later, they discovered that I had resorbed the other fetus. Do I regret this? No. I believe his tissue has made me stronger. I now have the strength of a grown man and a little baby.”

Well, since I was the boss, I decided to make my own door tag and let Michael welcome me. I actually made two, since my office has two doors … one of my very favorite things about my job. Anyway, on the outside of my office, where residents pass by, I had “Would I rather be feared or loved? Um, easy. Both. I want people to be afraid of how much they love me.” And on my inside door that opens up to the RA desk, I had “I guess the atmosphere that I’ve created here is that I’m a friend first and a boss second. Probably an entertainer third.”

Last night was my last “staff development” consisting of a surprise dinner at Ted’s and dessert at an unspecified location. In between the two, my RAs took it upon themselves to surprise me. After being told to wait in my office until someone came to get me, I was brought into the lobby where all my girls were standing in a line with their hands behind their backs. They sat me down in a chair and one by one pulled a letter of my name out from behind them, each reciting a line from a poem they wrote for me together as a staff.

Now, as I said before, I am really excited about next year. So excited that it’s been difficult for me to feel sad about leaving. Oh my word, though, I lost it with this poem. It’s probably very “inside joke-ish,” so I’ll just say that I almost killed several of these girls in a freak ditch accident last year …

Staff share time is the West Hall way
Avoiding ditches is not her forte
Rolls of pictures she loves to take
And her pretzel dessert is the best she makes
Hairstyles mark the seasons’ change

Kanye to Derek Webb is her musical range
Abilene is where her roots lie
Yes, without Bahama Mamas she might die
Event of the year is Strangers in the Night

Ran the full marathon with all her might
Entertainer third, Boss second, Friend first
Ending of Beaches made tears burst!
Dear Sarah, “Hanks” for the memories!

They also gave me gift certificates to Randy’s and Bahama Ice along with Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids and Junior Mints … these girls know me so well! More than any of that, though, I will treasure my framed copy of the poem. They seriously all got together and had a poetry jam session!

On a few occasions I’ve been asked my favorite thing about being a hall director, and I have always answered the same thing … having an RA staff. These girls are absolutely incredible. They are all so beautiful and talented and work so hard to make West Hall a great place to live. They make me look good! More than any other part of my job, I will miss Anna, Melody, Adrienne, Jen, Lindsay, Elizabeth, Ashley, Kali, Cherish, Quita, Amanda, and Stephanie.

Free Rice

Every week in staff meeting I begin with “Staff Share Time” (cheesy, I know) in which I ask a question that each of my girls has to answer … questions like your number one pet peeve, the first thing you ever wanted to be when you grew up, your closest celebrity encounter, etc.  Last week I had the girls share their favorite website (other than Facebook), and the answers varied from imdb.com to theknot.com (got an engaged one) to the UCO website.  I used this particular staff meeting to promote my new favorite website – freerice.com.  I am incredibly impressed when people come up with creative ways to give.  Soliciting for donations only goes so far, but if you can come up with a product (forthcoming blog on buyshoessavelives.com) or idea that people latch on to that somehow generates profit that in turn goes toward a good cause, that to me is remarkable.  Free rice works as a vocabulary quiz site that donates 20 grains of rice through the United Nations World Food Program for every word guessed correctly.  So, if you have a five minute break at work (or need one from studying), you can spend/waste that time in a productive way by contributing to the needs of the hungry while building your vocabulary.  And, I must say, I’m excited to see that my pop culture exposure has enhanced my vocabulary.  I knew cerulean from a Gilmore Girls episode and watershed from an Indigo Girls song.  Oh, and capacious!  While not a pop culture reference, I did know this word because of an SAT vocab book I think my dad got me awhile back.  It uses silly phrases and pictures to aid in memory, and for capacious there was a picture of a boy wearing a baseball cap probably ten times the size of his head with the phrase underneath “This cap is too spacious.”  It sure came in handy when I was able to guess that capacious meant roomy.  Seriously, check it out … I wanna know everyone’s best vocab level!

The Innocent Man at UCO

Earlier in the year my attendance was required at an on campus conference for everyone under the umbrella of Administration and Finance, of which Housing had recently become a part.  One of the main objectives of the conference (other than “inspiring” us via “ispirational” speakers) was to have us intermingle with the various departments on campus, as was evidenced by our assigned seating at tables with complete strangers.  During one particularly cheesy inspirational speech, we were told to go around our table and share an experience that had greatly impacted our lives.  My cynicism soon turned to pure fascination as one of the ladies at my table volunteered her story.  It turned out that back in the 80s her brother had been wrongfully convicted of murdering his wife.  Greg Wilhoit was sentenced to death, and lived on death row five years before his appeal was heard and conviction overturned.  The death penalty had always fascinated me, and I was shocked to meet someone so deeply affected by it.  My curiousity prompted a long discussion between the two of us later that day, and Nancy even gave me a DVD with the 20 20 and American Justice news stories about her brother.  John Grisham’s non-fiction book, “The Innocent Man, Murder and Injustice in a Small Town,” chronicles the conviction and near execution of Ron Williamson, another Oklahoma man wrongly convicted.  Ron’s cell happened to be just accross from Greg’s, whose story also finds a place in Grisham’s book. 

The death penalty concerns me for many reasons, the possible execution of innocent people being one of them.  Add to that the astronomical cost of death penalty litigation and the fact that minority convicts are more likely to get the death penalty than whites, and my concern grows.  And then there’s the question of whether or not it even deters crime.  Even if the state has legitimate authority to put a person to death, should it?  I know I’m a little Derek Webb obsessed, but there’s another quote that fits.  “How can I kill the ones I’m supposed to love?  My enemies are men like me.  I will protest the sword if it’s not weilded well.  My enemies are men like me.  Peace by way of war is like purity by way of fornication.  It’s like telling someone murder is wrong and then showing them by way of execution.”

Last week I was thrilled to notice a blurb in Centralities (the daily UCO faculty/staff campus news email) about Greg Wilhoit speaking at UCO tomorrow night.  Sadly, I’m already in Texas for Thanksgiving, but I thought I’d pass along the info for anyone else interested.  Seriously, someone needs to go and tell me all about it!  From Centralities:

‘The Innocent Man’ Greg Wilhoit Visits Campus, Nov. 20

The College of Liberal Arts Speaker’s Series welcomes “The Innocent Man” Greg Wilhoit for a lecture on his five-year death row experience and life after exoneration at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday, Nov. 20, in Pegasus Theater, Liberal Arts. Wilhoit was the first person in Oklahoma to be exonerated from death row.

Wilhoit’s story was told in last year’s novel “The Innocent Man” by John Grisham. For more information, visit http://www.libarts.ucok.edu/speakers.htm .

Please Please Please (Don’t) Let Me Get What I Want

A friend of mine recently found the time to blog amidst the craziness of a camp she directs, so I felt a little inspired.  RAs are here.  We’re right in the middle of training.  Students move in Saturday.  Most days I’m working from 8:00 AM until midnight or later, but today I am taking time to write.

The other day I was reminded of The Smiths song, “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.”  (Before anyone gets to thinking that I’m more hipster than I am, I have to admit that I only know of The Smiths through a quick reference on Gilmore Girls and by the aforementioned song on the “Pretty in Pink” soundtrack.)  I was reading through Psalm 106 which basically recounts the history of the Israelites, and verses 14 and 15 caught my attention.  “But they had a wanton craving in the wilderness, and put God to the test in the desert; he gave them what they asked, but sent a wasting disease among them.”  After God delivered the Israelites out of Egypt, he led them in the desert for 40 years, sustaining them with a miraculous food, manna, that no one had ever known before.  Exodus 16:31 describes its taste as like wafers made with honey.  God fed the Israelites in this way, but for some of them, it wasn’t enough.  They cried out and complained for meat.  They longed for Egypt where they had plenty of meat and variety, reasoning that the slavery God delivered them from was better than the blandness, monotony, and harshness of desert life.  The Lord granted their request saying, “You shall not eat just one day, or two days, or five days, or ten days, or twenty days, but a whole month until it comes out at your nostrils and becomes loathesome to you because you have rejected the LORD who is among you and have wept before him, saying, ‘Why did we come out of Egypt?’”  (Numbers 11:19-20)  Numbers goes on to say in verse 33, “While the meat was yet between their teeth, before it was consumed, the anger of the LORD was kindled against the people, and the LORD struck down the people with a very great plague.”

In reading these passages, I couldn’t help but be thankful that the Lord doesn’t grant my every wish, whim, or desire.  Over the past few months, I have experienced more disappointment than at any other time in my life.  Back in March I was accepted into grad school, which was certainly not a disappointment.  However, a big part of my being able to begin in the fall was getting the grad assistantship for which I had applied that in essence would make things affordable.  Things looked really good.  I moved from phone interview, to on-campus interview, always feeling like it was the right thing for me, that this was what God had placed on my heart.  The timing seemed perfect.  I had such a renewed longing to learn, and this opportunity to continue working with students in residence life, except minus many of the administrative headaches I currently face, seemed perfect as well.  As I returned home from the interview, I was excited and filled with anticipation of what the next year would bring.

About a month later (much longer than was initially conveyed to me) I got the rejection call.  It’s hard to explain what I felt, exactly.  I was disappointed, but I somehow knew it was right.  As much as I was ready to move on, way in the back of my mind, that place I rarely visit or allow to visit me, I knew there were things to take care of here and now.  It certainly wasn’t my preference or desire, but it was what it was, and I dealt with it.

Add to the complicated mix my first real relationship since high school.  Honestly, some of the hurt over the GA rejection was lessened by the fact that I had a boyfriend.  A close friend of mine, upon hearing about the rejection, reasoned that perhaps God was keeping me here for that very reason, so that I could have more time to get to know and grow closer to my boyfriend.  I believe that God has a million reasons for moving as He does, so I try not to assign neat and tidy interpretations to my life’s circumstances.  However, her words had crossed my mind long before she ever verbalized them.  I remember thinking not long before the GA rejection, that the worst thing that could happen to me would be not getting the grad assistantship and thus not starting grad school in the fall and for me and my boyfriend to break up.  One without the other would be fine, but to not have either would be devastating.  Now I realize that there are much worse things that can happen to a person, but in my mind and heart, these two things were my greatest earthly desires. 

Three weeks exactly after the rejection phone call, I was once again rejected, this time by the boyfriend.  Suddenly, I felt a much bigger loss concerning grad school.  It was as though I hadn’t allowed myself to grieve that disappointment, and it was now so much more incredibly real.  And it wasn’t just school; I was heartbroken over the loss of a relationship unlike any other I had known.  In my entire life, I have known two people I would consider as having marriage potential.  One of them married someone else, and the other broke up with me.  Strangely enough, however, just like the GA rejection, something in me way down deep knew that this too was right. 

I’m not sure that that knowledge made things any easier at first.  This was disappointment on a level that I had not known.  However, one of the first thoughts that came to my mind was Psalm 34:18 which says, “The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”  And while the purpose of this blog is not to recount the breakup aftermath, I will say that the Lord was close.  Perhaps closer than He’s ever been.  And that alone made the painful experiences worth it.

So here I am, months later, with a little more perspective, and all I can say is praise God that He didn’t give me what I wanted.  I wouldn’t change a single thing about the way things have transpired.  I am fully confident that His ways, His plans, His purposes are best.  Best, not just good.  Going to grad school would have been a good thing.  Dating a fellow seeking believer was a good thing.  But neither were the best thing.  I could use this space to list the several reasons I think God allowed things to happen as they did, but they don’t really matter.  All that matters is that God is good, and His rule and reign is good, and if He allows me to participate in that kingdom, that also is exceedingly good. 

So my prayer is that God would purify my desires so that they become His desires.  But until then, please, please, please don’t let me get what I want.

“Too soon and we take it all for granted; too late is more than we can bear.”

For almost three weeks now I have been waiting on some significant information, information that will determine where I will be and what I’ll be doing for the next year or two.  I liken this waiting to when I applied for my current job three years ago and was told I should find out by the end of the week (interviewed on a Tuesday) if I got the job.  When five o’clock that Friday rolled around with no news, I was a little disheartened.  It seemed to me that taking longer than expected couldn’t be a good thing.  But come Monday morning I got a call telling me I got the job, and I honestly think my joy was somewhat enhanced by the wait.

Someone recently asked me to share the most significant spiritual lesson I had learned over the past year.  My mind immediately went to the Lord’s faithfulness.  As I look back on the course of my life, I am amazed at all the circumstances that God used to bring me to where I am now, how He prepared me for each new step, and how faithful He was to provide for me along the way.  The Lord is so faithful to provide for all of my needs, and oftentimes, in true Good Father fashion, many of my wants.  I have learned to trust His wisdom, even if it means disappointment.  So that’s where I am now, waiting and trusting.

When I was a junior in college, I really felt led to apply to be Head RA my senior year.  It was odd; I had never really considered the position, and my desire had always been to stay an RA in WMU until I graduated.  I loved that place so much, and I couldn’t imagine being happier anywhere else on campus.  But as the time drew near to apply, I really felt like it was the right thing for me to do.  I prayed about it like crazy, along with my family and small group, and I put my very best effort into my written application and interview.  There wasn’t one thing I thought I could have done differently; I was all in.  And then we got our letters, and I didn’t get it.

I was disappointed.  I cried.  I was confused.  Although I trusted that it was somehow right, I couldn’t understand why God would place it on my heart to apply only to have it not work out.  It was His desire in the first place, not mine.  So what was I supposed to do now?

I think there are some experiences that people go through, bad experiences, horrible even, and they never get to know why.  Thankfully, the Lord has since shown me in several different ways why that position was not best for me.  Most significantly, the Head RA position lasted through the summer after graduation, and the job I got began June 1st.  Also, as a Hall Director each year for the past three years I have had to make a decision between two amazing Senior RA candidates, and my experience of going through that process has brought a much needed understanding and empathy.  I could list lots of other little things, but really my point is that God saw where I would be years down the line and acted totally in my best interest.  Faithful and trustworthy indeed.

Sometimes I wish that God wanted me to be a nurse, or an accountant, or a high school English teacher.  Anything that I could just go to school for, graduate, and then do.  But when I look at what brings me the most joy, what challenges me, what I could see myself doing for years to come, it is none of these things.  More than anything else, I want to study and learn Scripture, its language, its context, its application.  I want to help others learn.  At this point I’m thinking college professor, but I’m open.  It has been my experience that God doesn’t reveal His will to me in huge chunks, but rather in small steps of obedience.  So here I am, three years out of college, with an awakened and incredibly intense desire to be back in school.  But just like Head RA, I didn’t choose this desire.  Believe me, if I had chosen, it would be a lot easier than this.

So I’m sitting here, thinking that I need to remind God that He’s led me up to this point, that this was His idea, not mine, that this is for His glory, so why wouldn’t He follow through on it?  But my perspective is limited.  And the Lord is wise.  It comes down to what I believe about Him.  Even if I am disappointed, and even if I never get to know why, I will say as Job did, “The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.”

Praise the Lord for significant lyrics, because other than Scripture, nothing speaks more to my heart and circumstances.  One song has been my anthem over the past year, as it continually applies to situation after situation.  As I seem to be in a season of waiting, I am comforted by the truth of these words.

There’s a restlessness in the soul of man

Nobody’s tamed it yet

You never fail to keep any promises

But somehow we forget

 

That You’re always right on time

 

And You feed us all with a silver spoon

And like Your foolish kids

We start worrying about what we’re gonna do

When the hunger comes again

 

But You’re always right on time

With an open hand

You have exactly what I need

Daily bread, daily bread

 

You have the wisdom and the patience

We need Your grace to see it clear

Too soon and we take it all for granted

Too late is more than we can bear

 

So You’re always right on time

With an open hand

You have exactly what I need

Daily bread, daily bread, daily bread

 

(Jill Phillips – Daily Bread)

 

Who knows, maybe Monday I’ll get my news.  It’s definitely not too soon, and I won’t take it for granted.  However, God is good, and He hasn’t given me anything I couldn’t bear.

#4 on Google

Gotta love nights when I’m not even on call, yet get woken up to deal with work stuff at two in the morning.

So … since I am apparantly now wide awake, I figure that I might do a little blogging.  It’s been awhile.

Well, this whole “Xanga Footprints” thing is really quite funny to me.  Awhile back I wrote a blog about the misheard song lyric “Streetsus Serenade” and it turns out that I was definitely not the only one Googling the phrase.  Ever since that blog, I have been getting an increasing number of footprints directed to my site whenever people Google the word “streetsus.”  Evidently, enough people were visiting my site from Google that at one point, my Xanga was the first option listed in the search results.  I just tried it right now and it’s number four.  I mean, I get hits from New York, Australia, Great Britain, Italy … just to name a few.  My claim to fame, I suppose.

Oh, and it’s my birthday month!  Last year I posted a birthday wish list for my mom to read, but this year I’m only asking for one thing … my annual McKay’s strawberry birthday cake!  Yum.  This is due to the fact that I’ve already gotten one of the best Christmas/birthday presents ever this year … laser hair removal.  It’s fabulous.  I highly recommend it.

So I have a few blogs simmering that I plan to bring to fruition soon.  Perhaps next week … major life themes. 

It all comes out in Moron.

So I had sort of an epiphany the other day, and if Xanga is good for anything it’s expounding upon epiphanies.  In 11th grade my history teacher told me she thought one of my strongest intelligences (of the seven) was my knowledge of self, and I think she’s probably right.  I tend to be pretty introspective and incredibly analytical in regard to self.  So I was surprised the other day to realize something about myself that had never really risen to the level of conscious thought.  It suddenly hit me that I am incredibly unskilled at male interaction.

 

Now it’s not like I thought I was some grand master with the fellas up until said epiphany.  No, it’s more like I never really gave much thought to it at all.  I have always been a girls’ girl.  I can’t even name one good guy friend I had growing up.  Sure I had a few camp flings and one real boyfriend in high school, but as a whole I just wasn’t around guys in social settings very much.  I had my close girl friends, and I was content.

 

Actually, looking back I suppose I did have a few guy friends in high school … a few college guys from my church.  Youth interns, Sunday School teachers, and ski trip companions: these were my friends.  However, they were not my peers, a point I will bring out more in a moment.

 

My college social experience disappointingly varied little from high school.  I seemed to be really good at developing female friendships (some of which are still best friends to this day) but really deficient when it came to boys.  It didn’t help that I was an RA in an all female residence hall my sophomore and junior year.  Any male interaction outside of class came by way of friends’ friends, boyfriends, or husbands.  I do remember wishing I had guy friends; I just didn’t know how to get them.

 

Graduation came and went, and then thankfully a new job.  Now while job-wise I didn’t move far from my stint as an RA (hall directing an all female residence hall) I did meet two new friends, and much to my delight, they were boys!  Married boys, but still boys nonetheless.  My first year as a hall director I developed very close friendships with those boys, and I learned quite a bit. 

 

About two years ago, I started visiting a church with a fairly large group of 20 something singles (honestly one of the appeals).  It was great to meet people (guys included) my own age (aka, no longer in college) and there were always lots of opportunities for interaction.  I began developing some surface level friend/acquaintanceships with guys.  Yay for Sarah!  However, I still found the interaction difficult and oftentimes awkward.  Why is it that I had so much ease with the married boys, but so much difficulty with the singles?  Aha!  Epiphany!

 

My whole life I have been drawn to male relationships that are “safe.”  In high school it was the college boys.  Now it’s the married boys.  There is so much potential for friendship, because there is no question of relationship.  I don’t have to worry about what they think of me (as I do with guys I’m interested in) nor do I have to worry about unreciprocated feelings (as I do with guys I’m not interested in).  Nice and safe.

 

So currently in my interactions with single males, I tend to behave in one of two awful ways:

1) If I have interest or feelings for the guy, I get obnoxious.  It’s hard to describe, really, but overall I feel like I become immature.  I show off.  I say stupid things.  I try too hard.  On an episode of Gilmore Girls there’s this moment when Rory’s freaking out over this guy she likes and she tells Lorelai that she doesn’t want to “do or say anything else that’s gonna be remotely moronic.”  Lorelai responds, “I’m afraid once your heart is involved, it all comes out in Moron.”  And while I am not sixteen years old, I am equally as susceptible to freak outs and moron-speak.

2) If I don’t have any interest in dating the guy, and if I pick up on any interest on his part, I act cold.  I generally try to act friendly toward everyone, but in the case of those unreciprocated feelings, I have to play the cold card.  See, it’s not like I have the token “Sorry, I have a boyfriend” response ready to dole out.  It has been my experience that the slightest bit of attention you pay to one of these guys will only hurt them in the end.  It encourages their unwelcomed advances.  If I even get the slightest inkling that a guy may like me (and I don’t want him to) I do everything I can to avoid interaction with this person.  Honestly I would rather treat someone coldly as a preemptive measure than have that awkward rejection conversation later on down the road.  Cruel to be kind. 

 

But back to the epiphany … I am socially retarded when it comes to guys.  But I think that there’s a solution.  First of all, I need to grow a back bone.  Yes, there is a time to pull back so as not to encourage further advances from what I call “the ickies.”  However, I need to be much more open to friendships with guys that I’m not really interested in dating.  I think that I’m afraid I won’t have the nerve or tact to turn someone down graciously, and that I might end up leading someone on out of fear of confrontation.  However, there is so much to learn from all sorts of different people, and I am robbing myself of diverse and fruitful friendships.  Second of all, I need to calm down.  I need to quit faking confidence and learn to be confident.  I can’t allow myself to be intimidated by guys I’m interested in.  I know there will always be some inevitable moron-speak, but elevating any person to a level that in turn puts me on a lower level is just ridiculous. 

 

And now comes the hard part.  I can’t look in the mirror and forget what I look like.  Time to embrace my newfound realizations and be open.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

12.07.06

It’s after three in the morning, and here I am in my office trying to finish up some work, plodding along with my iTunes on shuffle.  I’m about to wrap things up as a lovely song begins to play.  And I think, there’s no better time to update my Xanga.

So here are some pretty words from said lovely song:

I’ve never been good with my thoughts
And even worse with my words
But you read like familiar poetry
That I have never heard…
I wish I could tell you…but I just can’t find the words

I am all at once courageous
I am all at once afraid
It came over me like nightfall
Like a freight train
I can’t seem to hold it in
But I can’t seem to run away

Springtime Indiana
You are starting to wake
And I am laden with the thoughts
Of everything I mean to say
I wish I could tell you,
But I just can’t find the words.

12.01.06

Yesterday as I began to put some Neosporin on a recently aquired “cardboard cut” on my finger, I thought to myself, “Hmm, I wonder when this expires.”  Flipping the tube over, I saw stamped in tiny print “EXP 2/2002.”  There are several things I cling to from my college days; little did I know that Neosporin was one of them.

Today is the second in a line of snow days for the university.  Snow days are both bad and good for hall directors … bad in that we are considered essential staff and therefore have to be on call for our respective buildings, good in that the rest of the university is closed which drastically reduces the amount of email/phonecalls I have to mess with, not to mention the fact that I don’t technically have to be in my office.  However for students, snow days produce nothing short of jubilation.  It’s been fun to witness the screaming down the halls, “Classes are cancelled tomorrow!” and see the red faces of those just in from sledding on trash bags or air matresses. 

I, too, was looking forward to Thursday once I heard the university was closed.  My intent was to sleep in a little that morning and then get some major organizing/catching up/cleaning done in my office that afternoon.  Ha.  Instead, I was paged at 8:30 that morning to come and take care of an “incident.”  Some day when there’s a little more distance between myself and my HD days, I will have to write some sort of memoir about all such “incidents,” but for now I’ll just leave it at that.  The rest of my day was spent preparing for “Hanks for the Memories.”

A little background: A few years ago at a small gathering of high school friends over some sort of college break, my friend Amanda mentioned a movie marathon that she had particpated in a few weeks before.  Some friends of hers had began hosting twenty four hour movie marathons with those who stayed awake the whole time winning commemorative t-shirts.  That year they made it a Tom Hanks tribute and called it “Hanks for the Memories.”  Now considering that I rarely have an original idea for a program, I decided to copy this fabulous event and two years ago West Hall hosted its own very first HFTM. 

So it’s Hanks time again this year, and just look at the adorable t-shirt girls will get for sticking it out the whole 24 hours!

As a disclaimer, nowhere in this post did I say that we would actually be watching movies, much less mention any specific flick.  You know, copyright and all.

 So after risking my life and the lives of three of my RAs to finish getting all HFTM supplies yesterday amidst the sleet, snow, and cold, I am happy to report that all is ready for the big event.  And with it being a snow day and all, I even got to sleep in this morning.