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

Did you ever see that episode of Friends where Rachel is determined to finish a crossword puzzle on her own?  She tells Chandler, “You know what we should all do?  Go see a musical.  And you know which one we should see?  The 1996 Tony Award winner.  Do you happen to know the name of that one?”  Of course, this was before Google made crossword puzzles completely conquerable for anyone with internet access, and while I refuse to cheat via search engine, I am not beyond soliciting a little assistance, a la Rachel’s tactic.

Friday night was a slow one at B&B, so I ran over to Potbelly to pick up a Reader.  After skimming the upcoming concerts (of course), I opted for the crossword puzzle.  I’ve never been really big on crosswords; they always seem daunting and obscure.  It’s a little discouraging when you know maybe two or three words out fifty, so I was fully prepared to give up after a couple minutes.  However, when I read the clue for 39-across (the worst song of all time, according to Blender), I was hooked.  For some reason my mind latches on to useless trivia like this.  Hebrew verb paradigms, however, just don’t seem to stick.    Anyway, I was more than thrilled to write in “WEBUILTTHISCITY” with a pen, no less.  There for awhile I thought I could maybe finish it completely on my own.  But alas, I am stuck.  And while I won’t Google, I will solicit input from those promising not to Google as well.    How ’bout it, friends?  Wanna help me finish my crossword?

RULES: Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to a bunch of people including me. You can’t use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It’s a lot harder than you think! Re-post as “My Life According to (BAND NAME/ARTIST)”

1. Are you a male or female?
She Must and Shall Go Free

2. Describe yourself:
Saint and Sinner

3. How do you feel:
Thankful

4. Describe where you currently live:
Somewhere North

5. If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
All Across the Western World

6. Your favorite form of transportation:
Bus Driver

7. Your best friend:
Better Than Wine

8. Your favorite color is:
Ballad in Plain Red

9. What’s the weather like:
Marvelous Light … okay, so Steve Hindalong wrote it, but Derek sings it pretty well.

10. Favorite time of day:
The Very End

11. If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
In God We Trust

12. What is life to you:
Faith My Eyes

13. Your current relationship:
Nobody Loves Me … I’m not bitter

14. Looking for:
A Love That’s Stronger Than Our Fear

15. Wouldn’t mind:
A King and a Kingdom

16. Your fear:
Standing Up for Nothing

17. What is the best advice you have to give:
Love Is Not Against the Law

18. If you could change your name, you would change it to:
Mockingbird … I don’t know; this one is hard.

19. Thought for the Day:
Love Is Different

20. How I would like to die:
Daring Daylight Escape

21. My motto:
This Too Shall Be Made Right

It’s story time, y’all.

A few weeks ago my mom told me about a girl from our church, just a couple years older than my brother, who had recently given birth to a baby girl.  And while babies are incredible blessings and worthy of celebration no matter what, one can’t help but anticipate the obstacles facing this young single mom.  Remembering this brand new mommy as a little girl, my mom wanted to send her a letter, or rather send her baby a letter, in hopes that she would someday know just how special her mother is.  So rather than me retelling the story, I asked my mom if I could share her letter here:

Dear Kennedy,

Lynn Reed

It’s true; there are several stories of those who have reached out in kindness to my brother throughout the years.  I think this one is my favorite.  And I’m thankful it gets to live on another generation.

I moved to Illinois toward the end of last summer, evidently too late to realize its total lack of what, to me, is quintessentially summer.  However, as the weather grew warmer this year (relatively speaking, that is) I began to notice a strange absence of the little booths gracing almost every street corner in Texas and Oklahoma.  Where were all the snow cone stands?  I thought surely I just wasn’t looking hard enough and if I was just more alert in my day to day commutes I would certainly stumble upon one.  Nope.  Nowhere.  Not a single stand was to be found.  I lamented this fact one night at small group, whiningly asking the same question, “Where are all the snow cone stands in Illinois???”  J.C., ever helpful with the advice, piped up to tell me that there was one at Oak Brook mall.  Not exactly around the corner, but I filed that tidbit away for a hot and humid Illinois day.

Well last week that day came, and coupled with the need for a Clinique run, I head out in search of whichever store was having “bonus week.”  Lord & Taylor it was, so with face-wash (and cute tote-bag) in tow, I set out for my highly anticipated snow cone … the first of the year.

Let’s just say I should have waited for Texas.  I paid $3 for the most pathetic excuse for a snow cone I have ever tasted.  I could have rustled up a better one myself with a block of ice, a knife and some grape kool-aid.  There are plenty of reasons that I absolutely love living in the Chicago area, but when it comes to snow cones, Chicagoland has a lot to learn from the south.

So here is my perhaps not-so-humble attempt to explain to my northern friends the supremacy of the southern snow cone … you don’t know what you’ve been missing.

1. An excellent snow cone needs excellent ice.  Not just any ice-shaving machine will do.  If it’s something you’re supposed to turn with your arm, it’s no good.  You need a machine that will produce something the consistency of actual snow, and usually this requires a motor.  Only then will you get the most even distribution of syrup throughout the cone, which brings me to #2.

2. An excellent snow cone needs excellent syrup.  Now this one can be a gamble, no matter where you are.  A good indicator of superior syrup is the number of options available.  Oddly enough, it seems that the more flavors offered, the better the syrup quality.  And don’t be put off by strange flavor names, either.  If you find yourself at a stand advertising “Pretty, Pretty Princess” or “Ninja Turtle,” you know you’re in the presence of true snow cone creativity.

In addition to these, I would add the necessity of a styrofoam cup (I know, I know … I’m a bad environmentalist) and a spoon straw.  A good top is a must; this can be accomplished using anything from a funnel to the end of a ladle.  Some stands in Oklahoma put in gummie bears which can be a delightful addition.  Really, it’s not that hard, guys.  And there’s a wide open market up north. 

(me & my brother at our favorite Abilene snow cone stand)

As I type this I am on a plane heading to Texas.  I haven’t been home since Christmas, so needless to say I’m a little jazzed.  The plan was to use these couple hours to get through at least one more chapter of assigned reading for my Christian Theology intensive class coming up in a few weeks.  (I’ve read/taken notes over 3 … out of 37.)  However, as the plane began to take off and I looked out my window to see Lake Michigan just beyond the Chicago skyline, I was just a little overwhelmed.  I always try to pick a window seat whenever I fly because how often is one privileged with such a view?  Skyline, lake, clouds, Midwestern farmland, whatever … I soak it in.  As we ascended further into the immaculate brightness of clouds that wouldn’t allow me to glance out the window for more than a couple seconds, my heart began to sing the words of a chorus I haven’t thought of in years.

And my soul wells up with hallelujahs.

As soon as the pilot gave the okay for electronic devices, I pulled out my laptop to find the song that upon playing sounded like an old friend.  As we rose above the clouds I could once again look out my window and sing (albeit silently … although I may have been humming; I’m not sure) along with Chris,

“Oh praise him all his mighty works,
There is no language where you can’t be heard,
Your song goes out to all the earth,
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah”

This beautiful meditation on general revelation then called to mind another song, this one a bit more in recent memory.  Last Sunday began a sermon series on animals at my church in Glen Ellyn, and at the close we sang one of my favorite hymns.  It’s just too good to only quote a line or two, so you get the whole thing … best lines bolded.  Perhaps you can worship along with me as you read or even sing.  Happy 4th of July, friends.  The Lord is King, let the heavens ring.  God reigns, let the earth be glad.

This Is My Father’s World

This is my Father’s world
And to my listening ears
All nature sings and round me rings
The music of the spheres

This is my Father’s world
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas
His hands the wonders wrought

This is my Father’s world
The birds their carols raise
The morning light, the lily white
Declare their Maker’s praise

This is my Father’s world
He shines in all that’s fair
In the rustling grass, I hear him pass
He speaks to me everywhere

This is my Father’s world
Oh let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong
God is the Ruler yet

This is my Father’s world
The battle is not done
Jesus who died shall be satisfied
And heaven and earth be one

This is my Father’s world
Why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King, let the heavens ring
God reigns, let the earth be glad

This time last week I was driving to Aurora with Sharon for a celebratory Sonic slush.  Occasion?  I was done with summer Hebrew.  Even though I was iffy on the grammar/syntax portion of the final, I figured I at least passed (although a couple days later I had a dream to the contrary).  After four weeks of classes, four days a week, four hours a day, I was totally deserving of a cherry lime slush w/ extra real cherries.  And it was Sharon’s first Sonic trip.  And it was happy hour.  And it was great.

Now that the class is over, and I’ve had a week to somewhat relax (except for the whole working three jobs and leading small group), I’ve noticed a few positive changes in myself as a result of summer Hebrew.  #1 – I am a workout fiend.  #2 – I am a morning person.

For number one I can thank Hebrew vocab.  Every day in class we had a quiz focused heavily on vocabulary.  For each class we had about 40 words to memorize (assuming a base of 200), so that by the end of the four weeks we had memorized over 600 words.  So almost every day after class, I would go home for a light lunch before heading over the SRC to kinesthetically learn vocab.  I’d hop on the elliptical for an hour which was pretty much the perfect amount of time to learn 40 words.  With a quick review the following morning before the quiz, I was usually pretty prepared.  So thank you, vocab accountability quizzes, for contributing to my fitness.

For number two I can thank Hebrew homework.  Okay, so to make a long story short, I am not so great with Hebrew.  I took three semesters in college and did okay, so I figured even four years later I didn’t need to start completely over.  Well, I did.  Instead of beginning again in first semester, I jumped back in at the second and was way behind.  I played catch up all spring, never really catching up.  So going into third semester this summer, I was a little apprehensive.  The first night of homework we were assigned, I didn’t finish.  I stayed up late, got up early, and still didn’t finish.  In the following days and weeks I got faster at translation, which helped, but there were still several nights that I would be too tired to finish.  I figured that if I got up really early the next morning (and considering my class STARTED at 8:00 this meant REALLY early) I could work much more efficiently than late at night.  And I did.  But that meant several mornings of getting up at 5:00-ish, even a couple mornings before then.  All of that to say, that even after a week of no early morning obligations, I don’t think I’ve slept in past 6:30 a single day.  Which is CRAZY for me, because I am such a night person and have been since childhood.  My parents had a terrible time of waking me up in the mornings.  “Five more minutes,” was my early morning anthem.  I think I even had a pair of pajamas with the phrase written on them.  However, on those rare occasions that I have gotten up early, I always love it.  Early morning runs, early morning prayer, early morning road trips, whatever.    I love, love, love early mornings.  It’s just the waking up part that I hate.  So for the past week I’ve been trying to go to bed decently early so as not to alter my new early morning wake up inclination.  So thank you, Hebrew homework, for giving me a reason to get up in the mornings.

Ha … I thought I was back to blogging at the end of the semester, but Hebrew sure kept me from it.  I can’t actually give all the working out credit to Hebrew; another post on that is soon to follow.  The mornings, though … all Hebrew.  How long is it supposed to take to form a habit?  21 days?  Yep, got that one down after week three. 

Because I couldn’t have written it better …

I am not what you would call technologically advanced.  I don’t have DVR; I still record things on VHS tapes.  I don’t have a GPS; I still print off MapQuest maps.  (Well, in all honesty I do have a GPS watch for marathon training purposes, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.) Nor do I have an iPhone or any comparable electronic device.  My simple cell works fine.  Nothing against the iPhone folks; I just have no desire to be that connected.  It’s bad enough having internet access at home (which I enjoy, don’t get me wrong).  I know myself and how much time I waste on the internet already; I certainly don’t need it everywhere, no matter how convenient it might be at times.

After last weekend, however, I can tell you that if ANYTHING was going to pull me into the iPhone camp, it would be this application.

Last Thursday one of my very best friends in the world made it up for her first Chicago visit.  I’d basically been looking forward to this since the second I left Oklahoma, so you could say I was a little excited.  About two weeks out, I started leaving countdown comments on her Facebook wall, things like: “In x number of days you’ll be here … and while you are here, we are going to: (fill in the blank).”  Things like run down Elm St. (as in Nightmare on) or wait hours in line for Ben Harper.  Some things we got around to (Ben, of course) and some we didn’t (not so much with the running ).  I suppose that just means she’ll have to come back.    Anyway, considering our mutual love of all kinds of music, I knew she’d love XRT (the only station I’ve ever heard play Indigo Girls), so listening at every chance definitely made the countdown.

I was right.  She loved the eclecticism as much as I do.  Seriously, I think I might go into mourning whenever I move out of XRT range.  The second day she was here we were driving somewhere when this fabulous cover of “Stand by Me” came on.  We both looked at each other like, “Who is this?!”  And that’s when it happened.  Stacey pulled out her nifty little iPhone, held it up to the speaker, and seconds later informed me it was John Lennon.  Now my question had turned from “Who is this?!” to “What did you just do?!”  Alright, all of you are probably WAY more in the know than me, but at that moment I was incredibly amazed.  No more dangerously scribbling down lyrics on whatever napkin or receipt happens to by lying close by while driving in order to Google them when I get home.  If I had an iPhone, I could just press a button!  No telling how many more songs she Shazam-ed over the course of her visit.  Not only is the app great for identifying songs, but it stores them for you so you can remember to download them later.  On our way to church we heard another great cover … “Is this Stevie Nicks singing ‘Crash’?!”  Shazam?  Sure enough.  That morning my pastor played a snippet from Ray LaMontagne’s “Trouble.”  She totally would have tagged it had the clip lasted longer.

While I have no desire to know if the bird I’m looking at is a Red-faced Warbler, I wouldn’t mind knowing who’s on the radio.  A couple days ago I was on my way to the bank when I heard another fantastic cover.  And here’s the deal with covers: it doesn’t matter if I scribble down lyrics or not; I know the song already.  It’s the voice that eludes me.  What would I even Google?  “Pancho & Lefty / Scratchy-voiced cover?”  Thankfully XRT graciously informed me it was Steve Earle.

Well, I have yet to jump on the iPhone bandwagon, but if I ever do, we’ll all know why.

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.