Friday, August 31, 2012
Quotable: with Friends
1. Sarah: "Marriage is hard, but worth it at the end of the day. Just like life."
2. Ingrid to Sarah: "You say a lot of quotable things."
Sarah: "Oh, just stick with me a little longer and I'll say lots of quotable things."
Ingrid: "Like that one."
3. Ingrid: "Charisma! Do you have the magical ability to not make a total mess when you're eating a peach?"
Charisma: "No! Do you?"
Ingrid: "Oh, no! I don't know how some people do it."
Charisma: "Me too! If you were on a date and had to choose between eating three peaches and spaghetti, what would you choose?"
Ingrid: "Hmmmm, which date is this?"
Charisma: "Third date. In a mediumly nice restaurant--let's say BJ's."
Ingrid: "What color shirt am I wearing? Is it white?"
Charisma: "It's taupe."
Ingrid: "That's a tough call. What would you pick?"
Charisma: "Peaches, because I like peaches more than spaghetti."
4. Ingrid: "We should make that our tagline: Ingrid and Natalie: keeping each from becoming psychopaths. Since 2003."
5. Ingrid: "I'm trying to not analyze as much and take action more quickly. Like, I was standing at Trader Joe's agonizing for five minutes over which dried mango slices to buy."
6. Friend: "It was the first time I felt convicted to flirt. I had to get out of there!" referring to reading How to Get a Date Worth Keeping at Barnes and Noble.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Forgive Me for Not Trespassing: a Confession
Lord—
save us from our adversaries
ourselves, who want
more than we were made for—
nay, not more, but less.
We believe Twinkies are what we crave.
We believe mud pies are better than holidays by the sea.
But why pray for Your kingdom?
Thy kingdom is already here—
At least the part that matters:
Assurance of eternity with You
And all the comforts of modern existence.
Insta-Internet, the portal to near complete fulfillment.
Why venture outside my bubble?
It would pop.
Earth is already close enough to heaven.
If it isn’t, we can always access a virtual version in the here and now.
The then becomes the now
And now it doesn’t matter what is real.
It’s much easier to flit through pixel and page
To another world—anywhere but here.
Forgive me for not trespassing—
I have stayed in my fort and made it a cottage—
Snug, secure, cozy.
Just perfect for me.
My neighbor I do not know, let alone hate enough to possibly love.
Lord—why hast Thou given us our body and our blood?
The flesh that reminds us all too clearly—
We are here?
For this is where we need You.
save us from our adversaries
ourselves, who want
more than we were made for—
nay, not more, but less.
We believe Twinkies are what we crave.
We believe mud pies are better than holidays by the sea.
But why pray for Your kingdom?
Thy kingdom is already here—
At least the part that matters:
Assurance of eternity with You
And all the comforts of modern existence.
Insta-Internet, the portal to near complete fulfillment.
Why venture outside my bubble?
It would pop.
Earth is already close enough to heaven.
If it isn’t, we can always access a virtual version in the here and now.
The then becomes the now
And now it doesn’t matter what is real.
It’s much easier to flit through pixel and page
To another world—anywhere but here.
Forgive me for not trespassing—
I have stayed in my fort and made it a cottage—
Snug, secure, cozy.
Just perfect for me.
My neighbor I do not know, let alone hate enough to possibly love.
Lord—why hast Thou given us our body and our blood?
The flesh that reminds us all too clearly—
We are here?
For this is where we need You.
Take and Eat
Christ—
the Son became flesh—
how can we eat You?
Why should we—
if our bodies are to be despised,
castigated?
Who are You
in this moment of screaming agony
writhing limbs
seared flesh?
If not one of us,
then what are we?
Our bodies, merely matter?
Or spiritual...bodies?
If this, why eat
You?
the Son became flesh—
how can we eat You?
Why should we—
if our bodies are to be despised,
castigated?
Who are You
in this moment of screaming agony
writhing limbs
seared flesh?
If not one of us,
then what are we?
Our bodies, merely matter?
Or spiritual...bodies?
If this, why eat
You?
Monday, December 5, 2011
Relentless Grace
A relentless pursuit
she has never known
to the arms of another
she runs
Here,
he comes
breathless
fingers lifting his skirt from the dust
his arms,
an embrace
a welcome home
for her cheatin’ heart.
With morsels and sweet words
he woos her to his side
draws her to the baptismal waters
though her sins are as scarlet
they will be white as snow.
His delight in her will be unending
his love for her will never fail
and on that fateful wedded day,
consummation
will unite bride and groom forever.
She will never leave his side
he has purchased her with his life
and as she descends from heaven
all he sees
is gleaming white dress
and radiant face
reflecting his.
“Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.”
she has never known
to the arms of another
she runs
Here,
he comes
breathless
fingers lifting his skirt from the dust
his arms,
an embrace
a welcome home
for her cheatin’ heart.
With morsels and sweet words
he woos her to his side
draws her to the baptismal waters
though her sins are as scarlet
they will be white as snow.
His delight in her will be unending
his love for her will never fail
and on that fateful wedded day,
consummation
will unite bride and groom forever.
She will never leave his side
he has purchased her with his life
and as she descends from heaven
all he sees
is gleaming white dress
and radiant face
reflecting his.
“Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.”
Monday, October 10, 2011
Sex and money: worth talkin' about
Lauren Winner, Real Sex
Too often the church, rather than giving unmarried Christians useful tools and t hick theologies to help us live chastely, instead tosses off a few bromides—“True love waits” is not that compelling when you’re twenty-nine and have been waiting, and wonder what, really, you’re waiting for.
Indeed, the instruction to just zip perhaps fails to recognize that one resists strong bodily urges like sexual desire not primarily through willpower, but through grace.
But if we see scripture not merely as a code of behavior but as a map of God’s reality, and if we take seriously the pastoral task of helping unmarried Christians live chastely, the church needs not merely to recite decontextualized Bible verses, but to ground our ethics in the faithful living of the fullness of the gospel.
Perhaps the revelatory thing for me about money is that I have the power. I could, work a couple hours and baby sit on Friday’s and use that money to donate to providing after-care for young women rescued from trafficking in Cebu.
What am I willing to go without so I can have more to give, to save, to spend if necessary?
Can I understand money? For most of my life—frankly, until now—I thought it was some esoteric entity comprehensible only by an elite few. Certainly not lower-middle-class moi. Money is mysterious in some ways, but still understandable.
I could buy x, or I could not buy x. Having the option to buy something was revelatory to me, almost as much as the option of not having to buy x.
Too often the church, rather than giving unmarried Christians useful tools and t hick theologies to help us live chastely, instead tosses off a few bromides—“True love waits” is not that compelling when you’re twenty-nine and have been waiting, and wonder what, really, you’re waiting for.
Indeed, the instruction to just zip perhaps fails to recognize that one resists strong bodily urges like sexual desire not primarily through willpower, but through grace.
But if we see scripture not merely as a code of behavior but as a map of God’s reality, and if we take seriously the pastoral task of helping unmarried Christians live chastely, the church needs not merely to recite decontextualized Bible verses, but to ground our ethics in the faithful living of the fullness of the gospel.
Perhaps the revelatory thing for me about money is that I have the power. I could, work a couple hours and baby sit on Friday’s and use that money to donate to providing after-care for young women rescued from trafficking in Cebu.
What am I willing to go without so I can have more to give, to save, to spend if necessary?
Can I understand money? For most of my life—frankly, until now—I thought it was some esoteric entity comprehensible only by an elite few. Certainly not lower-middle-class moi. Money is mysterious in some ways, but still understandable.
I could buy x, or I could not buy x. Having the option to buy something was revelatory to me, almost as much as the option of not having to buy x.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Goliaths
So, in conjunction with my roommate Linell yesterday at the fortuitous location of our neighborhood Panera, I pretty much finished my 2010 taxes. E-filed California, and just need to paper-file fed taxes. It wasn't so bad, all things considered. Maybe taxes aren't the Leviathan I thought.
Now, on to my 2009 Canadian taxes!
Now, on to my 2009 Canadian taxes!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Danice
Yesterday, at my neighborhood Stater Bros. store, I bought a 15 oz. box of Life Cereal. Which, of course, made me think of Danice. Danice was one of my four housemates in Vancouver, BC. Her mousy brown hair is short, with an amazing ability to array itself in a variety of styles. Danice loves Life cereal; her near-addiction to it rivaled only by my near-addiction to Nature Path’s Mesa Sunrise cereal, most often purchased for $5.99 at Dollar Grocers.
We lived on 1234 E. 7th Ave. in East Vancouver, in the Grandview-Woodlands neighborhood more commonly referred to as “The Drive,” referring to Commercial Drive, which runs north-south and is characterized by natural food shops, local coffee shops on every corner and a lot of hippie-or-hipster-types. Seventh Avenue was two streets south of the main street of Broadway Ave, and quiet; the street was home to the most perfect arching trees and to a Hungarian church just 3 doors east of our house. These arcing trees provided the visual aid and backdrop for a lovely evening walk with my friend Danielle one fall before I moved into this house, when we ended up talking about romance, unrequited love and how romance/relationships/marriage is but one arc under the grand arc of God’s redemptive narrative. These same trees met my gaze every morning from my triangular top floor window; it seemed a gift too extravagant that I could be living in a house on this street, of all streets.
Danice is not a fan of mornings. I learned this soon after I moved in and I sat down to breakfast. Danice emerged from her bedroom, adjacent to the kitchen, and prepared her edibles. I attempted to make some conversation with her, but didn’t quite succeed. Later, her longtime roommate Beth graciously informed me that it takes Danice some time to warm up to talking with people in the mornings, which I quickly noted.
One thing I always associate with Danice is her impassioned enthusiasm for almost anything. When Danice is excited about something, you know. Michael Jackson? Definitely. Dancing? For sure. Youth? No doubt about it.
We lived on 1234 E. 7th Ave. in East Vancouver, in the Grandview-Woodlands neighborhood more commonly referred to as “The Drive,” referring to Commercial Drive, which runs north-south and is characterized by natural food shops, local coffee shops on every corner and a lot of hippie-or-hipster-types. Seventh Avenue was two streets south of the main street of Broadway Ave, and quiet; the street was home to the most perfect arching trees and to a Hungarian church just 3 doors east of our house. These arcing trees provided the visual aid and backdrop for a lovely evening walk with my friend Danielle one fall before I moved into this house, when we ended up talking about romance, unrequited love and how romance/relationships/marriage is but one arc under the grand arc of God’s redemptive narrative. These same trees met my gaze every morning from my triangular top floor window; it seemed a gift too extravagant that I could be living in a house on this street, of all streets.
Danice is not a fan of mornings. I learned this soon after I moved in and I sat down to breakfast. Danice emerged from her bedroom, adjacent to the kitchen, and prepared her edibles. I attempted to make some conversation with her, but didn’t quite succeed. Later, her longtime roommate Beth graciously informed me that it takes Danice some time to warm up to talking with people in the mornings, which I quickly noted.
One thing I always associate with Danice is her impassioned enthusiasm for almost anything. When Danice is excited about something, you know. Michael Jackson? Definitely. Dancing? For sure. Youth? No doubt about it.
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