#12

We’re going to be at the Seahawks season opener vs. the 49ers in a month.

That is all.

PS.  I finally logged into my fantasy football league today… my team’s name?

That’s What She Said.

Snicker.

Now I can start wearing my sweatshirt!

no-man’s land

So, I’ve wanted to share this for a while, but haven’t exactly known how to put it.  Fortunately Dear Friend Daniel called the other day, and I talked with him about it, and he didn’t seem particularly horrified (he never does, when will I learn this?), so I’m feeling a little braver.  Here goes.

So I’ve already shared that I had a hard time in my Spiritual Autobiography class.  Not because of the people in it, really.  Most were kind and open to hearing others’ experiences.  And there were a lot of different experiences, different views.  It went remarkably well, for the most part.

What was hard for me was being in a sort of in-between place.  I wasn’t like the two or three Christians in the room who were avidly involved in Campus Christian Fellowship, who prayed and sang songs to acoustic guitar out in Red Square.  But neither was I like Jamie.

Jamie and I have had classes together our last couple of quarters, and I really like her.  She’s funny and a little brash, and that usually goes a long way with me.  So much of our experience has been the same.  Deep involvement in the church.  Musical worship.  An intense internship with a charismatic church leader.  Broken relationships, an eventual stepping away from the culture, and a lot of questions as a result.  In fact, when we started discussing the details, I realized our paths had crossed twice before we knew each other: once when her group came up to Poulsbo, and once when our group visited her ministry down in Sacramento.  (I had always thought she looked familiar).

We talked about going and grabbing coffee at some point, talking about our experiences, in that loose way where coffee never actually will happen, but it’s fun to think about.  Things hit a bump when a woman in our workshop group asked us about our experiences in the church.  She’s Buddhist, but has a twenty-year-old son also attending Western.  He’s a Christian whose very involved in campus ministry, so naturally she was curious.

During the course of the conversation that followed, I saw a difference between me and Jamie: she’s as fervently anti-Christian as she once was fervently Christian.  She launched into why she’s not a Christian, why she wants absolutely nothing to do with Christianity, naming off several criticisms of the Christian viewpoint — criticisms I really couldn’t argue with, because they’re views that much of the mainstream evangelical movement embraces (i.e. anyone who hasn’t said the sinner’s prayer before he dies goes to hell, gay people are a threat, etc).

It was a tough conversation.  Whenever I would object, saying, “Not all Christians think that.  I don’t,” she would respond with, “Well, most do,” and she was right.  She was harsh, even angry, although I know she didn’t mean to be, and I can understand her reasons why.  She could tell I was feeling raw, and apologized after class.  I told her not to worry about it — the truth was, it really had very little to do with her at all.

I cried most of the way home.

It just sucks living an in-between existence.  I’ve lamented more than once to Justin that we’re too Christian for most, and not-Christian-enough for the rest.  I’ve had the same disappointing “We-don’t-fit-here” experience with churchy couples’ small groups that I had on this particular afternoon with Jamie.

I find it impossible to reject Jesus.  I also find it impossible to swallow the idea that if I’m a Christian, I do this thing, I don’t do that thing, I vote for this party, I exclude these people, and march contentedly in rank and file.  I don’t like the idea that as soon as I walk in the door, I have to surrender my ability to think, to question, to respond as an individual to what I read in the Bible.

This puts me in a tough spot.

It puts us in a tough spot, I should say.  Justin and I have tried a few times to go to church, because I’ve said, “We should try to go,” but each time, it’s done more damage than if we’d just stayed home, and it’s always me that says, “Let’s not do this again.”  Let me say: they’re good people.  And there are probably plenty of good things I could give and receive as part of that community.  I just can’t get past the weird culture, the group-think, the things that remind me of when I was so fervent, so sure of myself, and yet so completely in the wrong.  It’s kind of like when we first moved up here and I joined the worship team, and shortly found myself sitting at a piano bench singing songs with words that I would never actually use in everyday conversation, watching everyone raise their hands and close their eyes at the same time.  It’s a constant “twilight zone” kind of experience.  Yuck. 

At first, we did what was easiest.  We buried the issue as much as possible and just focused on being newly-marrieds.  Enter the Spiritual Autobiography class.  Oops.  Lots of things coming to the surface.

Near the end of the quarter, we sat down and talked about it for a few hours.  We realized we could probably bury this for a good ten years under the distractions of a happy marriage (and it has been one), but that we wouldn’t be living in good faith.  So it came down to it: do we believe in Jesus and his teachings?  (This was an actual point of discussion, by the way).  Yes?  Or on most days, yes?  Okay.  Well, what the hell do we do about it then?  For some reason we pulled out Thomas Merton and came to this passage:

There is no neutrality between gratitude and ingratitude.  Those who are not grateful soon begin to complain of everything.  Those who do not love, hate.  In the spiritual life there is no such thing as an indifference to love or hate.  That is why tepidity (which seems to be indifferent) is so detestable.  It is hate disguised as love.

Tepidity, in which the soul is neither ”hot nor cold” — neither frankyl loves nor frankly hates — is a state in which one rejects God and rejects the will of God while maintaining an exterior pretense of loving Him in order to keep out of trouble and save one’s supposed self-respect.  It is the condition that is soon arrived at by those who are habitually ungrateful for the graces of God.  A man who truly responds to the goodness of God, and acknowledges all that he has received, cannot possibly be a half-hearted Christian.  True gratitude and hypocrisy cannot exist together.  They are totally incompatible.  Gratitude of itself makes us sincere — or it if does not, then it is not true gratitude.

Gratitude, though, is more than a mental exercise, more than a formula of words.  We cannot be satisfied to make a mental note of things which God has done for us and then perfunctorily thank Him for favors received.

To be grateful is to recognize the Love of God in everything He has given us– and He has given us everything.  Every breath we draw is a gift of His love, every moment of existence is a grace, for it brings with it immense graces from Him.  Gratitude therefore takes nothing for granted, is never unresponsive, is constantly awakening to new wonder and to praise of the goodness of God.  For the grateful man knows that God is good, not by hearsay, but by experience.  And that is what makes all the difference.

(Yeah, any of you longtime blog buddies will recognize that last little bit, a favorite quote of mine). 

We realized that our distaste for mainstream Christian culture is not an excuse for burying our pursuit of faith beneath a pile of frustrations.  It won’t strengthen our marriage, won’t strengthen our character, won’t make us more like Jesus.  I hate the idea that I had let my relationship with church get confused with my relationship with God.  I hate that I let it cloud the grace I once saw so clearly.  I hate that I wasn’t grateful for each day as I once was.  It was an uncomfortable realization to come to, but it was a needed one. 

We’re hopeful that at some point we’ll find a capital-C church with like-minded folks where we can worship in good conscience.  For now, we have time set aside each Sunday for what we call our Guppy Time.  (In jest, I named our weekly time our Gratitude Unification Procedure, and it stuck).  We read the Bible, and are working through Soren Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, and we talk about it.  It’s been good.  I haven’t felt in-between in a while now.  There are lots of things I’m still uncertain on, but I don’t wonder if we’re chasing faith authentically or not.  I’m learning to be grateful again.

I was telling Dan about all of this, and his only admonition was something I’ve already been thinking about: we need to be willing to be home for others, too.  I’m hoping at some point that we’ll have people join us in our living room.  I like the thought that other people who feel they don’t fit can find a place where they do.  We’ll see.  

Anyway, thanks for letting me share where we’re at.  For those of you who’ve been reading over the long haul and have chimed in with lots of “me-too’s” over the course of this messy journey, thanks also for being a home of sorts when face-to-face conversations with like-minded folks were rare.

Mt. Rainier

We had so much fun!

I haven’t been up to Mt Rainier since I was a kid… I had forgotten what a magical place it is.

When you can see it, of course.  The first day up there, the mountain was completely covered in clouds.  Visibility was, well, like this:

Not very August-like.

Justin was a bit skeptical, thinking this whole Mt Rainier thing was just a hoax.

So after a short hike, we went back to our campsite and shivered for several hours.  But the next morning, we woke up to this:

(I’ll leave it to you to guess who was more enthused at this point in the morning). 

Not a cloud in sight!

Perfect day to hike.  Would have also been a perfect day to pack some sandwiches, but we couldn’t be bothered with petty details like that.  Thank God we packed some Triscuits and some granola bars.

Avalanche Lilies.  Straight out of the camera.  Gorgeous.

It was a little surreal to be hiking through snow in 70-degree weather, but many of the trails were still partially covered.  Lots of slipping and sliding, lots of giggling on my part. 

Oddly enough, the higher we climbed, the more wildflowers we saw (and smelled).  Up near the top, the lupine was strong and sweet.  Lots of deep inhales. 

Lots of deep breaths also partially due to the thinner air. I was dizzy a few times. Especially right around here:

But we made it!  A 1700′ ascent!

Here’s the panorama shot from Panorama Point:

Ah.  Well worth it.

The next day we took a quick jaunt to the lakes, and headed on home.

Note the sweet sunburn on my neck (reflection off the snow, oops).

Go team!  There’s no one I’d rather climb mountains with.

aw, thanks Kevo

 http://www.stacey.lawlis.youaremighty.com/

This made me smile/laugh.  I was equal parts inspired and giggly.

getting the heck out of dodge. again.

Ack!  Summer is going by WAY too fast.  We’ve been insanely busy, but it’s the fun kind of busy.  Spending lots of time with friends and with each other. 

I still want to recap the conference… oops.  Looks like it will have to wait another while.

Really, all I’m doing here is procrastinating.  I should be packing right now, because as soon as J gets off work, the two of us are going camping.

Here:

Permit me a sigh of contentment simply at anticipating how beautiful it will be.  August is primo time for visiting Mt. Rainier, and I couldn’t be more excited.  You really can’t beat living in Washington State.  Go team!

Hopefully we won’t meet any of these while we’re there.

Well, not this bear specifically, since this is a Kodiak Bear and Mt. Rainier is home to lots of black bears.  Still, things could get a little awkward if we meet on the trail.  Hopefully they’ll go for Justin first.

I kid, I kid.

Enjoy the weekend, all!  I will show you each highlight of our trip in painful photographic detail upon our return!  (and the peasants rejoiced)

home!

July has pulled a disappearing act on me.  But!  What an amazing month.

For the Fourth, Justin and I met up with a bunch of friends over at Paradise Creek (near Vancouver, WA, but way out in the boonies) and camped for five wonderful days.  When my brother, Kevo, and dear friend Julie also joined us, I was very close to having all my favorite people within arms reach at the same time.  There were no fireworks (alas!), but a frightening incident involving bacon grease + Dan, our very own Fire Guy, more than made up for them.

Pictures of the trip are posted in my web album — click on the photos to your right!

The very next weekend, I was already in Port Townsend for the Writer’s Conference.  I want to devote more time to writing about that, so I’m going to wait til tomorrow, when I’ve caught up a little more on my sleep.

In the meantime, I’ll just say that after Justin picked me up from the conference, we met up with Chris and his girlfriend Jess, who is out here from Washington DC.  Our grand adventure?  The Olympic Game Farm in Sequim (an entire city obsessed with all things lavender, we noticed).  I haven’t giggled so much or shrieked so loud in a very long time.  There are certain things that feeding wild animals by hand will cause… most often a quick revert back to the kind of pure joy you haven’t experienced since the age of three.

Yes, that’s drool in the above photo.  It landed in a little pool on the fabric seat.  Luckily we took Chris’ parents’ car.

The buffalo know just where to stand to get fed…

And they are too huge to be ignored.  Even by people in large SUV’s, who often have a tendency to ignore everything.

I’m sure I’ll be subjecting you all to more of these photos in the coming days.  Surreal experience.

One other thought: if the teacher/writer gig doesn’t work out, perhaps I should try my hand at training Kodiak bears.  I’m not kidding.  Carrot in hand, I said (calmly and assertively a la The Dog Whisperer — hey, it could work), “Up!  Up!” and he sat up on his haunches.  When I waved my carrot, he began waving his paws. 

Seriously one of the (largest) cutest things I’ve seen.  I was in love.

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Seriously.  How can you not love this guy?

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These are two people happy to be back together after a long week apart.  More soon!

 

I want one for a pet

I’m sure half of you have already seen this video, but it gives me the giggles every time.

mellow yellow

Hi kids!

Because I had nothing better to do and was taking a break from my latest photoshop binge, I created a GOOD BOOKS page you may notice up at the top.  Enjoy!

So… this has been a summer of tackling new things so far.  First, there’s been golf. 

Oh, the suckage.  It’s amazing how bad I am at this game.  A few trips to the driving range and another nine holes later, and I’m not quite as embarrassingly horrible as I was, but that’s not saying much.

Luckily Brandon and my brother came with us over the weekend, and I was in great company.  I wouldn’t want to mention any names, but SOMEONE threw his club a few times.

(Ok, you twisted my arm.  It was Brandon). 

Also, this guy may also have shown small signs of frustration:

It was awful fun to have them along with us, though.  And once we finished the 9th hole, we shot golf balls into the pond for a while  (It’s far more fun doing that on purpose).

Because golf hasn’t quite offered my out-of-shape body enough punishment, however, I’ve begun bicycling.

Not just on any old bike, but on this sweet Craigslist find!

(I heart Craigslist, btw.  I found my awesome job and now this bike there.  And I’ve heard of people’s roommates putting up Craigslist ads and getting them a girlfriend that way).

Mellow yellow!  I am still in awe of its girly perfection — all without committing the cardinal sin of being pink.  (Blech.)

All in all, between a ride with Kevo up to Western’s campus and through downtown on Saturday and riding back and forth to work all week, I’ve put in almost 30 miles.  Hey, I know it’s not exactly the Tour-de-France, but it’s a start, right?  My legs are sore, to say nothing of my poor hiney, but other than that I feel fantastic.  Plus I feel uber-ecoconscious to have driven my car a bare minimum on a week when gas hit $4.49 a gallon.  (Other than that 24-hour trip down to Poulsbo for Justin’s mom’s wedding.  I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count).

From now on, you can all call me LiveStrong.

Snicker. 

warning: gratuitous lovey-dovey-ness ahead

Holy moly, I love this man.

That is all.

good news!

I’d like to start this post by resolutely stating that there are few things better at 8:45 pm than a nice big bowl of Fruit Loops.

(Unless that thing is this little-understood concept called “self control.”)

Oops.  Out of cereal.  BRB…

Ah.  That’s better.  Onward.

Now that you’re all hungry for sugary children’s cereal…

Good news has hit the Lawlii household.  You may find it odd, given that I’ve just typed five sentences about little rings of high fructose corn syrup saturated with artificial color, rings that leave the roof of your mouth raw – but I received a scholarship to a weeklong writing conference a few days ago.  It came completely out of the blue — my Spiritual Autobiography prof wrote me and said, hey, there’s this scholarship available for this conference, and the school will pay your room and board, so if you’re interested…

Um, yes please!  I had checked out different writing retreats and conferences before, but they were out of reach — at times in terms of cost, and other times in terms of how long they are (some are a month or longer).  The thought of actually being able to go raised my heart rate up quick!

A few conversations (with Justin, then my new boss) later, I was signed up to go the third week in July.  As if I didn’t already have enough reason to be thankful for my new job, the doc said to me, “Well, of course you have to go.  I’m not naive.  I know this job is a stopping off place for you, not the end goal.  If I can help you get toward things that will get you closer to that end-goal, then I want to do that.”  Seriously, she’s amazing.  It’s nice to be appreciated.

I’ll be doing a creative nonfiction workshop every morning, workshops in different genres in the afternoons, spending time alone for some free writes, and then going to readings by faculty and guests in the evening.  For a week: eat, breathe, speak, sleep writing.  With other writers.  Who hopefully won’t mind that I’m a baby writer, just a wittle guy.  Writing, writing, writing. 

For months and years to come, I’ll be chirping, “This one time, at writing camp…”  Oh dear.

The only drawback is it will be the first time Justin and I have spent a night apart, which, to be honest, was something I had to consider for a moment before good sense overcame me and I said I’d go.  I’m a light sleeper, so I haven’t exactly gotten great sleep ever since we were married, but I have a suspicion I’ll sleep horribly on my own that week in my sparse little dorm room, too.  That’s the way it goes, I guess.  I’m just thankful Justin was so supportive.  He was up at Western’s campus working on a group project when I texted him the news.  “You write her back and tell her you’re in,” he said.  “We’ll figure out the rest later.”

He’s kind of incredible like that. 

I’m going to miss him like crazy.

It occurs to me: this may be even harder than letting him go to the grocery store without me.

I’m not going to think about that now.

More Fruit Loops, stat!  (Just kidding.  Probably).