Thursday, August 20, 2009

It appears I suddenly quit with updating this blog each day, but I have not forgotten it is here. Summer is not quite over yet, but almost, and so I will end this blog with this one last post in honor of a year finished...and a birthday.

It’s a disappointing thing, sometimes, to realize that when you move far away from home the only thing you can’t leave behind is you. Sometimes we want to leave our families, forget our situations, and wipe the slate clean. What we fail at times to realize, however, is that deep down inside what we really want is not a clean slate, but a brand new one—a shiny fancy one with special places to hold the perfect writing utensils, the intricately carved wood frame buffed and finished in high gloss, and the built-in stand on the back so it needs no help being propped up. But as clean as the slate can be, it can never be replaced, and the memory—the scratches, the scuffmarks, the worn edges—it contains can never, by any means of our own, be erased.

I was not unaware when I left my home that I would always be where I always am. I may, however, have been a bit too naïve in hoping the slate could in fact be wiped clean with no remnants left of what I wanted to be my old life. But I’m learning our life is our life and as much as it evolves, it does not simply start over. There is not old and new but simply then and now, and even that can get a little muddled. It’s difficult when the same things show up over and over and you just want to know that someday those things won’t be there anymore, meanwhile, let’s keep the good stuff.

Tomorrow is my birthday, which, consequently, marks one year of being in Kentucky. As I finish out my twenty-eighth year of life and stamp it with the number twenty-eight for approval, I end this year and begin the next one with a sigh of recognition that the time to look deep into the very being of who I am and why I’m here has come. I did not have unrealistic expectations that Kentucky would magically sweep all my weaknesses and flaws away (which isn’t to say I wouldn’t have been happy if it had). And so I find myself in the very place I need to be, which is always the place where we’d rather not. I think of my sweet friend Sarah from back home who always gives her new birthday year a theme and I wonder what mine might be if I were to follow suit. The Hard Stuff, perhaps? Or maybe something a little lighter—I wouldn’t mind.

Tomorrow marks a new year in my life and a new year in Kentucky. What it will hold, I can’t even guess

Friday, July 25, 2009

For a number of hours today, I got to hang around with Marilyn as we began the process of fixing up what will be a prayer garden here at Asbury. And it was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time, definitely the most fun I’ve had all summer. We laughed and worked and played and chatted and had a ball. I got to hear stories of how she and her husband met and dated. We wondered around a gardening store and made commentary to one another about the statues. She talked a little about her youngest son who finally just moved away from home (he’s my age) and his struggles that always go along with that. I love hearing Marilyn talk about her children. She is so in love with them and delighted by them, even when they make bad choices.

Today, we pressure washed. I thought this might take an hour at most. Not true. It took the whole time. In the middle of it, we took a break and went for a drive to get some materials and do a little browsing. The pressure washer Marilyn borrowed had a little container on it to put soap in. And so Marilyn went out and bought a big jug of soap. In the process of trying to pour it into the soap container, I got some on me and when I went to rinse it off, I was annoyed that it would not come off. I found that weird, but paid little notice as we powered the thing up and went at it with the benches and the cement floor.

And then at one point, I went to switch my hands on the nozzle because my elbow was getting tired and felt a sudden sharp sting in my finger as if I had just gotten a sliver. It stung so badly that I put the nozzle down and left for the bathroom to wash my hands, wherein I noticed even with other soap, I was hard pressed to get this soap off my hands. I continued with the power washing for a little while longer before Marilyn took over when I needed a break. I sat for a moment and then picked up the jug of soap and turned it around so I could see the warning label. “CAUSES SEVER BURNS” it stated just like this in caps, and then went on to state it should not be ingested and should be kept out of contact with eyes, mouth, and skin. Skin. Yes, that’s what it said. For a couple of hours we’d been spraying that stuff all over. The nozzle was covered in it because our hands had gotten soapy from it and the mist had likely been inhaled by the both of us. Flush skin for 15 minutes, it said, if you get any on it. I told Marilyn to turn off the power washer for a minute and, laughing, read her the warning label. We had a good laugh and she said, “My legs do seem to feel a little strange. Needless to say, that sliver was not a sliver, but a tiny chemical burn where the skin had come off. The sting was the feel of that soap on the rawness underneath.

A small price to pay for having a blast of a day with Marilyn. On our return from the drive, Marilyn dropped me off to power wash some more while she left to drop off the sander she had borrowed and used on the top of the benches. Instead of power washing, I ran off to the post office to get my Victoria’s Secret package I knew was waiting for me. In it were a couple pairs of pants and a shirt, among other things. As I made my way back to the garden, Marilyn was walking in and when she saw me she said, “What is that?” I replied with a big smile on my face, “It’s my Victoria’s Secret package.” “What did you get?” “Some pants and a shirt, I think.” And she smiled and said, “Okay, I’ll power wash while you go try the clothes on and show them to me.” I laughed at her delight in my new clothes and gave her the fashion show she wanted. They are, I should note, some great clothes. Marilyn wholeheartedly approved.

The final bit of amusement came when Bekah and Elissa wondered over to see what we were up to. I can’t remember, now, what we were talking about, but Marilyn commented to them that she and I were a lot alike. Case in point happened only a few minutes later when Marilyn put something in her car and turned back around to head back down to the garden and tripped over the curb and stumbled, in slow motion, to the ground. No harm was done and we all couldn’t help but laugh, and not more than thirty seconds later, I turned back around to walk back into the garden and tripped on my own feet. These are the ways in which you should not be like somebody else. Well, whatever.

Marilyn and I finally parted ways and I wandered back to the dorm for the rest of the afternoon and evening. It was definitely a good day. And so, until next time. There is still much more to be done on the garden. Here are a few pictures from the day.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

written the following day

I bombed out in Hebrew again today. And I sit here and let out a sigh as I think about it. Here's to hoping I simply pass the class!

On the up side, Marilyn walked with me to go find myself some lunch and convinced me to go to Subway and split a veggie sub with her. So we ordered to go and thought to eat outside, but the Kentucky summer was rearing its unpleasant head, so we sat in the student center instead and ate. A good way to begin my Hebrew studying for the day. Always a joy to get to chat with Marilyn. You just never know what might come out of her mouth.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Wednesday was a whole lot of Hebrew. I'm ssssoooooooooooooooooo tired of Hebrew. I've come to hate it. We didn't have class today, so I studied, but it doesn't feel as if I'm getting much of anywhere.

So I took a break and watched So You Think You Can Dance! Which I missed last week. And it had the most amazing dance on it about fighting breast cancer. Brilliant. Watch it.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

written later

Perhaps it’s time to remember Jesus. I seem to have pushed him by the wayside in the midst of this ocean of Hebrew I’m drowning in. One might think that studying Hebrew would bring you closer to God, but anyone who might think that has never taken Greek or Hebrew. It will bring you closer after that fact, but in the midst, it will make you want to shoot yourself. I feel as if one of these days I ought to learn a language that is not dead. Someday, Bengali will fill that roll, and in my dreams, so will French and Italian, but don’t put much stock in that actually happening. I dream a lot and I dream big.

On a high note, I got my glasses! They’re awesome! I’m loving them! And this day is exactly one month till my birthday. Let the countdown begin.

Now back to Hebrew. Ugh.

Monday, July 20, 2009

I should be writing a post that repeats yesterday's post...but I'm not. Because I can't. Because I wore myself out on Hebrew. I tried, I really did, to study Hebrew today, but alas, I didn't get particularly far. We don't have a quiz the following morning, so I let myself slack a bit. Not smart, but maybe needed. Instead, I was able to go get my splurge of the year! My purple Ray Ban Wayfarer Original sunglasses, Bob Dylan style. They are currently at the eye doctor getting the perscription lenses put in. I can go pick them up after my next class is over. So excited. This is a picture of the lovely babies. Morgan got matching, though tortoise shell instead of purple, glasses and we will be taking pictures soon. So wait for some goodness to show up on here. Well, more goodness;).

Sunday, July 19, 2009

I studied Hebrew all day today. And I mean aaaalllllllll day. And it felt a bit like this picture.


Off to bed, now, to do it all again tomorrow.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I was supposed to pressure wash the concrete and wood in the garden behind the chapel today with Marilyn, but Marilyn bailed on me. This is not particularly surprising. If she doesn’t set something in stone, then it’s set in nothing at all and free for the changing or canceling at any time. And so I decided to go work some more on the labyrinth pattern and hopefully finish it.

Finish it, I did! And it’s damn impressive if I do say so myself! And my quads are killing me because of it. All the standing and squatting and standing and squatting and crawling around on the floor gave me quite a workout, apparently. I was preparing to fold up the labyrinth and carry it over to the garden to see how it would fit when I ran into Marilyn in the student center. This may not seem strange except that it’s Saturday, a day she doesn’t work. But a friend of hers is in town and she was showing her where she works, so Marilyn, excited I was finished, took the friend in to the gym to show her what I had done and to see it herself for the first time, and needless to say, I blew her out of the water. She was shocked at how well it turned out. I mean, this thing is all but perfect. Marilyn was impressed and on her way out of the building, she called back to me, “I owe you lunch!” “You owe me cupcakes, too!” I reminded her. “I know!” she replied and I laughed as I wandered back into the gym to pack up the labyrinth.


A few minutes later, I wandered over to the garden with the pattern and again ran into Marilyn who was telling her friend about the garden and what was going to be done to it. When I got there, I realized I had not taken into account some of the measurements of the place and panicked for a moment that it wasn’t going to fit. These are the times when I realize that as detailed as I can be, over all, I do not have a detail oriented personality. Marilyn and her friend helped me unfold the nearly 15’ by 15’ pattern and to my great relief, it fit perfectly. And Marilyn was excited. It was fun to have her there as I unveiled the temporary version, and her friend gave some advice on how to refinish the currently tattered built-in wooden benches. As Marilyn and her friend got in the car and they prepared to go their way as I prepared to go mine, Marilyn smiled and said, “You know, I have to admit I doubted you.” I smiled with a rather cocky grin and said, “I know, Marilyn. But I didn’t. I may doubt myself in many things, but art is not one of them.” It is good for me to remember that there is something in my life that I am inherently gifted in and as much as I may be unsure about many things, my gifts are something I should never lose sight of.

Later, in the evening, Morgan and I went to Brewster’s to grab some ice cream and then went out to Highbridge and stood on the lookout that overlooks the railroad bridge to the right and a fork of the Kentucky river to the left. I love that lookout. Looking down at that river with the Kentucky tree covered hillsides all around makes me think of Huck Finn traveling up the Mississippi river (or was it down?) in his exploits, because I always imagined it looked like this. It’s always delightful when the things you imagine end up actually existing.

And so I go to bed feeling as if today was a day that filled me well. I am not stuffed at the end of this day, but I am satisfied. I was successful in finishing the labyrinth and was delighted to spend time with a friend. Tomorrow, it’s Hebrew all day. Alas, back to regular life.

Friday, July 17, 2009

It is two weeks into my four week class which means today was our midterm. This class may kill me, but maybe I’ll kill it first. I sit here at my desk and let out a big sigh. In truth, I’m simply relieved it’s done. Now for the last two weeks! I’m not sure how I did; though I don’t think it was too bad. Certainly better than the last two quizzes!

When I walked out of Hebrew today, I didn’t want to look at anything even resembling Hebrew, and so I didn’t, and it was great. For most of the afternoon, I worked on figuring out the labyrinth pattern for the prayer garden Marilyn and I are designing. I spent about four hours in the hot gym attempting to lay it out and I feel as if I didn’t get much of anything done for the hours I worked. But that’s how it goes with art, especially art that takes a lot of math to get it right. Math. Oh my. My tenth grade geometry class has come back to bite me in the ass. I even had to utilize the Pythagorean Theorem today, which really means I had to find something online that would calculate it all for me.

The labyrinth is set to be fourteen feet ten inches across and will largely resemble the three-circuit one shown in this picture. It took three hours to roll out all the paper, draw the lines, find, measure, and cut string, tape them to the paper, calculate all my measurements, and finally draw out the outer circle with my make-shift compass, which, I will say, I was quite proud of coming up with. And then I was hungry and ready to go home for the evening. In three hours, I got a circle drawn. Well, hopefully the slowest part of the process is over—getting the initial lines measured on the paper.

Tonight for dinner, I sautéed up some of the vegetables from the co-op and tonight I had local organically grown potatoes and orange tomatoes for the first time in my life. It was quite amazing. It’s exhilarating, I have to admit, to eat vegetables right out of the dirt. I’m such a city girl. I know nothing about these things.

And then afterward, Morgan and April and I watched the movie Wonder Boys. It had been a while since I’d last seen it and I was in the mood. The mood was satisfied. I always enjoy that movie and it’s dark, witty, cynical humor.

I debated going to bed after that, but I decided to watch another movie. For Marilyn’s vacation, I lent her some of my movies, one of which was Pieces of April. I find this movie fascinating and always good to watch. A few days ago, Marilyn handed back over to me the movies she’d finished watching. She took out Pieces of April and said to me, “You are that girl.” “What?” I said back. “You are that girl. That girl is you. She is totally you,” she replied as she tapped the movie cover. I had never thought of that character as much to do with me, let alone as me, so I was curious and thought I needed to watch that movie again soon. Tomorrow, I am meeting up with her to do a little work on the garden and so I decided I would watch that movie tonight and then ask her about it. In light of her comment, I laughed at a few things in this movie I hadn’t laughed at before, because, well, some of these things were things I would do. But is this character, in essence, me? What did Marilyn mean by that? Hopefully, I will get some answers tomorrow. But I won’t put much stake in it, because when you’re with Marilyn, the conversation can go anywhere, and it can fly out of your control quicker than you thought you had it. Of course, it’s always an interesting one.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Today, I had the opportunity to teach Marilyn what the term “hooking up” means. I would like to give the original credit to MTV, the place for all things young and stupid, for first explaining this to me. Wait, did I just admit I watch MTV? In the process, I also taught Marilyn what nicmo means and maybe even DTR, but maybe she knows that one. This came up loosely in a conversation about her son and his relationship exploits. She used the term and I thought it wise to tell her what it actually means. If you don’t know what it means, well, you can Google it. Such terms are not difficult to find. I will not disclose the definition here. Educating on the next generation—always interesting, often inappropriate.

Beside that, I’ve spent all my time studying Hebrew and it’s possible I have gone insane. I think if I put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger, I would destroy myself much quicker and more efficiently, and maybe even learn Hebrew faster. Who knows?

Our midterm is tomorrow and I’m in no place to take it at the moment! What did I get myself into??? That is what I keep asking myself. I may be digging my own grave here. We’ll see.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Can't spend much time here tonight. I bombed out in Hebrew today. Big time. It was so bad that when we were given a break, I left and did not return. So I've been spending all the rest of the day catching up on vocab. What this meant was that I missed the lesson on verbs. Lovely, but at the rate I've been going, I'm not sure I would have understood it anyway. So I'm reviewing the slides from that presentation now and then will be back at it with the vocab. Ugh. Whoever thought it would be a bright idea to pack a semester's worth of a language into a month should be deemed legally insane (if there is such a label) and never allowed to be a part of the formation of curriculum ever again. I don't know if this was such a good idea for me.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Today, I am experiencing, for the first time, the southern and midwestern phenomenon commonly known as chiggers. And it sucks ass! It's a very miserable experience. Chiggers are a mite that climb onto humans and other animals from grassy and woodland areas. They do not technically burrow into your skin but they feed off your skin cells and sit on your skin doing so until you most likely scratch them off. They are almost invisible to the human eye and so often go undetected until the itchy little bumps begin to appear. The worst part about it, though, is that they will stay on your clothing and it can be days before you feel well enough to not scream. I am not to that point. Today, these little bites began to itch, and they itch bad.

And so today I mentioned this to Marilyn while standing in her office talking about garden plans and she said, "I wish I had something to help you with. Oh wait! I do! Windex! No, seriously, it works." Well, these are the things that happen when you hang around Marilyn Elliott long enough. You end up doing crazy things like spraying Windex on your bug bites. Marilyn is obviously the mom of multiple children because she grabbed the bottle, shut her office door and said, "Here, I'll spray you." It took a bit of effort, but I convinced her I could go to the bathroom and do it myself, as chigger bites happen under your clothes and my bites were far enough under my pants to require me to remove them.

Surprisingly, it works. And it works quite well. My Big Fat Greek Wedding was right.

So I am going to bed now. I have done four loads of laundry in order to wash these devil creatures away, but as one last precaution, before I jump into bed, I'll spray a fine mist (or not so fine) of Windex on my skin and hope the itch free feeling will last long enough for me to fall asleep. And I'll hope for a little less misery tomorrow as I study in the student center, but if not, I can always ask Marilyn for the Windex bottle.

Monday, July 13, 2009

written the following day

I spent most of my time today working on Hebrew. Tomorrow we start up class again after a four day break, so I spent many hours in the student center working, working, working. And then I got to hear this gem around four o'clock. Marilyn came out of her office, turned off her lights, closed the door and came walking out to the front desk with her floor lamp in one hand and her bag in the other. She turned to John, the desk worker, and said, "I'm taking my lamp to get fixed and I'm off to Jazzercise and I'll be back at 7:30. If anyone asks, I'm in a meeting with the president," and smiled like a child who knew she'd just said something witty and walked out of the building. When she was gone, John said, "I hope someone asks."

Sunday, July 12, 2009

On Sunday, Morgan and I took a drive to go find the old abandoned barn we'd stumbled across a few weeks ago. Here are pictures.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Last night I got to see Over the Rhine at a FREE concert with the Kentucky Symphony Orchestra. Bekah and another friend, Adam, and I went up to see it. Since the concert was just south of Cincinnati, we decided to cross over to the other side for a little while before hand. Here are a few shots from the night. It was amazing!

Friday, July 10, 2009

“This is dedicated to the one I love.” --Peter, Paul, and Mary



Have I mentioned how much I really enjoy Marilyn Elliott? In the eras of the Victorians and the Romantics, it was not unusual to find love letters between mutual friends, students and teachers, and those who simply had mentors they admired. It was a very letter writing society. This had nothing to do with a romantic love as the limited view of love letters today would have it, but were words of appreciation and admiration in a time that was not so fearful to share them. And so, while I don’t know that I would call this a love letter, today I have decided to dedicate this post to Marilyn, Asbury’s rock of a chaplain, and my fantastically whimsical friend.

If I were to write this in letter form, I might start like this:

Dear Marilyn,

You are fabulously wonderful, even if you do drive me crazy!

If I could put the essence of my relationship with Marilyn into one precise sentence, that’s the closest I could come. The things I dislike about Marilyn are the things I absolutely love. I love how spontaneous she can be, how she keeps me on my toes. And I hate that she won’t nail down times with me. I love her honesty, her lack of desire to say anything but the truth. And I hate when she says things to me I don’t want to hear. I love that Marilyn doesn’t censor herself around me, that she laughs with me, that she plays with me and teases me.

Marilyn is not like any other woman I’ve met. She is never bothered by my intensity and does not try to entertain me when she is not in the mood or does not have the time. She does not fake how she feels, and I have learned that I never have to worry about what she may be thinking about me, because she’ll simply say it. I love that she doesn’t put up walls with me, and I love that I don’t have to second guess Marilyn and that I have her word on that.

With a twenty-six year age gap, our relationship is, to say the least, a unique one. It is so interesting to me, that sometimes I wish I could frame it and put it on my shelf, because it would add an interesting element to my collection of pictures and trinkets. Marilyn is largely uninterested in the age gap, but being less than two months older than her youngest child, my relationship with her sometimes looks more like an awkward parent-child partnership than a friend to friend kinship or even a pastor-student bond. The weirdest part is that sometimes it looks like all three at once.

Marilyn is one of the very, very few who understand me not just as someone of a postmodern point of view, but as a Portlander who has been uprooted and transplanted into a place entirely foreign to her culture. As a Canadian, especially one with the same bent toward postmodernism that I have, she seems to understand this with an empathy others can’t grasp. I love that I can vent about my thoughts on Southern culture, the Church, and Asbury and have no worries that she’ll be offended or even bothered, and to know that, in fact, I just might have an empathetic ear.

My first experience with Marilyn was not a personal one. Due to a minor back injury from my nasty car accident that officially welcomed me to Kentucky, I was in and out of New Student Orientation, unable to cope with both the discomfort of sitting for too long and the discomfort of being in a sea of people I’ve never met. But I did happen to be in NSO when Marilyn spoke. I don’t really remember what it was she talked about, but she caught my attention when she quoted Brandi Carlile’s song “The Story.” It is a certain type of person that has an interest in Brandi Carlile and acquaintances back home are a number of those. Brandi Carlile is a Seattle-based musician who has a bigger following on the West Coast than over here, so to hear her mentioned piqued my interest, and I seemed to stow away in the back of my mind that whether or not Marilyn was a person I should get to know, she was at least worth noting as relevant. She made me curious, but it was many weeks before we would officially connect.

Since then, it’s been a crazy ride, one that has consisted of office visits, random chats, witty bantering, lots of cupcakes, banana bread, church visits (including Easter), grocery shopping, lunch out, her front porch, one retreat, tears, laying in the grass, a trip to the public library, the asking of me (or any other female near enough to hear the question) to be the contributing factor in the giving of grandchildren from her last born and, as she so articulately noted, the only one left with the biological capability to do so, and the exchanging of books and movies.

I have known Marilyn for less than a year, and it’s been a year to remember, though one I sometimes think I’d rather forget. I don’t know if I could have survived Asbury without Marilyn. Like a little beacon of sanity, Marilyn was always there to remind me that there was a world outside Asbury and that the world outside Asbury would not see me the same way the world inside Asbury does.

I love that Marilyn will not give undue sympathy, even if I do want it, and won’t bullshit around. I love that with no warning, she’ll come out and whisk me away from my grueling work to take a quick trip to Goodwill or go sit in the sun for a few minutes or lay in the grass. I love that Marilyn does not want to be a mother to me and that I don’t want her to treat me as if she’s my mother, but that at times we default to that anyway and in the end I just go with the flow of whatever she wants, because it has everything to do with spending time with her and nothing to do with how that’s done.

These days, Marilyn and I are designing a garden (hence the public library trip)—a prayer garden outside one of Asbury’s many chapels. If there’s a timeline for this, Marilyn has not notified me of it, and I don’t find this to be a surprise. Whether or not it even gets finished by the end of the summer is up for grabs, I’m sure. But the finishing end is not much of a factor for my choice to be involved. I’m simply entertained with the opportunity this will bring for more amusing stories and fantastic interactions, and the opportunities that have already arisen.

Marilyn does not fit the Asbury mold. She doesn’t even fit the opposite of the Asbury mold. She is simply her own entity, and this is one of the reasons I so enjoy her. I could write a lot more about her. I could tell amusing stories and relay comical conversations. For now, though, I will end by saying I love that Marilyn has redefined relationships for me that is very different from the dysfunctional and painful ones in my past. I love that Marilyn doesn’t think my intensity is any stranger than that of her children or even her own and that she may not even see me as particularly intense at all. Asbury has been one of the hardest experiences of my life. It is not an easy place to be in and burnout tends to happen quickly but inefficiently. Almost a year later, it feels less like home to me than when I first arrived. But when I look closer, I remember there are a couple of people who have made it all worthwhile. What I have learned from my relationship with Marilyn is something I will always cherish. No matter where I go and where I end up, I know I will always have Marilyn to chat with, cry to, and to share fabulous poems and endless bounds of wit and humor with. Thanks, Marilyn, for an amazing time and one crazy ride!

Oh, and did I mention I love that Canadian accent? Sure is something, eh?

Thursday, July 9, 2009

written the following day

Thursday was my Friday, and it felt like it. Class ended and even though I attempted to continue studying Hebrew, my brain told me it would not tolerate such a thing. And so I sat in the student center and worked on some other things and it was desperately quite in there and the clock ticked away like molasses on a cold day. Even Marilyn noted as she walked out of her office at one point, “This day is going so slow!"

In the midst of my writing the latest This Week At Asbury communication, Marilyn came walking out of her office and said to me, “Come on, let’s go outside. Let’s lay in the grass.” And when Marilyn makes a comment like that, it is generally spoken quickly and with her on the move. Marilyn does not dilly-dally. She was all the way to the door before I had hardly gotten out of my chair, but she waited for me as I hurried over and wandered outside. So for a few minutes, Marilyn and I lay on the grass beneath a tree, looking up at its branches and noticing its bark looked like camouflage. How strange. What did we talk about? I don’t even really remember now, but it was blissfully delightful!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Hebrew, Hebrew, Hebrew! All day long, that’s all I do! I get up at quarter to six, go to the student center, study before class (and, so it seems, receive a congratulatory comment about my diligence from Marilyn as she comes into work), go to class, come back to the student center, study, study, study, eventually leave and go back to my dorm where I study some more. And yet, I’m hard pressed to actually have it all done by the time class starts the following morning. Ugh.

But, on the bright side, on my way back from a break during class, I ran into Marilyn and got to chat with her for a few minutes. She’s back this week from a month long vacation from Asbury and it’s nice to see her around. When you’ve been on a campus like Asbury’s for long enough, it’s hard to tell how on the edge people would seem to the outside world, but in the world of Asbury, Marilyn’s personality always borders on the offensive (and for some, I’m sure, falls into it). This is what I love about Marilyn. This is, not, however, what I love about Asbury.

Friday, we do not have class, so currently, the plan is to plant some flowers with Marilyn in the little garden behind one of Asbury’s many chapels. It will be interesting, for sure! And a good break from Hebrew.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

written the following day

What did I do on Tuesday? Oh, good grief. All I did was Hebrew! I’ve been told I’ll start dreaming in it soon enough. Well, won’t that be fun? I’d like to have a dream where people speak Greek and Hebrew back and forth to each other. But if I had that dream, it would mean I need to get the hell out of seminary as fast as I can!

Monday, July 6, 2009

written the following day

Taking a semester’s worth of a language class in one month is absolute insanity. What?! This week, I began my Hebrew class, and it has absorbed my life. I can’t write much here for now, because my taxing schedule for Hebrew study is demanding my time. I may have just signed my death certificate with this class. Word on the street is that before long I will be dreaming in Hebrew. Just what I want.

In the midst of attempting (unsuccessfully) to catch up with church history before beginning with Hebrew, my day hit a bit of a road block. My history assignment has to do with writings of Irenaeus, a second century apologist who wrote in refutation of the Gnostic heresy of the day. In the middle of reading his writing—in which he clarifies both the humanness and divinity of Jesus Christ and the totality of God as both Father of Christ and Creator of all—a question hit me. This is not the first time this has crossed my mind, but today it seemed to overwhelm me. As I read this apology against heretical beliefs, it hit me just how fucked up we are, and then, as if I’d never thought of this before, I wondered why in the world God created all of this, all of this. What in the world would compel him to do such a crazy thing and something that from my vantage point seems as if it was completely not worth it. It was a question that overwhelmed me to the point of being unable to continue with my work and after sitting for some time in the student center where I was attempting to work, I decided to get up and go see of Peg was available to chat. I’ve talked about Peg before in these entrees. A spiritual lighthouse of this campus, Peg is someone I always enjoy talking to. I value her insights on live and spirituality and God, and I value the insights she has into me.

Peg was, indeed, available, and we ended up chatting for quite a while. It was the kind of conversation that stretches my thinking in a way that is not uncomfortable but instead intriguing. I enjoy Peg and am glad she takes interest in my thoughts. The conversation was exactly what I needed, and as I wandered back to my work, my heart, while still pondering the question, was a bit more at ease.

Sometimes, I find Asbury to be the most difficult place in the world, but in the midst of those times, I find it has some of the most amazing people here, too.

Sunday, July, 5, 2009

written the following day

Well, Sunday was my last day of freedom before Hebrew came and swallowed me whole. I had homework due in the evening for church history, but instead of doing it, I wandered the mall with Morgan for Bob Dylanesque sunglasses and found the exact pair he used to wear at the Sunglass Hut—Ray Ban Wayfarers 2140. It’s a bad idea, I just want to say, to look at the real deal when you’re trying to find a cheap version of them. It’s bad because nothing looks quite like the real thing and the real thing looks just like Bob Dylan. But hey, I need to update my prescription sunglasses anyway and you can’t put prescription lenses in cheap Old Navy frames…. Oh my.

And speaking of Bob Dylan, Morgan and I finished off her weekend Dylan education with the documentary No Direction Home. It’s a fascinating and very informative documentary about Dylan’s music career, focusing especially on his move from acoustic to electric. I had forgotten, though, that it’s over three hours long. It was aired on two consecutive days when it was on TV. But we watched it all, anyway. Dylan is always worth watching all of.

Now to prepare for the hurricane of Hebrew that shall blow in on Monday and remain for the entire month of July. A language in a month. Oh good grief.

Saturday, July 4th, 2009

For the Fourth of July, I think I will let the pictures tell the story. First, I watched a parade in Wilmore. Then Bekah and I went out to Highbridge, so I could see it for the first time, and afterward I waved my final official goodbye as she left home in Wilmore for good. And then of course there were fireworks, which I did not take great effort to go watch, but could see a bit of from the third floor of the dorm.

Friday, July 3, 2009

written the following day

Last night, I wrote a post for my blog, and then my Word program unexpectedly quit on me and I lost the whole thing. %*&^#@!

So now you get the summarized, truncated version which goes like this. In the morning, I got to go out to breakfast with some great ladies from the dorm—Morgan, Nicole, and Bekah. We drove thirty minutes to go to IHOP, because I wanted a good variety of syrup. It was delightful.

And then in the afternoon, I got to enjoy more time on the rocking chairs and even had a little company. Angela came with me and Bekah joined a little later. Mostly, we did our own thing, them reading and me practicing some more on my guitar. When the blisters got too painful, I had to put it down and decided to catch up some on one of my Granta issues—a literary magazine that looks more like a book. It’s British which means it’s incredible.

In the evening, I began educating Morgan on Bob Dylan and we watched the 1967 documentary, Dont Look Back. Always a beauty to watch. For a day in Wilmore, it was a good one.

Love the rocking chairs. Love the reading. Love Bob Dylan. Not, however, a big fan of Word.