froogality

FYI, I updated my Froogle Wish List, should you discover, deep within your soul, the burning desire to brighten my corner by spending money on li'l ol' me.

*grin*

i wish this story were fictional

At the bottom of this post are the tags "being the church" and "brighten the corner where you are."

This post is about what being the church and brightening your corner isn't.

After the funeral, he spots someone he hasn't seen in years. He greets her, she greets him. He asks several interested questions about her life. So far so good. As she launches into her exposition, two children approach.

They are two children of the deceased. Rightfully so, he interrupts the woman in order to address them. The woman turns with him, and together they express their condolences.

But he doesn't leave it at that. Can't leave it at that. Stepping close to one of the children--a youth in black with pierced ears and a girl on one arm--he puts his hand on the boy's shoulder and tells the grieving one, "Just remember that if you do what the Bible says, this isn't the end. And you'll see him again, if you do what's right."

(The youth nods, and politeness tugs at the corners of his mouth. But in his eyes is the confused rage of a heart that is wholly misunderstood, grieving, yearning for intimacy...but learning once again that to be vulnerable is to find not healing, but rejection. Judgment based on appearances. And so he turns away from the well-wisher's concept of soul-care, thinking that among these self-proclaimed followers of God, there is no safe haven for the likes of him.)

Having executed his Christian duty, the well-wisher then makes for the parking lot and drives away. After embracing the children a final time, the woman turns to look for him. But he is gone. She guesses that the conversation must be over.

in which i don't know whether or not locusts and cicadas are the same thing

I intended to write about this weeks ago but forgot.

A few weeks ago, on a warm spring evening (as opposed to the hot spring evening we are currently experiencing--25 degrees Celsius at 22:00!), Ed and I were sitting in the office with the windows open, doing the kind of nothing that people do in their offices at home on warm spring evenings.

(An aside: I just now sneezed and hit my head on the edge of my laptop. Ow.)

As we sat there, doing nothing, I gradually became aware of a noise. I'd been hearing it for quite some time but hadn't consciously taken note of it. When I finally did begin paying attention to it, I knew immediately what it was: a locust!

Some people find them creepy. Some find them annoying. I find locusts completely fascinating, both in appearance and in lifestyle. ("Lifestyles of the Green and Bug-Eyed!")
As I told Ed on that do-nothing evening of a few weeks ago, the sound of locusts takes me back to childhood summers in Oklahoma, lying awake at night, sweltering in the heat, listening to the locusts as they sang me to sleep.

I've been a lot of places and heard a lot of things, but so far, for me, the sound of locust song is unique to Oklahoma. There's just no other sound like it. And because I associate it with the wonderful, boisterous, adventurous summers of my childhood, it's a sound that is very dear to me. I love walking out into a warm, humid summer evening in Oklahoma and hearing the locusts as they "sing" so loudly, they're almost deafening. Every time I hear them, there's a split second when I'm a kid again.

"Reeeeeeeeeeeeee!" said Ed, imitating the locust. "How would you like it," he asked me, "if your whole purpose in life were to crawl out of the ground in the spring, stretch, look around, and then start making that noise?!"

I laughed.

Oh, and speaking of humid, tonight is definitely the night for that! Earlier, I walked outside, and I could smell the heat and moisture rolling through the air. Like the locust song, this smell is unique to this place. No other place I've been smells quite like this. Germany has its share of humid summers, but they smell different: woodsier somehow, scented with tree mold and green, deep and dark and growing.

Oklahoma humidity smells like earth and rain and wind. It's a wild smell, scented with power barely restrained, occasionally threatening with a hint of ozone. This, too, takes me back to childhood, when storms meant running out into the rain for the sheer joy of getting drenched and seeing the lighting; when climbing water towers didn't seem foolish; when simply everything was possible.

great quote

"I was certain that God had a greater purpose for me, and I prayed every day for Him to reveal it to me. At first I was expecting Him to show me my entire future all at once--maybe with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder thrown in for good measure. But I came to learn that God never shows us something we aren't ready to understand. Instead, he lets us see what we need to see, when we need to see it. He'll wait until our eyes and hearts are open to Him, and then when we're ready, He will plant our feet on the path that's best for us...but it's up to us to do the walking."

--Immaculée Ilibagiza
"Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust"

book comments 5 (in which i briefly wax political)

Most of my latest reading adventures. I think I'm forgetting a few, but I'm sure those few of you who actually read my book reviews will forgive me. ;o)

"Velocity" by Dean Koontz
--fast-paced, entertaining, good read, kept me on the edge of my seat
--Billy Wiles is the tormented main character, and I just wanted to cuddle him.
--SPOILER: The love of Billy's life is in a coma, and she doesn't wake up before the end of the book, if I recall correctly. This is a little too close to the situation of one of Koontz's other leading men, Odd Thomas, the love of whose life is dead. I'm starting to get a little tired of Koontz Leading Men who don't get to move on emotionally because their girls are either incapacitated or deceased. I'm a girl. I like a little requited romance here and there.
--That said, I still recommend the book. ;o)


"The Crucible" by Arthur Miller
--I will betray my ignorance of classic American literature by admitting that before I picked it up, I thought this was a novel, not a play.
--So it was a faster read than I'd been anticipating. ;o)
--thoroughly enjoyed it, thought it was a great comment on society, both past and present
--saw the movie a few years ago, so had trouble not seeing Daniel Day-Lewis and Winona Ryder in my head while reading
--no complaints about Day-Lewis visual; "Last of the Mohicans" is still a favorite
--but I digress
--"Crucible": highly recommend, especially in light of society's continuing penchant for inciting hysteria among the masses; nowadays, this takes place a great deal over email forwards :oP


"Cat O'Nine Tales" by Jeffrey Archer
--picked it up because the author is a British politician telling stories he heard while he was in prison (true!)
--collection of extremely clever short stories with often hilarious criminal punch lines
--fascinating, fun, excellent read
--Archer writes in a style I call "veddy British," and I love it.
--highly recommend


"Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust" by Immaculée Ilibagiza
--Um. Wow. Scary. Heartbreaking. Infuriating. Horrifying.
--I thought after watching "Hotel Rwanda," I had found out as much as I wanted to about the 1994 genocide against the Tutsis in Rwanda. Well, I was wrong, and I'm ashamed of my prior lack of interest. I think everyone needs to read this book. Especially everyone who has a strong opinion about the war in Iraq.

You think political errors have been made in regard to Iraq?

The political errors regarding Rwanda--specifically, the barely-there and very late-in-coming involvement of the world's democratic governments--stand out much more starkly. And are a whole lot more embarrassing. Those people needed the Western world's help *a lot sooner* than any of us gave it. I am embarrassed that we didn't give it.

But Rwanda doesn't have oil.

'Nuff said.


"By the Sword" by Mercedes Lackey
--classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy
--reminded me pleasantly of Andre Norton
--for the most part, fast-paced and action-packed
--got me interested in checking out Lackey's other novels set in this particular universe ("Heralds of Valdemar")
--I had some trouble relating to the heroine, simply because I'm much more of a girl than she is. ;o)
--I did get bored with and skimmed over a lot of the battle tactic and war strategy stuff, especially toward the end of the book. Those parts made me think, "Get on with the story!" The large gaps of time (one spanning ten years!) between chapters and parts were a little distracting
--recommend to anyone who likes "old school" fantasy ;o)


Coming Soon to a Courtney's Blog near you:

(drumroll, please)

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"The Golden Compass" trilogy, more correctly known as "His Dark Materials"!!!

Lighting will strike! Run for your life!!!!!!

;oD

the worst food in america

Check out this article about how bad restaurant (not fast food!) is for us. It's scary. And scary. And did I mention that it's scary?

According to the writers' research, this is the Worst-For-You Food in America:

Outback Steakhouse Aussie Cheese Fries with Ranch Dressing
2,900 calories
182 g fat
240 g carbs

"It's the caloric equivalent of eating 14 Krispy Kreme doughnuts, before your dinner arrives. Even if you split this "starter" with 3 friends, you'll have downed a meal's worth of calories."

This isn't food for thought. This is food for your fat cells. This is food to add on to your fat cells.

Blech.

more nickelback randomness

So it happened again. I heard a song I liked, Googled it, and found out it was Nickelback again. This is seriously starting to weird me out.

Anyway, this time, it was "Rockstar." The picture the lyrics paint of the celebrity life is painfully vivid and accurate. In spite of the two vulgarities, I still appreciate the song for its truth.

And the sarcasm just really swings my verge.

my transition meltdown. let me show you it.

I ought to be getting in bed right now. I've actually not been doing half bad about keeping to a regular sleep schedule lately. I'd hate to mess it up just because of a little case of RRRCS. Reverse Reverse Reverse Culture Shock. But as I was about to shut down the taplop, I realized I simply didn't want to go to sleep without blogging about this first.

Don't let the sun go down on your culture shock. Isn't that how the scripture goes?

Anyway...

I've been feeling edgy the last few days. Partially because of hormones--I'll spare you those details. But even if it is hormone-related, that doesn't make the emotions any less valid.

So. Edginess. Still, okay. Then came a couple of phone calls yesterday. Well-meant, and ordinarily not something I'd react to adversely. But I came away from them feeling inadequate, untrustworthy, weak, and foolish (notably, not by the callers' doing). I don't need to say that this did nothing to take the edge off the edge. So I won't say it.

Today, I got an email from our dear friend Elsa, reporting on the latest ETM class that took place last week. And there was a photo, too. Not only that, but there was a meeting over the past weekend for *all* the ETM participants *ever*.

I took one look at that photo, read the first line of Elsa's email, and promptly started bawling.

I should have been there, was what I was thinking. I wanted to be there. Desperately. But I couldn't be there. And I suddenly felt like I was wholly and irrevocably in the wrong place.

Shortly thereafter, I called my parents to talk about something totally unrelated, ended up misunderstanding something Daddy said and getting upset all over again, and then bawling to both him and Mama. Later, Jennifer came for coffee, and I bawled to her. Then Isaac arrived, and I bawled to him, too.

By the time Ed got home, I was all cried out. Besides, just seeing him made me feel better. Later, Jennifer and I went for a walk and a talk, and that helped a lot, too.

I don't *really* think I'm in the wrong place. I'm not *truly* dissatisfied with where I am in life and why and whatnot. That might be how I feel right now, but I know it's not so. The feelings are valid, but they aren't a reflection of reality. They're simply part of the transition process.

So eventually, I'll be okay. Today was just a rough day. I've known for awhile it was coming. But, like the day I cried in Buy-for-Less, I didn't expect it on a particular day. It's impossible to predict what will trigger it.

Tomorrow evening, I'm supposed to substitute teach a Ladies' Class. On personal evangelism. You know, that thing I did fulltime in Chemnitz. That thing I believe is part of the definition of "Christian." I hope I can get through the class. With God's help, I know I can. But only if I let him take care of the transition-emotions. And I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of them and let him, yet.

Blech.

I don't like this.

I think I might do some painting this week.

That's all. I feel better now. :o)

i finished chapter 25 today!

...and it's ten pages longer than I expected it to be. Not sure what happened there.

But still, there is much rejoicing!

ima hogg

Today's featured article on Wikipedia is about a woman named Ima Hogg. I find this highly amusing, because I've heard anecdotes about her for, like, ever, but I never believed she really existed.

So now, having perused the article, I sit amusedly corrected.

Enjoy!

another very TCK rant, if you can stand it

...and if you can't, stop reading. ;o)

Okay, so a few days ago, I wrote about how I get really irritated when people give me 20 seconds of their attention, then turn me off right as I'm in the middle of answering THEIR question.

This isn't going to be a rant about that again.

But this *is* going to be a rant about something else to which I react with anger.

I'll be brief.


To Whom It May Concern--And You Know Who You Are:

Do not tell me I'm not a "good American" because I get upset when you bash Europe. To my face.

Do not tell me that I sound more German than American in my opinions. If I *am* more German, then it is none of your business.

And do not tell me that I need to decide which country I want to be a citizen of in my heart.
Do not have the audacity, the utter gall to say such a thing to me.

______

I'm done.
______

This isn't a cross-cultural re-entry issue for me. This relates to the ever-difficult, ever-present, life-long struggle of feeling torn between cultures. Even after I complete the current cultural transition phase, this isn't going to go away. I accept that, so please don't anyone worry that I'm having a meltdown. I'm not. I just read something this evening that reminded me of the incident described above, and I realized I'd feel better about it if I aired the dirty laundry in public.

you may quote me on this

Occasional incoherence builds character!

While you're at it, don't get stuck in the metaphysical toe cheese.

That really swings my verge.


(And on a side note, here's what the online translator does with those sentences...

...in German:
Die zufällige Zusammenhangslosigkeit baut den Charakter! Während Sie - darin, sie sich in metaphysischem Käse der Zehe nicht verstopfen. Das schwingt meinen Rand wirklich.

...in English:
The accidental unconnectedness builds the character! While you do not block yourselves in metaphysical cheese of the toe - in it, they. This swings my edge really.

*Love* it.)

something to chew on

I found this quote that I'd scribbled down somewhere. I have no idea who said it, but it's an excellent thought.

The worst thing that could happen to you is that you go to your grave a respectable fraud who spent your entire life worrying that someone would find out, but you ignored the only one who saw it all.

i finished chapter 23 today!

...which really swings my verge. ;o)

a few more interesting scriptures from the FHV

...FHV = Freed-Hardeman Version, which I mentioned sometime last week, or maybe week-before-last, but I'm in a hurry right now, so I'm not gonna look it up. Anyway, here are the verses of current interest:

Matthew 5:31-32
It was said, "Whoever divorces his wife is to give her a bill of divorce." But, I assure you, any man who divorces his wife except for fornication leaves her debased, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.
(Emphasis added because that makes so much more sense than any other translation I've ever read or divorce-related doctrine I've ever heard!)

John 21:15-17
After breakfast, Jesus asked Simon Peter, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love me more than these?"
He replied, "Yes, Lord, you know I like you."
Jesus said, "Feed my lambs." A second time, Jesus asked, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love me?"
Peter answered, "Yes, Lord, you know that I like you."
Jesus said, "Shepherd my sheep." The third time, Jesus asked, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you like me?"
Peter was grieved because Jesus had asked for the third time, "Do you like me?", and he replied, "Lord, you know all things: you know I like you."
Jesus answered, "Feed my sheep."
(emphasis added)

some culture shock thoughts

Before I begin, here's another caveat emptor (I've been using that phrase so often lately, I really should make it a tag): I am not bitter; I am not trying to criticize; I am not complaining; I am meaning no offense. I am venting, and I am feeling frustrated, and I am making observations. So there are your grains of salt with which to take the following:

One. If you ever really want to annoy me: ask me a question, give me twenty seconds of your attention, and then, as I am answering YOUR question, either walk away from me or turn away and start talking to someone else.

This has happened numerous times since we arrived here in November. And the culprits are not inattentive children or flighty teenagers. The culprits are allegedly friendly, allegedly sensitive, and allegedly well-adjusted adults who ought to know better.

Forgive me my intolerance and closed-mindedness, but that is rude no matter what culture you're in. Please spare me your alleged interest in who I really am.

I know this sounds bitter, but I'm really not bitter. Frustrated. Annoyed.

Two. A lot of people here profess to be very proud to be American, proud to be part of this country. And yet I observe the same people, littering and wasting natural resources (leaving water running, leaving lights on, leaving cars running while the drivers duck into the store for 15 minutes...). Germans are, for the most part, lukewarm when it comes to patriotism. And yet they will drive you nuts with everything they insist on doing to protect the environment, to take care of their land (like separating trash into four different types for disposal and recycling; I am so brainwashed, I *still* feel guilty about putting everything into one trash can!).

So of the two cultures, which is really more patriotic?

Annoyed. Not bitter. Frustrated. And ***confused***.

an 'i am' poem

message to a friend who was


i am penitent and hopeful

i wonder if i will ever be able to ask your forgiveness
i hear a voice whispering discouragement into my heart
i see myself speaking to you of my sin
i want to assure you that i desire nothing of you
i am penitent and hopeful.

i pretend no more
i feel myself growing beyond the confines of who i was
i touch the places in my past that hurt
i worry that you resent me
i weep not, though: for
i am penitent and hopeful.

i understand that i cannot fix this
i say these things to you because i must
i dreamt i was not prideful, but i have awakened to what’s real

i remember our laughter

i hope i will one day have the honor of asking your forgiveness

meanwhile
i am penitent

and hopeful.


The above text © 2007 by Courtney Weger Cantrell.

dream #145

Drowning People of All Nations, Unite!

Last night, I dreamed that I was in Communist East Germany, and the Stasi were chasing me. I tried to hide in a skyscraper that was an apartment building. But as luck would have it, the Stasi had chosen that particular building in which to kill all of the occupants by drowning. I was caught up in the chaos of fleeing people and Stasi officers’ giving orders.

Somehow, I ended up pushing myself through a crowd on the stairs and getting into the basement. I thought I could find some loose boards among the panels that covered all the windows. But somehow the Stasi had managed to make the whole building watertight. They began pumping water in, and the basement started to fill up. Together with a few others who had kept their heads, I found a section of boarding that was loose. By holding our breaths and diving down to the floor of the basement, we managed to pry the boards away, let some of the water out, and help a few people escape before swimming to safety ourselves.

When I emerged from the basement, I found the streets full of people and Communist troops. A full-scale revolt had erupted, and the citizens were taking up arms and fighting back. I joined a crowd that was standing on some crumbling concrete steps, listening to a man give a revolutionary speech. A lot of the people had weapons that looked like shotguns. Then the dream ended.

keeping the joy alive

And, speaking of geekdom, here's a little something I just have to re-post every few years. I share it because this guy, whose name I believe is Gary, just makes me really happy. Every time I see this, I smile...

...and I sing and dance along. Huzzah!

"Gary" sings "Dragostea Din Tei".

i couldn't agree more, and i am a geek

As regularly as I read any blog (which has not, of late, been regularly at all), I peruse the blog of Wil Wheaton. On March 6, 2008, he posted the following:"

"Some books contain the machinery required to create and sustain universes."
-Tycho, at Penny Arcade

Yeah, let that roll around in your head for a little bit. It's really as simple and beautiful as that, isn't it?

I see a bookshelf, filled with different books from different authors, all acting as portals to different worlds and different times. The author may give them birth, but it's the readers who keep them alive.

--yellow text penned by Wil Wheaton
_________________________________________

That's exactly how I feel about books and about reading them. I've mentioned the worlds and universes aspect before. Here.

As for why I'm a geek....well, Wil Wheaton's a geek, and I love his blog. I don't always like his word choices, but I ignore them because I like how he writes and the fact that he revels in his geekdom. Besides, he played Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: TNG, and I loved him heart and soul when I was 13.

I revel in my own geekdom (see here and here,) but I suspect my secret recalcitrant side often prevents me from engaging in revelry in public. I admire Wil for his blatant and unhesitant revelry. I find, though, that I become more and more open about my geekiness as I get older, so perhaps I am learning something.

And, in the spirit of such...

Happy Belated π Day!
and
Happy Belated Ides of March!