Okay, I know that the likelihood of you all clicking on the link I'm about to post and reading the article is not that great. But, I love this article from the New York Times about my home town and our new president. While the likelihood of my moving back there is not great, Chicago owns a big part of my heart, and the city itself- the nature and character of that beautiful place and the people in it have shaped me and are a part of my blood. So I'm posting the link here.
11.30.2008
My Kind of Town, Chicago
Okay, I know that the likelihood of you all clicking on the link I'm about to post and reading the article is not that great. But, I love this article from the New York Times about my home town and our new president. While the likelihood of my moving back there is not great, Chicago owns a big part of my heart, and the city itself- the nature and character of that beautiful place and the people in it have shaped me and are a part of my blood. So I'm posting the link here.
11.23.2008
11.19.2008
All I Want for Christmas Is You...
I don't know if you knew this about me, but I'm not married. Not even close.
Surprisingly, this fact about me is one that people like to interrogate me about during the holiday season. And I'm not alone in this, single young people everywhere live in a defensive state at holiday parties, dodging the questions related to this topic. Although it's hard to imagine in what universe the question "why aren't you married yet?" could be asked with anything less than malicious intent, it still gets asked, time and time again. Generally followed with an honest and well-intentioned "but I just don't understand!" I usually smile and shrug while silently thinking "Me neither lady, I'm a catch. But you're not helping right now." And to those of us that are at the ripe old age of 24, too old to still be single seems a bit of a stretch.
Anyways. The holidays less than discreetly remind me of this fact, questions from friends and relatives aside. I am not married. Nor am I in a relationship leading to such a union. I am oh-so-(begrudgingly)-single.
So at this point in this post, I'm sure you're all just on the edge of your seats waiting to find out if I'm going to spill who it is that I, in fact, want for Christmas. No, No. I don't give that kind of information up so easily. (part of the problem? maybe. willing to open that can of worms at this moment? no way jose.)
All I want for Christmas is you, French Blue KitchenAid Artisan Stand Mixer. Now, I am aware that to many of you, the connection between my current status as a Miss rather than a Mrs. has little if anything to do with my Christmas wish for a mixer. But it does.
You see, my mother hates shopping. Like, more than hates it. She probably abhors it, or some other strong synonym for hate. She always has. It's like torture for her, a punishment of some kind. Upon finding this out, many people wonder where in the world I came from. I just assume that I like it enough to compensate for the both of us. I love it. I wanna marry shopping. So, every year, as long as I can remember, I've come up with what I want for Christmas and pointed Sue in the right direction. This works for both of us, since I am a relatively picky person, embarrassingly known to be a bit of a returner; and she can then just run in and out of the specific store she needs to at the least busy time possible to grab what she needs. It's even gone so far as the handing over of the credit card for me to shop for Mom, Dad, brothers, and myself. Fun for me, and such a relief to her that everybody wins.
So a few of weeks ago I was thinking about Christmas and gave Sue a call.
Me: "Hey mom, so, you know how I'm not married?"
Mom: "Yes, Maggie. I do know that about you..."
Me: "Well, I've been thinking about Christmas."
Mom: "Ummm...Okay..."
Me: "I want a KitchenAid mixer. And since I'm not married and can't register for one, I want one for Christmas. Just because I'm single doesn't mean I should also be denied the pleasure of making cookies and bread and mashed potatoes..."
Mom: "Oh Yeah? We'll see."
***(I wanted one a couple of years ago, and she told me that's the kind of thing, like nice pots and pans, matching dishes, silverware that doesn't bend, etc. that you wait to buy until you get married so you can register for it.)
2 weeks later, a voicemail from Sue: "Hey Mags, It's mom. Listen, I'm at Old Orchard, and I just hate hate hate shopping. I'm not doing it this year. At all. Kyle wants a trip to Colorado and needs a new ski jacket, so that's what he's getting. Dad can just buy himself some stuff from Home Depot like he does every year anyway, and why don't you just go to Williams Sonoma and buy yourself that KitchenAid and we'll just be done with it, okay?"
So, Christmas came early this year. I walked right in there yesterday afternoon and bought her. And she's a beauty. While I'm still attempting to cook with crappy pots and pans and serving dinner to guests on dishes that came from someone's garage and don't match one another let alone the decor of our kitchen, and sometimes I bend the spoon into a right angle while dishing out ice cream, there she is in all her glory, reminding me that single girls can still bake cookies without getting arm cramps. Who knows. Maybe some fresh baked cookies mixed to perfection will be the keys to someone's heart.
Surprisingly, this fact about me is one that people like to interrogate me about during the holiday season. And I'm not alone in this, single young people everywhere live in a defensive state at holiday parties, dodging the questions related to this topic. Although it's hard to imagine in what universe the question "why aren't you married yet?" could be asked with anything less than malicious intent, it still gets asked, time and time again. Generally followed with an honest and well-intentioned "but I just don't understand!" I usually smile and shrug while silently thinking "Me neither lady, I'm a catch. But you're not helping right now." And to those of us that are at the ripe old age of 24, too old to still be single seems a bit of a stretch.
Anyways. The holidays less than discreetly remind me of this fact, questions from friends and relatives aside. I am not married. Nor am I in a relationship leading to such a union. I am oh-so-(begrudgingly)-single.
So at this point in this post, I'm sure you're all just on the edge of your seats waiting to find out if I'm going to spill who it is that I, in fact, want for Christmas. No, No. I don't give that kind of information up so easily. (part of the problem? maybe. willing to open that can of worms at this moment? no way jose.)
All I want for Christmas is you, French Blue KitchenAid Artisan Stand Mixer. Now, I am aware that to many of you, the connection between my current status as a Miss rather than a Mrs. has little if anything to do with my Christmas wish for a mixer. But it does.
You see, my mother hates shopping. Like, more than hates it. She probably abhors it, or some other strong synonym for hate. She always has. It's like torture for her, a punishment of some kind. Upon finding this out, many people wonder where in the world I came from. I just assume that I like it enough to compensate for the both of us. I love it. I wanna marry shopping. So, every year, as long as I can remember, I've come up with what I want for Christmas and pointed Sue in the right direction. This works for both of us, since I am a relatively picky person, embarrassingly known to be a bit of a returner; and she can then just run in and out of the specific store she needs to at the least busy time possible to grab what she needs. It's even gone so far as the handing over of the credit card for me to shop for Mom, Dad, brothers, and myself. Fun for me, and such a relief to her that everybody wins.
So a few of weeks ago I was thinking about Christmas and gave Sue a call.
Me: "Hey mom, so, you know how I'm not married?"
Mom: "Yes, Maggie. I do know that about you..."
Me: "Well, I've been thinking about Christmas."
Mom: "Ummm...Okay..."
Me: "I want a KitchenAid mixer. And since I'm not married and can't register for one, I want one for Christmas. Just because I'm single doesn't mean I should also be denied the pleasure of making cookies and bread and mashed potatoes..."
Mom: "Oh Yeah? We'll see."
***(I wanted one a couple of years ago, and she told me that's the kind of thing, like nice pots and pans, matching dishes, silverware that doesn't bend, etc. that you wait to buy until you get married so you can register for it.)
2 weeks later, a voicemail from Sue: "Hey Mags, It's mom. Listen, I'm at Old Orchard, and I just hate hate hate shopping. I'm not doing it this year. At all. Kyle wants a trip to Colorado and needs a new ski jacket, so that's what he's getting. Dad can just buy himself some stuff from Home Depot like he does every year anyway, and why don't you just go to Williams Sonoma and buy yourself that KitchenAid and we'll just be done with it, okay?"
So, Christmas came early this year. I walked right in there yesterday afternoon and bought her. And she's a beauty. While I'm still attempting to cook with crappy pots and pans and serving dinner to guests on dishes that came from someone's garage and don't match one another let alone the decor of our kitchen, and sometimes I bend the spoon into a right angle while dishing out ice cream, there she is in all her glory, reminding me that single girls can still bake cookies without getting arm cramps. Who knows. Maybe some fresh baked cookies mixed to perfection will be the keys to someone's heart.
11.18.2008
The Way That We Mend
I am presently finding myself in a very good place, piecing the bits of my life that had come unraveled back together. Living in and being a part of a community that has just been so visibly shaken and is working now toward healing has led so many of us toward a fresh perspective on how blessed we really are. We are feeling how much we really have, and how so much of it doesn't actually matter at all. This inevitably points us humbly toward what does. People, friends and family matter. Love matters. Memories matter; and faith and gratitude and hope matter.
These things are found in the way that we mend. We surround ourselves with people we love, people who love us. And when we fall, even when we don't have the energy to ask for their help, these people take us by the hand and gently pull us back up onto our feet. We were designed for this. We allow our community, whoever that may be, to surround us; and we mend by embracing hope and gratitude with both arms. Or, if it's our turn, we are the ones doing the surrounding, encouraging, and supporting. It is a beautiful and cyclical, constant giving and taking in relationship that is at the core of what the intended function of the body of Christ is.
There's a Bebo Norman song that I had forgotten about until a couple of weeks ago, when it played at just the right time as I was driving home from the Biltmore Wall around 11 pm. This song, for me, is the kind of song that has those simple and honest lyrics that seem to be an overflow of what is in my own heart. The words that often by their very nature haven't yet been able to make their way intentionally into a prayer, when put to music become more than my prayer. They are the pleading and the answering at the same time. They point me both toward my need for a Healer, and His constant unswerving presence as such.
"Lately you’ve been all blue sky
And I’ve been rain
I don’t mean to bust up your party
With all of my pain
But sometimes my shadows surround me
And you take me in your arms and say
It’s the way we mend
We tear it all down and we’ll start it again
And I don’t know how but you find me where we begin
And that’s just the way, the way that we mend
It’s just that some voices remind me
I’m not strong enough
To put all my demons behind me
And carry this love
But just like an angel of mercy
You take me by my hand and say
It's the way we mend
They’re pouring out
From my mouth
So many words all spoken wrong
But you come alive
And somehow I find my way."
These things are found in the way that we mend. We surround ourselves with people we love, people who love us. And when we fall, even when we don't have the energy to ask for their help, these people take us by the hand and gently pull us back up onto our feet. We were designed for this. We allow our community, whoever that may be, to surround us; and we mend by embracing hope and gratitude with both arms. Or, if it's our turn, we are the ones doing the surrounding, encouraging, and supporting. It is a beautiful and cyclical, constant giving and taking in relationship that is at the core of what the intended function of the body of Christ is.
There's a Bebo Norman song that I had forgotten about until a couple of weeks ago, when it played at just the right time as I was driving home from the Biltmore Wall around 11 pm. This song, for me, is the kind of song that has those simple and honest lyrics that seem to be an overflow of what is in my own heart. The words that often by their very nature haven't yet been able to make their way intentionally into a prayer, when put to music become more than my prayer. They are the pleading and the answering at the same time. They point me both toward my need for a Healer, and His constant unswerving presence as such.
"Lately you’ve been all blue sky
And I’ve been rain
I don’t mean to bust up your party
With all of my pain
But sometimes my shadows surround me
And you take me in your arms and say
It’s the way we mend
We tear it all down and we’ll start it again
And I don’t know how but you find me where we begin
And that’s just the way, the way that we mend
It’s just that some voices remind me
I’m not strong enough
To put all my demons behind me
And carry this love
But just like an angel of mercy
You take me by my hand and say
It's the way we mend
They’re pouring out
From my mouth
So many words all spoken wrong
But you come alive
And somehow I find my way."
We're All in This Together
I totally cried like a baby while reading this article in Starbucks this morning. What a beautifully written article. It begins to grasp at what it is that makes Westmont the kind of place that our hearts are inextricably bound to, and what it is about the Westmont community that is woven so deeply into our hearts.
11.16.2008
Beauty For Ashes
Last Thursday, as most of you who read this are well aware, fires raged in Montecito. And for all of that night, and the few days that followed, a wide mix of emotions swirled around our community. Mostly, at first, fear and disbelief. Thursday night, as I was glued to the local news coverage of the fire, I watched as this place I've come to call home was being swallowed in fire. Driving back from L.A. Thursday night, I could see my town burning from 40 miles away, and was amazed and terrified at what I saw when I got closer. Flames, large and visible on the riviera, an ominous ring of fire creeping toward people's homes, and ash falling like snow on my windshield. Westmont College, my college, the home that nurtured and challenged and fed and supported me for so many years, being burned. The neighborhoods surrounding, where I'd walked, run, driven countless miles, also on fire. And the homes of the professors that are so much of what makes Westmont so special, burning as well.
Most of us have, at this point, shared our own perspectives, experiences and personal connections to the current tragic state of this Montecito community. Most of us living here know at least a handful of people, of families, who lost everything; and are doing what we can to help. Not surprisingly, the go-to scripture for so many right now in the midst of it all is Isaiah 61:3.
"and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor."
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor."
Because our God is a God of love, of goodness and faithfulness, redemption and restoration. And so many of these families know that the Lord gives and takes away, and choose to praise Him in it all, clinging to hope in what looks like nothing but brokenness and ashes.
11.05.2008
Where the Stars and Stripes and the Eagle Fly
It has never really been a secret that I am an Obama fan. Before he even became a candidate for this election, my "I heart Obama" sticker was proudly displayed on the back window of my car. When he actually began his campaign, though, I took the sticker down. Not because I supported him less, but simply because there was more riding on that bold statement of support now, and I did not have the knowledge about politics, him or the other candidates to be making such a loud statement so early in the game. While I do kind of regret taking the sticker off of my car, I don't regret at all the way that this admittedly long (and excruciating at times) campaign season has peaked my interest and involvement in politics.I was "hearting" Obama back when he was just a really awesome senator from my home state, doing cool things in my backyard. I read his books, and found myself wishing someone like him could become president one day. Someone bold, with a fresh perspective, who is intelligent and capable of taking the reigns and leading this nation toward positive change. I am an optimist, a believer in good, a dreamer, and a hoper, and I have been moved to care more about what is going on during this election.
I've been moved to engage my mind, my heart, and my beliefs. I've been moved by images of generations of people coming together in this election, demanding change. And I've been even more deeply moved by seeing on the faces of generations of Americans the walls of segregation that have still been shadows in this nation, torn down once and for all. It was a monumental election race, with two highly qualified candidates working hard for the good of this country, for the people of this country. While generally I find politics to be a dirty game that I don't understand well enough to play, there have been enough glimpses of hope in this campaign from both sides, democrat and republican, that have led me to believe those historic words from last night's rally to be true: "yes we can."
Last night, our new president gave a beautiful speech. I felt the excitement and the weight of history being made as I watched my hometown cheer him on. His eloquent, graceful and hopeful words were so fitting for the moment. I am not an incredibly patriotic person, but last night and into this morning, I have been swept up in the beauty and freedom of what this country is, what this means for us historically, and where we are headed as a nation. And I am just plain excited about the change that is coming.
11.04.2008
What a Difference a Day Makes
Life is good.
Candy cane Joe-Joes are on the shelves at Trader Joes.
Red cups are back. Red cups filled with peppermint mochas and gingerbread lattes (and even though they changed the names on me, the sentiment is the same). If I wasn't in a season of life where I was craving a little change, a little seasonal change around me, I might find it too early for the holidays to start creeping in. But right now they are totally welcome old friends. Although, really, lets be honest. I've never been one to think that the holidays creep up too soon. I am a sucker for the Christmas season, and I'm willing to squeeze out every last minute of it.
Also I've found that there are seasons in southern California, if you are looking. Trees here do change. Not with the same overwhelming, awe-inspiring beauty of the midwest, but you can find them around certain neighborhoods. Or go to the valley.
And the air does get crisp. And boots, scarves and jackets can be worn sometimes out of necessity, not just fashion.
It has even rained here for a couple of days. Hard. Beautiful and perfect. The rain has brought with it days of heavy, low, and dark rain clouds that have been spectacular. It's like God knew that I needed to be reminded that while 300 or so days out of the year life in Santa Barbara pretends to be sunny and perfect and too good to be true, it doesn't always need to be like that. Sometimes we need cloudy rainy days and cold days, they're good for us. Good for our soil and our hearts.
And my friends are wonderful. Not that I was ever doubting this, but many of them, this week, in their own ways, have reminded me subtly why it is next to impossible for me to leave this place.
I got free coffee for voting, twice. Voting is a privilege in and of itself and doesn't need to be rewarded, but I'll take free stuff!
I had my first meeting with my advisor for my thesis and am really looking forward to working on it, more than I would have thought. My research will be interesting, and I will be contributing in ways that matter to a project that I think is fascinating and important.
And my garden is flourishing. A little picture of life, of change, of hope, when I look out there and see what used to just be tiny seeds now thriving and becoming what God intended them to be. Peas and carrots and onions and lettuce...
In short, currently, I am grateful. Very much so.
And, if it's posssible, I'm thankful that I feel so full of gratitude. It's a nice place to be. I'd like to set up camp here for a while.
Candy cane Joe-Joes are on the shelves at Trader Joes.
Red cups are back. Red cups filled with peppermint mochas and gingerbread lattes (and even though they changed the names on me, the sentiment is the same). If I wasn't in a season of life where I was craving a little change, a little seasonal change around me, I might find it too early for the holidays to start creeping in. But right now they are totally welcome old friends. Although, really, lets be honest. I've never been one to think that the holidays creep up too soon. I am a sucker for the Christmas season, and I'm willing to squeeze out every last minute of it.Also I've found that there are seasons in southern California, if you are looking. Trees here do change. Not with the same overwhelming, awe-inspiring beauty of the midwest, but you can find them around certain neighborhoods. Or go to the valley.
And the air does get crisp. And boots, scarves and jackets can be worn sometimes out of necessity, not just fashion.
It has even rained here for a couple of days. Hard. Beautiful and perfect. The rain has brought with it days of heavy, low, and dark rain clouds that have been spectacular. It's like God knew that I needed to be reminded that while 300 or so days out of the year life in Santa Barbara pretends to be sunny and perfect and too good to be true, it doesn't always need to be like that. Sometimes we need cloudy rainy days and cold days, they're good for us. Good for our soil and our hearts.
And my friends are wonderful. Not that I was ever doubting this, but many of them, this week, in their own ways, have reminded me subtly why it is next to impossible for me to leave this place.
I got free coffee for voting, twice. Voting is a privilege in and of itself and doesn't need to be rewarded, but I'll take free stuff!
I had my first meeting with my advisor for my thesis and am really looking forward to working on it, more than I would have thought. My research will be interesting, and I will be contributing in ways that matter to a project that I think is fascinating and important.
And my garden is flourishing. A little picture of life, of change, of hope, when I look out there and see what used to just be tiny seeds now thriving and becoming what God intended them to be. Peas and carrots and onions and lettuce...
In short, currently, I am grateful. Very much so.
And, if it's posssible, I'm thankful that I feel so full of gratitude. It's a nice place to be. I'd like to set up camp here for a while.
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