Reason Breeds Insanity

So as I sit here typing this paper, I am beginning to think maybe I should have gone into art history or something. The section of this paper that is about Mary Cassatt is taking about half the time to write that the section about Kate Chopin took to write. Perhaps, I could take up studying art on the side. I think it may be a good addition to my current studies. Maybe I can squeeze in an art history class without anyone knowing?

I really have nothing to say except that if we don’t get the keys to our new house soon, I think Beckis might explode. So, if you see a little mushroom cloud in our direction, that is what happened. That or I finally got my paper finished.

Oh, and these are the women I have been spending all of my time with lately. Aren’t they handsome!

I know sometimes we go through dark nights of the soul. I know that it is always darkest before dawn. I know that millions of people have it worse than I do. I know that I am extremely happy that my dark night is over. I am happy, no joyful, to be reveling in the light of a new day. I don’t get excited about the good stuff enough. Sometimes I feel like such an inadequate Christian because I am such a realist. You know, I am not one of those Christians who walk around permanently blitzed because Jesus died for me, and that is enough. I never was the kid at church camp who wrote in the letter that I would send to myself how happy I was that I had found Jesus and now my troubles were over. Very young I knew better.

If I am happy or filled with joy about one thing, another very real fact always gets inside my head and sticks there. For example: I am not difficult to please. People say that I am hard to buy presents for, but it should be pretty easy because I even love Happy Meal toys. Anyway, I love the simpler things in life like hardback books, black raspberry slushes from Dairy Dream, good clove cigarettes, an excellent cup of African coffee, or a nap next to an open window with the breeze blowing in. But, while I enjoy these simple things my mind never stops processing. How many people cannot read? How many days of food could I buy for someone using the money I spend on coffee, slushes, or cloves? Who grew the coffee? How were they treated? Who harvested the tobacco? How many pesticides are in it? What effect are they having on the global environment? How fortunate am I to have a window to feel the breeze through rather than praying for a breeze to cool me down because I live in the weather instead of in a house? Why can’t I just be happy? Why can’t I be content? Why can’t I be one of those “Smiling Christians”?

While I was cleaning today at the mission, the woman who works with the families with children said, “I never knew I should be grateful to have a bed. If I had twenty beds, I could give them all away tomorrow.” It seems that several people have come to the mission who have been sleeping in sleeping bags on the hard floors of their houses. Can you imagine having enough money to buy or rent a house, but then not having enough money left to buy a bed? How sad.

I was reading my friend Sarah’s blog the other day, and I must say I applaud her for taking a stand against tradition and choosing to write her honors thesis from her heart. I know she will write from her head, too, using every bit of knowledge that she has spent a lifetime collecting, but her heart is her guide. Her deep emotions, not the superficial, oh I think I’ll wear lip gloss today emotions, but her real heart wrenching, soul clenching, life changing emotions, are so into this project. I can see that her longings for a better, more just world are forming her project. I would love to be so in love with a cause, a project, a people group, that I am willing to risk everything to make a difference. That is what I see her doing. I am not exactly sure what the complete idea of her thesis is, but I know she struggles with many of the same things I do. We are so privileged. What are we going to do with it? Leading with our hearts is the first step. I recommend checking out her blog, just click on Sarah.

I digress, and I ramble. I am tired. I am overjoyed. As David Crowder sings: “You are my joy, you are my joy, you are my joy!” I am joyful, but contemplative this evening. Good night.

I am listening to old school Christian music. DC Talk. The song What If I Stumble always makes me think abotu my life. How many times have people been watching me when I have stumbled? What if I stumble and I can’t get up on my own? What if I don’t want to get up? What if I like lying on the ground flailing around in misery? What if I care more about people seeing me stumble than I care about actually stumbling itself? Sometimes I feel like I care more about what people think about me than I care about doing the right things. I care more about looking like I know how to walk than actually walking that way. So many times when I was a youth pastor, I had this fear that I might be being watched by a student and screw it up. Would that student lose his or her faith in God because of my mistakes? Would that students lose his or her faith in me? For that reason alone, I wore my heart on shirt sleeve. I was as honest with them as I could possibly be. About my past. About my present. About my future. Honesty didn’t make it easier. I still worried that they might see me fall and not get back up again. I say all of this because I think the whole point of life is the necessity to see others fall, to see others stumble, and then to go help them up and walk beside them so they don’t fall again. And if they fall again, to help them up again. And again, and again.

I am so excited to begin the PhD program, but I am also scared shitless. This is it. This is where my intellectual buck stops. This is where I have made my decision about what I will do with my life. I commit. I decide on the end to the means. I choose books. My only reservation is: What does reading and writing about literature do to improve the world? What could I do to better serve my God? Have I missed [Their] bus? Have I taken the wrong one? Does God want to use me to reach someone through literature? What is the meaning of this?

I love you all! I just have to say that once in a while bcause you support me so entirely. I am looking forward to being relaxed for the rest fo the summer. I don’t even care if I end up in the poor house. I still owe Kecia several hours for the assistantship, but I am willing to work all summer for that. I am not worried about it, but I am worried about paying for school in the fall. I guess maybe Cole is right, Sex and Drugs. I could sell both and then I woudl have plenty of money to go around! Anyway, back to my two “handsome” women–Kate and Mary. Gotta love turn of the century feminists! 😉

I got into the PhD program, but I didn’t get an assistantship as of yet, so I am a little stressed about how I am going to pay for it. If you have any suggestions, let me know!