As of Monday, my first semester is OVER! Finals went fine, so I think I can conclude that my first classes were a success. It feels good to be done, but at the same time, I feel like I still have a lot to do before I graduate. Tomorrow I will actually be at Western's graduation ceremonies because I got roped into being a Marshall (the person who wears a gown and leads the students in during the procession, and then leads them out after it is over).
Anyway, I have a little break before summer classes start. Tuesday was great, but then Wednesday I started to get an awful migraine, which, of course, lasted through Thursday night. A rarity for me, usually even the worst headaches I get are gone the next day. Even now I can feel the threat of that pounding pain in the recesses of my brain. Can I just say how much I dislike these headaches? I have suffered from them for as long as I can remember. In 4th grade, I remember going home from school with headaches often. What 4th grader gets headaches bad enough to leave school? And even now, it feels like such a lame excuse for not feeling well- "oh, I can't, I have a headache". At least if you have the flu or pneumonia, it sounds significant. Ugh. Okay, so this blog is just to say: Headaches suck.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Virginia Tech shootings
David and I were listening to the radio on the way in to work this morning, and a statement made by the announcer caught me off guard. They had been talking about the Virginia Tech shootings, mostly focusing on the shooter. This is such a tragic situation; these stories always just appall me. Then the announcer closed the segment by stating that classes would resume at Virginia Tech on Monday, but that in the meantime, students and faculty were mourning the loss of 32 people. The fact that they are mourning didn't surprise me; that is to be expected. But there were 33 deaths. The 33rd person is the shooter- Cho Seung-Hui. Shouldn't we be mourning 33 deaths? Do we not consider him a victim because he was the one who caused the other 32 deaths? Or perhaps it was an unintentional slip, numbers have gone back and forth. But it just made me stop and think. God is mourning 33 of His childrens' lives; shouldn't we as well?
Saturday, April 14, 2007
jumbled thoughts on meaning and obedience
Lately, I have been challenged on the idea of meaning. If you've stumbled upon this posting in the hopes that you'll read something coherent, you can stop right here. I don't have any put together thesis. I do have a lot of jumbled thoughts. What does it mean to have meaning in your life? Where does meaning come from and how is it created? How do you experience it? A couple of the theories we have covered in my counseling classes center around the idea (or at least deal with the idea) that today's culture breeds meaninglessness, and that much of the pathology (depression, anxiety, etc.) that people experience stem from this lack of meaning in their lives.
Now, this is a broad statement on what causes problems, and I am not even close to saying I endorse this 100%. But, I do agree with the statement that many tend to live lives empty of lasting, deep meaning, and that our fast-paced, materialistic culture feeds this.
When I think of lasting, deep meaning, I primarily think of my faith in Christ and the Christian story that I have chosen to center my life around. But the counseling theorists that purport these ideas are mostly secular. There are some Christian theorists that have adapted the ideas to a Christian counseling framework, but much of the reading deals with the idea of individuals creating their own meaning for themselves. Many even go so far as to say that religion in general is a human construct that has no basis in reality, but that gives people purpose and meaning in life. In other words, religions are just stories people make up to help them survive this world.
Which is where I get hung up. Why it is that in a world that is desperate and hungry for meaning, there exists a deep reluctance in seeing any sort of absolute Truth, or a Truth that exists outside of ourselves and our grasp on it? Is meaning that you create yourself, for yourself, and by yourself, really meaning? Or is that just experience? And what is it that gives experience meaning? To me, meaning seems to imply something beyond yourself; some element of transcendence. How can you have that unless you attach your experience to something outside yourself? Okay, the world longs for meaning, something bigger than just the individual. But then it resists any word that might say that there is a definition of what that "something outside yourself" is. It's like saying, "I want to find meaning and purpose beyond myself- but I want to control and define what that 'beyond myself; looks like." And all that is left is a feeling of emptiness.
A semi-related thought is one about obedience or authority... is it safe to say that these are the dirtiest words in today's autonomous and self-seeking culture?
When my husband and I began thinking of moving from Seattle to Vancouver for me to pursue a seminary program in counseling, I think most people initially thought we were a little nuts to consider it. We were established; we were comfortable; we were well on our way to the white picket fence, two cats in the yard, and house full of kids ideal. Why would we interrupt all of that just because I felt called to pursue a counseling program in a place where I could also expand my knowledge of the Bible? I could get a counseling degree (and a great education) in Seattle. I think there were moments - days even - when David and I had those thoughts. But we kept praying and talking and thinking and this whole crazy idea of picking up and moving just didn't go away.
So why did we do it? In the end, obedience. We felt that God was leading us to move. But again, this is based on our belief that there exists a Truth outside of ourselves (just like the idea that we draw meaning from a source outside ourselves) that we are putting our faith in. For us, that Truth is the Christian story. Truth, with a capital "T"; truth that remains true whether we believe it or disbelieve it, or distort it into something easier for us to buy into. And again, that is an idea our culture rejects.
I guess for me it boils down to the fact that I draw meaning from something beyond myself; a belief in a God who loves me, and that I see little value in meaning that is derived from within myself. And, in making life decisions, it's not just about me; direction comes from somewhere outside myself. And in a world that I see as plainly longing to be a part of something bigger than just the here and now, there exists a culture that wants to create its own definition of transcendence. But is that transcendent at all?
Now, this is a broad statement on what causes problems, and I am not even close to saying I endorse this 100%. But, I do agree with the statement that many tend to live lives empty of lasting, deep meaning, and that our fast-paced, materialistic culture feeds this.
When I think of lasting, deep meaning, I primarily think of my faith in Christ and the Christian story that I have chosen to center my life around. But the counseling theorists that purport these ideas are mostly secular. There are some Christian theorists that have adapted the ideas to a Christian counseling framework, but much of the reading deals with the idea of individuals creating their own meaning for themselves. Many even go so far as to say that religion in general is a human construct that has no basis in reality, but that gives people purpose and meaning in life. In other words, religions are just stories people make up to help them survive this world.
Which is where I get hung up. Why it is that in a world that is desperate and hungry for meaning, there exists a deep reluctance in seeing any sort of absolute Truth, or a Truth that exists outside of ourselves and our grasp on it? Is meaning that you create yourself, for yourself, and by yourself, really meaning? Or is that just experience? And what is it that gives experience meaning? To me, meaning seems to imply something beyond yourself; some element of transcendence. How can you have that unless you attach your experience to something outside yourself? Okay, the world longs for meaning, something bigger than just the individual. But then it resists any word that might say that there is a definition of what that "something outside yourself" is. It's like saying, "I want to find meaning and purpose beyond myself- but I want to control and define what that 'beyond myself; looks like." And all that is left is a feeling of emptiness.
A semi-related thought is one about obedience or authority... is it safe to say that these are the dirtiest words in today's autonomous and self-seeking culture?
When my husband and I began thinking of moving from Seattle to Vancouver for me to pursue a seminary program in counseling, I think most people initially thought we were a little nuts to consider it. We were established; we were comfortable; we were well on our way to the white picket fence, two cats in the yard, and house full of kids ideal. Why would we interrupt all of that just because I felt called to pursue a counseling program in a place where I could also expand my knowledge of the Bible? I could get a counseling degree (and a great education) in Seattle. I think there were moments - days even - when David and I had those thoughts. But we kept praying and talking and thinking and this whole crazy idea of picking up and moving just didn't go away.
So why did we do it? In the end, obedience. We felt that God was leading us to move. But again, this is based on our belief that there exists a Truth outside of ourselves (just like the idea that we draw meaning from a source outside ourselves) that we are putting our faith in. For us, that Truth is the Christian story. Truth, with a capital "T"; truth that remains true whether we believe it or disbelieve it, or distort it into something easier for us to buy into. And again, that is an idea our culture rejects.
I guess for me it boils down to the fact that I draw meaning from something beyond myself; a belief in a God who loves me, and that I see little value in meaning that is derived from within myself. And, in making life decisions, it's not just about me; direction comes from somewhere outside myself. And in a world that I see as plainly longing to be a part of something bigger than just the here and now, there exists a culture that wants to create its own definition of transcendence. But is that transcendent at all?
Saturday, April 7, 2007
tulips and other happenings
This past week was the first normal week we've had in a little while, and it was nice to settle back into some semblance of a routine. There are just three weeks remaining in the semester, but I think it will finish smoothly. I do have three finals, all on the same day, which won't be fun. But then I get about two weeks off before the summer semester starts.
Work has been going well; two weeks ago was the second intensive seminar that we've had since I started the job. My role during that week is to be there to assist the students in pretty much anything they need (tuition payments, registration and course planning, program status, dissertation stuff, contact information, the list goes on- I am pretty much on call), as well as help the visiting professor. I also have to be on campus by 6:30 each morning to get the conference room cleaned up, and set up the breakfast and snack table. It's a long week for me, but I also really enjoy myself. All the students in the Doctor of Ministry program are pastors or involved in some sort of ministry- missionary agency, etc. I have really enjoyed getting to know them; what great men they are (and yeah, all men- right now we have just one woman in the program, and I also really appreciate her, but she didn't take this particular seminar). Anyway, one guy just returned from Thailand from a short term mission trip with his church, and he brought me back this wooden frog that "croaks"- you run a wooden stick along the ridges on his back, and it makes this croaking noise. Another guys calls me "young lady"; I must be around his daughter's age. It's fun to interact with them.
So by the end of that week, I was exhausted. Then last week was spring break; a light week at work, made even more light by the fact that campus was practically deserted. In the building I work in, there was me and then two other gals who work on the same floor, and that is pretty much it. I spent the two days I was there updating student files, which was tedious and time consuming. And then off to Seattle to visit family and friends, which was wonderful.
This week, it was back into the swing of things. Work was steady, we are creating a manual for the students to assist them in the writing of their dissertation, which has been interesting. I also navigated our library for the first time; surprised to discover that in order to "check things out", you just write down what journal or book you are taking with your name in a notebook by the desk, and then when you return it, cross your entry out. I guess they aren't too concerned with theft. Since it is a seminary, that is a good thing. By the end of the week, it was gorgeous and 75 degrees; David and I spent Friday afternoon at the Wooden Shoe Tulip Festival near Woodburn, about 30 minutes south of Portland. The tulips were stunning, with a view of Mount Hood in the distance. We took lots of pictures- along with lots of moms who were dragging their kids around and posing before various blooms of color. It was fun to read the names of the different varieties; there was one that was a pale yellow with a pink splash in the center that was called a "Blushing Beauty". Another, this deep intense purple, was called "Queen of the Night".
We attended a Good Friday service Friday afternoon, which was moving. It was a stark contrast to come from the brightness of the sunny tulip fields into the dark sanctuary- most of the lights were out except for the smoky beams illuminating the cross on the stage. I discovered the concept of the Good Friday service in college; the church I attended in high school didn't have one. I have come to appreciate this time of reflection almost more than Easter itself. Though I know that without the resurrection, the hope we have in Christ wouldn't be much to hold onto, remembering his death has become a very powerful thing for me. A few weeks back I posted a poem called "The Ragman." I think it impacted me so much at the time, I didn't have much of my own thoughts to share about it. This illustration of Christ's work combined with a fascinating discussion we had in my Old Testament class has brought new meaning to a line from a chorus: "I'll never know how much it cost, to see my sin upon the cross." Lord, may I never take that for granted.
Later that night, after a trip to Costco (and yes, it does seem strange that we went from a moving, reflective Good Friday service to Costco), we found this great pizza place in Northeast Portland for dinner, their pizza's are all made in traditional style; wood-fire baked. Yum! Good beer, too. :)
Today it poured (fitting, I suppose, for this time of mourning before we "discover" the empty tomb), and we spent a lazy day together. Tomorrow we'll go to Easter services and have a nice dinner, I'm not sure what else is going on. This posting turned out to be much longer than I anticipated, thanks for sticking with it if you are still reading. (If anyone checks this at all; I think my parents are the only ones who really monitor this. :)).
Have a blessed Easter; He is risen!
Work has been going well; two weeks ago was the second intensive seminar that we've had since I started the job. My role during that week is to be there to assist the students in pretty much anything they need (tuition payments, registration and course planning, program status, dissertation stuff, contact information, the list goes on- I am pretty much on call), as well as help the visiting professor. I also have to be on campus by 6:30 each morning to get the conference room cleaned up, and set up the breakfast and snack table. It's a long week for me, but I also really enjoy myself. All the students in the Doctor of Ministry program are pastors or involved in some sort of ministry- missionary agency, etc. I have really enjoyed getting to know them; what great men they are (and yeah, all men- right now we have just one woman in the program, and I also really appreciate her, but she didn't take this particular seminar). Anyway, one guy just returned from Thailand from a short term mission trip with his church, and he brought me back this wooden frog that "croaks"- you run a wooden stick along the ridges on his back, and it makes this croaking noise. Another guys calls me "young lady"; I must be around his daughter's age. It's fun to interact with them.
So by the end of that week, I was exhausted. Then last week was spring break; a light week at work, made even more light by the fact that campus was practically deserted. In the building I work in, there was me and then two other gals who work on the same floor, and that is pretty much it. I spent the two days I was there updating student files, which was tedious and time consuming. And then off to Seattle to visit family and friends, which was wonderful.
This week, it was back into the swing of things. Work was steady, we are creating a manual for the students to assist them in the writing of their dissertation, which has been interesting. I also navigated our library for the first time; surprised to discover that in order to "check things out", you just write down what journal or book you are taking with your name in a notebook by the desk, and then when you return it, cross your entry out. I guess they aren't too concerned with theft. Since it is a seminary, that is a good thing. By the end of the week, it was gorgeous and 75 degrees; David and I spent Friday afternoon at the Wooden Shoe Tulip Festival near Woodburn, about 30 minutes south of Portland. The tulips were stunning, with a view of Mount Hood in the distance. We took lots of pictures- along with lots of moms who were dragging their kids around and posing before various blooms of color. It was fun to read the names of the different varieties; there was one that was a pale yellow with a pink splash in the center that was called a "Blushing Beauty". Another, this deep intense purple, was called "Queen of the Night".
We attended a Good Friday service Friday afternoon, which was moving. It was a stark contrast to come from the brightness of the sunny tulip fields into the dark sanctuary- most of the lights were out except for the smoky beams illuminating the cross on the stage. I discovered the concept of the Good Friday service in college; the church I attended in high school didn't have one. I have come to appreciate this time of reflection almost more than Easter itself. Though I know that without the resurrection, the hope we have in Christ wouldn't be much to hold onto, remembering his death has become a very powerful thing for me. A few weeks back I posted a poem called "The Ragman." I think it impacted me so much at the time, I didn't have much of my own thoughts to share about it. This illustration of Christ's work combined with a fascinating discussion we had in my Old Testament class has brought new meaning to a line from a chorus: "I'll never know how much it cost, to see my sin upon the cross." Lord, may I never take that for granted.
Later that night, after a trip to Costco (and yes, it does seem strange that we went from a moving, reflective Good Friday service to Costco), we found this great pizza place in Northeast Portland for dinner, their pizza's are all made in traditional style; wood-fire baked. Yum! Good beer, too. :)
Today it poured (fitting, I suppose, for this time of mourning before we "discover" the empty tomb), and we spent a lazy day together. Tomorrow we'll go to Easter services and have a nice dinner, I'm not sure what else is going on. This posting turned out to be much longer than I anticipated, thanks for sticking with it if you are still reading. (If anyone checks this at all; I think my parents are the only ones who really monitor this. :)).
Have a blessed Easter; He is risen!
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
home sweet home
I just returned on Sunday from a lengthy stay in the Seattle area, visiting family and friends. It was great to connect and relax and catch up and be "home". On Friday morning, I took a ferry from the Washington peninsula over to the city. I was reminded that there is just no place on earth as beautiful as the Pacific Northwest. Sorry, Portland- you don't quite compare (yet). The sun was shining, light reflecting on the water, the air smelled of salt, some snow-tipped mountains peaked through the cloud cover that loomed in the distance. Even the city itself sort of sparkles with the surrounding beauty. The Space Needle stood in the midst of the cityscape; a weirdly shaped structure to distinguish Seattle from any other city, but distinctive all the same. I breathed deep and felt the comfort of familiarity that has been so lacking in the past few months here in Portland. I remembered all the right streets to drive on, the same old traffic was to be expected, even the college campus where I used to work seemed unchanged. And of course, interacting with family and old friends was a breath of fresh air. Here, I am known; I don't have to reiterate my life history or current demographics over and over again. Making new friends is WORK! Good work, but still work. I forgot the time and energy that went into my friendships so many years ago. It has been awhile since I have had to start from scratch in meeting people. It was so relaxing to be in a place I know and with people who know me.
But then I was in for a surprise as I returned "home" on Sunday; because as I came into Clark County, I realized that I was anticipating that huge house on the hill overlooking the freeway, with the weird brick castle-like structure that can only be a garage- or a dungeon. And as I came down the street toward our apartment, I counted the blocks, anticipating seeing my husband again after 5 days. So then, what is "home"? It was easy to define as a kid; home was where my parents lived and loved and cared for me. It was even easy after college when David and I settled in the area. But now home seems sort of divided and ambiguous. Maybe others have come to this realization earlier in life, perhaps when they went away to college. But college was only half an hour from "home" for me.
And now I have trite comments running through my mind, like "home is where the heart is." And I also have verses like, "the Son of Man has no where to lay his head." Okay, so all I know is that it is good to be where we are, even though I miss Seattle and everyone there. :)
But then I was in for a surprise as I returned "home" on Sunday; because as I came into Clark County, I realized that I was anticipating that huge house on the hill overlooking the freeway, with the weird brick castle-like structure that can only be a garage- or a dungeon. And as I came down the street toward our apartment, I counted the blocks, anticipating seeing my husband again after 5 days. So then, what is "home"? It was easy to define as a kid; home was where my parents lived and loved and cared for me. It was even easy after college when David and I settled in the area. But now home seems sort of divided and ambiguous. Maybe others have come to this realization earlier in life, perhaps when they went away to college. But college was only half an hour from "home" for me.
And now I have trite comments running through my mind, like "home is where the heart is." And I also have verses like, "the Son of Man has no where to lay his head." Okay, so all I know is that it is good to be where we are, even though I miss Seattle and everyone there. :)
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