I keep thinking that I need to have some epic thought before it's worth posting. It would surely make the reading more enjoyable. But if any of us were to wait for such brilliant inspiration, nothing much would get written down. I'm sure there has not been a lack on inspiration coming my way. But for whatever reason, the hints have not been caught.
For these last couple months I believe I have been wallowing-- rolling around in the mud, attempting to avoid irritants and responsibilities, dwelling on my frailties and disappointments. Ok, fine. I'm a wallower. But I'm also a pray-er. And the Lord has taught me some interesting things through wallowing and prayer. The book of James parallels these conclusions very truthfully. This is what I have learned/am still learning as I shake off the mud.
1. Perseverance is important.Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4.
2. Anxiety is dangerous. Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil. If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them. James 4:13-17.
3. Asking for wisdom is wise.If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. James 1:5
4. Be patient. Brothers and sisters, as an example of patience in the face of suffering, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy. James 5:10-11.
5. Give into God. He knows what He's doing. Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. James 4:7-10.
6. God is good and faithful.Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created. James 1:17-18.
7. Go back to #1 and start all over again. This time, start by abiding in Jesus and look out for the fruit. Luke 13:6-9 and John 15:1-17.
It has been a long time coming--and I'm sure I am just at the beginning of this journey--but the Lord has blessed me with an open door. On Wedesday I begin a part time job with the group I interned with from October-January. It's a little door, but He knows the tiny steps this muddy self can take.
Recently, I decided to watermark some of my photos. I've been posting them on Etsy, so I thought it was time to make them official. If you didn't notice, I'm on a black-and-white/ sepia-tone kick.
If you were wondering where I went, during the month of December I was hanging out at my Advent Blog. Now I'm back and it's time for a new year post.
This year I am going to read more. In 2010 I read some really good books. So 2011 can only get better.
Here's some of what I read:
The Book Thief, Markus Zusak. One of the best Holocaust/WWII stories I've read in a long time.
The Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis. I read them for Lent--all the way through. I think it is going to be a tradition.
Lineage of Grace series, Francine Rivers. These little novellas are brilliant.
The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical, Shane Claiborne. I heard him speak at Urbana 2009, so I thought I should see what was up.
O'Malley series, Dee Henderson. This was a re-read, but still wonderful the second time through.
Finding Calcutta: What Mother Teresa Taught me about Meaningful Work and Service, Mary Poplin. A look at one woman's experience with Mother Teresa and the missionaries of charity.
Julie and Julia, Julie Powell. Loved the movie, so I thought I should read the book. Pretty good.
The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger. Loved the Chicago and Newberry Library references, but took a while to get into.
The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (and it's sequel, The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag), Alan Bradley. Awesome mysteries from the perspective of a brilliant and precocious little girl. There's a third one coming out in Feb.
North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell. Amazing. Hands down.
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life, Donald Miller. A fascinating look at what it means to live a good story.
The Rock That is Higher: Story as Truth, Madeleine L'Engle. Another brilliant look at what it means to live and write good stories--from one of my favorite authors.
Wind in the Door; Dragons in the Water; Ring of Endless Light, Madeleine L'Engle. Re-reading some of my favorites. This will continue into 2011. My goal is to re-read all of her young adult fiction. Its some of the best out there.
From Generation to Generation: How to Trace your Jewish Genealogy and Family History, Arthur Kurzweil. I read this in preparation for a Jewish History workshop I led in November. Brilliant look at doing family history before the age of the internet.
What I plan to read (and more, of course):
The rest of L'Engle's young adult fiction.
Be Still My Soul, Elisabeth Elliot
Crazy Love, Francis Chan
Captivating, John and Stasi Eldredge
The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis
Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, Madeleine L'Engle
Re-read Little Women, Louisa May Alcott. And maybe some of her others.
Today is Yom Kippur. A high holy day in the Jewish calendar.
And I was thinking, as I tend to do. But today as I was thinking, I was also fasting. So my mind began to wander . . .
I wondered if Jesus ever observed Yom Kippur. Not in the “I need to ask for forgiveness from God”-type observation of the day, but it was after all a command from God to remember the day as holy. And then I began thinking of Jews all through history and what Yom Kippur looked like for them. (Well maybe not all the Jews. That would take a while.)
In captivity in Babylon, did the Israelites pray and fast for atonement, or were they too busy adjusting to life in a foreign land? What about those Sephardic Jews living in the midst of the Spanish Inquisition? I wonder if the first Jews to land in North American in 1654 remembered to fast and pray. According to legend, it was early autumn when they landed in New Amsterdam. . .
And then there are times like Eli Weisel describes in his memoir Night. The Day of Atonement rolls around and Weisel adamantly decides to not observe the day. By this point in his captivity he has lost faith in the Almighty God. He does not see the point of fasting from food he does not have or praying to an unseen God who has most obviously abandoned him and the other prisoners. Why would one add more afflictions to a life already afflicted with loss, pain and death?
I wonder if we are not sometimes like that. Convinced that God must have no idea what He is doing. Or at the very least thinking that He’s gone on vacation and left a deaf and blind arch angel in charge.
Over the last few weeks I’ve been reading Madeleine L’Engle’s The Rock that is Higher. It’s one of her older works--a reflection on what it means to write a story. (And a little like Donald Miller’s newest book about living your life story). There are long passages where she simply recaps her thoughts about a book she’s written or a life-shattering event. But then there are sections where she really dishes out truth. Truth about how we are to live our story in God’s story. Last night I read:
When I pray, in church or without, in my prayer corner at home, or on the street as I walk to and fro, I pray that God’s will may be done, and I pray it especially fervently during those many times when I am not able to discern God’s will. . . Often I do not know, and so I throw myself upon God’s will. (L'Engle, p.147)
Even when we don’t see His hand moving, or our need for redemption, or the fruit of our labors, God is the One who is faithful. Outside of time, yet like clockwork, we can depend on His nearness; His response; His mercy. I think that is why Judaism and older Christian practices are so routine, so repetitive. We fast and pray each autumn because that is the time God has set aside for His people to repent and remember. We are the ones who are unfaithful; in constant need a faithful God who will say to us,
This is to be a lasting ordinance for you: On the tenth day of the seventh month you must deny yourselves and not do any work—whether native-born or an alien living among you- because on this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you. Then, before the LORD, you will be clean from all your sins. It is a sabbath of rest, and you must deny yourselves; it is a lasting ordinance. (Leviticus 16:29-31)
The other night I sat scouring the internet for history websites and blogs; job hunting and searching for potential places of employment. I am very familiar with the Website --> About Us -->Employment Opportunities/Jobs obstacle course.
But one thing I noticed.
In the news, the world is falling apart. Pop-culture pages find mindless things to smile about, telling us stories of Angelina Jolie’s nannies and the next teenage heart-throb. On the other end of the spectrum (though maybe not far removed from our society’s current obsessions), history blogs have sky-rocketed. They are flourishing, in fact. At first glance, I am overjoyed. People are finally interested in history! But wait a minute—people are finally interested in history . . . The unfortunate side of things is that retrospective tendencies tend to develop at the end of a great thing. One must wonder what this says about our culture; what ideas go racing through the minds of the human race.
It is possible that I am just more attuned to all things “public history” since receiving a degree in that field. Maybe things have always been this way. But I think not. Looking back, the world (or at least the Western world) has been very focused on dreaming ahead. For centuries peasants and kings have eloquently prophesied about how the future would look, sound, feel. Just look at the works of authors like H. G. Wells, George Orwell, Jules Verne and Edward Bellamy.
As I sift though pages and pages of “history” and “public history” blogs, I can’t help thinking that an intense focus has shifted to an understanding of the past. Too see where we have come; to give an account of what has already happened. It’s a little overwhelming if you think about it for too long. But mostly it’s fascinating—what the human mind will do for the sake of self preservation.
On Saturday I did Public History. Well, that’s actually an odd way of putting it. I should probably think of a better way to express my adventure. Another time, maybe. For now, let me tell you about my Saturday.
Most of the time I am on the receiving end of public history. In and of itself, it is a beautiful thing, but that is not what I spent countless hours studying. I’m sure there are classes on how to be a better recipient of public history (in fact I can point out quite a few people who would benefit from such a class), but that is far removed from the point. The point: I got to do public history this weekend!
A couple years ago the Evanston History Center was forced to close due to ownership and financial negotiations with Northwestern University. Prior to that time, I served as a weekend docent at the Dawes House. On Sunday afternoons, while many people would rather be taking a nap, I sat at the front desk of a majestic mansion on Lake Michigan, waiting for unsuspecting people to walk up to the front door and ask to take a tour. I enjoyed showing people the house; spewing useful facts about Dawes, 1920’s American society and European architecture, maybe throwing in a tidbit about Lincrusta Walton or annunciators. But I don’t think I really appreciated what I was doing. At that time, I was in the midst of obtaining my degree. Every bit of “Public History” I was doing was for an assignment.
Yet on Saturday, after a year away from the house and couple recent weeks of patron-less desk-sitting-sessions, I got to share my passion for history with ten random people. It was hot and muggy; I was sweating from every possible pore, and I’m sure they were as well. But do you know the joy I felt as I closed the door after the last visitor had departed? I was expecting to feel relieved that I could sit still in front of the fan, or at the very least get a drink of water. I was not expecting to have such happiness over a 45-minute tour through a turn-of-the-century mansion.
So what would any up-and-coming Public Historian do in such a situation? She would plop back down in that squishy desk chair and start designing a business card. Call me crazy, but it seemed appropriate. And I was in an artsy mood. Needless to say, I have a design, and I’m quite excited. Now I just need to have them made, preferably free of charge.
But one thing at a time. I was not done with my Public History adventure. Nope, not yet. For in addition to it being sweltering hot, it was also a beautiful day. And that meant my camera had to come out of its cozy crocheted traveling case. Walking around the outside of the Dawes House is blast to the past all in itself. From a crumbling terrace to mossed-over flower planters, the façade and exterior exude pride and the desire to be remembered. I took some pretty fun shots, allowing my camera’d eye to see the house from a new point of view. I doubt Robert Sheppard dreamt of a time when the study of his glorious home would be considered History. Charles Gates Dawes on the other hand—he was pretty brilliant. With amazing foresight, he bestowed his home to be used for historical purposes. And that is just what I did!
This blog post has been stewing in the back of my brain since yesterday at approximately 1:30pm, when I went to go hear the Grant Park Music Festival's Independence Day Concert. There was this riveting compilation of songs from across the United States entitled "Sea to Shining Sea." Showcased were arrangements of pieces like "Meet Me in St. Louis", "Chicago", "Tennessee Waltz", and "New York, New York." And I thought to myself, what an amazing way to tell the history of our nation.
It's an oddly known fact that I, the neighborhood history nerd, once used to believe I did not like American history. I'm sure I even spouted it out loud once or twice to an unsuspecting family friend who simply wanted to know what I was going to be studying when I went off to college. I wasn't trying to be pretentious or anti-patriotic, I just didn't really appreciate the American history I'd learned up to that point. You probably didn't either . . . all that confusing jargon about the Constitution and jumbled politics, not to mention all those dates. . .
I may be exaggerating a bit. Because there were definitely units I loved--especially when Social Studies and English got to hang out together and our assignments would involve writing stories about specific periods in time. Or when I was reading books on my own like Little House on the Prairie. I guess what I really didn't like was the way classroom textbooks taught history, not the history itself. I knew that I didn't particularly thrive under that type of learning. I wanted to learn about what life was like "back then".
So I made up my mind somewhere between my freshman and senior year of high school that when I went to college to study history, I was not going to focus on American history. Ideas like archeology and Biblical history popped into my head, or maybe I would study world history in general. I was a little confused, but then again I was only 17. As you can imagine, my plan did not work out so well, seeing as the school I got into didn't have Biblical history or archaeology primary fields of study--and it was a requirement to take at least two U.S. History courses.
So as I sat listening to lectures about colonization, war, reconstruction, expansion, immigration and progress, something amazing happened. I realized that I did in fact love America's history. Real life people were the ones who traveled to and inhabited the far corners of this country. They were the ones who created and thwarted events; sought out new ideas and innovations. Those dates, institutions and political mandates that I so disliked are really only the periphery of history. The finding and telling of the stories in between--that is what I thrive upon.
And that is why I chose Public History. I want to help share those stories and show people--especially children hemmed in by classroom textbooks--what is really exciting and invigorating about studying the past.
So Happy Independence Day, my friends. Take a moment to think about the real life people who came before us and paved the way for the liberty we get to experience today.
One year ago I set out on an adventure that involved seeing New York City for the first time. Returning from my travels, I was sure that my new season would produce a profitable Public History job and a expanded perspective on life.
I am sure I look at things differently since then, but there is still no dream job to provide intellectual stimulation and fund my ever-growing desire to hop around the nation's most intriguing museums and historic sites.
While in NYC I visited the Tenement Museum, a spectacular institution that specializes in the history of the Lower East Side and its immigrants at the turn of the Century. A prime example of living history, smack dab in the middle of a historic neighborhood. With each flight of stairs or turn of a corner, it is as if one were wading through history--stepping into snap shots of the past. The stories of real life people are told in those rooms; the remnants of lives such as theirs scattered for all to see. Such an enriching way to experience history.
Recently, I was remembering my experience at the Tenement Museum and wondering if Chicago possessed such a gem. I know of institutions like the Jane Addams Hull House Museum and the newly created Public Housing Museum, both of which (unfortunately) I have been unable to visit. Yet every once in a while, I'll be walking along a street with buildings of historical persuasion and think to myself, "Who used to walk up and down these same streets? What events occurred under this building's shadow?"
What if, as we walked along the streets of a historic neighborhood, we were able to see the hidden history piled beneath slabs of concrete? I am certain that interspersed between franchised coffee shops and modeled strip malls there are stories to be told, memories to behold.
Away from the often-pretentiousness of exhibit-laden museums, places of living history--on site museums specifically, are probably my favorite. I thrive on experiencing the past in a three-dimensional way, without all the trappings of digital media and surround sound.
I had an interesting thought the other night as I was watching a reflection of the sunset on clouds over Lake Michigan. The shore was completely calm, but for a gentle breeze wrinkling over the surface of the water. Yet as I stepped away from my reverie and returned to the concrete jungle, a torrential wind tore at me from the West.
And this was my thought--consequently geographical in nature. Imagine from whence that wind had come. . . Traversing around mountains and vales, through cities and towns, across rivers and streams, making its way steadfastly to the coast--not of a vast ocean or sea, but a simple lake--the birth place of a Midwestern metropolis.
Oh to be a breath on the wings of that wind. To hover over the changing landscape and shifting tide. A perfect witness to time and space. The most honest of troubadours. A noble chronicler. An ode to the Westward wind.
It has been a long time since I wrote. But this is not an observation of the ditsy variety. I am honestly saddened that I haven't much been in the mood for writing. As many of you who read this may observe, I usually write after I've pooled my thoughts and honed my emotions. Not many "depths of despair" (To quote the beloved Anne of Green Gables. She does need a good shout out every once in a while) posts here. So put two and two together and you'll see why its been so long since I've written. Being in the dull-drums is not good fodder happy thoughts and I, unfortunately, do not have the gift of the Psalmist David. I am not good at crying out (either in despair and praise) when I'm "sitting at the bottom of my well." I used that phrase on a Facebook status a few weeks back and really freaked some people out. It was not meant to be the end of the world. Just the image that popped into my head during this desert time.
Anyway, it's a year since I graduated from Loyola. I've been a Master of the Arts for a year. I don't feel like a master of anything at the moment. That's probably the way God likes it. But I have the unfortunate tendency to want control, to be able to place my ducks in a row and look to the well planned future. Not at all embodying the Noble Woman of Proverbs 31(v. 25 She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come). I've been wringing my hands in worry at the times to come. Wondering what God is playing at, putting me through all this waiting. On really bad days I incorrectly blame it all on my passive, introverted self. But then I remember, if I was relying on myself for anything, I would get no where. So that's not it. God must have a plan. A purpose for this season. Back in August, maybe even reaching towards November I was okay with waiting. But now it's May and I am still where I was a year ago.
Ironically, (and appropriately--for God is One with a sense of humor) our church small group is studying the book of James this summer. It gets better folks, I'm facilitating the Thursday night group. Not only to have I have to listen to James' wise words (1:2-4): "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds. For you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." But I have to teach them.
As a group, we are going to try to memorize portions of James, starting with these first three verses. I often read the NIV, but our "pew" Bibles at church are ESV. So I, at least, have decided to use that translation. The NIV uses the word "persevere." But the ESV choses "steadfast." Now I am a visual learner. And as soon as I read this word, I got an image in my head that has really helped me. A stead is a post, something securely positioned, immovable. And so I have created my own definition of the word "steadfast" , as pertains to this passage, and for me as I find myself in this desert season.
Steadfastness: the act of holding on firmly to the immovable Jesus.
I guess that's all I can do right now. The next step will be joy--odd as that seems.
Sometimes I have an idea for a blog, but deep down inside I know that it is not yet ready for “viewing.” When this happens, it often turns into un-motivation. I don’t feel like writing because nothing seems complete. I feel like I need pieces of a puzzle to fall into place before I can put my thoughts into words.
If you have not yet caught on, this is where I was. Sitting stubbornly on the couch; drifting between sleep and restlessness on a bus; eating in my parent’s dining room; listening in a church pew; walking to work. I let life wash over me. I didn’t try to finish my thoughts. Then all of a sudden it all began to make sense. A chain of words formed in my head. A string of thoughts wove its way into my imagination. It may have happened this morning in the shower, but only now am I typing it. This is the culmination of what began some many weeks ago. I apologize for the delay.
The actual blog post: “The Power of Story”
Stories are powerful things. They evoke emotion; they expand the imagination; they allow us to time- travel and space-travel, across millennia, through wrinkles and over oceans, rivers and seas. A good story can transport you from where you are to, where you desire to be, to where you are actually understood, and truly belong.
Yesterday was Holocaust Remembrance Day. When I was younger (starting about the 7th grade)I read pretty much every Holocaust story I could get my hands on. Why? Because I had a fascination with the stories, the retelling of events. I could relate to the people whose lives were torn in two because I had a similar history. We shared a past, and yet I could only imagine the happenings of their life. Those stories, whether based on actual events or imaginary history, brought what happened to life. And in my mind’s eye I saw them walking, living, laughing, sharing, crying, dying. My imagination ran wild with emotion, and inspiration, and color, but most of all a desire to learn more--to take these stories and flesh out the truthful events behind them. Although I am speaking of Holocaust stories, the same was, and became true for all works of historical literature, fiction and memoirs.
C.S. Lewis, a man whom I count among my dear (and yet deceased) literary friends, knew well the power of story. How else could an image of a faun walking with an umbrella in the snow become the basis for one of the best tomes of Western allegorical literature? I mention Lewis quite often when I write, but I will not apologize for this. Instead I would like to share a bit of joy. Throughout Lent (and onwards, since Lent is obviously past) two friends and I (from work) have been reading the Chronicles of Narnia. Truthfully, they began before I knew of their brilliant plan, but I was quickly included, and am much the happier for it. What better way to spend the weeks leading up to Christ’s death, burial and resurrection (other than reading the actual account in the Gospels, of course!) then to focus on some of the best stories rooted in Divinely inspired creativity. Lewis takes the mundane and turns it on its head with Aslan at the helm (pun intended). So captivating are the stories that we find ourselves desiring Narnia right along with the Pevensies, Eustace, Jill, Polly, and Digory. What joy to press our faces against Aslan’s mane, to feel the wind as we are carried across the sea on the Dawn Treader, to see Narnian trees dancing in the wood, to hear Aslan say, “There is a way into my country from all worlds . . . and I shall be telling you all the time”!
One of my favorite images in the Chronicles can be found at the end of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The children have very nearly reached the world’s end and they come to an island where they meet a lamb. It is a quiet, simple lamb. And yet, as it begins to speak, it turns into the great Lion, Aslan himself! This imagery is best represented in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardobe, with Aslan’s sacrificial death on the Stone Table, yet Lewis waits until a book steeped in the theme of yearning to show the Lion as a lamb.
Jesus himself is described many times in Scripture (both prophetically and contemporarily) as a lamb—but ultimately as The Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world (John 1:29). With Passover and Easter overlapping this year, I had a lot of time to think about Jesus as the Lamb. I am often awestruck by the frankness and beauty of God’s imagery. Such a powerful story, that of Redemption! It is rooted in the ancient practices of sacrifice, and the practical cycle of birth, life and death, but it is brought to life in the narrative of Jesus. The symbols of the Passover meal, and Christ’s actions during that final week, remind us of God’s deliverance from slavery to freedom, from darkness into brilliant light.
And so we remember the story. We place it on our hearts as God’s Truth. And we repeat it with significance because in the telling, we find Life.
3. Asking for wisdom is wise. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. James 1:5
