Currently Twentysomething By Jamie Cullum These Are The Days see related

girl.

(Sorry for the long haitus.)

Been thinking about girls lately. That sounds a bit awkward; let me explain. I..make it my living to live with a bunch of college-age girls. And by "live with", I mean everything short of legal adoption. I wipe tears and kiss owies, I speak truth whether or not it hurts, I get angry at them and I drive them to the hospital and I worry about them and cry when they grow up. Although I absolutely love this part of my life, I was definitely getting to the point a few weeks ago when their shrieks down the hall produced an eyeroll and sigh from me rather than a shaking of the head at their cute antics. I was in need of a bit of a break, but that reaction was saddening to me.

Now, a couple weeks after that, I find that although my spirit is still tired, I have found myself confronted with and reminded of the fascinating and compelling aspects of girls. There is, frustratingly, no other creature like us.

There's this girl that I see often in the cafeteria here. If she is in high school, she could pass for one of my girls. She is tall and has a solid, big frame like myself. She always puts her long, crazy blonde hair in a ponytail on the side of her head, and wears giant silver hoops. She catches my eye because I'm not sure what catches hers. Only once have I heard her speak, and she called out to one of her friends - "...I don't know. I'm not the type that could go to college. I think design is all that's left for girls like me." I couldn't (and still can't) tell whether she was happy about that or not. It won't matter if I ever figure it out - it makes me sad either way because I have hardly ever seen the look of resignation that I saw in her eyes and the way she carried herself. It wasn't a sad look - just a blank one.

Today walking across campus I got intimidated. A sharp looking, black slacks, perfectly messy ponytail (the kind that's acceptable in professional settings now - go figure), has to walk slowly and deliberately because of precarious heels, shiny oversized bag that probably hosted (among other things) a cell phone with a bejeweled cover and a gaudy charm -woman was walking on the sidewalk that ran parallel to mine. The only thing I had in common with her was that I too was a woman (although I was beginning to question even that), and that my cell phone now sports a little charm. With a moose on it. From Alaska. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, flipflops in a color not found anywhere else on my person. I have always known that girls dress for other girls, and was keenly aware of it now. We make so much fun of men for coming up with ways to assert their territorial tendencies, but fail to recognize that we do it in a silent but far more deadly way. Knowing that one thought in the morning can defeat a woman's self-image for the rest of the day, we take full advantage of the possibility of the presence of other's weaknesses. Not every girl does this all the time, and I'm not saying that it's bad to look nice. I'm just saying that we all, including myself, have done it at one time. Our sidewalks were coming closer and closer together, leading the woman and I to a convergence...and for a minute I hoped that something miraculous would happen and that the short, thin, snappy, dark girl and the tall, big..er, soft-featured blonde girl would merge into one, kind of like on those freaky caduet commercials for high blood pressure and cholesterol. It didn't happen. Because I was walking faster in my bright blue flipflops than she was in her precarious heels.

I am getting ready to present a paper on theological shortcomings of the emergent church movement at two different philosophical conferences. At one of the conferences I am one of two women presenting, and at the other I am the only one. I have no point to prove, I'm simply wondering why.

In one of the public bathrooms on campus the other day, I saw a flyer for upcoming events for Women's History Month. One of the topics is "Making it in a man's world." I have no point to prove, I'm simply wondering why.

I love being surprised by girls. They surprise me sometimes. I just returned from a mission trip where the team was composed of 9 girls and two boys. And I didn't realize I had preconceived expectations of what they were capable of until they surprised me, showing me I had severely underestimated them.

In the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.

Currently Let It Rock By Kevin Rudolf Let It Rock see related

wow.

I just gave a two year-old a haircut. And it looks decent (at least I think so). Picture coming soon.

I swept up little feathery blonde hairs from my kitchen floor and wondered...

...why does this make me feel like a million bucks?

Currently Fiction Family By Fiction Family see related

voice.

After being sick for a while, I am just regaining my voice over the last couple days. Not having a voice is annoying when you're supposed to talk with people and teach for a living, but kind of funny when you live with funny students. I had this one girl that just couldn't get used to the idea that although I couldn't talk above a whisper, she could speak freely...so she would get really close and lean in and whisper to me...I couldn't help but laugh every time.

It, of course, made me think about those who have no voice, or most of all things that people don't say because they are hard to say. Seriously, try having no voice for a couple days and see what that does to your thinking. The rest of your senses become a little more in tune and try and compensate - you watch and listen so much better, and the things you think you need to say instantly become a little more refined before they come out your mouth.

Interesting. I hope I am a voice for...others. I hardly even care what it is they need to say. The very act of representing someone like that I think is one of the noblest and most redemptive things.

Currently Gossip In The Grain By Ray LaMontagne You Are The Best Thing see related

innocence.

I think one of the amazing things about my brother Matt is that he is a man. That sounded funny. What I mean is, the things he's passionate about - justice and worship and love and children - seem to be, in my experience, things for which male advocacy is tragically lacking. I'm mainly thinking about student groups here on campus that focus on justice and advocacy and AIDS awareness and worship...and the vast majority of those involved and in leadership are women. I always look around at those groups and wonder, quite frankly, where all the good men have gone.

This makes what my brother does amazing, on a whole new level. It also makes him speak to and interact with the women in my building differently. I sat back the other day and listened to him talk to a girl I have been slowly building a relationship with since August. And in the space of about twenty minutes, my brother was talking with this girl in such a way that...I haven't been able to reach in all the months I've been spending time with her. And as I've thought about it, I think I kind of know why.

My brother, in his work in advocacy and investigations, has seen...horrible, horrible things. Tragic things. Heartbreaking things. Things that make him weep and cry out to the Lord, pleading with Him either to intervene or to give understanding why these things are allowed to happen. But because of the great darkness he has seen, my brother has also seen great innocence. And he speaks (as I kind of think he always has) to my hurting, broken women. He speaks with them in their innocence, not in their failure or in the ways they've been taken advantage of. He sees and addresses their innocence, and because of that, a very interesting and beautiful thing comes about.

They are innocent.

I'm not saying that some metaphysical change takes place...but maybe. I think, for as much as we relentlessly pursue what is reality, we forget our own power in transforming the way people view themselves. Matt looks at these girls that are so precious to me, and about whom I know so many intricate parts of their hearts. He looks them and sees it all...and chooses then to see them innocent. Pure. The beauty of their souls is, I'm convinced, all he sees. And because he sees it, he speaks to it. And because he speaks to it, they become it. They peaceful look on their face, the way they light up when they being to speak of their dreams, and the way they freely laugh with him is...

This is amazing to me. And I want to learn to do this.

Currently Bullet By Mat Kearney see related

abc.

This is, simply, part of why I love my life. Toby Jensen is very much 2 years old, and a light in my life. For this picture (thanks Lyndsay!) we were sitting in the cafeteria after dinner, and took a break from calling people and leaving voicemails of Toby singing the alphabet. Sometime in the middle of calling people on my cell phone, he just leaned over and put his face against mine.