A Portrait of the Artist Emerging from Yet Another All-Nighter

Since I've been up all night working on this paper for my Medieval European Lit. class (a paper which, per usual, still isn't nearly as close to complete as I would have hoped at this hour), I thought it would only be appropriate to share some of my intense attempts at procrastination with you. I once again have one of those silly 'how well do you really know me?' quizzes. And, of course, it's once again hopelessly biased in favor of the people who go to school with me, but nonetheless I'm once again interested to see how all of you do. So click on the You Don't Know Me... link here or to the left and explore the enigma of DV!

Also, I put up a link to a page called Journey Into the Wilderness. This is the Wesley Foundation's Lenten Devotional, which the Discipleship Committee has been working on for some time now. It will be updated each day with a brief reflection aimed at keeping us focused on Christ during this season of repentence and fasting. I hope you'll check out some of the brilliant, entirely original writing there.

And now it's back to exploring the role of naming in Chretien's 'Eric and Enide'. Grace and Peace!

Down in the Valley to Pray

No doubt the world is entirely an imaginary world, but it is only once removed from the true world. --Isaac Bashevis Singer, 'Gimpel the Fool'

Last Sunday, the Reverend Jason Micheli, who attended Hinton Avenue while an undergraduate at UVA before moving on to Princeton Theological Seminary and the ordination process in the United Methodist Church and is now the pastor of St. John's UMC in Buena Vista, was our guest preacher. Since it was Transfiguration Sunday, mountains and mountaintops played a central role in our worship and liturgy (including the impromptu Sunday School lesson and children's sermon I had to lead). Jason shared that, when he was a student in Charlottesville, one of his favorite places to go for personal reflection and prayer was Humpback Rock, which is also, incidentally, the sight of the Wesley Foundation's Easter sunrise pilgrimage each year. And when he was up there on the mountain, his head in the clouds, talking with God and being filled with the Spirit, he never wanted to come back down. He speculated that Peter's feelings, in wanting to simply build some tents and stay there at the mountain after seeing Jesus transfigured and talking with Moses and Elijah, were similar to his own. Better to remain on the mountaintop than head back down into the valley.

But Jesus rebukes Peter for saying this foolish thing, of course. And Lent is all about the valley. The text for next Sunday, which is Youth Sunday at our church when, amazingly enough, a seventh grader will deliver the sermon assisted by worship leaders who are all in middle school or high school (thanks be to God!), is Luke 4, Jesus's fasting and temptation in the desert valley. As Jesus, in his transfigured state of heavenly glory, did not remain the 'holy man on the mountain' we also are called, even required, to meet God in those mountaintop moments and then return to the valley, where things are not so clear and where life is not always perfect, to be among the hurting and broken people, in whom we are also able to meet God.

I think, perhaps, that Valentine's weekend was a sort of mountaintop experience for me. I was able to travel to this exciting place with an amazing companion to meet interesting people, hear fascinating stories, and be totally caught up in an intriguing new world. It was the only place I could imagine myself, and I never, ever wanted to come down from that magic carpet ride. And in a sense, I'm not---those mountaintop experiences are, to say the least, transforming. After all, you can't see Jesus beaming and glimmering on the mountainside and walk away from that experience unchanged. This is no doubt a part of what the new life promised and given by Christ is all about. But we also aren't permitted to just stand there with our mouths wide open gaping at the divine spectacle.

So I came back to the valley, greeted appropriately enough by the Service Engine Soon light and an overwhelming load of work and expectations, and had a hard time. This, of course, is the source of the 'Worry Rock' post from last night. Not surprisingly, as soon as I had posted it, I found myself confronted with all the joy which is also a part of the journey through the valley. Around 12:30, Andrew and I went over to check on Alex, who was up late working on this week's FaithLink lessons. We had a great conversation with him, and on our way out of the Foundation, we bumped into good friend S, who was having a terrible time of it, with the stress of work and classes and so many other things. I could only listen, and that only for a brief moment it seemed, but there was grace in that listening and it was very good. Then I returned home to the most encouraging message in the world from high school friend E, who reminded me of the time first year when I sent her the Barenaked Ladies song 'Who Needs Sleep?' to help her get through her very first all-nighter and of all the other great, supportive moments we've shared as friends during this wild ride of college. I also got a wonderfully concise message from graduated friend C, calling me on my ingratitude and reminding me that things cannot possibly be as bad as I make them sound. In short, I am blessed in giving and in receiving, by wonderful, unexpected words from great friends.

I may be in the valley at the moment, but I'm there to pray and to fast and to keep my eyes on eternity, looking for shards of God's light to illuminate (transfigure, perhaps?) the present world and reveal the true world beneath and behind and beyond. Thanks be to God!

The Worry Rock

He said to his disciples, 'Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you---you of little faith! And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Indeed, strive for his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.' --Luke 12:22-31

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then....I contradict myself;
I am large....I contain multitudes.
--Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself'

If someone were to enter my life, from another culture, say, or even another world, and analyze me based purely on the things they observe me doing, they're scattered results might look something like this:

I read. I write. I walk. I worship. I worry. I love. I hope. I work. I pray. I drive. I remember. I minister. I dream. I struggle. I laugh. I cry. I listen. I sleep. I sing. I rush. I eat. I plan. I obsess. I forget. I celebrate. I watch. I fail. I try. I imagine. I smile. I lose. I win. I kiss. I fall. I cheer.

Despite moments of amazing grace and clarity--indoor basketball with the youth group, a great game Scrabble (finally!) with mi hermana, realizing all over again that Todd Billet is in fact the man-- this week hasn't, for the most part, felt like a particularly good one. Now I make no claim that my dour feeling about the week is grounded in any sort of logic or coherent thinking, especially since the actions recorded on my alien observer's list are exactly what I would wish for in the perfect week. The problem with a list like this, though, the reason why it could never produce any sort of truth about who I am or what is most important to me, is that it is unable to account for the amount of reading or writing or walking I did, or for the experiences and stories which prompted my praying and laughing and crying. The list is all right as a crude chronicle of my activities, but it remains utterly wanting in the feelings and emotions which are essential to the abundant Christ-life I have been promised. My list this week is hopelessly inadequate because I have spent more time working than singing, more time forgetting than remembering, more time worrying than hoping.

And I think it's this last observation which accounts for my uneasiness about this week. I suppose I come about this whole worrying thing honestly enough; I do, after all, come from a long line of champion worriers who, for years, asked me to call home when I arrived at my destination AND when I was prepared to leave for home again, who sit on pins and needles during the weeks I spend out of the country on mission trips and spiritual pilgrimages, who still turn the television set off and sit in the dark during even the mildest of thunderstorms. I'm nonetheless troubled by own worrying, because I have always imagined myself as someone who never worries about anything. I like to think that my faith and my self-confidence are enough, and that I have nothing to fear. I frighten my roommate Will by darting out into the crosswalks of busy intersections and claiming my pedestrian's right of way. I take on as many jobs and projects as humanly possible without ever really asking myself how they will actually get done. I pull all-nighters and drive long distances and do my best work under pressure.

But not this week. This week I've been worried. This week there have been stressful meetings and a profound lack of sleep and too many poor decisions and so much insecurity, and all of that has gotten me worried. Worried that I'm not really so good at the whole youth minister thing. Worried that I'm not so good at the whole relationship thing. Or the roommate thing. Or the friendship thing. Or the SCC thing. Or the student thing. Or the brother thing. Or so many of the other hats I'm trying to balance. Worried that Brian's tests aren't going to come back negative or that Dad will have to miss time from work because of his hurt wrist. Worried that I should be looking for a third job for next summer or doing some independent research of my own. Just worried.

So yeah, it's a stressful week. Not really because of anything external which is any different than other weeks (the list of things I've done this week, after all, is probably identical to last week's), but because, for the first time I can remember, I'm paralyzingly worried about the most important things in my life....and about those things that, in the end, don't matter at all. It's a stressful week, but thankfully it's nothing more than that. And I know that, even in my fear and insecurity, there's grace abounding.

I am blessed, and I am grateful. And I suspect---no, I know--- that I protest too much. And I should probably just hold onto this incoherent babble as my own reflections on a strange season in my life rather than publishing it for my poor readers to endure. But I'm posting it anyway, even in this fragmented and embarrassingly unliterary form. And perhaps you'll send words of encouragement. Shalom!

And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. --Matthew 28:20

P.S.---The prize goes to whoever gets the title first (without cheating!)....use my 1990's Subculture as a hint! :-)

Yep...




Which 1990's Subculture Do You Belong To?

Almost Heaven

Almost heaven, West Virginia,
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze

Country roads, take me home to the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma--take me home, country roads

All my memories, they gather round her
Miner’s lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrops in my eye

Country roads, take me home to the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma--take me home, country roads

I hear her voice, in the mornin’ hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
Drivin’ down the road I get a feelin’
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Country roads, take me home to the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma--take me home, country roads

Country roads, take me home to the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma--take me home, country roads

Take me home, now country roads
Take me home, now country roads

--John Denver


At the risk of infuriating those who have written quite eloquently and compellingly on the frustrations and materialism of Valentine's Day, or perhaps to offer them a more balanced vision of what the day might mean, I'll share my experiences from this weekend:

On Friday night, April and I decided that we wanted to do some traveling for Valentine's Day, so we picked up a couple of maps and started looking for places we had never been. We settled on heading west toward a town called Spring Creek, West Virginia, with a stop along the way to scope out the Lost World Caverns in order to determine if might be a good spot for the youth group to come caving later in the spring.

As it turned out, we arrived in Lewisburg, WV, (about a two and a half-hour drive from Charlottesville), home of the caverns, around noon and never made it any farther into the state. After traversing the "1.5 mile" snowy, muddy caverns drive way for what seemed like an eternity, we finally came upon the place and found that we were the only guests there at the time. This meant that we got to have the entire cave to ourselves on the self-guided underground tour. Before setting off, though, we heard some very interesting stories about the history caverns' history. Years ago, a farmer lived on and worked the ground directly above the cave, and he had a large hole in his property where he would throw all of his dead cows. When some local cavers got wind of this, they went to him and asked him what he knew about his hole. He replied that he didn't really know what was down there, but that it had just always been there, and that it took his cows a long time to hit bottom when he tossed them down. They asked his permission to explore the hole and discovered a large network of caverns and other rock formations beneath the ground. From certain places within the cave, you can look up about 120 feet and see the only natural entrance to the underground structures. You can also look over some of the ledges within the caverns and see the bones of this farmer's cows. Since there appears to have been a thriving ancient animal and plant population in the caves, they got the name Lost World Caverns. The people who own and oversee the caverns proudly share these stories with guests. They also proudly display copies of the Weekly World News in which it was revealed that their caves were actually the home of Bat Boy!

In addition to the novelty of the location, our exploring and sightseeing was really an amazing experience in itself. As we walked along the ancient narrow passes through the rocks, seeing all the formations which travelers and explorers and conservationists have given names and personalities, our imaginations ran wild with all the possibilities of what had happened in this place and of how we could capture our awe and share it with everyone back home. Although underground caverns certainly don't provide the best lighting for photography, we did manage to get decent pictures of formations known as the Ice Cream Cone and the Bridal Veil. When we arrived at a place known as The Chapel, where many couples have come for unique and beautiful underground weddings, we even tried taking pictures of ourselves, but this was the best we could do. Later, we ran across a really cute salamander that freaked April out so much that she's now denying it was even real and came upon the place where a man named Bob Adis set a world record by sitting atop this stalagmite for 15 days, 23 hours, and 22 minutes!

When we re-surfaced after our tour, we had the best conversation with Steve, the man who owns Lost World Caverns. We learned about his efforts at restoring parts of the cave which have been damaged by decades of abuse and neglect, about the college students who come to help with the work of the caverns and museum during weekends and summers, and about the life and culture of the town of Lewisburg. We had gone through the nice, clean, public parts of the cave, but Steve told us about the group programs they have where they lead people through the really earthy, treacherous parts of the cave, and it sounds like the perfect activity for the youth group. So I think I'm going to give him a call this week to set up a date for our group to come out (most likely March 20, if you're interested in joining us!). He was even nice enough to take this picture of us outside the caverns before we headed back toward town.

When we asked him where we should go for lunch, Steve pointed us to a formal, but cozy log cabin restaurant called the Fort Savannah, and we had a great time there, bantering with the servers who had gone to WVU and learning more about the history of Lewisburg, particularly the important functions it served during both the War of 1812 and the Civil War. After lunch, the people from the Fort Savannah directed us down the street to an old Civil War barracks which has been turned into a small museum. The folks there were very kind and clued us in on lots of interesting details about Lewisburg and Greenbrier County. We got to see actual letters written by Robert E. Lee (who actually lodged in a nearby house for several days during the Battle of Lewisburg) and Stonewall Jackson, rare nineteenth century maps of Virginia, and the huge musket used by a slave named Dick Pointer to defend the town against Indian attacks. We also learned that, because of the massive underground congressional bunker, Greenbriar County has the longest air strip west of the Mississippi and that, since the bunker is no longer in use, the area has experienced remarkable commercial and developmental growth, characterized by huge gated communities which have been no blessing for the ordinary working folks of White Sulfur Springs and Lewisburg.

At the museum I purchased a jar of Grill Masters Dry Rub tenderizer and seasoning, which came highly recommended from the curators/shopkeepers there and a cd of the Old Stone Presbyterian Church's choir singing favorite hymns and praise songs, to go along with the stuffed cave man and 'Hillbilly flashlight' (which consists of a book of matches taped to a wooden tongue depressor from Wal-Mart) I had purchased earlier at the caverns' gift shop. These random impulse buys probably point to a real problem I have with saying no to salespersons and even to myself. In my defense, though, that hillbilly flashlight is a gift for my grandmother, who lives in the country and always gets a kick out of that sort of thing, and the dry rub will be great the next time we want to grill salmon outside or fix ourselves a steak dinner, and the Old Stone Church cd does have 'Down to the River to Pray' on it, and you have to admit that cave man looks pretty great atop our living room mantle, alongside the giant turtle pinata we got Will last year for his birthday, my (almost) life-size Ric Flair figurine, Donatello of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Will's versions of both Chicken Dance and Hokie Pokie Elmo, that weird 'American Male' figure I picked up over the summer in Fairview, Alabama, and all our other great collectibles!

Since we had purchased the choir's cd, we decided to drive around until we found the Old Stone Presbyterian Church, which is actually the oldest church building in continuous use west of the Allegheny Mountains. Since it was Saturday and nothing seemed to be going on at the church, we weren't able to go inside, but we had a great time walking around the church grounds, looking at the eighteenth and nineteenth century graves and peeking through windows into the historic building's sanctuary. We also found the church's portal inscription, which says the following: 'This building was erected in the year 1796 at the expence of a few of the first inhabitants of this land to commemorate their affection and esteem for the Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ. Reader, if you are inclined to applaud their virtues, give God the glory'. It's great to listen to their choir today joyfully exclaim 'To God Be the Glory' and 'My Hope is Built on Nothing Less' and know that, for over two hundred years, folks in this corner of Christ's church have been faithfully and truthfully struggling to realize the ideals expressed in their simple, yet profound, statement of mission.

After walking around the outside of the church for a while, we headed across the street to a set of buildings apparently known as Carnegie Hall, all of which appears to have been built from a donation by Andrew Carnegie himself early in the twentieth century. Although it seems to be a place where art exhibits, musical and theatrical productions, and other expressions of community are shared, we never were able to figure out exactly what Carnegie Hall is in Lewisburg. Since the buildings there were locked as well, we walked toward downtown and looked around in a number of their quaint antique shops, book stores, and local drug stores. We even bought a couple of postcards and sent them to our parents and people back home in Charlottesville. I was able to resist my urges to purchase an old bottle of Coke commemorating the 1984 Peach Bowl (in which Virginia defeated Purdue!) and a large portrait of President Kennedy, however, and we managed to begin our journey back home around 6pm with a little money still in the bank.

On the way home, we stopped outside Waynesboro for dinner, but the great local place we wanted to try, the Blue Star Grill, was so busy that we couldn't even get in the parking lot, so instead a visit to the Western Sizzlin was transformed into a celebration of our childhoods and a magically romantic date! Before arriving back in Charlottesville, we of course observed the policy of always stopping to enjoy scenic view locations and called my mother to hear her hilarious description of her first meeting with my brother's new girlfriend. We got back home just in time to register for our fantasy NASCAR league (which I am leading after the first week, by the way!) and watch highlights of the UVA men's basketball team's unlikely and exciting victory over Georgia Tech!

The night ended with a little disappointing news, though. For Valentine's Day, April gave me the board game version of my favorite game ever, Scrabble! This means that computer malfunctions can no longer prevent us from playing one another and leads me to believe that she has been hustling me all along and will probably cream me when we play! Either that, or she's just amazingly sweet and thoughtful. Hmmm.....she'll probably still beat me, but I'm thinking it's the latter (so I guess there had to be some sappiness after all . . . )

There's so much more I could say about the fascinating and engaging people of Lewisburg and what a great time we had meeting them and spending the day hearing their stories, but I'll close there and just invite you to comment on our incredible photography and experiences. Happy Valentine's Day!

When this baby hits 88 miles per hour . . .


*WIZZZ* You're back to the future


Which 80's movie are you??

Gratitude, or Why I Want to Be a Jesuit Priest

University of Virginia Religious Studies professor Eugene Rogers tells a far wittier and more eloquent version of the following story:

One of his best friends in graduate school was an openly gay man who was studying theology and headed toward ordination as a Jesuit priest. One night, this friend went home and spent the night with a man he'd met at a local bar. The next morning, he felt completely awful and regretful for what he had done, not because having sex itself was wrong or because it was wrong for him to sleep with another man, but because he just knew this was a mistake. It was the sort of random hookup, serving not committed love but lustful desire which couldn't fly within any ethical or theological worldview he could imagine, and so he ran out of bed at 7:30 the next morning looking for a priest who could hear his confession. When he found his confessor and shared with him what had happened, the priest told him that the real sin in his overnight behavior was ingratitude.

Okay...now take a moment to reflect on that, have a good chuckle at the brilliance it embodies, and read on to learn about two of the wonderful blessings for which I am most thankful tonight.

--This weekend was our annual Spring Break Cookie Bake at the Wesley Foundation. Each year, we bake thousands of heart-shaped, pink-frosted sugar cookies to sell in order to fund our spring break mission trip. Caroline, my fellow Witness Committee organizer of this frantic fundraising drive, has posted a beautiful description of the grace we experienced while rolling the dough, whipping the frosting, and counting the dozens, and since I could never hope to be as well-spoken, I'll direct you to her for scoop on the weekend. Suffice it for me to say, though, that I am always amazed by the faith and faithfulness of my sisters in brothers in the Wesley community. I wouldn't have missed the great conversations I got to have with Scott, Chris, Diane, Eddie, J-Dub, Aaron, and everyone else over the cookie tables for anything in the world! I also got to wash the world's largest stack of dishes (some several times!) two nights in a row with the girl of my dreams...truly the perfect weekend of love and service and community!!

--I know I say and write it ad nauseam, but I absolutely love my job and the warm, caring community of Christians at Hinton Avenue who support me in my work in youth and children's ministry. Today was a truly holy church day. During morning worship we began registering people to host youth for our Rent-a-Youth work day coming up in a couple weeks, which will both allow us to minister to congregation members by helping them with house and yard work and help fund our summer mission trip (dates and destination coming shortly!). After worship, while I was attending a brief called administrative board meeting (we're finally getting new tile outside my office!), church members purchased $200 worth of our cookies, which I had left for sale in the narthex. Then I spent the afternoon training our newest group of acolytes. This was great for so many reasons----it gave us a wonderful opportunity to reflect on the symbols and rituals of worship in new and exciting ways, it allowed me to hang out with some remarkably talented and fun 4th and 5th graders (the next generation of UMYFers!!) whom I don't get to see that often, and it meant a free lunch on the church worship budget! I also had some great conversations with parents afterward...I've been working at the church for over a year now and am so impressed by all the things I'm still learning about these great, thoughtful people! After running home for a brief nap and some planning, I headed back out for our weekly youth group meeting, which just went perfectly! We played a few rounds of Murder in the Dark, which is always wildly popular with everyone, and which I rather enjoyed tonight as well, and then Dawna Renick McCracken was there to share with us some of the possibilities for our Easter Sunday drama presentation. She brings so much energy and creativity and talent to everything she does, and we're always blessed by her involvement in our youth programs. I think we chose a really good play, so I'm really excited to begin rehearsing and to share it with the church family! We then had a great conversation about faith in films (very much inspired by my own pre-retreat reflections on Pleasantville...check back later for updates on my keynotes at the Arlington/Alexandria district youth retreat next weekend) over our pizza dinner. I had the youth share with the group what their favorite movie was, but not the one that's their favorite just because they 'like it' or because the guy in it's really cute or because it's popular with all their friends, but the movie that has the most meaning for them, and then explain a little of why it is so meaningful. As our discussion grew, I realized that I probably never really needed to add all of those qualifiers to the original question. I was simply blown away as these 6th through 10th graders talked about how various movies relate to the gang problems they encounter at their own schools, to their friends' parents' divorces, to the spiritual journeys of their non-Christian friends, to their relationships with older siblings and distant cousins, and to cancer, AIDS and other diseases with which people within and beyond our faith community must struggle. After the meeting, while we waited for parents to come drag everyone away from the festivities, I had a great conversation with Lina (who is hopefully reading this!!) about life and school and surprise parties, and a bunch of us had a blast doing our own versions of the improv skits from 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?' The evening then ended with more great conversations with youth and their parents, about upcoming lock-ins and missions dinners and youth worship services and all those other busy, but worthwhile activities that shape our life together. There's lots I'm leaving out or not doing justice here, but perhaps you see my point that, if not restful in the usual sense, this communal Sabbath day has indeed been holy.

There are countless other blessings which warrant celebration here, but since work and (hopefully...maybe...) sleep are calling my name pretty loudly, perhaps it's enough to close by saying that, although there are plenty of sins I myself will need to confess tomorrow morning and every morning, I'm praying that ingratitude is not the one. Thanks be to God!

Give Life!

According to the American Red Cross, my blood type is A-positive. Does this mean that I'm just an A+ kind of guy? :-)

Actually, about 34% of people in the US are A-positive, which makes it the second most common blood type, behind only O-positive (38%). How do I know all these random, but highly interesting, facts, you ask? Because I'm a blood donor, and the Red Cross regularly contacts me with information about shortages and ways I can help to give life to people around me who are in need.

So I also know that each year approximately four million Americans receive a blood transfusion, which means that every two seconds someone needs blood. In fact, 97% of the population will receive a transfusion by age 75. Sadly, though, fewer than 5% of people who are eligible actually donate with any regularity. So, if you're not already, please consider giving the gift of life as a volunteer blood donor. Or at least check out the website for the American Red Cross Mid-Atlantic Regional Blood Services and see for yourself what the needs are and what the process of donation might look like for you.

Shalom!

Fairweather Fans

A couple years ago, the Virginia men's basketball team came into its home game against Maryland with a 14-4 record, ranked number five in the nation, and filled with hopes of a strong regular season finish and even a run at our very first national championship. We camped out in order to get good seats for this game, and were something like number 65 out of around 120 total groups. Head Coach Pete Gillen was a local hero, and his arrival in Hooville to bring chicken wings from BW3's or pizza from Domino's was met with adoration from everyone who was anxiously awaiting this game. Local businesses even paid to have orange t-shirts printed for everyone who had camped to wear to the game, with 'Topple the Terps' written on the front. And for a while, it looked like that was exactly what would happen. Virginia dominated much of the game before blowing a 9-point lead in the final three minutes and losing the game 91-87. This loss changed the momentum of the entire season. Despite and uplifting win late in the year against Duke, we were really never back in contention and failed to even qualify for the NCAA tournament.

At 12-6, the team enters tonight's game against Maryland with an overall record not all that different from the 2002 squad. This time around, though, no one's talking national championship or even holding out hopes for a .500 record to close the season, and now all the talk is whether Gillen will be fired at the close of this season or given one more year to try to turn the program around. Again we're camping out for the event, but this time we're tent number 1 out of 1. Since Monday night, we've been the only people there waiting and hoping together for an upset tonight.

Pete still came by last night to bring doughnuts and thank us for our support, though, and I'm still going to wear my 'Topple the Terps' shirt to the game tonight. And somehow supporting the team now, when it's not as popular or obvious, feels better and more appreciated even than it did at the height of possibility two years ago.

So props to April, Kristen, Lisa, Sarah, Aaron, Andrew, Ernie, and Geoff for being diehard Cav fans! Fairweather we are not, my friends!Wahoowa!

Sludgy Ponderings

I'm told that orbiting planetary bodies are actually in a constant state of falling. The gravitational pull of Earth, for instance, keeps our moon constantly rotating around us, when it might otherwise tumble endlessly through space. That's how I feel today, trying to master the sludgy mess around grounds. My momentum pulls me forward on the sidewalks and down the stairs, sometimes faster than I would like or expect, but somehow I stay on my feet and arrive safely at my destination. Maybe that's also how grace works, pulling us forward when our natural inclination is just to fall. It's worth pondering . . .

The Reason Why I Sing

I have been blessed by several wonderful, if slightly random, encounters with God over the past few days. I haven't really been able to think of a logical, coherent way to maneuver them into any posts, so the best I can do is a wholly un-literary list. In any case, I invite you to share in some of these blessings:

--Professor Hoyt Duggan teaches my Medieval European Literature class. As exciting as readings by Boethius, Abelard, Christine de Pizan, and Gottfried von Strassburg are, this is still probably not a course I would have chosen on my own. Since it meets one of the requirements for my English major, though, I'm there and loving it, in part because of these classic and living texts, but mostly because of our thoughtful and engaging instructor. Dug, as he has us call him, is from East Texas and speaks with a great drawl which just seems to invite open, unintimidated conversation. He's also very willing to open himself up to us by sharing stories from his own life which help us get to know him and be willing to make ourselves vulnerable to one another within our class discussions (this seems to be a theme this semester, as my courses in Fiction Writing & God, the Body, and Sexual Orientation also demand that I be honest with my classmates and also allow them to tell me the truth about who and where I am). On the very first day of class, he told us about his exploration of a call to ordained ministry at age 16 and how his Christian faith impacts his reading of Medieval texts and the work he does in literature and criticism. Although he says that the call he thought he was hearing in his church turned out to be a donkey screaming a couple miles away, it is clear that he is involved in the work of ministry, living out a faithful vocation through his relationships with students as a teacher, mentor, and friend. I think my favorite thing about Professor Duggan is that, unlike many of my professors here at UVA, he never seems to have an inflated sense of himself. He's clearly brilliant and has written greatly on many of the subjects we're studying, but he nonetheless allows us to participate at every step along the way of scholarship in our class. I guess it should have come as no surprise to me, then, when a girl's cell phone began ringing during our class on Thursday morning and his reaction was different from what I've come to expect here. Although it usually bugs me when phones are going off all over the place (After all, I myself am not one of those people!), I'm also aware that, most of the time, this isn't something that people mean to happen. It's very easy to forget to turn your phone off and then have it begin ringing in the middle of a lecture on mechanical physics or Buddhist meditation or something. My experience, though, has been that when this happens in small seminars like our Medieval European Lit. class, professors, even when they don't say anything, offer condescending looks or shocked grimaces, as though it is simply unthinkable that this could happen during their time. Even worse is when they have obviously noticed the ringing (how could one not in those tiny cubicles known as Cabell Hall classrooms) but continue on as though they had not, raising their voice or speaking more quickly in order to hold undivided attention through the disastrous distraction. Dug was completely different, though...he first smiled and the poor girl as she struggled to locate the phone in the bottom of her bag and dismantle its intrusion into our academic world and then made a great joke about the whole thing which reminded us of just how unimportant an event it really was. A little perspective helped a lot....hopefully I'll be a little more understanding myself the next time I'm tempted to react with annoyance or frustration to hear cell phones going off all around me on grounds.

--On Saturday morning, Susie and I went grocery shopping at Reid's Supermarket on Preston Avenue. In our quest to invest more in local businesses, where the profits actually benefit the community here, Andrew and I discovered the Reid's over the summer and fell in love with the place. Its prices are more or less equivalent with places like Harris Teeter or Kroger, but it has a much more comfortable, down home feel and allows us to meet and interact with the people who really call Charlottesville home. As such, we were really excited to see that, in Kazz Pinkard's column in the Cav Daily last week encouraging students to step outside their comfort zones and experience all that the city has to offer, he uses Reid's as an example of the blessings waiting for us away from the Route 29 corridor. So getting back to this cozy market was a great blessing and finally having food has been a nice change around here, but most importantly I got to spend time with a really great friend who's been away for too long. Susie's just returned this semester from studying and traveling (and falling in love!) in Australia, and so we're still catching up on stories from the past six months, and this shopping trip was a great blessing!

--After suffering through the men's basketball loss at Wake Forest, April and I headed down to University Baptist Church to see the Black Voices' winter concert, 'The Reason Why I Sing'. Black Voices is a large gospel chorus made up of University students with a great passion for serving Christ and remarkable gifts for music and performance. We had never gotten the opportunity to see them in concert before and were just amazed by the clarity of purpose and call which expresses itself so wonderfully through their ministry. There was no doubt during those couple hours that we were in the presence of the holy, and I am so grateful for the gifts my sisters and brothers from Black Voices bring to our community.

--Yesterday morning, our youth group participated in the Society of Saint Andrew's Souper Bowl of Caring event to help us, on that day so often characterized by over-indulgence and materialism, to remember the people in our own community and throughout the world who don't have the privilege of eating too many chips at their party or even of having a single sufficient meal a day. We distributed this announcement at the beginning of worship and then collected over $200 in cash and food items to help feed hungry people in the Belmont area of Charlottesville:


Souper Bowl of Caring Food Drive

When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the LORD your God. -- Leviticus 19:9-10

I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me. --Matthew 25:35

Hunger Facts:
*In 2000, 11 million households (or 10.5% of all U.S. households) were food insecure. 33 million people (12% of all Americans) lived in these households.
*Over 3 million households experienced hunger during the 12 months preceding the 2000 survey. 8.5 million adults and children lived in these households.
*In 2000, nearly 13 million children under age 18 lived in food-insecure households (18% of all children) and almost 3 million of these children lived in households that experienced hunger (4.1% of all children).
*Food insecurity and hunger are concentrated in low-income households. In 2000, households with incomes below 130% poverty line had a food insecurity prevalence 3 times the national level. Two-thirds of households reporting hunger had incomes under 185% of the poverty line.
*Female-headed households showed the highest levels of food insecurity and hunger, with 31% reporting food insecurity and 1 in 11 experiencing hunger.
*Black and Hispanic households had food insecurity and hunger rates that were 3 times those of White (non-Hispanic) households.

Good News!
*The Society of Saint Andrew and the United Methodist Church are putting their faith into action and doing something about hunger!
*One expression of the Church’s work in fighting hunger is the food pantry here at Hinton Avenue
*So please remember to leave any food items you've brought with the youth at the doors as you leave, or consider dropping a dollar in one of the large soup pots they’re holding!


--Last night, we hosted our United Methodist Youth Super Bowl Party here at the Dwelling. 16 youth and 7 adults from the Hinton Avenue church family were here to enjoy good food, a great game, and wonderful Christian fellowship. I had such a great time re-living the Simon & Garfunkel concert in Washington with Lina and Fred Schneider, who had also been there, talking with Jeff and Karen Kaster about his upcoming job interview in Raleigh and what that means for their family and friends, looking through pictures from retreats and lock-ins with the whole group gathered around my computer screen, lamenting the woes of Virginia basketball with John Wilkinson, ragging Warren and Isaac when it looked like the Panthers might actually come away with a win, sharing the joys of both Chicken Dance and Hokie Pokie Elmo (even at the same time!), and doing all sorts of other crazy things with this awesome group of Spirit-filled people! Times like these help me to truly look forward to a lifetime of hospitality and leadership within the church! Hallelujah!

--And during all of this, I got to share my time and my heart with the most fun and thoughtful girl I know! Who would've ever thought that eating great Thai food, watching not-so-great Robin Williams movies, cleaning the house, and getting way too little sleep could've been so much fun? I guess it really is all about your company!

This is the reason why I sing! Blessings!
(P.S. April says we're a thing!! :-) )

Wonders Never Cease

So it turns out that Saddam Hussein and the Iraqi regime whose ousting (crucial to our national security and way of life, of course) continues to call for the deaths of young American service men and women, as well as Iraqi soldiers, insurgents, and citizens, probably didn't have any weapons of mass destruction after all. Apparently this revelation (which may or may not be such a revelation to many of us, but that's another matter entirely) leaves us with two options: we can join the camp of Howard Dean, Bob Graham, Robert Byrd, the European Union, the United Nations,the rest of the entire world, and God who believed that this war was unjust and illegal all along, or we can do what Paul Wolfowitz, perhaps the scariest man in America whose name does not end in Falwell or Cheney, and the rest of the administration are doing: avoid the question altogether and present other reasons for war, reasons which were secondary or peripheral at best a year ago when the drumbeats of war were sounding so loudly in the President's rhetoric, as the primary causes for this conflict. Frankly, I don't care from which direction you choose to view this whole thing, as both seem to lead to the same conclusion: that President Bush either knowingly deceived the entire country or acted definitively on faulty intelligence that was anything but definitive. Either way, he has demonstrated a marked and disturbing inability to function as a legitimate and just commander-in-chief. Perhaps it's this realization, coupled with the fact that his most notable domestic policy move in the last year is a harebrained notion of spending billions of tax payers' dollars (which he's always telling me are mine and belong in my pocket) to establish a space station on the moon, that has led likely voters to indicate that they would prefer that John Kerry be elected President in Novemeber.

Now I don't know about you, but I find all this talk that President Bush might have lied to us last year during his State of the Union Address and in countless other speeches and statements concerning the war in Iraq simply shocking (if another administration had behaved in a similar way and were now being as elusive and uncooperative with this Congress sitting, I imagine the impeachment papers would already have been drafted). I mean, what will they tell us next, that the man wasn't even elected fairly? Sheesh, do wonders never cease?

Just two more of my favorite Bush administration facts of all, and then I'll end this political diatribe (honest!): First, federal spending is up 15% during the past three years, with a Republican administration in the White House and Republicans controlling both houses of Congress. That's compared with an approximately 8% increase during the final three years of the Clinton administration. The party of small government, eh? And, my favorite story of all, which I think captures the true heart of our fearless, noble leader: the White House is now pressuring Thomas Kean, the former Republican Governor of New Jersey who now heads the independent commission looking into the terrorist attacks of September 11, to complete his work by a May deadline rather than allowing his commission to actually put together a complete and accurate report, which would likely be damaging in its evaluation of this administration's ineptitude, that might come out around election time. Gosh, am I ever glad that President Bush is just like me, an average guy who just cares about his family and his country, and is far above the pettiness of partisan politics!

Yeah....wonders never cease.