After an incident today that we shall get to in just a bit, I was reminded of something my old high school friend Holly said to me a couple of years ago. It was during my fifty dates trip, and while sitting in Central Park in NYC, munching on hot dogs and enjoying the view, a bird flew over and pooped on my arm.
"Is it just me, or do things like this happen more to you than to everyone else?" she asked, knowing my penchant for strange luck.
My visit to St. Olaf College today wasn't that bad. I mean, there was no poop at least. But some days I seriously wonder how I make it through the day without hurting myself.
I was at St. Olaf to see Ryana, an awesome girl who used to be in my youth group in Colorado. I met her at the chapel for Sunday morning worship (sidenote: it was awesome!).
Faux pas numero uno: When the time came for the offering, a basket was passed down the aisle. I took it from Ryana's friend next to me and promptly dropped it. Luckily I caught it with my knee before it hit the floor. I was surprised and winced a little, because although it looked like a lightweight wicker basket, turns out it had a WOOD bottom. Warn me about these things, people! The good news is college kids have no money, so despite the fact that it had been passed down a couple of rows before getting to me, there was absolutely nothing in it. Had some kid emptied his pockets of loose change, I would have been mortified.
Faux pas numero dos: Either the pews aren't bolted to the floor or the one in front of me was loose, because when I sat down after a hymn, I wrenched that bad boy right off the tile floor and made a nice, loud thud when I let go. Ryana did the same thing ten minutes later, so I didn't feel so bad. At the time, though, I'm pretty sure her friends were wondering who this freak show was that she'd brought to church.
And faux pas numero tres: The granddaddy of the day, my piece de resistance, if you will, happened while Ryana was showing me around the campus. We were in the science building and walked into the greenhouse. It made me a little sad, because the smell and humidity reminded me of going to the Lincoln Park Conservatory in Chicago with Kevin, which made me think about how far away he was . . . and maybe I just wasn't focused on where I was going, because my leg brushed a hose that was on this hose-holder thingie, and it somehow pressed the trigger against a bar on the holder thingie. Before I even realized what was happening, the entire right leg of my jeans was soaked. And maybe a bit of the left. And somehow my belt buckle. It was pretty obvious.
In a demonstration of what a great kid she is, Ryana continued to walk beside me instead of pretending not to know me. She's pretty awesome.
So that's my exciting story about my day at St. Olaf. I'm going to head for bed now and see if I can avoid drooling toothpaste on myself, flushing an item of clothing down the toilet, or missing the bed when I lay down on it. Lots of hazards could rear their ugly heads at any moment . . .
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Teenage Girls
Confession time. I am addicted to a show for teenagers: Pretty Little Liars. If you've never heard of it, it's probably because you're not 15. And no, I'm not watching it as some sort of glimpse into the lives of the teenagers I work with. Just something I found on Netflix. Just free, cheap entertainment that totally wastes my time. Just a guilty pleasure. I watched one episode and suddenly I can't stop until I find out who killed Ali!
It's like a repeat of Twin Peaks, twenty years later.
There are many things that make me inwardly shake my head while watching these teenagers on screen (like the fact that they are all close to 30 in real life . . . ), but the thing that gets me the most is the fact that they are ALWAYS dressed to the nines. Going to school? Let me put on a dress and enough make-up for five people! Going to a slumber party at a friend's house? I'll put on my casual sweater/miniskirt/jacket combo! Traipsing through the woods at night searching for clues to my best friend's killer? I've got some designer boots with three-inch heels that are perfect for mystery-solving hikes!
Seriously.
I was looking at kids in the hallway today between classes, and I didn't see a single girl dressed like the teens on TV. Rather than looking like they just stepped off a fashion show runway, the girls at my school more often look like they just rolled out of bed. Our halls are full of t-shirts, shorts, jeans, sweats, and leggings. Lots of ponytails. Very little make-up.
And you know what? I prefer our girls to the TV girls. I like the slightly awkward frumpy girls who look comfortable. I like the kids who don't feel like they have to put on airs. I like that these young women are real, not some Hollywood producer's idea of what young women should look like.
Friends who are raising girls, bless you. It's a hard road. The girls they see on TV look nothing like the girls they see in the mirror. Hug 'em tonight.
And remind them that those fakers are really 27 and had breakouts and bad hair in high school, too. :)
It's like a repeat of Twin Peaks, twenty years later.
 |
| Just your average sixteen-year-olds? Right. |
Seriously.
I was looking at kids in the hallway today between classes, and I didn't see a single girl dressed like the teens on TV. Rather than looking like they just stepped off a fashion show runway, the girls at my school more often look like they just rolled out of bed. Our halls are full of t-shirts, shorts, jeans, sweats, and leggings. Lots of ponytails. Very little make-up.
And you know what? I prefer our girls to the TV girls. I like the slightly awkward frumpy girls who look comfortable. I like the kids who don't feel like they have to put on airs. I like that these young women are real, not some Hollywood producer's idea of what young women should look like.
Friends who are raising girls, bless you. It's a hard road. The girls they see on TV look nothing like the girls they see in the mirror. Hug 'em tonight.
And remind them that those fakers are really 27 and had breakouts and bad hair in high school, too. :)
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Church Ladies
In yet another attempt to meet some people in our new area, I thought I'd check out the women's Bible study tonight at the church we're leaning towards. I almost walked into an AA meeting taking place in the fellowship hall until someone steered me away and into the church library. I joined five women around a table. All of them were at least twenty years older than me.
But you know what? I'm fine with that. Here's why.
I moved to Colorado when I was 24. Not long after starting my job at the church, some women found me one Sunday morning and dragged me over to the table where they were registering women for the annual church women's retreat. Looking at the list of women signed up, I saw some mothers of the teenagers I worked with, some empty nesters, and a few grandmas. No one in their twenties was signed up. I figured I'd have no one to hang out with. I had zero interest in attending.
I said I was too busy to go. They said I could take a weekend off.
I said I couldn't afford it (which was true, but really just an excuse to get out of going). They paid my way.
I was stuck.
I packed my backpack and my sleeping bag, telling myself to just endure it. How bad could it be? Boring probably, but not awful.
I ended up having an AMAZING weekend. So much so that I looked forward to the church women's retreat every fall for the ten years I worked at the church.
We laughed so hard. We played games and they didn't mind that I was insanely competitive. We sang songs, told stories, ate junk food, and although a few women snored loudly enough to rattle the bunk beds, we had the best time together.
But looking back on those ten weekend retreats over ten years, the thing that strikes me the most is how thankful I am for those women and their influence on my life. Those are the women who made me realize how much I need other women, and not just women my age, but women who have already been through all the things I have yet to experience.
I learned so much from those women -- to thank God in the good times and to cling to God in the hard times. I heard stories that made me wonder how they'd found the strength to make it through tragedies. I saw how much they depended on each other for support, and sometimes just for sanity. I saw seventy-year-old women giggle like seven year olds.
I learned that I have so much to learn.
And so, as we try to find a new church, my standards are high. Yes, we want a church with great preaching and great music and lots of opportunities to serve . . . but I'm also looking for women like my old church friends, who are willing to mentor and guide me through all the things to come.
And I'm at an age where I can reach out to twenty-four-years olds and assure them they won't be eating Tuna Helper alone every night for the rest of their lives.
I want a community.
It's a tall order.
Kevin and I talked a bit after church this weekend about expectations and settling. It's impossible to find the perfect church, I know, and if we did find it, we wouldn't qualify for membership. But at what point do you stop "shopping" and just pick one? If the preaching is good but the music isn't, do you call it good, settle in, and integrate yourself in that community? How long do you try to build those relationships before giving up and starting the church hunt over again? I'd love to hear from others who've had to look for a new place to worship.
And to those beautiful women of Ascension -- you know who you are! -- thank you. Sincerely. Tears were streaming down my face as I wrote about those women's retreats. You've influenced me more than you know and I can never thank you enough. I love you. Keep dragging new young women into your circle and doing the same for them!
But you know what? I'm fine with that. Here's why.
I moved to Colorado when I was 24. Not long after starting my job at the church, some women found me one Sunday morning and dragged me over to the table where they were registering women for the annual church women's retreat. Looking at the list of women signed up, I saw some mothers of the teenagers I worked with, some empty nesters, and a few grandmas. No one in their twenties was signed up. I figured I'd have no one to hang out with. I had zero interest in attending.
I said I was too busy to go. They said I could take a weekend off.
I said I couldn't afford it (which was true, but really just an excuse to get out of going). They paid my way.
I was stuck.
I packed my backpack and my sleeping bag, telling myself to just endure it. How bad could it be? Boring probably, but not awful.
I ended up having an AMAZING weekend. So much so that I looked forward to the church women's retreat every fall for the ten years I worked at the church.
We laughed so hard. We played games and they didn't mind that I was insanely competitive. We sang songs, told stories, ate junk food, and although a few women snored loudly enough to rattle the bunk beds, we had the best time together.
But looking back on those ten weekend retreats over ten years, the thing that strikes me the most is how thankful I am for those women and their influence on my life. Those are the women who made me realize how much I need other women, and not just women my age, but women who have already been through all the things I have yet to experience.
I learned so much from those women -- to thank God in the good times and to cling to God in the hard times. I heard stories that made me wonder how they'd found the strength to make it through tragedies. I saw how much they depended on each other for support, and sometimes just for sanity. I saw seventy-year-old women giggle like seven year olds.
I learned that I have so much to learn.
And so, as we try to find a new church, my standards are high. Yes, we want a church with great preaching and great music and lots of opportunities to serve . . . but I'm also looking for women like my old church friends, who are willing to mentor and guide me through all the things to come.
And I'm at an age where I can reach out to twenty-four-years olds and assure them they won't be eating Tuna Helper alone every night for the rest of their lives.
I want a community.
It's a tall order.
Kevin and I talked a bit after church this weekend about expectations and settling. It's impossible to find the perfect church, I know, and if we did find it, we wouldn't qualify for membership. But at what point do you stop "shopping" and just pick one? If the preaching is good but the music isn't, do you call it good, settle in, and integrate yourself in that community? How long do you try to build those relationships before giving up and starting the church hunt over again? I'd love to hear from others who've had to look for a new place to worship.
And to those beautiful women of Ascension -- you know who you are! -- thank you. Sincerely. Tears were streaming down my face as I wrote about those women's retreats. You've influenced me more than you know and I can never thank you enough. I love you. Keep dragging new young women into your circle and doing the same for them!
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