Year in Review

So I decided that I would combine my desire to experiment with putting pictures on here and my desire to review my year. So...I picked my favorite picture from each month of 2008. Some I picked for purely photographic value, some for nostalgic value, some for both, some for neither. Anyway...let's begin.

January: Sedona, AZ

On New Years Day I took a trip up north with Ashley, Katie, and Amanda to do our favorite hiking trail near Sedona, which we've done periodically since high school. It was a beautiful winter wonderland, and I was actually pretty excited to be back in the kind of cold I hadn't been in since New York. The creek that we've gone swimming in before was completely frozen over, and we had fun testing its strength. Here they are in the middle of the creek.

February: Tempe, AZ

When my friend Jeremy came back to Tempe with his wife Tracy for a visit, it made for a lovely little reunion of college friends. For the first time in a long time, all of the members of my original church small group from early college were under one roof. Cassidy, Matt, me, Kiki, Jacob, Jeremy, Nate, and George. God used this group of people to encourage, edify, and entertain me in the beginnings of my adult life. He still uses them in my life today, but not usually all at once.

March: Tucson, AZ

There are hundreds of pictures from March 15th, my sister's wedding day, but I picked my favorite of the ones from my own camera. My cousin's daughter Chloe was the flower girl, and because of an accident on the I-10, she was almost late for the wedding. This was of course a source of stress for everyone involved, and it was such a relief when she finally showed up. Her mom had done her hair in the back of their car on the way into town, and you'd never guess how frazzled everyone had been. She looked amazing, but she wouldn't smile when she first arrived. I made it a personal goal to get her to do so - and succeeded!

For the month of April, I encounter a problem with this blog idea - I didn't take any pictures. So instead here's a picture (taken in June) of my friend and roommate Pam, who was the top quote-getter in April. Her quotes that month were:

"I was going to take a shower, but then I remembered the child life gadget."
"I maybe should only eat purple goldfish once a day."

"I guess she assumed we were at home - you know, not out on the streets with a popsicle."

"Oh my gosh, I was kind of a player."

May: Grand Canyon, AZ

This was another month with many pictures, including a ton of the Grand Canyon at sunrise, which I think every person in the US should try to see before they die. But since one of those pictures is already the picture at the top of this blog, I picked this one instead. My Romanian friend Vasi was visiting for a long weekend. I met Vasi in Romania my first year there - he was one of our translators. It was really bizarre for me to have a part of that world here with me in my world. Anyway, this pic was taken on our short hike partway into the Canyon.

June: Palm Springs, CA

I went to Resolved Conference in June with about half of my church. This was my 3rd time attending, and as usual, it was full of really impactful sermons and sweet worship. Fellowship was a lot of fun, too. But since impactful sermons and sweet worship can't be captured on film, and the fellowship pictures are mostly just typical pictures of people hanging out, I decided to go with this one. The conference was in Palm Springs this year, which was unfortunate because it was nowhere near the ocean and was 115 degrees. But the mountains nearby were pretty incredible, and I love it when I can capture something beautiful in the foreground. This pic was taken from right outside the conference center.

July: Coronado Beach, CA

I took the annual trek to San Diego with my mom and sister to visit my great aunt. We went 4th of July weekend this year. On the 4th of July itself, my mom decided to stay at my aunt's house - it gave them a chance to catch up and to look at photo album after photo album. My sister and I journeyed out on our own to Coronado Island to pay the beach a quick visit. Little did we know there was a parade there that day, and parking was impossible. It made for a really fun adventure with my sister though - some quality sister time that we hadn't had since her wedding. And having to walk for a long time to get to the beach was really no problem at all - beautiful weather, beautiful scenery, and everything all decked out with patriotic spirit. This is my favorite picture from that little journey.

August: Harris, NY

My trip to New York was everything I hoped it would be. I got my fix of both New York City and Sullivan County, where I'd finished my internship last year. I spent time with lots of dear friends in both places and had such a welcome break from life here. This picture was taken at our intern reunion. These are the 3 girls I went through the internship with, who are now dear friends. And Conio was our director - so nice to know him now as a friend only and not someone I feel the need to impress and please.

September: Mogollon Rim, AZ
One hot weekend in September, I escaped the Phoenix heat with a group of friends and went up north. The group that scouted out the campsite did so in the dark, and then they woke up in the morning to this view, just a few steps away from where they'd pitched their tent. If you look carefully, you can see Cassidy standing out there on the edge. Anyway, by the time i got there, it was late afternoon. Camp was already set up, and I got to simply enjoy the view and the company. We got to watch the sun both set and rise from this amazing spot and enjoy sweet fellowship and time out of the desert.

October: Sedona, AZ

Katie and I decided that since Phoenix was still pretending it was summer, we would need to go find fall for ourselves. We drove up to Sedona for the day and had a lovely time enjoying cooler weather and changing leaves. We found a little trail that led us to part of the Oak Creek that we'd never seen before, and we had fun exploring and picture-taking.

November: Mesa, AZ

Not many people's Thanksgiving celebrations get to include romping in green grass and picking dandelions - sometimes I'm glad I live where I do. After dinner, I took my cousin's kids across the street to the park. They are all naturals at posing for the camera, and it was fun to see their pure joy at just being outside. They made wishes over and over again and blew enough dandelion seeds to prepare us for the next harvest - maybe Christmas Eve?

December: Phoenix, AZ

Every year, the Phoenix Zoo decorates with millions of Christmas lights. It's a really fun excuse for us Phoenecians to get dressed up in warm clothes and do something unique. A group of friends from church went, along with some of our friends, and their friends...it turned into a very random but fun assortment of people. I love this picture despite not really knowing some of the people in it.

Some old poetic creations...

I hesitate to call these poems, mostly because I don't consider myself to be a poet. One of these once became a song but the chords have been lost along the way and didn't add much in the first place. I found both of these in a journal from 2005, although one had been written before and this was a rewrite. I'd been looking for these writings for awhile and had lost track of them, and I came across them today while attacking the disaster that is my closet.

The first was written in the aftermath of my grandparents' car accident in 2003, an event which led to a period of unrepentant sin in my life and a lot of questions. It's called Intersections:

Where Indian School met 22nd Street,
my Granny and Grandpa their fate would meet
In our family album we'd turn a new leaf,
for soon we would find ourselves dealing with grief

Where 38th St. met with Oak,
my fragile heart collapsed and broke
I hated You, I yelled and cried,
In Your promise to comfort me, You had lied.

Where Vista Del Cerro met Dorsey Lane
My heart became numb with pain
I knew what was needed to make things right
but was too weak to run and too tired to fight.

Where Mill Avenue met with Baseline
a dear friend and I met to catch up and dine.
I warily told her of my fall
"Too tired to run?" she said, "Then crawl."

So where Forest Ave. met Gammage Parkway,
I know I will always remember the day,
I crawled back to You, cuddled up as your child
and remembered how I came to be reconciled

For where wood met wood upon a hill,
my heart will remember still
You died to pay a sinner's fine
and Your heart intersected mine

This intersection beats them all,
You saved me when I deserved to fall
The price you paid upon that cross
Speaks louder than any tale of loss.

I did repent at that time, but still struggled with a lot of questions for a really long time. Not so much, "Why did my grandparents have to die?" but "Why am I not feeling the presence of God right now?" "Why don't I have answers for my unbelieving family members?" "Why do I have to feel alone in this?"

The 2nd one was written later, after that period too had also come to an end, or nearly had. After months of heaviness, there was a beautiful week in Rocky Point, Mexico, where I'd gone for a Spring Break mission trip. Walking and praying on the beach with a good friend was sweet medicine to a thirsty soul. then there was this really cool moment where we were swimming with dolphins...and nobody had their camera on them. I remember talking to my friend later and we decided that that moment was meant to be so special that we couldn't capture it. I also had the opportunity to simply float in the ocean. Anyway, I reflect on that trip and the months leading up to it in the following, called Tears

I will not let you know that I am holding you right now
You have to understand that I must help you grow somehow
I promise you that one day you will count as joy this trial
but until then I have to let you miss Me for awhile

My face will not be clear to you, your answers will not come
I'm watching you right now, and you're wondering why I'm dumb
I see your tears, my daughter, and I will not dry them yet,
But I'll count them, and I'll do wonders with your tears that I collect

You're driving now, it's raining, and the tears have filled your eyes
You don't know where you're going, you're half-hoping that you'll die
There is work still left to do for you, though, lives still left to touch
and if I made this struggle easy, then it wouldn't mean as much

It's months later now, I see you've found Me faithful yet again
And you see now, precious child, what I blinded you to then
Can you hurt with those who hurt now? Can you grieve with those who grieve?
Can you even understand why some just simply can't believe?

You are now a little humbler, cling to me a bit more tightly
I've done this that, now that it's through, you shine a bit more brightly
So lets take a trip, just Me and you - My love's what matters most
Let's take a trip, we'll spend some time together on the coast

Those tears that I collected, I have cast into the sea
Come ride the waves, supported by Me fully, rest in Me
Here's a moment you can't capture on your film or with a pen
A moment in My presence, which is where you've always been.


Ok thank for reading, if anyone got this far. Sorry for the extreme length of this blog...and this is me restraining myself. :-)

Well said,....Jesus

I am always really excited when I hear or read a quote or song lyric that is well-written and thought-provoking. My favorite artists are Jars of Clay and Caedmons Call, because of their music but also because of their way with words. I love when people can somehow speak of something, whether ordinary or extraordinary, in a unique way, and I especially like when I can relate well to what they've said. When I'm reading books, I always have my eye open for that quote that says beautifully what I can only say commonly.

I don't often approach scripture with that same eye. The Bible is the Word of God, and I certainly seek to submit myself to it, come humbly before it to learn of my God, and apply its truths to my life. But I think what I lack many times is that freshness with which I approach new songs, new books. I've read every word in the Bible before, and while I truly believe that I can learn something new each time I open its pages, the sinful part of me can almost become casual in my reading of it because it isn't new to me.

My small group at church has just started going through the gospels, and this danger is greatest here. So many of the stories of Jesus have become very familiar even to those who don't have a relationship with Him or regularly read His word. And for those of us in a Bible-teaching church, this familiarity is even greater.

Today, though, God graciously opened my eyes to His own words, the words of Jesus, some very familiar words of Jesus, and I saw them as if for the first time. I read them and thought, "what a great quote! That speaks to my condition! That says in a beautiful way what I could only say commonly! The words were these:

"Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock." - Matthew 7:24-25

A"nd the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house..." How exhausting!! How real! What a true statement about my condition, and what a calming reassurance - "It had been founded on the rock."

Reading on in Matthew, I see that I was not the only one moved by these words. The crowds were astonished, too, because they saw that he had authority. Obviously, these words take an a far greater weight than Jars of Clay, Caedmons Call, or my favorite authors' words do. The Creator of the universe, the Almighty God spoke them! And he spoke them well!

The uncertainties of my life have been burdensome this week, and it's easy to question a great many things. I can feel that rain, those floods, those winds...but I can also feel that rock. By His grace, this house will not fall.

Look out, Arizona!

As usual, lots of stuff on my mind, but this is another one of those days where I don't feel quite ready to write any of it out. So I'll opt instead for what made me laugh today...

Our weather has been really warm lately, up in the eighties most of the week and coming close to record heat for this time of year. It's gotten a little bit ridiculous - many of us girls were wearing tank tops at some friends' house last night and the fan was running, and Thanksgiving is right around the corner. I don't mind terribly, and LOVE the ability to be out and about outside when much of the country is icy and snowy. I walked to a coffee shop this morning in a short-sleeved shirt, jeans, and flip-flops and ordered my customary iced mocha while cooling off from my walk. Such is the life of a Phoenician. I do remember fondly my time living in New York, where checking the weather was important - figuring out if it was supposed to snow and how much, preparing for possible snow days and altered schedules and leaving extra time to drive on icy streets. Checking the weather here is not usually quite as crucial but I do it anyway.

So today I got on weather.com and was surprised to see a "special weather comment" under the "local weather alert" heading for the greater Phoenix area. I read the following:

A SIGNIFICANT CHANGE IN THE OVERALL WEATHER PATTERN WILL TAKE PLACE BY THE MIDDLE OF THIS NEW WEEK. A SERIES OF LOW PRESSURE SYSTEMS WILL... GIVE US AN INCREASING CHANCE OF RAINFALL.

ALTHOUGH THE EXACT TIMING OF THE MAIN PRECIPITATION EVENT IS STILL UNCLEAR AT PRESENT... IT APPEARS LIKE WEDNESDAY INTO THANKSGIVING DAY APPEAR TO HAVE THE BEST CHANCES FOR SIGNIFICANT RAIN... WITH ANOTHER THREAT OF RAINFALL BY THE WEEKEND. IN ADDITION... IT WILL TURN QUITE A BIT COOLER... WITH MAXIMUM TEMPERATURES BY THANKSGIVING DAY EXPECTED TO BE ONLY IN THE UPPER 60S TO LOWER 70S IN THE WARMEST DESERTS.

I literally laughed out loud. I love how they call it a "main precipitation event" and how the great climax of the warning is that by Thanksgiving, temperatures may only be in the 60s and 70s. BRRR! Will we ever be able to handle being only 40 degrees warmer than the rest of the country?? It's like someone at the weather service felt bad for us over here because we never get any weather warnings, and they gave us one and made it sound as ominous as such pleasant weather can sound.

Ok, well maybe my next post will be a little more profound...

Te iubesc, O Domnul meu...

This is one of those nights where I am thinking about a great many things, but I'll try to focus in on one theme and get to a coherent point...

Yesterday, I went with some friends to a homeless shelter in downtown Phoenix. We gave burritos to people and talked to them about God. Some conversations were better than others, but one was particularly intriguing. When asked what he knew about the gospel, this guy responded that most churches are not teaching people the basics. I had certain assumptions about where he was going with this and thought this might be a point of agreement (I think many churches do NOT teach people the basics). I was thrown for a loop when he said, "For instance, the letter J..." He went on to talk about the fact that Jesus' name in the original language is not Jesus at all, that the letter J didn't come into existence until 500 years ago, and that if we are praying to Jesus, our prayers will not be answered because that is not His name. No matter what we said, it was clear that he was stuck on this point. I was blown away. To me, it is so obvious that a God who intends to call some from every tribe, tongue, and nation, would not be bothered by a language "barrier," clearly not a barrier to Him. I even expressed to this man my own joy at being called a Romanian version of my name while in Romania - that this in no way changed who I was but seemed to immerse me more deeply into the culture I was in. This man's mind was unchanged, however, and he begged us NOT to pray for him when we finally walked away.

Tonight, I went to Apele Vii - the Romanian church I attend a couple times a month. I was very encouraged by every part of the service and thrilled that despite an exhausting day I was able to follow the Romanian sermon more successfully than usual. The part that most affected my heart, though, was while we were singing. It was a song in Romanian that I didn't know but mostly understood. The last line, which we sang repeatedly, was "Te iubesc, O Domnul meu," which means, "I love you, O my Lord." I was struck by the miracle that it is that I can sing those words, for several reasons. First of all, I was born a sinner and was incapable of loving God. He rescued me from my pursuit of sin and ultimately of hell, and he gave me a heart that is now able to love Him. Secondly, he is MY Lord. What right have I do have any sort of claim on the creator of the universe, a perfectly holy and righteous God? Only the right given me by the death of Christ on the cross, as he bore the wrath of God on my behalf so that I could be called His child. And on top of all of that, I am able to address Him as Domnul and know that the Lord hears my voice, understands that name, and responds to that worship. And I can know that those same things were true earlier in the day, when I praised Him in English. He doesn't only identify with blood descendants of Abraham, He doesn't only identify Himself as a God of the Hebrews and respond only to a Hebrew name. Instead, an American, English-speaking girl is able to worship Him alongside Romanian believers, and to have confidence that the blood that was spilt was not spilt for only one people group and was not affected by the creation of the letter J. Praise God!

Archive: October 17th, 2008

If I wrote a book...

I think I would love to write a book one day. My roommate Pam has the same thought, and lately we've been "authoring" together. I don't really know what my book would be about if I wrote one but the other day I just started writing about a day at the cemetery. This then turned into the beginnings of the story of my grandparents' death and how it affected me, but the first page is my favorite. And if I write a book, and if it happens to be a story of my life, this might be in it. But for now it will just become a blog:
On the first day of fall each year, I go to the city cemetery in my hometown. Nothing to do with the changing weather – it doesn't change until at least October. But on the first day of fall in 1920, my grandmother was born. And in fall of 2003, she died. And so this is one of several landmarks during the year when I visit her grave, which she shares with my grandpa.
I'm not a person who believes in the mystical power of gravesites, or even in the dead looking down on me, or me having a chance to communicate with them while I'm there. But there is something about a cemetery. This one especially. It's not well-groomed really- not a manicured lawn dotted with perfectly sculpted monuments. It's old, and it has weeds sometimes, and it's right in the middle of a not-so-nice part of town. But I love it. Somehow, ironically, there is life there. People come there and they sit by the graves of their loved ones. Some bring chairs, some bring books, some plan for a whole day. And unless there's a funeral happening at the time, there isn't that innate sense that you need to be quiet. And some people put balloons at the graves, not just flowers. And Happy Halloween signs, and birthday cards…
But I digress. When I go to the cemetery, it's not for a long day of sitting. On this particular fall day, it's much too hot to stay long anyway. I park my car and wander, nodding my respects to funeral-goers nearby and starting my search for the grave. I always remember that it's just east of the entrance, and just north of a tree…but there are many trees and I always end up wandering. And then I find it, and I pause. Ingebrigtsen, Marjorie and Leonard. I'm here for both of them, really, it's just that the birthday is my grandma's. I make sure the ants won't be too bothersome, then I tidy up a bit. Other times, I've brought flowers, but today I didn't. I fluff out the fake flowers that someone else has brought before and turn my attention to the gravestone itself. It's dusty – the lawn has apparently been mowed recently and little grass clippings have settled all around. I brush off the big ones with my hand, but that doesn't take care of all the little bits that have landed in the engraving. My grandparents loved the Superstition Mountains – even moved here to Arizona because of them. They once had a cabin there that still fills the memories of everyone in the 2 generations above me. And so that was chosen as the design of their stone. A simple sketch of the outline of that dramatic desert mountain range, now filled with the tiniest bits of dead grass. I blow gently on each line to clear it, and then trace the names the same way. Now satisfied, I simply sit and think and pray. Not for a long time – these are thoughts and prayers that aren't as gut-wrenching now as they once were. Now when I go it is more to remind myself of those times before – of everything that happened in the fall of 2003, of the largely unscarred life I left behind, of the doubts I overcame, of the daily mercy of God sustaining and refreshing my soul, even while I was trying my hardest to walk away from Him. They are things that need to be remembered and cannot be forgotten, things that have shaped me into who I am. And I dare not ever forget that it was hard but that God was there. And that the story's not over yet and that God still has much to teach me.
I breathe my thanks to the God who was there, to the God who IS there. I breathe also a prayer for the family members who are still here, who still need the mercy of God to capture their hearts. And I pray that I would not grow weary. And I walk back to my car, as I watch the funeral-goers, and the lawn-chair-sitters, and I remember.

Archive: September 17th, 2008

Kids are amazing

After many weeks of not blogging, I finally have a night with both inspiration and time on my hands. I actually have a lot I want to write about, but first i'm just going to combine a few kid stories...
So I've started, in my plethora of free time, to volunteer with a tutoring club in South Phoenix. It's a really cool program and I wish I was able to committ more time and energy to it, but for now I'm just going a couple of times a month for less than an hour. Anyway, it takes place in a Habitat for Humanity neighborhood, so all of the kids live close. On Monday, my roommate Amanda and I went to walk a little girl home - I think she's 9. We asked a guy to go with us for safety, and he came along but said the neighborhood wasn't anything to worry about. To which the little girl very nonchalantly answered, "There are drive-bys sometimes." She went on to tell us that the last time there was a drive-by, she got sick and had to stay home from school. Turns out she was so scared from the experience that she threw up. The part that really broke my heart though was what followed. She said, "usually when there's drive-bys, I sleep through them." No little girl should be able to start a sentence with that preface - "usually when there's drive-bys." And she didn't say anything in a way that invited pity or attention - she was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing and seems to be a happy, well-adjusted little girl despite the terror that regularly plagues her neighborhood.
Another awesome kid: one of my music therapy kids. This kid is 12 years old and has autism. You'd never know it to see him, talk to him, etc. - I only believe the diagnosis based on reports from his parents. Anyway, he is one of the coolest kids i know. He's got all sorts of interests and seems to really care about people. Case in point: He just told me today that he's come up with a fundraising idea for his local YMCA, where he spends hours on end volunteering each week. His idea is a basketball shoot-a-thon, and he wants to invite other kids with autism to participate. It is so rare for any 12-year-old kid to take this kind of initiative in helping other people, and his placement on the autism spectrum only points to the fact that the autism spectrum is full of kids who are wrongly stereotyped all the time.
My third kid story deals with several different kids but more so with my thought processes. It may not seem like a kid story at first, but wait for it...Ok, so I've gotten caught up in the personal lives of politicians these last few weeks, along with many other millions of Americans I'm sure. And I'll admit to having googled Trig Palin, Sarah's youngest son, who has Down Syndrome. And in this process, I saw a link to an article that claimed that 90 to 95% of pregnancies in the U.S. with a Down Syndrome diagnosis are aborted. My heart breaks over so many lives lost. It also breaks because of the huge number of families that have missed out on a blessing. I'm not even going to begin to suggest that parenting a child with Down Syndrome would be easy - it would be full of challenges to be sure. But I've experienced such profound joy in my interactions with kids with DS. Challenges, yes, but so much joy. And that sickening statistic has made me so much more thankful for the 6 kids with DS that I get to make music with every week, whose parents either were ignorant of their diagnosis or were willing to let their baby live despite it.
Today 2 of those kids in particular made me smile. My 3-year-old ran up to me (she couldn't walk at all when I first met her!) and hugged me with a huge smile on her face before we'd even gotten started. Partway through the session, she made a game out of this, walking away, then quickly walk-running back for a hug, repeatedly. She's talking up a storm these days, which is so exciting, and you should see her with a microphone! We sang our hearts out together for 10 minutes straight.
My 9-year-old has been a big challenge for several months. If she doesn't want to make music, she will make that perfectly clear, and she has stumped me more than once. But today, we had this terrific momentum that just didn't stop for the whole hour. We danced, we sang, we played, we laughed...and after I'd sung goodbye to her, she promptly turned my keyboard back on, grabbed the microphone, and sang another verse.
These kids are amazing too - and by the grace of God, they're alive! I find myself amazed afresh today at the beauty and grace of these little lives.