A little Girgismelson on the way!

Not THAT kind of little Girgismelson! This kind:

Yes, we have decided to get a dog! We have been wanting one for a while, and after lots of research it seems that Welsh Corgis are perfect non-yappy, non-foofoo, not-so-small-that-they-fit-in-your-purse apartment dogs. Plus, they are short, like us! We're both verrrry excited, and will hopefully be getting one in the next 2 months, ish. Another positive about Corgis: they are the official dog of the British Royal Family...clearly that is a positive because Scott is OBSESSED with all things British! His name of choice for this poor puppy: Sir William McGregor...

Yeah.

I approved on the condition that the dog will actually be called Mac. Any suggestions for what to call our new adorable family member?

Oh, stress

I hate unknowns. I realize that sounds extremely obvious, but unlike those lucky few who can waltz through uncertainty with ease and unfaltering faith, I tend to panic when I find out I don't know the exact steps or rhythm I am supposed to follow. I function infinitely better when I can pinpoint the things floating up in the air and give myself a visual of what the future will look like...and it is ridiculous because not once has God let something slip between the cracks, and not once has He failed to work things out a million times better than I could have expected.

I am so excited about the prospect of starting graduate school in the fall because it means two things: 1) I will be moving forward to actually being able to do what I feel called to do; and 2) I won't feel stuck in a job that, at times, drives me nuts! But graduate school also means more financial burden, especially when you are married to a medical student - lower salary, a more hectic work schedule, figuring out how much I can work while in school and what that means for us, and (worst case scenario) more loans. These are all things that we both knew and decided that the extra pressure for two years is outweighed by the benefits this addition will have both to my career and to my overall happiness...but just because I knew about them in my head does ot make them any more daunting or terrifying when they're all floating around aimlessly in my head.

I wish that my faith was stronger and that I could 100% trust with BOTH my head and my heart. I wish that money didn't have the ability to make my stomach ache, and that the lack of it didn't scare me to death. I have been blessed so much in that I haven't ever really had to worry, and although I know we will be taken care of and provided for, making these decisions as an adult is scarier than I would have guessed. I wish that, at the first sign of trouble, I did not immediately reconsider whether this is what I should be doing, even if it means not doing what I feel I am being led to. And most of all, I wish that stress and my silly fear of the unknown didn't make me turn inward and be so self-focused.

But I have great friends, great family, and a husband who knows how to calm me down (i.e. take me out for delicious pasta and chocolate). When I remember those things, the floating questions disappear for a little while.

A Salute to Friday

Friday might be my favorite day of the week. Except maybe for Thursday, because Thursday means Friday is tomorrow. I think it's the joy of knowing I can go home and do whatever. i. want. It usually involves treating myself to a yummy coffee drink on the way to work, a fun dinner, maybe a movie, maybe some friends, probably a drink, and no bedtime (although bedtime is getting earlier and earlier these days!). Maybe the best thing about Friday is the anticipation of the weekend, relaxation, sleeping in, hanging out with people, and not feeling rushed.

I think I also love Friday because it has such wonderful connotations from college...Trinity Fridays meant no late classes and laid-back lunches with friends which revolved around discussions of what we would do later that night. Best day of the week, hands down.

And on this Friday, here is what I am excited about:

It's the Arts Festival! Since we live downtown, this is taking place like 4 blocks from our apartment, and we are going over tonight to look at the amazing food from local restaurants...ehh, I mean the amazing art from local artists? So excited for Friday. I just need to remember how blessed I am to be able to enjoy it.

All kinds of wonderful

I was reading an article in Glamour (yes, I won't lie, I read it sometimes) about "7 friends every girl needs," and it made me think about my different relationships with all of my friends and how each one of them is so dear to me in a unique way. The list included (roughly, I'm going off of memory):

The kooky friend - check and triple check!


The friend you'll have for life - check!
...these and then some :)


The new friend - yay, got a few!



The friend who always shows up (aka will drop anything when you need her) - I'd like to think that most fall into this category

The 9-5 friend - hmm, not so much. I miss the ones from Dallas!!

The guy friend - I married my best friend, so check! And of course that other weirdo from Longview and the one in DC...

The friend who inspires you - absolutely!



There may have been a couple of others...



I just loved this because it is so true - each friendship is so special and unique, and I have learned/am learning so much from each one. I love how there are some friends I talk to every day, those who are abroad and keep in touch via email, some who are the deep thinkers and the shopping buddies (and several who are both!), the ones who have known me forever and remember awkward high schoolness, the happy hour and karaoke friends, the ones who cried with me through heartache, and the ones who make me howl with laughter. And then there are the friends who I don't talk to nearly as often as I'd like, but when we pick up the phone after a month or so, it's like nothing changed.




So, however you fit in to this, whether you are one or two or all of these things to me, I love you. I am so thankful for all of you!

Uncomfortable

So the plan was for this post to be light and non-serious because I don't want to be depressing or self-important, but tonight something happened and I can't stop thinking about it.

I made a post-gym Subway run tonight to pick up dinner for the two of us, and I was still recovering from the workout and anticipating my delicious sandwich when a woman walked into the store, dressed in ratty clothes and hat, almost toothless, dirt-covered hands, cigarette and lighter in hand. I could only assume she was homeless, not only from her appearance but from the way that she just seemed lost and tired. As she approached the cashier, I could see the lady behind the counter having much the same reaction as I was having - not disdain, but bracing ourselves for what might follow. The woman simply asked for a cup and some water, which the Subway people gladly provided her. I continued ordering our sandwiches as she went and filled her cup with water, adding delicious-sounding vegetables, cheese, etc. to our sandwiches, and at the last minute I approached the woman and asked if she would like a sandwich. She laughed and said, "well honey, I ain't got no money." I clarified that I'd buy the sandwich, at which point she all but hugged me and exclaimed what a blessing it was to have dinner tonight.

I share this not because of what just happened, but because of what happened next. As she stood there deciding what kind of sandwich to order, she kept approaching me, thanking me gratefully and enthusiastically, and getting progressively closer to me and my "personal space." I was disgusted at my initial instinct to step back, away from the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke, away from the dirty fingernails, away from this person who was foreign to me. What was even more unnerving than her grabbing my hand was the look in her eyes - it felt strange to have steady eye contact with someone who I might drive by every day on the street. I don't know why this unnerved me, but it did. We introduced ourselves to each other and talked about a few other things - I'm not sure what. As I left the store and processed what just happened, I was ashamed of my quickness to assume the worst, that she might be dangerous or that something about her might not be okay.

I experienced a similar feeling this weekend at the open house our church had, talking to a few homeless and/or destitute residents of the community. It was by no means a conscious reaction that I thought about - in my head, I wanted to help them and to be next to them and to listen to them. But I was uncomfortable with this closeness, and I contemplated on my way home tonight how Christ would be the first to grab her hand, hug her, befriend her without abandon or hesitation. How profoundly this marks the difference and my great need.

Aren't we called to at least care?

A few weeks ago I was having a very casual conversation with a few people about something we heard on the news, and someone involved in said conversation informed us that she never watches the news because it depresses her. I certainly understand this - it is easy to watch coverage of people dying in Iraq, human rights abuses in Burma, children starving in Africa, and yet another school shooting in our backyard and get overwhelmed. There are certainly days where I would rather turn on a Friends re-run or watch a silly movie than learn about another tragic, desperate, or horrifying event that has occurred that day. It is hard to watch these things and not feel helpless and profoundly sad.

But this person took it a step further. "I have enough to worry about and be depressed about here; those things happen so far away."

This blows my mind, mainly because I know this is the attitude of so many Americans, regarding issues both abroad and domestic (and of course, at times, I have fallen into this attitude as well). True - we may not have been to the places in question, and we certainly don't know the people whose lives these events impact. But don't we have a responsibility to know and more importantly to care, about what is going on in places that, at first glance, have no impact on us because they're across an ocean or under a highway? Even if we can't do anything to help the situation or alleviate the pain or feed that child while we sit in our living rooms, shouldn't we at least know that such pain exists?

If for no other reason than to be reminded daily of how incredibly blessed and fortunate we are to have been born to American parents and to have had opportunities, I think that we do need to know. I just as easily could have been born in a country called Sudan or to a poverty-stricken family in New Orleans, in which case I might be one of those children on the television whose plight is too depressing to think about or pray for. Even on a local level, I believe that we should be informed so that we can at least converse with the people around us, if not get involved and be active in our communities (again, not pointing fingers because I have not done this like I should).

I'm not saying that everyone needs to be a news junkie and know every single current event on a daily basis (I definitely don't), or that we should be ashamed of watching things like American Idol (or The Bachelor, or The Hills) to escape from our day, because I of all people am completely guilty of that. I definitely do not read as much as I should or pray as much as I should for the problems humanity faces on such a huge level. I'm also not saying that people who don't pay attention to current events don't care about others, because that is certainly not true...but shouldn't we at least be aware? Maybe it's important because that attitude can so easily sneak its way into our everyday lives to the point where we are not even aware of the problems facing the homeless person down the street.

I believe in my heart that God cares deeply about all people, so why shouldn't we?

Off soapbox. What do you think? Am I rambling unnecessarily?

Not your typical Friday

This Easter is a bit different for me from others in recent memory, mostly because it is the first time I have seriously contemplated Lent in the weeks before the holiday that so often gets overshadowed by family gatherings, big meals, and pastel-colored eggs. While my partial "giving up" of television was not 100% successful, that is not the point. I have thought more about what it means to give up something and replace it with something of meaning, something that challenges me, in the last few weeks than I have in a long time. It amazes me how clear some things become when we just take a minute to free ourselves of the silly things we fill our days with, and yet how hard it still is to filter them out of our lives.

Perhaps the biggest thing that has impressed me over these past few weeks and on this Good Friday is no matter how small the "sacrifice" (I use quotations because giving up some TV time can hardly be called a sacrifice), I realize that I cannot understand the meaning of that word as perfectly as our God can. I was not even capable of keeping this up consistently for 40 days, yet a real sacrifice was made for me whose magnitude I can't even fathom. I heard from someone the other day that sometimes we learn the most from Lent when we fail, because it so eloquently highlights how different we are from our Savior. We can't even come close.

We can't even come close, and that's why it's Good Friday. Good because no matter how much we try and no matter how much we fail, we have been given a gift: the chance to know God and experience a love deep enough that transcends our brokenness.

It's not a typical Friday because the love that allowed Christ to make such a sacrifice was not typical. His kind of Love is something we can't truly understand or ever hope to reciprocate, but it is something we can be grateful for. It is also something that urges us to go beyond ourselves and wonder what this gift requires of us, and what we can do to give atypical love to the people around us. Atypical love - let's remember that today.