One Step At A Time

Between Lent and Holy Week and planning the church retreat and just being in seminary in general, I feel like people have been talking about journey a lot lately.

"Where have you been, and how has that affected you?"

"Where do you find yourself, and is it where you want to be?"

"Where do you want to go, and will the path you are on get you there?"

This "journey" picture is from the hardest journey I ever took. It's one of the parts of my past

that's still affecting me in ways I can't imagine.

Well, I do know where I've been but I probably can't guess yet at all the ways that has affected and will continue to affect me. And I know where I am, most of the time. I love where I am. Not sure that I'm a fan of DC in general, but I love my school and my church and all of the amazing people here. But as for where I'm going? I have no clue. I think I'm slowly getting used to that, and I'm definitely starting to realize that it's probably for a reason.

See, sometimes I have control issues. Maybe it's because we didn't always have a lot of money growing up, or because my dad has been sick since I was in middle school, or because I was an only child--maybe I just wanted to be able to control something. Or maybe it's just that I'm precocious and stubborn. In any case, I'm not always very good at taking advice. Or letting other people make decisions for me. Even when that other is God and that other knows way more than me.

For example, I still look at myself and see this random assortment of semi-developed skills and wonder, "How am I supposed to cobble together a career out of those?!" Whereas I'm pretty sure God looks at me and says, "Heather! I gave you the perfect set of skills for this thing, or this thing, or even this other thing if you really want to. You'd be amazing at any of them and do great things. Why won't you get with the program already?!" And all the while I sit there, whining and worrying because I don't know what to do with my life.

But the conclusion I've come to this year is that perhaps the reason I don't have a clue what to do anymore is because, if I could see my life laid out, my control issues would come out and I'd say, "But this isn't right!" Or, "But I can't do that!" And I'd screw it up or just run away.

It started with just thinking about how very long it took me to acknowledge the possibility of even doing ministry. The thought that maybe I was called to ministry first occurred to me when I was seven, for goodness’ sake, and it took me over ten years to admit that maybe God really was calling me to ministry despite growing up Southern Baptist, despite being a woman. Even then, though, I’ve realized that I didn’t step out into what that call to ministry could mean. I stuck to what was safe, to what I’d already done: youth ministry. Working with youth in Sunday School, in youth group, and in camp settings all came naturally and I’d been allowed to do it, even as a girl in the Baptist church. I’ve started to feel, then, that what I did was assume that this ministry was what God was calling me to. It was easy. It was safe and familiar. Plus, I liked the idea. Clearly, all of this added up to youth ministry being my call from God. That’s what I decided that I would do. The thought that occurs to me, then, is that maybe youth ministry has just been my first step. Youth ministry was the first thing that I could finally admit to myself as a possibility, the first part of a plan that I can’t see yet.

So in the meantime I blunder along, sometimes listening to God and mostly just doing my own thing. For example, if you remember when I got here I had a minor crisis, way back in my very first entry. Am I here for the right reasons? And if I'm totally honest with myself, the answer is probably no. I came to DC because it was where Jeff was coming, and to Wesley because it was a good seminary here and they offered me a scholarship, and to my church because they offered me a job and seemed like they were doing really great things. But those were my reasons for coming.

That is not to say, though, that there were not other reasons for me being here that I could not see. That little piece of wisdom from a friend still rings true--the awesome thing is that no matter why you go, God can use you anyway. And looking back on this year, with just two more weeks to go, I can definitely see the ways that God has used my place here. Not used me, necessarily. Not in ways that I've seen, anyway. But where I am has affected me in powerful ways. Being in DC and at my amazing church here has rekindled the passion I once had for justice and peace. Being at Wesley has introduced me to truly wonderful people who challenge me every day and has given me the opportunity to explore not only youth ministry but also emerging ministry, which has given me the language to express what I was really yearning for all of those years that I struggled with being called to ministry. Wherever I end up, my ministry is to bring about the kingdom of God begun by Jesus and entrusted to us as Christians, where all people are loved and cared for, where hatred and violence and discrimination have no place. Wherever I go, whatever path I'm on, that is my compass and my goal. That is what I work toward.

Cherry Blossoms!

If you don't know, DC is covered in cherry blossom trees. For a few weeks every spring the city is absolutely breathtaking as they all bloom in various stages and colors. I finally got to go down by the monuments where the majority of the trees are clustered last week; unfortunately, it was kind of a cloudy day but I took pictures anyway. Since today is such a gorgeous day here it reminded me and I thought I'd share. So here you go!

The Art and Architecture of the Library of Congress

Yesterday Jeff and I went on a date... to the Library of Congress. Well, to see the beginning of the cherry blossoms and to read for a while in a coffee shop, but mainly to go to the Library of Congress. Yeah, we're big ol' nerds. And we love it.

Jeff's been wanting to go to the Library since the day we decided we were moving to DC. Not only is it known for having some of the most beautiful art and architecture of any building in the District (and that's saying quite a lot) but it is also home to the largest collection of books in the world. Just think about that. I mean, the internet almost makes that seem laughable because of the sheer volume of knowledge it holds, but it comforts me to know that even if (when?) our digital kingdom collapses, that much knowledge will still be available, barring any major anarchical book-burnings between now and then.

In any case, I was pretty excited to go. I wasn't prepared, though, for just how jaw-droppingly beautiful this building is. After security you enter through a hall of poets, beautiful on its own, but then you get to the great hall. I literally just stood with my mouth open, turning in circles, for about five minutes. The whole room is carved marble, statues, paintings and mosaics, with names of writers and famous quotes everywhere.

Bah. My four year old, dropped-a-thousand-times point and shoot doesn't do it justice. It's truly amazing.

At the same time, it's not books. Eventually, you get start to get over how beautiful the building is and start wondering where they're keeping all of the books. That's what you came for, right? To see the largest library in the world. But if you read the pamphlets closely and ask a docent or two, you find out that not only can everyday visitors not get in to see the books without researcher cards, but regular citizens also can't even check them out.

Now, maybe I eventually would've arrived at this on my own or maybe it had something to do with reading Kenda Creasy Dean's Almost Christian immediately afterward, but it occurred to me later that afternoon that sometimes the faith that we offer youth--the faith that we ourselves have, that we have taught them--is like the Thomas Jefferson building of the Library of Congress. It looks pretty. It looks very pretty. It's even awe-inspiring for a few minutes. But it's not what they came for. It's not what we really wanted. It's not the life-changing encounter with knowledge bigger than ourselves that we thought we were walking into. There's beauty and awe, important to be sure, but there's no depth.

So what would it look like if we offered, if we lived a faith that tapped into that depth? I don't think I have enough room here to write that.

But at least as far as the Library is concerned, I'm getting a researcher card and going back. Because really, what kind of library doesn't let you see the books?

Possibly my worst date ever.

There are several things to catch up on before I tell you this story. First, I've been keeping up with (and even stepping up) my New Year's Resolutions. Hooray! Jeff and I have been working out three times a week for over a month now and I'm definitely starting to see results. I also decided that I also felt emotionally unhealthy because of my addiction to Facebook/StumbleUpon and other such websites where I'd lose myself for hours, so today marks week one of my two month internet diet. I'm only allowed to use certain websites that I actually need (and my blog so I'm not completely unconnected from my friends and family back home for 2 months).

As you might remember, one of my other resolutions was to try to enact a date night every other weekend. Yesterday was actually only our second date since we came back to DC, but we're working on it.

Yesterday also crashed and burned.

You see, a few weeks ago on his way to class Jeff saw a flier for a guitar/cello concert on February 15. He loves guitar and I love cello, so this sounded like the perfect Valentine's Day date, especially since I had class on the 14th anyway; so, we went online and found a little Italian place close to the church where the concert was held, and I was pretty pumped about it all.

First, we got to the restaurant and the "restaurant building" it was a part of turned out to be pretty much just a mall. Not the classiest. No big deal, though. Then we ordered, and the food was probably mediocre at best. I'm pretty sure I could've made better Italian food. Then there was a minor debacle over which dessert to get. I wanted to split a chocolate hazelnut tart; Jeff wanted... pudding.

As you can see, Jeff won. It was ok, though, because not only was it better than I expected, but this silly little Italian pudding also ended up being the best part of the whole evening.

After we polished off the pudding we headed over to the church for the concert. The guitarist started and only played for about 15 minutes. It was a very pretty Spanish guitar improvisation on a classical piece I didn't recognize, but that kind of guitar is really more Jeff's thing than mine and in any case I was just waiting for the cellist to start. You have to understand, I love cellos. I think they make what is possibly the most beautiful sound on the planet. So when this world famous, highly acclaimed, played-and-taught-at-conservatories-all-over-Europe cellist came out, I had high hopes.

What I was not expecting was an hour of the most painful cello playing I have ever heard. Seriously. This woman sounded like a little kid who's tired of practicing and just starts hitting his instrument with his bow. I was impressed... by how she was able to make such awful sounds come out of such a beautiful instrument. And she gets paid for this. People like this. Heck, the other people in the audience seemed to like it! I'd kind of like to tell you who she is but I'm afraid of getting a C&D letter in the mail, so if you really want to know so you can look her up and prove me right, send me an email.

So that was our first Valentine's Day as a married couple! Mediocre Italian food and horrific violence against my favorite instrument in the world. But in all honesty, we got each other cute gifts and we had fun together. And now I have an awesome/awful story to tell!

Oh, and one quick, barely related note that occurred to me as I was thinking about the atrocity of that concert. For a concert, a bunch of unrelated individuals come together and bond over their love of a particular artist as he or she performs. For a church, on the other hand, a bunch of people bonded by their love of God come together and listen to a message that speaks to each person's individual life. That's it... not terribly profound, it just occurred to me that a concert is the opposite of a church service and I couldn't sleep till I wrote it down last night, so I figured I should at least share it.

Oh, and at least we looked pretty:

Man. I am so short. Oh well.

I feel like a true DC resident.

It occurred to me as I was thinking about this that I've actually done and experienced lots of things that are probably necessary to be a resident. I've ridden the metro a zillion times, including once when the giant escalator of death in Tenleytown broke and we had to walk the rest of the way up. I've experienced a rally and been angry at the tourists not knowing how to cross streets/walk down sidewalks/ride escalators/use the metro. I at least attempted to hear a speaker at Busboys and Poets. I regularly eat at Five Guys. I can navigate a roundabout (most of the time). I've seen most of the monuments.

And now I've experienced a serious snow, shoveled off cars the next day, and eaten a Georgetown Cupcake.

Here's the snow from Wednesday night out our back window Thursday morning:

The final verdict was that it was about 8 inches. For some of my yankee friends this wasn't very much, but for this Texas girl it was absolutely insane. I loved it.

Then on Friday Jeff and I were supposed to go get our DC licenses, but since it was still snowing Jeff opted out of driving. So I went out shopping for the afternoon with a couple of friends, and we got Georgetown Cupcakes!

If you don't know, Georgetown Cupcakes is basically a DC landmark and I was told that they were worth the huge lines. Oh my gosh, were they. The one on the left was a Strawberry Champagne that I brought home for Jeff, mine on the right was Chocolate Ganache. I can't speak for his, but mine was heavenly. Oh. So good. Now I want cupcakes again.

I know there are still more things to do before I can really feel like a resident, like experience the cherry blossoms or Embassy Week or see the President (or, you know, get my DC license), but I do feel much more at home here than I did a few months ago. For 5 months here, I think I'm doing pretty well.

Dr Pepper, Queso and Triceratops

Yesterday was an awesome combination of home and my new city.

If you aren't aware, one thing that Texans take pretty seriously is their food. If you go anywhere outside of Texas and get something that Texans normally make, it'd better be pretty friggin' awesome or we'll make fun of you. So when I found the Austin Grill here in DC (complete with choices like Austin Wings, Bevo Salad, and Magnolia Eggs), I was both apprehensive and excited beyond belief. A friend of ours from UT is here for the semester, so we decided it would be a good place to catch up, reminisce, and miss things like Bluebell Ice Cream.

Also, one thing you should know about me is that my two addictions are Dr Pepper and queso. I was told that I wouldn't be able to find Dr Pepper up here, so I was ridiculously excited when I found out that it's actually in basically every grocery store. Restaurants, on the other hand, still make me sad when they don't offer it, or worse, offer Mr. Pibb like it's the same thing (hint: it's not). When we got to Austin Grill and sat down the waitress said their drinks included "Pepsi products," and smiled like she gets this question all the time from native Texans when I almost yelled at her, "Does that mean you have Dr Pepper?!" Queso, unlike Dr Pepper, is something I've found you can get at basically any so-called Mexican or Tex-Mex restaurant, but the quality often leaves something to be desired. I figured with their menu, though, it'd be worth a shot. And oh, man was it worth it. It definitely wasn't Kerbey Lane, but it was good enough that I think my withdrawal symptoms should stop. Also the whole restaurant was decorated so well that it actually felt like Austin, and they have live music on Monday nights because let's face it, if you're going to claim to be Austin-y you have to have live music. So lunch yesterday was an absolutely fantastic combination of food and people from back home, and it made me happy.

After that awesome dose of home, though, I got to explore my first museum in DC. The district is basically a museum-lover's paradise, and I am very much a lover of museums. So after managing to get lost in the three blocks between Austin Grill and the National Mall, Jeff and I met up with a bunch of my youth (note: "a bunch" of my youth group is approximately 5 people, because my youth group is approximately 10 to 15) and went to the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, which is free and awesome. We didn't get to explore the whole thing, but I did get to see three of my favorite animals.

An elephant: (sorry, this picture is kind of blurry)

A giraffe:

And a triceratops:

We also watched an IMAX about the ocean which I was very glad didn't include any super-deep-sea creatures, because those things are terrifying and it might have ruined my awesome day.

In summary:
-Dr Pepper and queso are addictive, but it's ok because I've found places to satisfy my cravings.
-If you're ever in DC and are really missing Texas, go to the Austin Grill.
-Museums are amazing and DC has approximately a million of them.
-There really should be more giraffes in my day-to-day existence.
-There really should be fewer terrifying evolutionary mistakes from the bottom of the ocean in existence, period.
-I might be able to survive here.

Edit: Blogspot and/or my internet is failing, and I can't actually upload my pictures. Sad day. I'll do it soon, I promise.