Leaving tomorrow

Well, I've been a terrible blogger. I'm more of a photo person, and uploading photos has been spotty. So I just haven't done anything! But I'm on the eve of leaving and I'm having all sorts of thoughts swirling around.

Temperatures finally warmed up today, and I went bike riding. It wasn't such a long ride, a few miles from one end of town, to the center of town, and back. But it allowed me to see new sights and process my visit a bit. I've been down a bit this week: stuff going on at home in my absence; being in a house with whining kids and an unhappy couple; missing my own kids; a bit of loneliness; cold weather; no break-a-sweat exercise; gray skies. I couldn't really put my finger on what was causing me to feel so blue. But today, riding along a shady creek, listening to the rhythm of the pedals, it all started falling together.

I'm going to miss this place. I like the people I work with. If I were to live here I would enjoy working with them. I like the city. Other than the dreadful weather they've had this month, it's a pretty nice city to live in. I haven't had to drive, but have relied on public transportation (and the kindness of strangers) to schlep me around. I like hearing words like "frock" and "lovely" (pronounced loof-lay) and "fancy" (as in, I rather fancy curry), and I've liked learning new words (such as chav and fascinator and invigilation) and new customs. I met Jayne in the salon, David in the coffee shop, Jo in the office, Peter & John at the pub, Ana and Julian and Liz at work, Fr. Kevin at church, Lisa at the house ... all people I'd probably like to hang out with, if this were my 'real' life. I've loved going and doing and seeing and exploring: York, London, Liverpool, Derbyshire, Castleton. So I'm going to miss the life I've briefly created over here. It's been just a hiccup of time in my life, but it's been one I've enjoyed. It's not been without challenges, but nothing I couldn't deal with.

I love my real life. I love working/studying at Clemson, and my family and friends back home. I love my house, and my dog, and my neighbors. I adore my children. I love Greenville, and the US. But there's a sense in which it is a privilege to have a 'hiccup' in life -- an interval where taken out of your element, you make it your own. That's what I've done. I'm proud of the work I've done here. I'm happy with the life I've forged here, even if it's been just for a month.

A little too close to home

Today I was allowed to sit in on some student financial counseling, with the intention that next week I will myself counsel students whose accounts are in arrears. I was looking forward to getting such direct student contact. The student services administrator I was shadowing went over the three cases we would handle, what kinds of questions she would ask, and what she anticipated would be the outcomes. The first student was well off enough, and was able to pay his fees after all. And the last student was just an issue of timing, but not of need. So those were straightforward cases.

But the woman in the middle was not so simple and clear-cut. She was 15 minutes early for the appointment. Her eyes were so sad. Her husband back in Nigeria had cut off her financial support as their marriage was crumbling. Now, she was here in a foreign country without means. She had scraped up what she could and had received a small amount of hardship aid. She had spoken with family members, and with the community leader who had arranged her marriage. But even if these people came through with the promised help, it would probably not be enough to satisfy her school bill.

She tried so hard to remain composed and with her head held high. But one by one large tears formed and slowly trickled down her cheeks.

I could barely stand it, being on the side of the desk saying 'You must pay this debt' but understanding the position way too well of being the one who is trying to remain strong in the face of rough odds or devastating news. I thought of a family member, who has been in the position of that student. I thought of several friends who have been in that position. They trusted someone to be there for them, and found themselves out in the cold, on their own, left to fend. And I witnessed this woman, at that place in her life, trying desperately to create alternatives out of ashes.

I didn't want to be there. I wished I could have given her a hug, cried alongside her, and offered some kind of assurance that 'it will be alright.' But I needed to be the professional in the situation, and besides, I know better. It might not be alright. She might return to Nigeria without her degree, without a husband, and without options.

So what did I learn today? I learned how incredibly difficult it can be to leave your own junk out of the room; to remain compassionate and empathetic while upholding the realities of rules and regulations; and to look injustice squarely in its tear-filled eyes.

Thanksgiving in the midst of camping out

I took this picture earlier in the season at Clemson while I was waiting at the bus stop. I forget which game they were camped out to get tickets for. I just remember thinking how serious they must be about wanting to see the game, to camp for several days there on the concrete!
As I contemplate Thanksgiving this year, I recall this photo. I feel these days like someone living in a tent, on concrete, with a lot of time to kill, on view for all to see and make comment on as they walk past. I feel like I'm in this suspended time, waiting to get my ticket. And then what? It's easy to be thankful when you're propped up on a comfy sofa in a climate-controlled home. But when you are in transition, when the 'comfy' is gone, it can be harder to be thankful. The benefits are less obvious; when I concentrate though, I see them. I live a more centered life, a painfully clarified one. I have some dear friends and family willing to enter the tent with me and make sure I'm OK. I have been propelled to achieve things I hadn't ever gotten around to before. I have a sense of divine presence with me. I have the strength of inner conviction informing my actions. So while I may not have all the things of the past, while I may be missing the social and relational aspects of the life I once had... I can still say I am blessed. And for that, I AM thankful.

From the Mountains to the Coast

"Come on," Beth said. "It will be fun." How many crazy ideas start that way? My friend had just suggested that we, two middle-aged Rubenesque women, should bike across the state of South Carolina. Never mind that we weren't bikers, nor that we had the right equipment, nor that we had ever biked across the neighborhood, much less the state. It would be fun.



Today marked the end of this three-day adventure, that had been six months in the making. We had been riding every week, building stamina according to some kind of training regimen that, Beth promised, would prepare us for the 270 mile trek. Theoretically we were also supposed to be going to the gym and training between rides, but I conveniently forgot that part most weeks. I did a little yoga when it was convenient, but otherwise, I relied on our weekly rides to condition me.



Tonight we arrived at Folly Beach, having left at the NC/SC state line just two days earlier. By leapfrogging each other, we took 10 mile segments, one riding while the other rested. On Day Two, her daughter Laura joined the team and added a shot of energy and endurance to the effort. Ten miles at a time we made it. We rode in the rain and wind. We waited out thunderstorms. We stuck it out when it seemed tedious, or onerous. We laughed a lot and encouraged each other every leg of the way. We faced a few dogs, lots of vultures, a possum playing possum, a friendly neighborhood shotgun incident, and getting lost. We smelled every kind of roadkill --possum, squirrel, frogs, vulture, snake, armadillo, deer, alligator, and many, many unidentifiable creatures -- and Beth even contributed (twice!!) to creating some. We noticed many plants in bloom: bachelor buttons, red clover, blackberries, wild roses, trumpet vine, wild iris. We noted roadsigns we would never have noticed if we weren't forced to slow down and read them: Do Right Lane, Peach Leaf Curl Road, Redemption Way. We learned how the topography and ecology and local flavor of the counties -- Greenville, Laurens, Greenwood, Saluda, Aiken, Orangeburg, Dorchester, Charleston -- differed from one another. We learned, if we had forgotten, that there are lots of ways to live happily. Sometimes the simplest things can be the most beautiful and satisfying... even just a long weekend, spent on a bike with a friend.

And she was right. It was fun.

Really? I mean, REALLY?

Maybe it's just me, but I don't think God wants me to win. I mean, win what? And what if the guy in the car behind me is on the other side? Does God really waste his time picking sides? Jesus seems to suggest a different idea about winning and losing anyway... "whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it."

What have YOU done?

I found this list and thought I'd answer. If you'd like to comment with your own answers, or ask questions, please do; or share the list on your own blog.

01. Start your own blog -- Yes
02. Sleep under the stars -- Yes, truly under the stars, along Highway 1 on the Pacific ocean on the beach.
03. Play in a band -- No
04. Visit Hawaii -- No
05. Watch a meteor shower -- Yes
06. Give more than you can afford to charity -- No
07. Go to Disneyworld -- Yes but only once when I was a kid
08. Climb a mountain -- No. I've been ON some big ones skiing or hiking, but not actually climbing a mountain
09. Hold a praying mantis -- Yes
10. Sing a solo -- No, just a solo part in a duet or choral number
11. Bungee jump -- No, but I did hang by my hair off a cliff (caught in a metal rack while rapelling) for over an hour
12. Visit Paris -- Yes
13. Watch a lightning storm at sea -- Yes
14. Teach yourself an art technique -- Yes
15. Adopt a child -- No, but I did have an exchange student for a year
16. Eat sushi -- No
17. Walk to the top of the Statue of Liberty -- No
18. Grow your own vegetables -- Yes
19. See the Mona Lisa in France -- Yes
20. Sleep on an overnight train -- Yes
21. Have a pillow fight -- Yes
22. Hitch hike -- Yes, in Greece with three children
23. Look at the rings of Saturn through a telescope -- Yes
24. Build a snow fort -- No
25. Hold a lamb -- No
26. Climb to the top of a lighthouse -- Yes
27. Run a Marathon -- No
28. Ride in a gondola in Venice -- Yes. Well, it was more a water taxi than a gondola, but let's not be technical!
29. See a total eclipse -- Yes
30. Watch a sunrise or sunset -- Yes
31. Hit a home run -- No
32. Go on a cruise -- Yes
33. See Niagara Falls in person -- No
34. Visit the birthplace of your ancestors -- Yes, in a general sort of way. We went to Scotland, but not to a specific town or anything.
35. Visit an Amish community -- Yes
36. Teach yourself a new language -- No
37. Have enough money to be truly satisfied -- Yes
38. See the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person -- No
39. Go rock climbing -- Yes, although it was the rapelling I was there for, not the climbing
40. See Michelangelo's David -- Yes
41. Sing karaoke in public -- No
42. See Old Faithful geyser erupt in person -- No
43. Buy a stranger a meal at a restaurant -- Yes
44. Visit Africa -- Yes
45. Walk on a beach by moonlight -- Yes
46. Ride in a helicopter -- No
47. Have your portrait painted -- No, but I've painted the portraits of others!
48. Go deep sea fishing -- No
49. See the Sistine Chapel in person -- Yes
50. Go to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris -- Yes
51. Go scuba diving or snorkeling -- Yes in Bermuda and Mexico
52. Kiss in the rain -- Yes
53. Play in the mud -- Hmmm. Not that I remember.
54. Watch a movie at a drive-in theater -- No
55. Be in a movie -- No
56. Visit the Great Wall of China -- No
57. Start a business -- No
58. Take a martial arts class -- No. I don't think yoga counts as "martial". :-)
59. Visit Russia -- Yes
60. Serve meals at a soup kitchen -- Yes
61. Sell Girl Scout cookies -- Yes
62. Go whale watching -- No
63. Get or send flowers for no reason -- Yes
64. Donate blood, platelets or plasma -- No. My needle phobia precludes this.
65. Go sky diving -- No
66. Visit a Nazi Concentration Camp -- No. But my dad liberated one.
67. Adopt a pet from a rescue shelter -- Yes
68. Pilot an airplane -- No
69. Save a favorite childhood toy -- No
70. Visit the Lincoln Memorial -- Yes
71. Eat Caviar -- Yes
72. Make a quilt -- Yes
73. Stand in Times Square -- Yes
74. Tour the Everglades -- No
75. Visit the Viet Nam Memorial -- Yes
76. See the Changing of the Guard in London -- Yes
77. Drive a race car -- No
78. Ride on a speeding motorcycle -- Yes
79. See the Grand Canyon in person -- Yes
80. Publish a book -- No
81. Visit the Vatican -- Yes. Saw the pope too (John Paul II)
82. Buy a brand new car -- Yes
83. Walk in Jerusalem -- Yes
84. Have your picture in the newspaper -- Yes
85. Read the entire Bible -- Yes
86. Visit the White House -- Yes
87. Kill and prepare an animal for eating -- I guess if you count fishing with my grandfather, I did the killing thing. But the preparing? No.
88. Hike the Appalachian Trail -- No
89. Save someone's life -- No
90. Sit on a jury -- No, I was called for jury duty but never sat on a jury
91. Meet someone famous -- Yes, mostly politicians. Billy Graham.
92. Join a book club --Yes
93. Own an iPod -- Yes
94. Have a Facebook page -- Yes
95. See the Alamo in person -- No
96. Swim in the Great Salt Lake -- No, but I did swim in the Dead Sea
97. Cross country snow ski -- No
98. Hold a snake -- Yes
99. See DaVinci’s Starry Night in person -- Yes. Well I saw Van Gogh's Starry Night. I don't think I've heard of DaVinci's Starry Night! :-)
100. Read an entire book in one day -- Yes

Goodness, Truth & Beauty

I have the assignment this weekend of writing an artist's statement. Which feels a bit disingenuous because I feel like a poser. I'm an art student, not technically an artist, and making that transition -- mentally, if in no other way -- is challenging. Anyway, I've been thinking about what I'm trying to say with my art, what theme holds it together (if any), blah blah blah. I was driving home thinking about Goodness, Truth & Beauty, the threefold of expression of The Trinity, and how I hope that my work reflects a spiritual dimension that's characterized, at least in some limited way, in some measure, by Goodness, Truth or Beauty. Then I arrive home, walk through the door, and am stopped dead in my tracks by the afternoon sun pouring over these simple pumpkins ... and I just knew that I was on track with my artist's statement. Which photo do you like best?

...'Bout sums up my day

My antipathy for Walmart is no secret. For awhile there, it was fashionable to hate Walmart, and everyone with an ounce of social consciousness railed against it. But I can't say I hate it just to fit in with the cause du jour. Nor do I kid myself into thinking I have noble objections to unfair negotiating practices, treatment of workers overseas, deplorable wages and benefits, driving mom&pops into the ground, etc. All those can be argued, and may have merit, but in my heart of hearts, I cannot claim excessive civic conscience. (I wish I did; but I know myself enough not to claim it.) No, my reasons for avoiding the Walmart experience are more banal and self-serving.

I don't like Walmart because they build ugly buildings. Architectural ugliness offends me even, and I especially don't like big boxes when they are abandoned for bigger and better locations. Walmart embodies suburban sprawl, which is another of my pet issues. Which of course reminds me that Walmart -- despite neighborhood opposition -- wants to build a store in my back yard, literally a few hundred yards away. There's very little variety in the lines they carry; everything is driven by price-consciousness -- not style, nor individuality, nor craftsmanship, nor product knowlege -- just price. Then there's the experience of shopping there. It sucks the life out of my soul, and life is short enough without wasting large swaths of it numbly pushing a cart through Walmart.

So where did I spend $80 of my back-to-school dollars today? You guessed it. I had to come home and take a bath.

The Time Between

Holy Saturday is always a bit odd for me....the mourning, deprivation, and somber sensibility that marks Good Friday morphs into a held breath: some anticipatory suspension of belief awaiting...what? A different outcome? To wake up from a bad dream? A resurrection?

This photo (obviously not chosen for its artistic merit) shows the sanctuary of the church as it exists only on Good Friday and Holy Saturday....bereft. No candles, no statues, no vestments, no Host. A stripped stone altar; a tabernacle with door flung open announcing that yep, No One Special is here. A completely empty thing.

I've given up hope before, and I've experienced a resurrection before, of sorts. But that period between, that emptyness -- perhaps it's a necessary place to exist, but gratefully short, just as the time between Good Friday and Easter is short. God must know we just can't wait too long for our resurrections to arrive.