I am a wuss.

Yes. Wimp, 'fraidy-cat, take your pick.

I led one climb at the wall last night and Mitch tried to get me to rappel down and clean the draws off the wall at the same time. I was all hooked up, ATC in place and everything...and I couldn't do it.

You may recall my absolutely terrifying experience trying to rappel at Summersville last spring. Only 25 feet off the ground, indoors, and I still got all panicky. The thought of having to lower myself and take a hand off the rope to awkwardly take draws off the wall was just too much.

Mitch tried to be stern with me, thinking a Tim-like approach would work. Nope. I refused and sat there like a stubborn child on the brink of unnecessary tears until he agreed to bring me down himself, like normal. He tried telling me I was going to have to do it outdoors and I told him there was no way I was doing that again.

Wuss. Wimp. 'Fraidy cat.

Seven Minutes with Laurie

Seven minutes 'til five and I've been really busy lately, so posting has taken a backseat. Let's just say that work is getting crazy, with financial aid packages going out and my website redesign project shifting into high gear. I advise anyone with free time to check out www.alma.edu/admissions and see the "before." I'll tell you when you can view the new and improved "after."

Three weeks and two days until we leave for West Virginia and I'm pumped. My arm and core muscles are constantly sore from the unrelenting workouts, which I'm sure will pay off in the end. Tonight we're heading to the wall to do some lead climbing with our very own rope and quickdraws. Oh, and I might be ordering a new harness. I'm not totally convinced, but testing out the new Black Diamond Primrose is making me lean in that direction.

I completely meant to post about last Sunday's sermon, too. It was all about spending an ordinary day with Jesus and how we would go through our day if Jesus happened to be sitting on the side of our bed one morning and asked to spend the whole day with us. It was simplistic but eye-opening.

Two minutes to five. You don't get the full seven minutes, because I'm going to pack up now. I know you're bummed. :)

By the way, anyone looking to purchase outdoor gear should check out www.moosejaw.com. Their prices are sometimes a bit steep but you can't beat their customer service and unique marketing communications tactics.

Back on track

Mitch and I went climbing last night and I was pleasantly surprised that I didn't totally suck. After blowing off the start hold, I finished a challenging boulder route (possibly a V-2) and once I struggled my way through a 5.8 top rope route, I tackled a (supposed) 5.10 b (but it's probably just a 5.10) and made it just above the boulder line. There were three big moves in a row - well, big for me anyway, being short and all that - and after I cleared the overhang with a fun mantle-ish move, I didn't have any strength left to go farther. I'll work on it more tonight.

In preparation for the West Virginia trip (30 days and counting), we've committed to climbing as often as humanly possible and doing hangboard workouts whenever we can't be at the wall. I am insanely excited about this trip, especially because we will be self-sufficient enough to do our own thing if lazy people are taking too long in the morning. Our own food, our own rope, our own full set of draws...what more could we want? Well, there are a few people who won't make it that I wish would be there, or be there for longer in some cases. But next year I think I'll be trying to put together an alumni climbing trip, since we're getting so old and all. Plus, I can't have kids I recruited watching me skinny-dip, now can I?? :)

Time? What's that?

There was a lot a wanted to write about right after my grandma's funeral - conversations with my cousins, aunts, uncles, and others in attendance. I will always remember that my 30-year old cousin had never attended a funeral, yet for me this felt strangely familiar after the death of a close family friend just a few years ago. I smile when I remember Bobby saying Grandma would want us to have a drink with dinner, so we should go to the pub instead of Big Boy for dinner during her visitation. And I get a little teary when I remember my aunt taking my face in her hands as we were leaving the luncheon, saying, "Grandma loved you so much."

For Bobby, this brought back memories of his best friend's father, Dave. He told me losing Dave was like losing his own dad because they were so close. He told me he still thinks about Dave at least twice a week, just randomly. He said if he could have one person back, it would be Dave; I guess I've never stopped to think about the fact that when Dave left, Bobby lost him and, in a way, Dave's son, Pat. They were the best of friends but after Dave's death, Pat drifted away, making a new life for himself that didn't really include those from his past.

I realized that I don't really know anything about my grandma - I only knew her as Grandma, who didn't like boating but loved to sit on the porch reading, who played in the church bell choir and served chocolate milk with bendy straws on special occasions. Turns out she was an accomplished vocal soloist and just wow-ed everyone on the organ. "No one played hymns like Inge," according to the minister who gave her eulogy.

So now, after two weeks of craziness, I'm trying to get caught up in the office. Everyone seems to want something from me but I'm slowly making progress. Today I'll visit with three students and their families, after spending last night at a college fair in Gaylord. On top of that, I'm trying to get back in shape after a few weeks off, and my muscles are protesting. I feel like I'm always tired - hopefully restocking my vitamins will help with that. Well, I have an appointment in 10 minutes, so I better get back to work!

Grandma

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

My Grandma has soft hands. I sit next to her on our couch, holding one and stroking the softest spot, the one between her thumb and forefinger. If I inhaled close enough, I know I’d smell powder just by their touch.

Grandma tells me about being a little girl in America, about being the only little girl who can speak German well enough to give a special reading on Christmas Eve each year. She tells me how her father never came to church on Christmas Eve and how she never connected that with the big tree magically decorated in their front room when she returned from service those evenings.

In the self-centeredness of youth, I never asked her more stories about her childhood. Now I hold on to what little she offered up.

I lean my head back against the cushions and turn sideways to smile at her. Something tells me I will treasure this moment.

I should have held on to so many other moments. The fun ones in the summer when we tried to play in the lake with her, unaware she’d rather be anywhere but in the water. The sweet ones when she and Grandpa faithfully came to watch me dance. One night, she told me she watched me leap off the stage and couldn’t hold back the tears at the expression of joy on my face. I don’t even remember feeling the joyful, but Grandma saw it.

I’m her only granddaughter. I carried her prayer book down the aisle at my wedding. She sent me books to soothe my soul at college; “old lady books,” I called them, but relished their sweetness each night when the days were filled with strain and stress. The last time we played Scrabble she beat me, humbling the college English student with a few well-played tiles.

I see her now in the hospital bed, smiling tiredly as she tells us how she spilled her coffee all over that morning. I grin as she matter-of-factly complains about the breakfast, telling us we wouldn’t eat it, either. She’s always been spunky in a quiet, mischievous way. I catch her peaceful eyes as I lean to kiss her, telling her to get better, listening to her gentle retort that she is, in fact, fine.

Part of me is glad I didn’t know that was the last time I’d see her. I would have wept, I would have held her hand too tightly, willing her not to leave, not yet. Instead I hugged her, kissed her, smiled at her, promised her flowers to brighten up the room. She saw me leave happy. She didn’t see my cheeks wet with tears.

This Christmas, Grandma couldn’t play the piano. I saw her eyes moisten as she longed for a talent dulled by age. She’s playing now. She won’t see my first child, watch my brother get married or celebrate any more milestones with us; but she’ll play a song, so sweet and still and silent we’ll just hear it in our hearts.

Biking Season Begins

And my tailbone is suffering! Mitch and I took advantage of the great weather this weekend to pull out bikes out of the dusty confines of my parents' garage and hit the trails. We tested everything out on Saturday, riding mostly paved rail-trails and scouting out the mountain biking trails via a one-mile jaunt - but the six or so miles really did my behind in and the first mile we rode on Sunday was pretty painful. I had my legs tensed and couldn't really sit down, but soon everything else hurt so bad I didn't even feel my bottom anymore. My lungs were burning, my heart was knocking around in my chest, my legs were aching - but I made it all the way and it wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated.

Word to the wise: if you have a cat, make sure you always keep the fabric liner underneath the boxsprings of a bed staple securely up. Chip was hiding up in the box springs on Sunday evening and it took us forever to (a) find him and (b) get him out. Brat cat!

On a more serious note, my Grandma Eccles is in the hospital. She has pneumonia and had a heart attack on Thursday, though she didn't know it until she went to the ER on Saturday. She's very old and has been slowing down for awhile, but we're not ready for her to leave us quite yet. Prayers are much appreciated.

And now, after about almost five days out of the office, I better get to work.

Super Rep!

The original plan was for me to join my coworker for another college fair on Wednesday evening at Ann Arbor Pioneer High School. We were going to stay the night at my parents' house and on Thursday, I was planning to drop her off at a hotel in Livonia, where she would meet up with two other reps from our office for a fair Thursday evening and another one on Friday morning. One of the reps who was coming is experienced, the other is a newbie who has never done a college fair before. Unfortunately, I get an email this morning saying the experienced rep was sick and was not going to make it. The rep I was with said she would feel better if I stayed instead of just letting the two new reps handle this fair alone, because it's supposed to be huge and crazy-busy.

So here I am - hanging out in a hotel in Livonia watching Fifty First Dates and waiting to head over to the fair. I had to go shopping for some new shirts and underwear, plus get shampoo, conditioner and other necessaries because I didn't plan on spending another night here, let alone a night in a hotel without the comforts of my parents' homes. It's nice not to be at the office, but I think I'd rather be home with Mitch and the kitty cat. Well, it's about time to go and I still need to do something with my hair!

Grr.

Here I am, all excited about the book discussion on "Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?" over lunch today, when I suddenly get stuck doing a tour at 12:45 pm. I was the only one to volunteer, with the stipulation that if anyone else could do it, I'd rather not. No one else jumped in to offer their assistance - yet only two other people out of our entire rep staff has a valid appointment on their calendars - and one of them is in the same book discussion group as me but didn't even consider pitching in. I never mind helping out and willingly pick up the slack when needed, but at the same time, all I can think is, "Jerks."

Birks and TNF

I went to this college fair last night in Bloomfield Hills and felt very out of place without a pair of Birkenstocks on my feet and The North Face on my back. Though I'm excited to have this territory next year (it looks almost certain that I'll be the Southeastern Michigan rep), it'll be culture shock seeing Calvin Klein instead of Carhart and Steve Madden instead of steel-toed boots. The North was a hard place to work because of the distance and the loneliness, but I'm starting to think that the down-to-earth people might have made up for it in a way.

Switching gears...there's a political issue that's been bothering me lately. I hate how both parties are trying to show that they are the "moral" party. Oh, Republicans are the moral party because they oppose abortion and gay marriage. Oh no, the Democrats are the real moral party because they support social justice. Personally, my political affiliation has nothing to do with religion or morality. Can we say, separation of church and state, anyone? I have more conservative views because I think they are in line with a more practical, rational way to run our country - not because of whatever "moral" platform they pretend to stand on.

Worthy

My commitment to prayer over Lent has been going well. I feel more refreshed each time I make the effort, though sometimes it's more of an effort than it should be. I never realized how wrapped up in myself I am - how much my own personal gripes and groans and desires rule my life. But I had a neat thought: Jesus died for me and I want to be worthy of his sacrifice. Whenever I make a decision, or a snap judgement about someone, or have a little pity-party because things aren't going my way, I've been stopping and asking myself, "Is this behavior worthy of his sacrifice?"

I've also been trying to be more conscious of God's blessings. For instance, the "Norman Rockwell" moment on Sunday when I was sleeping on the guest bed, curled up under a homemade quilt with my cat at my feet while my husband played his guitar in the same room. If I could have a picture painted of my family right now, that would be the scene.

Lent

I almost forgot: what (if anything) are you giving up for Lent? I've given up ice cream for the past two years but I didn't find it very meaningful or, honestly, very hard. Last year I added gossiping to the "give up" list but since that's something I try to avoid all the time, it just didn't seem right to single out during Lent. So I'm not giving up anything: I'm going to pray more. I see that honest, heart-felt prayer is often lacking in my day-to-day life and that I only seem to call out to God when something bad happens. Every day during Lent I will take a few quiet moments to pray with my whole heart - and I won't do it at bedtime because I fall asleep in the middle of my prayers.

I just don't get it.

I don't understand people. I've been enjoying my job and the people with whom I work - even so far as to consider them new friends. But recently it's just been one exclusion after another and I'm getting sick of it.

Here's another coworker situation I don't like: there's a new girl we hired that, for whatever reason, my other coworkers (the three other young women I referenced above) have decided they do not like her and refuse to include her in anything. "There's just something about her," they say, and I don't get it. My default mode, for the most part, is to like people I just meet. You have to do something to make me not like you, rather than the other way around. It's almost like my coworkers want some sort of proof that she's "cool enough" to hang around them. I don't like it at all. I stick up for her, though I admit it's a weak effort.

I would love some advice and/or encouragement...this week's been a real downer in the office. Just when I think I've got something great it turns out to be shallow and petty.