Sick Day

I stayed home from work today to try and recover. Last night was really bad, but I feel a bit better today. It's running its course, just like Mitch said: a day and a half of a super sore throat, followed by congestion and eventually a cough. Right now I'm in the congestion phase, with a spurt of coughing every once in awhile.

Maybe this is a blessing in disguise: I'm doing some work from home, but I also put the finishing touches on my packing for WV. I also discovered, to my delight, that I'm able to access one heck of a wireless connection from my living room. We may not be forking over the big bucks to Charter for cable modem if this thing stays consistent!

Did I mention earlier that Jerry is joining Mitch, Gabe and I on this trip? He's coming down with another group on Saturday while we are leaving tomorrow, but he'll only miss a day. Cool, huh?

I'm Sick

Mitch gave me his sore throat, cold-type bug. If anyone has any medical advice for me, I'd appreciate it. I'm currently self-medicating with a combination of gargled salt water, tea, Robitussen, ibuprofen, Slurpees, cough drops, ecinacea and grapefruit juice.

Three more days!

The days are seriously dragging - at least, until I get home from work and try to cram shopping, packing, spending time with soon-to-be-graduated friends, climbing and working out into the four or so hours until bedtime. Last night we bought all the food, tonight Pete is coming over for dinner, tomorrow we're hoping to climb, Thursday is hardcore packing night, and Friday is departure! I love vacation, and I love the anticipation of vacationing.

Switching topics, I have to say, I really hate condscension. I have an uncle who's very condescending and while I love him, I loathe conversations with him at more than the superficial level. He's a lawyer and he's always angling for ways to make you say what he thinks you should say, or ways he can twist your words to his advantage. At Easter, he was being condescending with regards to religion, and I really wish we hadn't been interrupted by dinner because I think I could have really held my own with him on the subject of whether or not going to church makes you a good person. He seems to hold the view that Christians think going to church is the main mark of being a good person, but I betcha I could show him he's wrong. Also, he seemed surprised that religion even played a role in my life. What does he think, that I wear a cross around my neck for fashion purposes?

Many of you know Mitch and I were struggling to find a church home, and we've definitely succeeded, though summer weekends are definitely going to put a kink in our regular attendance. Be that as it may, I've really come to see Sunday mornings as a time of renewal, of reminding myself about God's role in my life, of providing me with opportunities to learn and question and see things in a new light.

Easter

It was easier than I thought, remembering this as Grandma's first Easter with Jesus rather than our first Easter without her.

We had a busy weekend between spending Friday night and Saturday morning in Lake City with Jon, Saturday afternoon with Mitch's family in Carson City, and Sunday with my family in South Lyon. I wish I could say the highlight of it all was Easter morning service, but I just about fell asleep and I had to wake both Bobby and Mitch up. The old church downtown is just not particularly inspiring (though the pancake breakfast was amazing). Still, we go for family.

In actuality, one of the highlights was a great mountain bike ride in Cadillac. We went 12-14 miles and since I always ride by myself - the boys are just too fast - I usually have a lot of time to think and appreciate the act of just being outside and (in my opinion) very close to God. Of course, I can meditate on this better if my lungs aren't burning as they often were on the two-mile uphill stretch, but even then I manage to do a little focusing on God, as in, "OK God, I need a bit more strength here. Just a little nudge, come on." Usually I get songs like "I Need Thee Every Hour" stuck in my head at that point, because boy do I need something!

Now I just have to get through the week, because it's almost vacation time! I check the weather in WV every day and while there looks to be some rain, I'm also pleased to report a little sun and, most importantly, NO SNOW.

I have a to-do list a mile long, so I better get hoppin'.

The Story

With Good Friday tomorrow, I thought this was an appropriate set of lyrics to post:

The Story
Written by Andrew Osenga for Caedmon's Call's newest CD

In some sweet ways it's simple,
Sometimes that's all that I need,
To trust someone else so I can get some sleep.
And all our heroes have deserted,
Said we were nothing on our own,
And now that's all I am.

Oh, can you tell me the story,
Of all of your glory,
Of your rising again?
'Cause I, I'm in love with the mystery,
Of how our sad history,
Can turn out for good.

And the bitter man is angry,
Angry man just thinks he's right,
Too right to see mercy,
When he's standing in its light.
We can shed tears over dying,
We can rage and we can fight
But we cannot forget that
we were loved before we opened up our eyes,
Such foolish pride.

It's a shame to build our homes,
With bricks of fear and cynical stones.
There is nothing left to run from,
There is nothing left but love.

Can you tell me the story?
Can you tell me the story?
I need to hear it again,
I need to hear it again.

Wonder?

Does anyone else ever wonder if, "Just be yourself and everyone will like you for who you are?" is really just code for, "I don't particularly like the way you are, so change and I will like you?"

Just wondering. I've had friends drop the "just be yourself" bomb on me when I was pretty darn sure I was being extremely true to myself. Granted, that was quite awhile ago and I'm not quite sure why it popped into my head now. Maybe it's because I'm still acutely aware of not being "myself" (read: the self they want me to be) when I'm around them.

Quote of the Week

(for last week.)

So I'm sitting in my office around 5 pm, wrapping up my work, and I hear my coworker call my name from the bathroom. (My office shares a wall with the women's restroom.) I go in, and she's run out of toilet paper. I hand her some, bust out laughing and go back to work. A few moments later, she comes into my office and says:

"This is really symbolic of our working relationship. I drop a deuce and you help me clean it up."

Hehehe!

Apologies

In the past few months, I've attended dance concerts, a track meet and Honors Day presentations at Alma College, partly because I enjoy them and partly to recognize and support the efforts of my friends as they complete their time at Alma College. I realized, after sacrificing lunch to watch part of a home track meet, that I was ridiculously self-centered in college. I never attended choir concerts, dance shows, orchestra concerts, athletic events, Honors presentations, or anything else to support my friends, not because I wanted to be a jerk but because I was too busy and wrapped up in what I had to do. I lost sight of how good it made me feel to see my friends at dance recitals or sporting events in high school, and I would truly like to apologize for that.

Some of this preceded an insightful email sent by one of my friends to the entire campus community. If you're curious, go to http://www.xanga.com/marchon2884 to read it. Marc makes some good points and gives me a lot to think about, not only in the context of my experiences at Alma but also those in the "real world." I have found, since graduating, that time with friends is sometimes more important than a good night's sleep; that the world will not end if I press pause on my work; and that making an effort to really KNOW my family is more valuable than any academic accomplishment or accolade in the workplace. I feel like I've done a good job balancing work and home, and am able to resist the pressure to work insane hours and make my career my life. I know I still have a long way to go in discovering and accepting what is truly important in this world, but I'm working on it.

What a night!

It's 4:30 pm and I just woke up - for the second time since going to bed 12 hours ago. We had a bunch of people over kind of as a last hurrah before everyone graduating this year goes their separate ways. It was a blast...I made a ton of food as always and Mitch mixed up some pretty serious Long Islands, which got everyone out to a great start. It was so much fun just to hang out with my friends and not worry about anything except making sure Miriam didn't fall off the balcony while peeing. Like I said, it was about 4:30 am before we went to bed and I was up at 9:30 am making breakfast and straightening up. We hit the noon service at church and I crashed on the couch as soon as we got back. I'm still a bit tired, but I'll make it.

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.