Pictures

One of my best friends is getting married today.

I have so many feelings.

It's not exactly like when my best friend from growing up got married and my other best friend from middle school and I got to the wedding a little bit late, having to sit on the groom's side of the packed church as she walked down the aisle to a hymn that made me think to myself, "This is why we're friends," and also, "I'm glad I'm not getting married anytime soon because I'm 100% copying all of the music for this ceremony." That day was full of joy and laughter and reunions with high school friends and the absolute ideal reception. I was so happy for Sarah and Robs and in love with their story and I involuntarily smile now seeing pictures of their kids and their life.

And it's nothing at all like when my older brother got married. I was and continue to be so happy for Stephen and Lindsey, but I was involved in that wedding (and its many pictures) and being so close to what is, best case scenario, a pivotal moment in two people's lives made me reflective. I made this video about how marriage is, in a way, our shout into the void, and I, remarkably, stand by most of that more than a year later. I did a lot of my formative thinking about what a life-long partnership could and should look like in the past couple of years, and I still think of it as this beautiful thing, this lovely attempt to go forward into this world that will disappoint us, holding someone else's hand, struggling against the current that pulls all of us back. Thoughtful, caring, dedicated marriages have legs. If you do this right, you can walk for miles and miles.

Today, as Pamela and Brock celebrate the ceremony that solemnizes their promises to each other in front of those who are important to them, I find myself trying and failing to work on schoolwork at Pamela's house, this little home of hers that I adore that will, in short order, belong to someone else as she makes a new home with Brock. I'm so excited for her, so excited that she found someone who smiles at her the way everyone wants to be smiled at, who jokes and laughs with her, who holds her when she needs it and who is willing to be held, who brings his family and his world together with hers in a delightful bouquet of people and stories and love. Pamela was there with me when I first decided that opening up to people was a good thing to do, and she has been there with me since, going on adventure after adventure, climbing mountain after valley after mountain. She has been there with me as both of us have figured out what love between two people could look like. I could not be more happy that she has found someone who can be the love of her life.

See, Pamela values people. This is her fridge:

It is covered with photos of friends and family. It holds memories of travels and adventures and important life moments. In her kitchen, in this central place where many of us just move through our days mindlessly feeding what needs to be fed, she wallpapers her space with the people who are important to her. She actually prints out physical photos of people and moments near and far. In this world of distance and remove, Pamela re-embodies us.

It's not just her fridge. She's a fan of collages as well, one of which features this delightful picture of me in Iceland:

I love that Pam chose this to go in the collage. I believe we were hunting waterfalls on this day, trusting the GPS in our car to navigate us from one place to another. In this picture, I am a few days past having left Edinburgh, a week away from moving to my new place in DC, and my hair is a fluffy nightmare. But we had been singing and that whole day had been this glorious exploration of beauty and wonder and dampness. I love that jacket, love the way we're smiling. Even though I cringed the first time I saw it on the wall, there are so many gorgeous aspects of this moment. I'm glad it's immortalized here.

So, to the woman who tends to find beauty in the times where even I fail to see it, and to the man who has made her so happy over the past two years, I wish you the very best. I pray that the days ahead, be they easy or hard, will be filled with joy, patience, hope, faithfulness, and love. I pray that you will always be able to see in each other the wonderful, worthy, glorious, valuable person that you see in each other today, and that as the years stretch out in front of you and redefine what family means to you, you will find the strength within yourselves and each other to persevere in this world that is so temporary, so finite. Make an infinity, my friends. I'm forever thankful that I'll be here to see you do it.

Valentine's Day 2017

It is Valentine’s Day and for the first time in years, I’ve realized that I need a man. 

Let me explain.

I do not need a man to change a flat tire for me. I don’t need a man to help me carry a heavy box up the stairs. I don’t need a man to catch and release a spider for me, help me jump my car, move my furniture, build my bookcase, fix my computer, fix my internet, show me how to grill a steak, or walk me home at night. I don’t need a man to teach me how to be strong or smart or authoritative or brave. I’ve seen Hidden Figures. I now know how to be all of those things and how to run in heels and put an astronaut into orbit and bring them back.

Even though I swing that way, I don’t need a man to hold me as I fall asleep at night or wake up beside me in the morning. Though Lord knows how much I’d like to hear it, I don’t need a man to tell me how intelligent or funny or beautiful or valuable I am. I know the measure of my worth.  I don’t need to be homesick for a man’s arms or cared for by a man. There is such an astounding amount of love in my life from my friends, family, and community that romantic love is, as a matter of fact, superfluous in my life. I imagine it’d be so nice but I am not incomplete because I lack it. A life without love is terrible but I do not live without love. 

Just to be brutally, plainly clear, I do not need any mortal man to step into the role of headship in my life. I am not lost waiting on a husband to find me and give me purpose. No matter how internally conflicted I may be around my inherited ideas of motherhood and legacy, there is not a man currently on Earth that I find myself in need of. 

Phew. Can we all just take a minute to acknowledge the backflips I had to do to avoid the Incarnation just then? 

Because of course the man I’m in need of is Jesus. 

No, no, before you run away screaming from this post, thinking that I’ve gone crazy at seminary, talking about Jesus on Valentine’s Day, let me remind you that it’s a central tenant of the Christian faith that we all need Jesus and also that the reason we even have Valentine’s Day is because there was once upon a time a St. Valentine who loved Jesus so much he died for him and/or the faith that bears his name.

And this is his skull. Supposedly. Does that help? It was meant to help.

But listen, listen, I am in need of a man who can teach me how to love my neighbor past the point of comfort (and so are you). I am in need of a man who can turn me away from the damaging things in this world (and so are you). I am, truly and genuinely, in need of a man who can affirm my worth through his love of me, because Christ died for us while we were yet sinners and that proves God’s love for us and what other ground is there for my hope besides the promise that I am loved past the point of death by the Almighty (and so. are. you.)? We are all in need of Jesus, especially now.

And not just the Jesus of the Beatitudes or the Golden Rule or the story of the Good Samaritan. You cannot limit Jesus to just being a moral figure. This is Jesus, the Logos of God, the Word Made Flesh, the organizing principle of the universe made physical in our world. The organizing principle of the universe came to the Earth to show/speak/tell us what’s most important in the world and how to love each other, came to break into our existence and change it forever and we killed him.  The Love that we desperately need, that was so fundamental to the universe that it spoke everything that we see into existence, that Love came to seek us, to find us, and we were frightened of it, frightened to death. We killed that Love in what may be the worst way imaginable, hanging that Love on an instrument of torture, leaving it there to suffocate under the weight of our unworthiness.

But praise be to God that this is a Love that did not forever die.

Listen, I know that I need this man Jesus because there is a homeless man who sits daily at the entrance to the Farragut North metro stop and I’ve never given him anything kinder than a half-hearted smile. I know that I need this man Jesus because one of my best friends moved out a couple of years ago and I can’t find it in me to forgive her for the hurt she caused me. I know that I need this man Jesus because when a good man asked me to dance, I was so concerned with preserving myself that I never even looked at his face. I need Jesus because I need to be shown how to love and trust, to be re-formed in the image of Love and sent out into a hurting world. I need my rough places to be made plain and my valleys to be exalted. These are things that only Love can fix. And if Jesus had come to us as a woman, I would be here saying that I stand in need of the woman Jesus who breaks the power of cancelled sin and sets me free for joyful obedience. It doesn't matter. I need Love.

Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All we need is Love. Love rises above our material needs, above our hurts and our fears, and shows us a more perfect way. But Love does not keep us there. Love sends us back out to be Love for the world.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all.

A Spark

I've been looking for a spark. 

You know what I mean. I know you've seen it too.

You see it with athletes who are beyond skilled at their sport, the kind of players of games who it is a genuine joy to watch. Or with musicians who speak through their instruments. Or composers and performers who make something that speaks to your soul. Lin-Manuel Miranda has the spark in spades.

Because words are the way that I interact with the world, I'm more likely see the spark in anything world-related than anything else. Say what you want about YA lit, but John Green has the spark. Say what you want to about fantasy books, but Neil Gaiman’s got the spark. I live and move and breathe in the spark The Avett Brothers have. Spark somehow becomes liquified and oozes out of almost every word in Night Vale. The whole reason that people pay attention to the Daily Show and Colbert and Last Week Tonight is because the writers and hosts have that spark. I’m a sucker for every Sorkin speech, every Shakespearean play, every Whedonism because their words give off sparks like firecrackers. The opening scene of the Newsroom is this perfect combination of spark and idealism and information and frustration and I can watch it over and over again because I know the heart is there and the fits and starts and pops of the spark carry it forward.

I see the spark in places where people make things. I have to trace it sometimes and sometimes it’s buried, but I love it when I find it. I love finding that idea that shows me that this person’s got that spark. I hold on to it and when I’m older and wiser, I’d like to foster it, watch it grow, help it live a life freed from the expectations it has had set upon it. I guess that’s why I end up dancing around teaching or training or mentoring in my life-- the preservation of every spark I see is the song of my heart, the one it sings when I’m not paying attention to what it’s doing. I gather up words and ideas and beautiful things people have made and ponder them, keeping them tucked away and safe in case the day comes early when the sky blackens and there’s no one left to remember humanity’s spark except for me. I don’t believe in that day, but I fear it all the same and so I collect my sparks.

And I get frustrated when I don’t see a spark. Frustrated, or bored. Reality TV? Have difficulty finding a spark. Rom-com? Again, the spark’s pretty damn buried (unless it’s When Harry Met Sally). Every day of your life is full of these inane, spark-less conversations, or it can be, anyway, and that’s why I need someone with a spark to keep around. I need to be able to trust that it’s there, that it’ll come to the fore, that I will every once in a while be surprised by the beautiful newness that’s coming out of this person.

Sparks are hard for me to walk away from. I can’t help it. I’m a moth drawn to this particular flame. Actually, no. I don't like the incapability implicit in that image. I'm... well... I was going to say one of two heat-seeking missiles following each other's signature in the vastness of space but that doesn't work, exactly, so moth-flame analogy it is. Firefly to flame, if biology can be overridden in metaphor. Give me something that lights up my life and chances are I'll follow you forever. 

It's subjective, I know. But isn't all love?