Hey, We Had Dinner Together, Didn't We?

I pull into the Wendy's parking lot, make almost a full circuit before I see an empty spot and pull in. I'm a little late, but it's fine. At least I'm here.

I walk in and scan the restaurant, all plastic and shiny and smelling like crispiness and sugar. I see her at a booth and head over.

"Hey!" she says, getting up to hug me.

"No, don't get up," I say, smiling distractedly. "Er, well yeah, get up." I laugh as I pull out my phone. "We need to order, I guess."

We get in line and she starts asking me about my day. I deflect mostly, just trying to get to the cashier.

"WelcomeToWendy'sForHereOrToGo?"

"TFor here," I say. "Lemme get a 10-piece with sweet and sour and a water."

I text as we take our food back to our booth. I'm not trying to be rude, this text is just about work.

We sit down.

"So," she says, smiling. "How--"

"Aren't you gonna eat?" I ask, nodding at her burger. I can't point because I'm holding chicken nuggets in both hands.

"Yeah..." She picks up the Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. "So--"

"One sec." Another text, but it's work again, so it's not a legitimate diss. It's just--sorry. "Okay." I set my phone down with an air of finality. "I actually only have like five minutes before I need to head out, but what's up with you? Oh, but lemme tell you about what happened yesterday. You seriously would not believe..."

Between bites of whole nuggets, I fill her in on my day, ending with a modest request for her to drop off some milk at my place later. I want to make the really good hot chocolate.

"So this was fun!" I say, raking my trash onto the tray and standing up. "Dinner tomorrow, same time and place?"

She smiles, looking a little sad, which is ridiculous because I just offered her my time again for tomorrow.

"Yeah," she says. "Tomorrow. Maybe I can call you later toni--"

"Gosh, I don't know," I say. I speak over my shoulder as I dump my wrappers and containers into the trash. "Tonight's kind of busy. How about I just see you tomorrow? Okay? Great."

In Jesus' name,
Amen.

I would never treat my friends this way. So why do I treat God this way?

Feeling convicted this morning.

~Stephanie

My Reason in the Rhyme: having kids when I'm selfish, scared, and cynical

Spoiler alert:  I am not pregnant.

Anyway.

Having kids has never been a question for me. Of course I am going to have kids. When I was little, I thought it was just what happened when you grew up and got married. As I grew up, I guess somewhere in the back of my mind (where I stored the information gleaned from The Talk) I knew that I didn't HAVE to have kids, but I always knew that I would. I loved babysitting; I never completely grew out of my love for "playing pretend;" I enjoyed conversations with children. Kids never intimidated me, even the ones "you couldn't do anything with."

As I grew even older, I began to think about what it would be like to raise a mini-me. What would she look like? Would she love to read? (Of course she would love to read.) Would she be allergic to peanuts? Would she be a worrywart like me?

When I fell in love with Gabe, my future wonderings grew concrete in a breathtaking, exhilarating, frighteningly real way. His was the other half of my kids' DNA. Brown eyes are dominant, so my kids would now probably have brown eyes. Gabe is much more patient than I am, more steady. Maybe my kids would have his patience and surefootedness, rather than my peanut allergy and inclination to stress about literally everything. Maybe one kid would be like me, another like him. Maybe they'd all be perfect mixtures. Maybe some would be completely out of left field and we'd have to learn them together.

I've never doubted that I want kids.

But then...

Then we started premarital counseling, and had to put our goals into categories:  short term (3-5 years), medium term (5-10 years), long term (10+ years).

Clearly, at age 22 and wanting four children, the logical category for kids was Short Term. But a spark of panic leapt into my stomach and bloomed into something hot and scratchy.

Three to five years? Gabe won't even be finished with school for three and a half years. What, he graduates and gets a job and then BAM--babies? No time as married adults with regular jobs? No years as DINKS to travel and eat at fancy restaurants and go to movies at full price?

Was I terrible for thinking that way? I really did want kids. I love kids. I want my own kids. I want to read to them, and fix their favorite foods, and take them to historical places, and play pretend with them, and hear their thoughts about the world.

But I already worry about my body. I'm already a bit of a hypochondriac. Can you imagine how worked up and freaked out I'd be if I were pregnant? Still worrying about myself all the time, except ALSO worrying about the little person inside of me, and how my own health would affect him or her.

And, if I'm absolutely throwing good taste to the wind, I might as well say that the idea of being pregnant freaks me out. My stomach is going to swell. There is going to be an ANIMAL (I know, a person, I'm there with you, but it is, in fact, a creature) forming out of tissue and soul in my stomach. Growing. It'll be like I swallowed a person, except that it keeps growing.

And don't even get me started on how scared I am of actually giving birth and nursing not sleeping for months.

Also, the world today. What if my baby has to know Hilary Clinton as his first president? Or Donald Trump? What if my baby's best friend has two mommies? What if my baby tries to tell me that he thinks he's actually a she? What if my baby's brain is skewed by the prevalent use of social media? What if he subconsciously feels like if he doesn't take a picture of an event, it might as well not have happened? I already struggle with that, and I wasn't even born into this craziness.

I feel so scared--and so selfish--when it comes to having kids. I feel like a bad person. Sometimes I want kids RIGHT NOW, sometimes I can't even pretend like I might want kids any time soon. But God is doing several things to keep me sane about this, the biggest of which is my job.

I work for Classical Conversations: a classical, Christian, community-based curriculum program for homeschooling families. Its mission statement is "to know God and to make Him known," and one of its core beliefs is that parents are the best educators for their unique children. I did this program growing up, and its philosophy and content prepared me for college and life better than anything else could have. Seriously, I will have to write a post entirely about this company sometime.

But this is not that post.

I'm the assistant editor for the multimedia side of the company, which means that I get to read a lot of the curriculum and the catalog and the resources and the emails and basically everything that this company is putting out there for parents and students.

And guys, it makes me so excited to have kids.

I want to read Story of the World to my kids. I want to hear their little voices rattling off complex history sentences from memory, the way I did when I was their age. I want to show them the beautiful logic behind Latin, and how fun it is to read original documents. I want to see the light go on in their heads when they see laws of science work in experiments. I want to hear their thoughts on the Dred Scott decision. I want to see the map of the world they can draw from memory.

I want to help them love learning, even more than I did. I want to help them understand the truth, goodness, and beauty of the world even better than I did. I want them to live a life of learning, even more intentionally than I did. I want them to see the connections between Latin and music, western culture and theology, math and literature even better than I did.

I want them to live with more love for and awareness of God than I did. I want them to feel His joy more than I did. I want them to see His connections better than I did.

Every day, I get to work with resources that help kids become the best humans they can be for God. I'm selfish, I'm scared, I'm cynical, but how can I not want to have little humans who will learn and grow and love and explore and understand better than I did? I know it sounds sort of backwards and silly, but Classical Conversations is such a great program that it makes me want to have kids just so they can participate.

I know this isn't the best thinking process, and I'm struggling with whether or not I should even hit "Publish," but this is my truth for the time being. This is my reason in the rhyme. This is how I'm staying sane and wanting kids even though I'm selfish and scared.

*shrug* I'll let you know how I feel in three to five years.

~Stephanie

I Dare You

This is one of those moment where I feel in myself the potential to write something profound, but I'm not sure if it will come out that way.

In church last week, we had to write on a sheet something we were thankful for. Easiest task in a long time: I wrote "words."

This week at church, we had a time of prayer where everyone was supposed to call to God by one of his names. I didn't say anything out loud, but the same thing leapt to my mind. My tongue silently traced the word inside my mouth: "The Word. You are the Word."

I know I've written about this before, about how in the beginning there were only God's words, and from them came...well, absolutely everything. I know God--though unchanging--is many different things to many different people; I know that he meets us all where we are, and maybe I am just constantly in the words, but it just seems to me that Words are the single most important thing in the entire world.

I know that Love is important, and Compassion and Peace and Forgiveness, but what would those things be without words? What would Love be if we couldn't say "I love you," or "I miss you," or "You look beautiful"? What would Compassion be if we couldn't say "I am so sorry for your loss," or "Would you like to talk about it?" or "Please help me"? What would Peace be without hearing "Everything will be okay," or "Yes, I agree to those terms," or "I'm here now"? What would Forgiveness be without "I'm sorry," "I forgive you," "I understand now"?

Sure, actions speak louder than words, but we know actions by their words. The difference between "hugging" and "restraining" someone is not so much in the action, but in its name, in the intent behind the gesture, a meaning we dictate and understand through language. Tears come from happiness and sadness both, but happy tears stream through a smile, and a smile signifies happiness only because we know the word "happiness."

Everything has a name, which is what gives it meaning. We name our towns, our pets, our children. We name our body parts, our moods, our possessions. We agree to things by saying Yes; we object to things by saying No. We explain ourselves in letters, essays, text messages, songs.

We express things in art and music as well, but they have "messages." They communicate Words to us, through colors or sound. We say a piece of music "speaks" to us; it makes us feel empowered or sad or pensive or inspired or exhilarated. The piece might be too complicated for words, but we try, because otherwise the meaning evaporates. There is nothing so frustrating as hearing something too beautiful to translate into language. We have to try, or we can't quite share it--with others or even with ourselves.

If I want to show you my new house, I might point at the building, but your mind processes and organizes the sight with words:  "It's a house. It has windows and doors and a wrap-around porch. I love what they've done with the yard. And look at those barn wood shutters!" Without words, what would you think? How would you even know what you were seeing? Without names for the impressions of the world, we would live in blind chaos, not even able to articulate our confusion and longing for order.

We have national anthems to promote patriotism.
We have names to call each other.
The Berlin Wall fell with words:  "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall."
Rosa Parks expressed her freedom with a word:  "No."
We detest liars; we crave truth.
Famous dictators and famous prophets alike make speeches to win followers.
Words are the most powerful--and arguably the only--tools of persuasion.
Companies use mottoes; politicians use slogans.
We use words to exchange marriage vows and write treaties.
We give our word in promises.
We ask "how do you feel?" and then expect a verbal explanation.
In court, we convict and acquit with words:  "Guilty." "Innocent."

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. Of all the things in all the world, God chose Words as the first synonym for himself. The powers to convict or acquit, commune or deny, praise or scorn, love or dismiss, all lie within in God himself; all lie within Words. In giving us the power of language, God has given us a part of his very self. Who knows what God looks like, but we were made in His image because we were made from Words, and we exist on them daily just as God lives on Words, lives on Himself.

If Words are not the absolute foundation of existence, the most beautiful and precious and powerful thing on earth, then what is? I dare you to find it and convince me without them.

~Stephanie

I've Been Reading

Since school ended, I've been able to start reading for fun again.

"Read," is the advice always given to budding writers. Actual practice helps your writing improve too, but reading... It seems to train your mind to Hear and See the world with capital Hs and Ss.

When your car rushes through a rain puddle, the sound registers as "a lush hiss" instead of not registering at all. A dance recital audience reaction becomes "an appreciative rumble of laughter" instead of just "chuckling." You have conversations and naturally detect things like others' "clunky giddiness"or "apologetic authority."

To me, words give the world more substance. When I read a lot, I start to sense the depth in the molecules around me. It's not like the world is brighter; it's like I start to see new colors. Everything isn't more beautiful, but everything is more intentional, specific. I'm not sitting on my couch; I'm sitting on My Couch, where I had a kiss that tasted like ramen, where I first fell asleep on Gabe, where I once cried a tear stain into the cushion.

When I immerse myself in words, everything feels more real. It's like tapping a secret source of energy.

I guess this makes sense, seeing as the entire world is Words. "In the beginning...the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep... And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."

This entire world is literally words. There was nothing, and then God spoke, and from His words came the existence that I now try to describe with my own words, like "lush hiss" and "appreciative rumble." Is that redundant? To use words in an attempt to express/describe/create a reality that is already so perfectly linguistically expressed that it is actually tangible?

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."

Jesus is--maybe literally, maybe figuratively, maybe spiritually (which is probably some inexpressible middle ground there)--Words. God is Words. He made our world of words with His words. We are in this world, made in the image of God. We are spoken. We are words. The light is words; the water is words; the land is words; the day and night are words.

So yes, it makes sense that everything gets more beautiful and more real when I connect with words. Don't you understand the ocean better when you jump in?

Words are fun and powerful and persuasive and enduring and endearing and funny and piercing and beautiful and satisfying and frightening and dangerous. I like words, on principle, because I am a writer and a reader and I like to reason and persuade. But even deeper than that, I like words because I think they are cosmically important. When it all comes down to it, the world is just atoms and energy and space.

But when atoms and energy and space come down to it, they are all words.

~Stephanie

Souls are Songs

Every soul is a song.

There are different instruments, genres, tempos, lyrics, voices, messages, depths, audiences. It’s all music, yes; but at the same time, each song is radically different.

Deep within your soul song is harmony, running through each note with thrilling depth and revelation.

Harmony is your purpose, path, desire, goal. It's always there, but you have to hear it in order to sing it. Sometimes you recognize it out of nowhere, and you wonder how you missed it before. Sometimes other people have to point it out to you, sing it with you, to get you to notice it.

Sometimes you lose the harmony, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve sung it or listened for it. It’s always there, but you’ll stop hearing it if you aren’t careful.

There’s more than one harmony. You have alto harmony, and soprano harmony, and variations in between.

Sometimes you can only be hear or sing one harmony, but sometimes you can hear multiples. Then you have to choose which best suits your voice. Or, if you’re singing with someone else, you pick the harmony that best complements his.

Songs can be played with different instruments to get different effects. It depends on what instruments are available, what effect you’re going for, and for whom you’re playing. But your song is always the same, and usually a certain arrangement will suit it best.

Our souls were composed by one who delights in His music. He delights in sharing it; he delights when it’s listened to, analyzed, and appreciated.

He loves all His songs and He created each with a unique harmony. He eagerly awaits the day when each perfect harmony will be hummed, and every song will reach its glorious full potential to awe, inspire, convict, and transform.

~Stephanie