a terribly late post

Weeks ago - over a month now, I'm pretty sure - I went on a retreat to Saugatuck, Michigan, with the women of my current church. I was a little reluctant, as I knew only two of the 26 women that were going to be there, and said retreat was bound to involve planning, and packing, and riding in a car during times when I could be...sleeping. Or whatever it is that everyone else does on the weekends; I haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet. And then, of course, I would have to interact with people, answering the same five or six questions over and over again – yes, I work in theater, no, I'm not an actress, yes, I've been living in Chicago for a little over a year now, no, the school I went to isn't that Truman, it's the other one that you have probably never seen. And yes, I've been to the church before. You may have met me and forgotten me; anything's possible!

a medium-length ramble

begin with the assumption

that you are Enough.

I currently have these words hanging on my wall, above my desk, right next to my computer screen. I hung them there because a) I am one of those people that hangs “inspirational quotes” on my walls; I have hung them on post-its and post-cards and the backs of playbills and the corners of napkins and, when I am feeling particularly strongly, I have occasionally scrawled them on my own skin, in permanent ink so that they stay there long enough that my eyes have memorized their shape by the time they’re gone

And b)

{insert something clever here}

Good afternoon and Happy Wednesday, people of the internet!

At one point, I drafted a terribly long and thinky and super-seriously overblown blog post meant to reintroduce myself in this space, but then I lost it in an explosion of visitors and overdue paperwork. In the long run, I'm glad I did, because it was so awful, guys. Suffice to say that I'm back, I've got a whole pile of new and exciting and slightly different things I might be writing about, and I will also include the occasional life update, as it occurs to me, because it's been brought to my attention that certain of you would sure like to know I am still alive. Fair enough!

For now, though...because they are definitely more interesting than me rambling on in the abstract about where my head's been lately...delicious links!

AFP being awesome (as per usual)

If we know each other very well at all, you will already be aware of my mad fangirling feels about Amanda Palmer. This is a link to her blog post thanking all the people who helped with her recent TED Talk (which was lovely and you should watch it if you haven't already!), and I am pretty much in love with how she does music, celebrity, vulnerability, people and life in general. Especially in this instance - it's not usually that sexy to talk in detail about all the little random people who have held you up on your way to rockstar-dom (literally or figuratively), but she makes a point of it, and yes, she makes it sexy. Here's the creative process, she says - no, there's no loner genius here; instead it's a hundred drafts and a thousand cups of tea and a million listening, critiquing, encouraging friends. Read her. Listen to her. Love her. Join the movement. You're welcome.

The Middle.

I've been following this blogger named Jamie The Very Worst Missionary for awhile now, off and on, and aside from being a refreshingly Real person (dude, she talks about poop way too much to be a proper Christian blogger; it's great), she occasionally hosts her awesome friends to talk about important things - in this case, God, Jewish holidays, categories, and living in the tension. I'm not Jewish, but I live on the Christianity spectrum, and the philosophy behind this post feels a lot like the places my God And The Universe-related thoughts have been exploring lately.

Vintage.Black.Glamour.

I think the title says it all, really. I could try to come up with something profound about blackness and beauty and portrayals as they change over time, but I think we're all smart enough to just mentally fill that in...

In other news, the show I'm stage managing closes on Sunday (that went fast!), I've got at least two more projects lined up for after that, and life is goooood, if slightly hectic! Thanks for reading, friends. Be back in a bit.

~L

a tribute.

Sometimes I get horribly lonely here. Mostly it hits in the mornings - I'll think, if I never even get out of bed today, who will notice or care?, and What's the point if moving away from home if everywhere I go, no matter how cool, my loneliness comes with me?

But then I realize that I'm not really alone, not ever - and it's not because I live in a warm fuzzy awareness of the Divine presence or something, because let's be honest, I'm not that spiritual. It is because I am deeply, humblingly aware of how much help I have had to get even this far in life, how much support and unconditional love it takes to get me through every singe day, up to and including this one. Even though they aren't with me, I walk all day with my family.

on faith / sex

***Warning: this post has content that some of you may find offensive. Please realize that it's written with the intent to amuse, and is in no way intended to be insulting, dirty, or vaguely blasphemous. (Boy, I bet you're interested now.) See this? This is my tongue in my cheek. Note it. Thanks!***


"You'll just have to have faith about it..."
"I'm really struggling with my faith right now..."
"We just need to walk in faith..."

Question: What do all these phrases have in common?
Answer: They're CLICHES. They're BORING. Most of all, they're so often said in a way that is trite, insincere, and incredibly, drippingly PIOUS.

a quick look backwards

Hello, friends!

Well, here we are, just a couple of days from 2012. I thought for awhile about trying to pull together some kind of Best-Of post, but honestly, my year wasn't nearly that simple.

SO META

Last post of the day, guys ... promise ...

Okay, so I just have to share some of the blogs I have been reading with you guys. I blame them entirely for how long it has been (before today, I mean) since I blogged last - I have been trawling through these guys and thinking, "Oh my goodness, how can I become this awesome?!"

(This issue probably has a lot to do with the fact that the majority of the blogs I read have a clear central topic, and here in cactus-town, we definitely don't. But that's a prickly problem for another time.)

Anyway, here's my internet reading list. Enjoy! Click on stuff! And let me know what you think.

man, forget church.

I don't feel like going.

Actually, it's a little bit stronger than that - I have been upset at the end of every church service I've attended in this town, and not in a good, sanctifying sort of way. More like in a You Just Wasted Two Hours of My Valuable Sleeping Time With Your Empty Platitudes sort of way. I have an active desire to stay defiantly in bed tomorrow morning, eat Peanut Butter Crunch, and tune into my favorite long-distance preacher, Darrin Patrick, via The Journey's website.

And you know what? You know what? I don't really think I'm wrong to feel this way. Not entirely.

Staunton, pt. 1: friends from the road

Hello, friends! I write you from Staunton, VA, tiny mountain town and proud "Breadbasket of the Confederacy." So far, the only confederate flags I've seen have been on the tourist brochures ... but I'm sure that'll change, sooner or later.
Anyway, I have a backlog of blog-age for you, so we'll start with what I wrote on the way here, and work our way forward to the present in a post or two, yes? Yes. Here we go.

***

Saturday morning, I jolted out of bed at the inhospitable hour of 5AM, dressed, ate, said goodbye to my family, and had my Dad drive me to the station, for the second time in six months.

blast from the past

12-18-10

There's a fascinating image in Genesis 18 today: Abraham's sitting in the door of his tent, three men appear, and immediately he runs to bow and greet them as 'My Lord'. Not Lords. They don't announce themselves, and he shows no doubt or hesitation about their importance or his duty to serve them. So I wonder: what must they have looked like? Did they approach like angels, bathed in light, eyes fiery, with the lustre of brass on their skin? I don't think they would've had fire-breathing horses or burning swords, given the occasion, but maybe their clothes and sandals were silver and gold?

So. Much. Paperwork.

I am cleaning my room, reading Nathaniel Hawthorne and messing with my blog settings to avoid doing the paperwork.
Silly me; I thought it would be all done (or at least mostly done) by the time I got accepted to Kingston. Oh, no. Much more paperwork is required, once you're actually coming, than is needed just to let you try.

It's almost Christmas, dear readers, and although I'm not as much of a Scrooge as I was last year, it's still hard for me to really get into the spirit of things. This happens every year - everyone's eating cookies, watching TV specials, decorating and partying and giving to charity and I'm like, "Please leave me alone. It's cold and dark outside, and this means gloom."
Maybe part of it is that, even though the holiday is presented as sort of a happy parallel to Easter (or to Good Friday, really), I never can get over the fact that, picturesque as the Nativity scenes are, we are still remembering the birth of a God-child who was, firstly, committing the humblest, most sacrificial act imaginable by stepping down from God-ness (and the eternal companionship of the Trinity) to become a creature of breath and dust. Secondly, this child's only purpose in becoming was to die.
Did Mary actually get that, when the angel told her what was going to happen? Did it strike her, in its full weight, when He was born? Or did the knowledge sit somewhere deep inside her, mercifully muffled for thirty-three years, until her Son was tortured and hung out like so much carrion? When she faced Him then, was it the first time she had to swallow the fact that His entire life was lived for this moment?

I guess this is why Christmas isn't cute to me. Sometimes, though, it is peaceful. Thanks be to God.

I don't have epiphanies. Just mental housecleanings.

I read my bits of Acts and Philippians today…and I don’t know, somewhere between “be anxious for nothing” and “I count all things loss for Christ,” it hit me that if going to grad school for stage management, heck, if having a career in stage management isn’t going to or can’t be an act of love and worship for me – if it’s really all about late nights, too much caffeine, and sweating the small stuff…then why would I do it?

I’m not expressing myself well.

Anything that becomes too big and defining a part of one’s identity, save belonging to and with and in Christ, is going to become burdensome eventually. I have been there. Babysitter, best friend, stage manager – these are all good things, and I have abused them and suffered the consequences! I should know this by now. But maybe it took this semester to bring it home; maybe I needed this particular intersection of events to help me realize that stage management is not who I am, it is how I worship. Just like my relationships. Just like all my other work, anything I care about at all. When it tries to become more than that – when I start stressing about my Whole Future hanging on my abilities and all-inclusive drive in this area – we run into trouble.

What’s the verse? “I led her into dry places, where there is no water…and there I spoke tenderly to her.” Possibly Ezekiel. Or Song of Songs. Either way, I understand: God needs to take us into the desert for us to come out of our stupid blindness and finally turn to him, plugging ourselves in to his goodness and beauty and richness for all our needs, otherwise we are taken in by the excitement of other things, not realizing (we are very shortsighted) that everything must needs come back to him, and when we try to detach it and make it just our own, for our fulfillment in itself, it will wither and die.

Unless I have offered up my life as a sacrifice to be taken away, broken, killed and burnt first, it is of no use, to me or anyone else. I have to give it to Him in order for Him to entrust it to me, richer and better fed than before.

You may wonder what provoked this particular post. Well, it turns out that DePaul doesn’t actually offer stage management as a graduate study program. I was confused or misinformed somehow; they have it for undergraduate, but their graduate program is actually quite different. There was something about having all my rosy-starred expectations imploded in this way that made me stop and think, and realize how heavily I have been leaning on this future career to give me some fulfillment in life. And then, of course, we ran up against some basic assumptions and presumptions that I didn’t even know I had. Which train of thought has been none too pleasant, but is always good.

I’m still in love with Chicago, though. And I still want to work and live there; I’m still turning over ideas and theaters in my head. But now I’m thinking more seriously about what I’m expecting to get out of this, what I need to do for that meaning or fulfillment, and I’m wondering about ministry. I'm surprised I've never seriously thought about this before, actually - I think all the happiest, most content people I know have some area of ministry and/or sacrifice evident in their lives.

Sorry to leave you hanging at Michigan Avenue, by the way. In future, I will know to write my adventure-days all in one go, then post them in parts – otherwise they never get done at all. If anyone is really dying to know what else happened (doubtful), though, leave me a comment:) 

wasted space

What would it be like, to not believe in God?

To live in an empty universe, the endless fields of stars un-hemmed by any fence, any 'Hedge Of Protection', with no loving or holy or judging eye looking down? No small voice in the silence. No comforting arms in the darkness. No rule. Only the human self, free and unhindered and uncared about, to do as it wished, love as it could, and, possibly, comprehend total insignificance. I defy anyone to feel important in the face of the night sky.

I read once about a man who said he could not believe in God, because he didn’t believe that anyone would waste as much empty space in their creation as was ‘wasted’ in our universe. I smile at this. It’s quite reasonable, if you think about it. It would take a special, simple, fond foolishness, wouldn’t it, to open up all that space just so that one’s children could have stars in their sky?