tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72347112941247520772011-09-09T08:46:50.942-07:00"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." Philippians 4:8Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.comBlogger371100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-32517531229129020292011-08-19T13:22:00.000-07:002011-08-19T13:22:00.275-07:00[on the enemies of God]<div> <br /></div><div>verses 11 and 12:</div><div> <br /></div><div>Though they plan evil against you,</div><div>though they devise mischief, they will not succeed.</div><div> <br /></div><div>For you will put them to flight;</div><div>you will aim at their faces with your bows.</div><div> <br /></div><div>wow, let's inahle and exhale deeply - that is ridiculously intense.</div><div> <br /></div><div>you will aim at their face with your bows?</div><div> <br /></div><div>over the summer, I began to see and experience God as Fierce Judge. Think of God as revealed in the Old Testament. and I don't totally understand him and his decisions. head-knowledge, yes. soul knowledge, yes. heart knowledge? not yet. and maybe not in this lifetime. i am learning that is ok. He is God. I am me.</div><div> <br /></div><div>what has been life and faith changing is that because of Jesus' sacrifice, I am able to stand totally clean and blameless before this Fierce Judge. I am able to be guided, doted upon, and loved by a God who aims at the faces of his enemies with his bows completely unafraid, but rather, protected. </div><div> <br /></div><div>I stand in the eye of a hurricane because of Jesus Christ.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Because of him, his former enemies are made dearly loved children, siblings, co-heirs, workers, and servants of Christ. I pray that we would continue to let the truth that we receive mercy, even grace, instead of wrath steep deeply in out lives. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-3251753122912902029?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-73406706916931926322011-08-17T12:34:00.000-07:002011-08-17T12:34:00.115-07:00verse 7:<div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in chariots and some in horses,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in GPAs and GRE scores,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in internships and high salaries,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in power and the stock market,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in titles and graduate schools,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in choosing the right job and spouse,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in being good parents and moving into the right neighborhoods,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in successful ministry and fellowship attendance,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in conversion numbers and membership growth,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Some trust in self-preservation and self-righteousness,</div><div>but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-7340670691693192632?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-11488742231769569572011-08-15T11:54:00.000-07:002011-08-15T11:54:00.698-07:00verses 13 and 14:<div> <br /><div>Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins;</div><div>let them not have dominion over me!</div><div>Then I shall be blameless,</div><div>and innocent of great transgression.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart</div><div>be acceptable in your sight,</div><div>O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.</div><div> <br /></div><div>For those of us living in a post-Resurrection world, Jesus has completed this sinless life for us because we couldn't and didn't want to and honestly, didn't even know where to begin. It is such a tricky thing, desiring blamelessness before God because we aren't trying to earn his favor, but rather, this is how we can express it! I pray that we wouldn't pursue righteousness for our own holiness-levels, but so that we may point others to God's Holiness and Goodness through our lives. </div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-1148874223176956957?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-25903316744678897132011-05-15T11:47:00.000-07:002011-08-13T12:21:15.482-07:00<div>verse 1:</div><div>I love you, LORD, my strength.</div><div> <br /></div><div>What are we doing that requires strength?</div><div>What are we failing to do because it requires strength?</div><div> <br /></div>verse 2:<div>The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;</div><div>my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,</div><div>my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. </div><div> <br /></div><div>I love this because the author presents us with seemingly contradicting pictures of God.</div><div>We have security we are defended by: a rock, a fortress, a stronghold.</div><div>And yet we also have these wildly offensive depictions as well: a deliverer, a shield, a horn.</div><div> <br /></div><div>It is good having a God who we can both seek safety in and who will go out to battle for us.</div><div> <br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-2590331674467889713?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-43539122378380405232011-05-15T11:36:00.000-07:002011-05-15T11:47:10.864-07:00verse 15: <div>As for me, I will be vindicated and will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness.<div><br /></div><div>I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness. </div><div><br /></div><div>Colossians 1:15 [Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the gospels, we have stories of Christ.</div><div>Him healing mother-in-laws and asking brutal rhetorical questions and giving himself away as a ransom for ignorant and hostile hostages. </div><div>We get to see him live.</div><div>We get to see his likeness.</div><div><br /></div><div>If we will be satisfied with seeing his likeness, how much more satisfying can it be to live in and with his likeness?</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-4353912237838040523?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-43467548013572971902011-04-21T22:48:00.001-07:002011-04-22T12:13:06.620-07:00This psalm has one of my favorite truths:<div><br /></div><div>verse 2: I say to the LORD, "You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing."</div><div><br /></div><div>Even the best things I have in this life right now, healthy and growing relationships, good health, and (ridiculous amounts of) privilege, pale in comparison to the goodness of God. Not just His goodness though.</div><div><br /></div><div>How sad would it be if like relationships, health, and privilege, the goodness of God were limited to the earth, limited to a time and place.</div><div><br /></div><div>Temporal.</div><div><br /></div><div>But it's not. </div><div><br /></div><div>Our Lord is not only good, but He is faithful and constant and steadfast. </div><div><br /></div><div>I pray for the clarity and humility in knowing that apart from Him, I have no good thing. I want to love the Giver, not the gifts. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-4346754801357297190?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-90226168047869495562011-04-21T22:45:00.000-07:002011-04-21T22:46:31.865-07:00<div><span class="Apple-style-span" >This psalm asks "LORD, who may dwell in your sacred tent?" and proceeds to list out all the requirements to live on God's holy mountain. The one in particular that stands out to me is "who speaks the truth from their heart."</span></div><div><p><span class="Apple-style-span" >This tells me two things:</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" >1) This person has truth in their heart and</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" >2) He or she has the love and boldness to speak it.</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" >I am neither, but I thank God that because of Jesus, I can dwell with Him in His Sacred Tent, His Holy Mountain. And by being there, God will plant Truth in my heart and give me the boldness to speak it.</span></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-9022616804786949556?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-65039558472026949972010-12-10T09:54:00.001-08:002010-12-10T10:00:53.533-08:003 All have turned aside<br />they have together become corrupt,<br />there is no one who does good,<br />not even one.<br /><br />What I find challenging about this verse is the idea of collective corruption, communal corruption. Not only evil within individuals, but among them: our individual fears, insecurities, and wounds bleed out and hurt the people around us.<br /><br />We have a planet filled with broken people that inevitably create broken systems, only egging each other on in selfishness and destruction.<br /><br />I don't want to acknowledge that my individual refusal to care for "the least of these" (Matthew 25:40) contributes to a global disparity between the rich and the poor.<br />I don't want to see that my individual dishonesty in relationships is the same strain of dishonesty in hedge-fund economic practices.<br />I don't want to admit that my individual passivity towards sex trafficking results in even more women, girls, and boys being brutalized.<br /><br />And this is what I love about God, that he offers not only individual healing, but communal restoration as well.<br /><br />He is just that big.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-6503955847202694997?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-85944870613212373122010-11-20T22:46:00.000-08:002010-11-21T21:11:55.224-08:001 How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever?<div>How long will you hide your face from me?</div><div>2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts</div><div>and day after day have sorrow in my heart?</div><div>How long will my enemy triumph over me?</div><div><br /></div><div>The psalmist presently questions the existence and power and love of God. He questions whether God will do what he says he will do: heal, strengthen, restore, save.</div><div><br /></div><div>5 But I trust in your unfailing love;</div><div>my heart rejoices in your salvation.</div><div>6 I will sing the LORD's praise,</div><div>for he has been good to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this time, he turns to what God has done for him in the past. Remembering God's provision and goodness in the past to bring clarity and certainty to the present.</div><div><br /></div><div>And this time, that is enough.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-8594487061321237312?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-90873805848493556362010-11-19T09:37:00.000-08:002010-11-19T09:40:39.433-08:006 And the words of the LORD are flawless,<br />like silver refined in a furnace of clay,<br />purified seven times.<br /><br />I often feel cheesy when thinking about the promises of God. I perceive them to be slogans we print on mugs and Christian t shirts rather than beautiful and rare and pure and eternal. Flawless. They are perfect and absolute truths. There are no conditions or loopholes or strings attached. They bring life and restoration our lives and our world screams for.<br /><br />Words like Zephaniah 3:17:<br />The LORD your God is with you,<br />he is mighty to save.<br />He will take great delight in you,<br />he will quiet you with his love,<br />he will rejoice over you with singing.<br /><br />What words of God are bringing you life?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-9087380584849355636?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-85778044823947232802010-11-14T20:07:00.000-08:002010-11-17T19:34:27.283-08:003 When the foundations are being destroyed,<div>what can the righteous do?</div><div>4 The LORD is in his holy temple;</div><div>the LORD is on his heavenly throne.</div><div>He observes everyone on earth;</div><div>hi eyes examine them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lately, I have felt like my foundation of self-reliance and self-protection have been taken away.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been nervous, inarticulately moody, and sullen, unable to explain how or why I felt ravaged by guilt, fear, and anxiety.</div><div><br /></div><div>I felt shaken, without a foundation.</div><div><br /></div><div>After his rhetorical question, the psalmist assert what the foundation-less can do: know that the LORD is in his holy temple, on his heavenly throne. How frustrating is that?! The man without a foundation can do nothing but know. Know and trust that God is set apart by His goodness + justice + purity + mercy + power.</div><div><br /></div><div>That "upright men will see his face" rather than illusions of self-importance and security. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-8577804482394723280?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-7050655563478806782010-11-13T07:27:00.000-08:002010-11-14T19:55:23.113-08:00In his pride the wicked does not seek [the LORD];<div>in all his thoughts there is no room for God.</div><div>5 His ways are always prosperous; he is haughty and</div><div>you laws are far from him;</div><div>he sneers at all his enemies.</div><div>6 He says to himself, "Nothing will shake me;</div><div>I'll always be happy and never have trouble."</div><div><br /></div><div>The psalmist continues to describe the wicked and how they oppress others. I identify most* with this man's pride, with a religious twist. I settle for what I already have: my faith in God. I don't seek out more of God. I don't yearn to be challenged or encounter God in new ways. I think that my relationship with God is all it'll ever be, as opposed to relationship that will continue to deepen and grow in beauty and intimacy as it ages. I assume God is finite and that I covered all the bases; I've got my theology down pat and I've already been transformed by God.</div><div><br /></div><div>My narrow view of God and my complacency crowd out any room for God. Nothing will shake me; I'll always be happy and never have trouble. </div><div><br /></div><div>*I am starting to see how I relate to this "wicked Psalm 10" man in other ways. He's not a cartoon villain twirling an outrageously curly mustache. He stalks victims in ambush: how often do I wait for people to make mistakes and sin just to silently judge them? He murders the innocent: Is it murder if I'd rather spend 20 dollars on a new shirt I don't need than on <a href="http://www.charitywater.org">helping someone have clean water for 20 years?</a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-705065556347880678?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-84550295805756748782010-11-13T07:19:00.000-08:002010-11-13T07:27:02.583-08:005 You have rebuked the nations and destroyed the wicked;<div> you have blotted out their name forever and ever.</div><div>6 Endless ruin has overtaken the enemy,</div><div> you have uprooted their cities;</div><div> even the memory of them has perished.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel fake when praising God for his destruction and wrath because it terrifies me thinking of my Father act this way.</div><div><br /></div><div>This enraged, violent God. </div><div><br /></div><div>The only analogy I can think of that doesn't make me cringe is the thought of a child being kidnapped and sold into slavery, sex trafficked, and his or her Father doing whatever it takes to rescue His child. I am glad that God is enraged by injustice and oppression and slavery, enraged enough to do something about it and save us. </div><div><br /></div><div>I once heard this prayer something to the effect of, "Let us love you and other people, and hate nothing but sin itself." I really like it because I don't have a hatred for sin right now. Not yet, but I'm starting to see why we need it. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-8455029580575674878?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-21565767502207779212010-10-13T07:20:00.000-07:002010-10-13T07:24:03.500-07:00verses 3 &amp; 4:<div>"When I consider your heavens,</div><div>the work of your fingers,</div><div>the moon and the stars,</div><div>which you have set in place,</div><div>what is man that you are mindful of him,</div><div>the son of man that you care for him?"</div><div><br /></div><div>It is absolutely preposterous that God would care for humans - mortals comprised of decaying flesh and brittle bones, unable to truly heal themselves or truly heal each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm glad that they author finds it crazy absurd, and though he isn't able to articulate an explanation as to why God would care for humans, he praises God for who He is and He's done: "O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!" (verses 1 &amp; 9)</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-2156576750220777921?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-74700134335460070462010-10-11T19:32:00.000-07:002010-10-11T19:36:11.370-07:00There is one line in particular I find striking: "Awake, my God; decree justice."<div><br /></div><div>I see this as a plea. A plea as the author looks around at the devastation and brokenness and helplessness and vicious cycles that engulf him. Overwhelm him. He sees God as absent. Asleep. Oblivious. Ignorant. Indifferent.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yet he knows his God and knows that He is a righteous God and a righteous judge and will "layeth the smacketh down" (credit: friend).</div><div><br /></div><div>But "decree justice?"</div><div><br /></div><div>That is so much more than busting out guns and killing the bad guys. Decreeing justice requires complete structural renovation and public renewal. There is order and purpose that comes from authority and wisdom and fairness. Justice is so much more than the absence of conflict. We so desperately need a righteous judge. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-7470013433546007046?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-87789001975688885672010-10-03T00:41:00.000-07:002010-10-03T00:47:37.875-07:00This is probably one of my favorite Psalms because of its honesty.<div>This is probably one of the most unsettling Psalms because of its honesty. </div><div><br /></div><div>"bones in agony"</div><div>"soul is in anguish"</div><div>"worn out from groaning"</div><div>"i flood my bed with weeping"</div><div>"drench my couch with tears"</div><div>"eyes grow weak with sorrow"</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not sure what had occurred to provoke the writing of this Psalm, but it sounds long and messy and hard. All he does is describes the state he is in. There's no explanation for how or why he's there. He doesn't even acknowledge that the LORD has done anything to rescue him or comfort him yet, but the LORD has done 3 things:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. "heard my weeping"</div><div>2. "heard my cry for mercy"</div><div>3. "accepts my prayer"</div><div><br /></div><div>The LORD seems incredibly passive and removed and powerless while the Psalmist implodes.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am so grateful that David, the man after God's heart, the man from which the Savior of the world would descend from, reconciling God to us, us to each other, and us to the earth, felt this way too on at least one occasion. </div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-8778900197568888567?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-21440207581011614872010-09-26T21:41:00.000-07:002010-09-26T21:50:58.021-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-13979" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >5</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>The arrogant</b> cannot stand in your presence;<br /> you hate all who do wrong.</span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-13980" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >6</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > You destroy <b>those who tell lies</b>;<br /> bloodthirsty and deceitful men<br /> the LORD abhors.</span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-13981" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >7</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > But I, <b>by your great mercy</b>,<br /> will come into your house;<br /> in reverence will I bow down<br /> toward your holy temple.</span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think of myself as an arrogant person. See, even typing that I feel arrogant. It's because I think about myself alot. And I also think about thinking about myself alot, and I think self-awareness is healthy and good, but self-centeredness and self-obsession is goofy and ridiculous and terrible and easy. I will do anything I can to convince you that I like you because I want you to think that I like you and am a good person. </span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is so not who I want to be. </span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A friend and I were talking about how I am a "like me" person. "Like me, please" is my subtle cry. As I try to follow Jesus, I pray that by his grace and power, he will transform me into a "Because of Jesus, I love you" person.</span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm also a lying person. I don't come up with elaborate lies - I'm not clever enough. Recently, I've let white lies slip into my relationship with my boyfriend, and I confess them to him because I don't want even a hint of deceit in our relationship. He and what we have are too good to chip away at in my misguided attempts at "saying the right thing" rather than showing love by trusting and being honest. I don't want a facade of political-correctness; I want a mess of loving authenticity. </span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thank you God, for your mercies which endure in spite of my arrogance and lies. Mercy trumps my mess. Awesome. </span></span></p></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-2144020758101161487?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-4256582537943749152010-09-24T21:18:00.000-07:002010-09-24T21:29:22.752-07:00<sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-13972" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >6</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" > Many are asking, "Who can show us any good?"<br /> Let the light of your face shine upon us, O LORD.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >It is ridiculously hard to believe that there is Good in the world. People often say, "Just look at the newspaper headlines." What scares me even more is when the layers of a single headline are peeled away.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > 24 September 2010 11:52 ET</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >BBC News</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-11407180">DR Congo Rapes 'Defy Belief,' says UN</a></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >How are the victims doing? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What drives someone to violate another person?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What does the rapist think before falling asleep at night?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >How are the aid workers doing?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >When did the need for the UN arise?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >How is this news relayed to the rest of the world?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Why is apathy so comfortable?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >How are the journalists doing?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Why is there a lack of justice?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >When did sex become a weapon of war?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >How does healing happen?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >God. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Is there any good?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Please give me the eyes to see the light of your face shine upon us. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-425658253794374915?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-40201972728479138382010-09-23T13:23:00.000-07:002010-09-23T13:29:10.127-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" >In this Psalm, "Selah" is introduced. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Selah is a liturgical/musical instruction to the effect of "stop and listen" or "let those with eyes see and those with ears hear."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-13962" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >4</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" > To the LORD I cry aloud,<br /> and he answers me from his holy hill.<br /> Selah</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >That one caught my attention in particular because I began to think of all those times we cry aloud to God and don't get answers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What are we listening for then?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What are we missing now by not stopping and listening?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-4020197272847913838?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-50443710697022905652010-09-22T13:55:00.000-07:002010-09-22T14:13:53.526-07:00I've decided to go through a Psalm a day and post my thoughts. Today's psalm isn't connecting with my brain. As a whole, I don't really understand it because it mentions kings and kingdoms and rulers, and I don't have any experience with them. <div><br /></div><div>And then I started thinking about God's Kingdom, and how I can just think about it and gush about it and be captivated by it and desire to be a part of it and throw out hot buzz words like </div><div>revolutionary</div><div>relevant</div><div>social justice</div><div>forgiveness</div><div>missional</div><div>transformational</div><div>counter-cultural</div><div>sacrificial</div><div>reconciliation</div><div><br /></div><div>And I can't help but think that sometimes, seeing God's Kingdom gets in the way of me seeing God. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love looking at things my friends have created: poetry, crafts, blogs, music, photos, events, scrapbooks. Seeing what they have made shows me more of who they are and what they love and are about and want to see more of in the world. It makes me do a double-take at its creator; it points to them and their heart and that is a beautiful thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to view God's Kingdom in the same way.</div><div>I want to know the Creator and His Beauty more fully because of what I have seen. </div><div>The Kingdom is merely a taste of who God is, and that is awesome. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-5044371069702290565?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-32473007833574740062010-09-21T17:18:00.000-07:002010-09-21T17:41:43.981-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; "><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-13941" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >1</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > Blessed is the man<br /> who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked<br /> or stand in the way of sinners<br /> or sit in the seat of mockers.</span></span><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-13942" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >2</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > But his delight is in the law of the LORD,<br /> and on his law he meditates day and night.</span></span></p></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" >i like how the psalmist first lists all these verbs: walk, stand, sit, and then in the next verse is </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >meditate</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" >. to me, it is distinct from the other actions, and seems to transcend day to day movement; it is the source of daily activity. i also am trying to learn about what meditation actually is. i like to think that its like chewing on scripture all day and night. that changes the way i view the bible because it cant just be something i do at the start of the day and then close the cover. it lingers and teases and i hope that it steeps in my brain and in my soul. reading the bible cannot just be passive to me or else it feels like a chore. for the man the psalmist writes about, the law of the Lord seems to be the source and sustainer of his life. thats INTENSE. since when have i viewed nahum that way? or even "Love the Lord your God and your neighbor" that way?</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-3247300783357474006?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-78427342451909551182010-06-21T09:44:00.000-07:002010-06-21T09:53:37.842-07:00My desk is littered with envelopes and stamps and addresses of friends who are too far away to hug. And everyone loves letters.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was born,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was born to sing for you.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I didn't have a choice but to lift you up,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And sing whatever song you wanted me to.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I give you back my voice from the womb</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My first cry, it was a joyful noise.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Magnificient" - U2</div><div><br /></div><div>So the combination of loved ones + uplifting music is really working right now.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-7842734245190955118?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-46515993498323043562010-05-18T03:01:00.000-07:002010-05-18T03:29:59.410-07:00I'm not a music person.<div>I like Justin Bieber and I like singing the chorus to "Horchata" by Vampire Weekend to give the appearance of good taste.</div><div>I don't know why; music just never stuck with me the way words do. </div><div><br /></div><div>But this one,</div><div>this one haunts me.</div><div>It's so mournful and full of yearning.</div><div>The fragility of it is terrifying.</div><div>The way the melody runs hand in hand with silence is eerie, yet warm. </div><div>It sounds like a song that would be played at the funeral of a beautiful person.</div><div>The song is wisps of his or her life, the ethereal entwined with sadness. </div><div>The song restores me. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-4651599349832304356?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-21423296644797616182010-01-29T21:32:00.000-08:002010-02-08T22:33:38.736-08:00At first I thought that the best part of the road trip was when Kaylyn and I convinced Josh to sing along to "Wonderwall" because I have never heard him sing even though other people tell me he is phenomenal and he probably is and should let us hear him more often.<br /><br />But sorry, Josh.<br /><br />The stars in Pennsylvania didn't really have adjectives. I didn't even realize that the stars here were fuzzy blips compared to what they could truly look like. It wasn't until I saw the awesomeness of them in an untainted sky that it hit me how I had mistaken the mediocre for the magnificent, the fake for the authentic. And I still love the sky here. I still think the stars are beautiful, I still think it's incredible how I can make out the dark areas on the moon from here, I still think that the light pollution is eerily pretty. But it's just that whenever I look up now, I can't help but think of what I've seen.<br /><br />Humor them:<br />allow the grandeur of the stars<br />to unsettle You<br />shrink You<br />humble You so that You stand<br />as the speck you are<br />no spark of blazing plasma<br />within You<br />unable to provide light<br />for Yourself,<br />let alone anyone else.<br />Allow the sprawled constellations<br />fallen star<br />weary night plains<br />inspire You<br />rob You of your breath<br />with its hemisphere<br />stratosphere<br />atmosphere<br />a reminder so that You never forget<br />that You are vastly outnumbered<br />as You stand among the dust of the earth<br />that cries for water<br />You are unable to give<br /><br />And so You sit<br /><br />And wait<br /><br />I think I'm gonna need to go back again and just sit. And wait.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-2142329664479761618?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-61161731137500105532010-01-20T18:09:00.000-08:002010-01-20T18:27:05.791-08:00I don't care much for statistics.<br />I'm too cynical (73% of them are made up) and too desensitized, especially when they're about people dying.<br />I hate confronting statistics about people dying because I am completely numb and helpless, and then I get upset at myself for not caring and being complacent or offering a ho-hum, "Man, that sucks, doesn't it?"<br />Even worse is when I am confronted with a statistic of people dying with a superimposed picture of a young child because I know that face is more than a statistic, but I can't really feel anything. I don't feel a connection; I'm not compassionate enough, I don't desire to "suffer with" people I don't know and will never meet and more often than not, write off as people I can't help.<br /><br />So I was unmoved again, when I came across this statistic:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Every 3 seconds, a child dies because he or she was hungry.</span><br /><br />Just typing that, I feel nothing.<br /><br />But I'm not satisfied moving on from that.<br />I'm not ok moving on with my day knowing that in the span of typing this post hundreds of people have died as I much on my nighttime snack.<br />I'm not ok with living as if I didn't read that.<br />I want it to unsettle me, to break my heart. Atleast I think I do.<br /><br />I started thinking of what this would look like in my life, and with a little calculator action, these are the results:<br /><ul><li>the population at my state university would be dead in a little over 8 hours<br /></li><li>people at my church would die in 50 minutes</li><li>every single one of my facebook friends would die in 26 minutes<br /></li><li>my campus fellowship group would die in 3 minutes</li><li>my twenty closest friends would die in a single minute</li><li>my family would be dead in 12 seconds</li></ul>Consider me unsettled.<br />Punch in your own numbers.<br />Be uncomfortable.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-6116173113750010553?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-29557816182484542352009-12-12T14:19:00.000-08:002009-12-12T14:22:03.155-08:00My Dearest,<br /><br />My heart shall always go on. For you.<br /><br />Kisses, hugs and Celine Dion,<br /><br />Bethaboo<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-2955781618248454235?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-76808061786814091112009-11-17T07:30:00.000-08:002009-11-17T08:08:46.716-08:00Jason, the Professor:<br />"We've moved past the era where we rely on science and progress, structure and hierarchies to look for security. How do we reconcile the Enlightenment and democratization with the fact that billions of people are starving, right now? I know that even in this room, life is not easy for some of you. Some of you are working one, two jobs to pay for tuition. But you are all here. You are all college students. There are a billion people living on a handful of rice a day, and billions more working to move past that. You guys are it. You are at the tippity-top of the pyramid. You are the Global Shit.<br /><br />Now the question is, what are you going to do?"<br /><br />Something I learned over the summer is that the problem with privilege is that I'm always looking ahead. I'm always looking at my deficits. My inadequacies. My insufficiency. What I don't have and still want. I do some quick calculations in my head on how to progress, how to achieve, and work towards fulfilling our my equations and my agenda. Who I have to know, what I have to say so they like me, what I have to do.<br /><br />What I fail to do is look behind me: even geographically, to look at those who were not born in the United States, not born into an affluent East Coast county, not born into a neighborhood with a strong tax base to support public education, not born into a state that subsidizes university study, not born into a country or state that could afford it if it wanted to. This doesn't even take into consideration all the other obstacles that were removed for me on my fast track towards success and working up towards job stability and security, because that's what we all want, right? That's just geography, the longitude and latitude I'm in, on no merit of my own. And it has made all the difference.<br /><br />Jason's question terrifies and empowers. Here I am, at state university. On the quad, in the dorms: these are the world changers, the rising leaders, earth shakers. It's like merely walking out of here with a college diploma gives us a megaphone from which we can shout, and people will listen. But Jason's right: what will do, what will we say? Our amplified, elite-educated voices could drown out those of others, or amplify theirs.<br /><br />I know I risk sounding cheesy, but more than unoriginality, my fear is that I will do nothing. That I will slap the faces of those who support me being here: God, my family, my friends, my professors and teachers, my university administration, the politicians who decided that I was worth investing in, the tax payers who pay so that I can have wireless internet in my dorm room. That I will accept going to college as the norm, and not the incredible blessing and privilege that it is.<br /><br />Readers, the next time you hear me moan and complain about that killer 10-page bio paper or how I'm sick of the dining hall, please punch me and tell me to shut up. Tell me that I am the Global Shit. And that it's about damn time that I start acting like I deserve it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-7680806178681409111?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-9690989035511332612009-10-30T21:28:00.000-07:002009-10-30T22:31:07.022-07:00This is one of my favorite commercials. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iw97CfZtyGw">Ever.</a><br /><br />I don't want to claim that strangers who spread kindness are these amazing do-gooders because we all know how impossibly hard it can be to love and serve our own family most of the time. I mean, when is the last time I wanted to do the dishes? But I don't want to downplay the impact, either.<br /><br />I never really got the chance to thank these strangers who popped up in my life, but I never quite forgot you either. This post is for you, for your audacity, your spontaneity, your joy, your selflessness. Thank you for brightening my day, and for restoring more hope in humanity action by action. Thank you for inspiring me.<br /><br />1.) <span style="font-weight: bold;">Lemonade Stand Woman</span> - When Elliot and I were in elementary school, my neighborhood organized a community yard sale and every house had tables set up on the driveway. I'm not sure who proposed it, but Elliot and I ended up running a lemonade stand right at the entrance to grab the most attention. We were abuzz with excitement: the pitchers, the coin collection box, the cups, and the lemonade powder were too much for our scrawny bodies to handle. Little kids selling lemonade for ten cents absolutely screams adorable entrepreneurship, but it was hard selling it to people that were not my mom and dad. Thankfully, Lemonade Stand Woman arrived and asked for two cups, and took a sip. She told us it was delicious and "keep the change." She handed me a $5 bill.<br /><br />2.) <span style="font-weight: bold;">Guy at Starbucks </span>- I was grabbing coffee with Ivria, and as we sat at the stools we started chatting about <a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/index">what you have been missing if you've been living under a rock</a>. We hear laughter behind us and turn around to this guy in his late 20s/early 30s who looks up and asks, "<span style="font-style: italic;">The Onion</span>? God, it's hilarious. That is so great that you are talking about it."<br /><br />3.) <span style="font-weight: bold;">Car Trouble Guy </span>- It was a frosty post 9/11 afternoon after church; the roads were icy and the snow was marred from the weekend traffic. My family sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic and by the median I noticed two cars, engine to engine. It looked like one car just needed a jump start, which is pretty ordinary, but what really caught my eye was the guy who was hooking up the cables. He was young, maybe mid 20s. Attractive, sure. Maybe Persian. But he was only wearing a thin hoodie, sleeves rolled up so he could work with the engines. He was rubbing his hands together, breathing on them to keep warm. And he did all of this while smiling, laughing, and talking with the other driver. I don't know if he knew her or not, but I couldn't help but think of how many drivers had seen her and simply been too busy, too hesistant, or too cold (hey-yo!). And how the only person who stayed with her looked like the people we as a nation began to unfairly prejudge.<br /><br />4.) <span style="font-weight: bold;">Dining Hall Tray Guy</span> - Last week in the dining hall, the food server informed a student in line that he needed to get a new plate because his had a melon rind on it, thus condemning him to the back of the dinner rush line. This guy a few spots ahead of me gave him his plate instead.<br /><br />I don't believe that any of these people have transformed the world, but they have all changed it. Their stories intersected with mine in goofy and amazing ways, and as a result, I find it hard to act as if they had never touched me at all. So I won't. I'll let them move me.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-969098903551133261?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-76768613974129748602009-10-06T20:37:00.000-07:002009-10-06T20:57:02.713-07:00I usually enjoy being sick.<br />Although I'm not fond of the sickly and frail miserableness of it all, I can appreciate the humor of it. Most of the time I run around like an arrogantly invincible, reckless young adult, not taking any time to think of how I could be just one heartbeat away from the end. I try to think big, and dream bigger, and all it takes to drain my energy and make me irritable is a microscopic virus. It's not even a living organism, but is more than capable of ruining my week. I can't help but laugh at my distorted sense of <span style="font-style: italic;">homo sapien </span>entitlement.<br /><br />I also am a fan of letting other people take care of me. My pride doesn't allow this to come easy, but I'm learning to swallow it seeing as how I can't taste much when I'm congested anyway. <br /><br />I'm often surprised by how many people play mom ("WHY ARE YOU NOT WEARING MORE CLOTHES?") or take the time to offer a hopeful smile ("I hope you feel better."). And especially concern from professors who see that:<br />my recovery > sticking to the syllabus<br /><br />I can't help but feel pampered and loved when friends bring tea or soup or leave encouraging messages to cheer my immune system on. I also think it's incredible how all I really want is to be hugged and how for every person who shirks away from fear of getting sick, there is always someone willing to brave it for me.<br /><br />So the next time you are sick, let us hug you, bring you tea, and insist that you wear a heavier jacket. And while you can, enjoy all the sleep you're getting and movies you are watching.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-7676861397412974860?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-52753840082430639322009-09-20T16:28:00.000-07:002009-09-20T17:15:28.620-07:00Lost<br />February 5, 2003<br /><br />I never saw it coming,<br />I thought it would never end.<br />For the past few months you have been my life.<br />My past, my present, my future.<br />I depended on you for everything.<br />How can you not remember<br />all those memories shared together?<br />I loved you, you loved me.<br />You now leave me with tears not cried,<br />and words not said.<br />But now everything's different.<br />I'm independent and feel beautiful.<br />I feel perfect.<br />When I lost you, I found myself.<br />All I have to say is,<br />"Thanks."<br /><br />It's heartbreaking hilarious and embarrassing to read my old poetry. I think I managed to hit almost every cliche (no mention of withering rose. yet.)It vexes me to think that this is really what I was about 5 years ago, that my existence revolved around a fellow fickle middle schooler in self-induced deceit, delusion, and superficiality.<br /><br />And this really makes me wonder what I will think of myself 5 years from now. Will I be able to laugh at myself? Will I be proud of the person I am now? Will I be still remain unable to resist making fun of 13 year-olds?<br /><br />Because it doesn't seem like that much has changed since I wrote this poem. I rush to any glimmer of instant gratification. My immaturity stunts my failed attempts to love others without expecting anything in return. I live for the temporal because the thought of life beyond myself terrifies me. And this is what gives me hope because 5 years ago, I would not have made that confession.<br />Even if it was online.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-5275384008243063932?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-39560249299839071942009-09-05T14:18:00.000-07:002009-09-05T15:08:20.312-07:00Hey do you guys wanna come play ultimate cabbage?<br />What?<br />It's ultimate frisbee...but with a cabbage.<br /><br />I love the looks on people's faces when you invite them to play, and the wry smiles that inevitably follow as soon as they realize that they not only get the opportunity to throw vegetables at other people, but that it becomes a critical indicator of one's marksmanship and athleticism.<br />I love how one of my teammates was decked out in Under Armor. And I'm still unsure of whether him holding the cabbage made him look less or more intense.<br />I guess I generally love seeing athletes leave it all on the field for a cabbage.<br />I love the bruise the cabbage left on my elbow when Pat chucked it at me because I get to hold it against him until it heals and it makes for a great story.<br />I love how the field soon becomes peppered with cabbage leaves, crumpled and withering casualties of an epic struggle unlike most others.<br />I love how easy it was to clean up afterwards with everyone's help.<br /><br />I love watching the reactions of people watching us play. They tried to maintain their conversations as they walked by us, but they ended up standing there, unable to satisfy their curiosity even with perpetual double takes. I'm fairly confident we either became the subject of their conversations, or they soon became part of ours as they joined in on the game.<br /><br />I love how something so simple can be so whimsical and inviting and hilarious.<br />I love how afterwards, we all realized we need more of this in our lives.<br /><br />I love how the guys next to us offered us their frisbee.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-3956024929983907194?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-32365856872280005892009-08-03T13:16:00.000-07:002009-08-03T13:37:51.761-07:00A few years ago I threw a chair at Elliot because he was annoying me. But he dodged it, so it was okay. And we both looked at each other and laughed as we thought the same thing: Did she really just throw a <span style="font-style: italic;">chair</span> at me? <span style="font-style: italic;">Really</span>?<br />I also threw up on his head in the car.<br /><br />I think the worst was when I slammed the bathroom door on his finger. After I slammed it, there was dead silence. And then he started bawling. It was this screeching agony that still gives me chills when I think about it. And I don't even remember my punishment. All I remember was that sound. As far as my relationship with Elliot has been, I don't think I've ever felt more ashamed about anything else.<br /><br />We've come a long way since then.<br />Ever since I left for college, we've become friends. It's like with every visit, we realize that we don't have enough time to fight. So instead we go for late night 7-11 trips, YuGiOh duels, and collegehumor videos (Jake &amp; Amir!). I feel like I am finally starting to see my brother as a fellow human being, who has dreams and insecurities and a killer sense of humor and a crush on the same girl for two years now and not just a "didi" the Chinese name for "(obnoxious) younger brother." As proud as my parents are of how nicely we can play together, I am just as proud of how much he cares about other people and how he's got a good head on his shoulders.<br /><br />Now I know the real meaning behind his question whenever I call home: "So when are you coming home?"<br />Love you, too didi.<br /><br />--<br /><br />Me: So I think what I'm most scared of is getting into a freak accident the day after I graduate from college, and being paralyzed. That's scares me more than dying, but I know that I have no choice but to grieve and move on, you know?<br />Elliot: Well, you can't really <span style="font-style: italic;">move on</span>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-3236585687228000589?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-52939881641128573762009-07-01T15:05:00.000-07:002009-07-19T12:35:56.446-07:00Louis W. is 13 years old.<br />Three weeks ago, Louis W. did not know that 3-2=1.<br /><br />Now, he better know that 3+6=9 and that 2+5=7 or else I will make him rewrite it 3 more times.<br />He also knows that LOUIS x 1 = LOUIS and that 1,234,567,890 x 0 = 0.<br />In short, I hope he is no longer afraid of numbers.<br /><br />Right off the bat, he was my troublemaker. Leaving breakfast wrappers on the table, pretending to sleep during lessons. Telling everyone that he was going to murder them. That he needed some more crack.<br /><br />During a round of Yu-Gi-Oh, I noticed that he was having trouble calculating his life points. I decided to ask him if he wanted to practice math with me after camp. I figured I would atleast make him the offer, and didn't expect him to take it because I am much to cynical and judgmental.<br />His reply: "Yeah, can we start tomorrow?"<br /><br />In my worst moments, I find myself exasperatedly asking myself why I bother. Because he's not going to graduate from high school. Because everyone else in the neighborhood expects him to be in a gang, to deal drugs. Because college is laughably out of the question. Because he's going to end up in jail.<br /><br />Because he told me, "Nobody teaches me."<br /><br />But it's difficult to think that when as I work out problems, he moves in closer.<br />It's difficult to think that when I see him call out answers without using his fingers.<br />It's difficult to think that when he came in for tutoring even though he missed a whole day of camp.<br /><br />Change is draining, but cynicism even more so.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-5293988164112857376?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-36305962844800910462009-06-19T08:14:00.000-07:002009-06-19T08:21:52.643-07:00Me: Ok, so we have 4 friends waiting for us by the tree. How many flowers should we pick?<br />Three Year Old: um, 20!!!!!!!!<br /><br />My (legally) adult thinking was hoping that she would say 4 because as an adult I am concerned with abstract concepts like fairness and equal distribution and evading guilt and preventing people from feeling left out.<br /><br />Of course it's the toddler who chooses abundance, who seeks to bring to the rest of the group this incredible discovery of the buttercup variety.<br />And to bring it to the full.<br /><br />When I found out that, let's just call her Zachiah, usually chooses a favorite intern to adorably cling to for the whole summer I immediately began judging the rest of the team in three critical categories of<br />1) silliness<br />2) creativity<br />3) soft skin<br />and proceeded to remove myself from the competition, resigned to my decidedly un-kid friendly future.<br /><br />And again, of course Zachiah and I spend the following afternoon running through the park together, picking flowers and counting butterflies.<br /><br />I was wondering if her adorableness could get any more adorable when as we walked back home in the early evening, I saw the flicker of a lightning bug. Seeing the teachable moment, (the telltale sign of burgeoning responsibility) I pointed them out to her, and that's when it happened:<br />She ran back to me, her face contorted in fear, tiny arms flailing in escape.<br />Proceeding to grab hold of my leg, she began softly whimpering "no.no.no.no.no." with her face buried in my hip.<br /><br />Game Over.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-3630596284480091046?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-43111063822365041082009-06-08T15:05:00.000-07:002009-06-08T15:37:11.116-07:00Hot English Teacher told us first-semester high school seniors last year:<br />I can guarantee you all that one year from now, you are all going to be in your dorm rooms eating pizza with your friends and asking yourselves something to the effect of, ''Dude, what if...what if we're just a fish's dream?"<br /><br />And he was right.<br /><br />I used to think true intimacy was limited to the hours between midnight and 3 AM, that meaningful discussions and soul-entwining talks could only happen late at night. That these were the prime hours for those big existential, world-view questions we are too busy to answer during the rest of the day.<br />That only the nocturnal were enlightened.<br /><br />But this was because my understanding of intimacy was far too small, shamefully so. I am thankful that I am now learning that sharing of life does not depend on the rotation of the planet.<br /><br />But there is something to be said of those early morning hours. Maybe we naturally lower our inhibitions as our bodies tire. Maybe with the darkness we more urgently seek out each other for security.<br />I don't know.<br /><br />Regardless, I had my first late night talk with my parents last night.<br />I jumped onto their bed as my mom was winding down with a <span style="font-style: italic;">National Geographic </span>and my dad was packing for his business trip. We started chatted about Elliot's violin lesson and somehow ended up examining the ramifications of torture on an international scale.<br /><br />Politics is something that consistently divides me and my parents.<br />It is also something that always comes up.<br />Ultimately, we agree to disagree, but last night their stauchness was something I didn't anticipate. It was difficult to swallow my parents' criticism and accusations, but I think I understand them that much better, and that can never be a bad thing.<br />I actually began crying with relief to hear how their stances on some issues had softened. Or maybe I was crying from the stress of division. But it was beautiful to be able to tell my parents good night and kiss them just moments after stomach-curdling, heated debate.<br /><br />It was even more beautiful to receive their reciprocation.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-4311106382236504108?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-60497595553696219382009-06-01T09:05:00.000-07:002009-06-01T09:33:41.041-07:00Angelo, upon seeing me at a church youth group meeting in high school:<br />"Are you lost?"<br />I love this man.<br /><br />He is one of my best friends and has been my Sunday school teacher, counselor, role model, mentor, friend, and older brother. His patience and humility astound me, and in high school, he invited me into the Christian community when I felt that no one else did. His willingness to faithfully and actively pursue me and love me in quirky ways played a HUGE role in my personal encounters with Jesus, and continues to inspire me to do the same. He still claims that his love language is sarcasm. And I still laugh everytime I hear that.<br /><br />In my eyes, he is kind of a big deal.<br /><br />And throughout my first year at college, we struggled to maintain our friendship even with phone calls and school break dates. In loving me, he let me go: "You will always have your safety net back home. We are here."<br />And I never doubted it.<br /><br />This past Saturday he gave me a ride to a friend's wedding, and after dropping off his ladyfriend at the church, we made a run for the Vietnamese grocery store across the street. Bringing back two sandwiches I had heard rumors of greatness about, we sat in his car under a tree and began unwrapping them. He was quick to add the one thing that would make this moment impeccable:<br />U2's "City of Blinding Lights"<br /><br />The May breeze flowing through open car windows intermingling with U2's epic upliftness as we munched on crisp bread, fresh meats, and the sour fish sauce prickling my taste buds was too much. I began to laugh and he asked what was so funny.<br />"This is."<br /><br />He later told me he wanted me to be part of the wedding as a greeter.<br />I would love to.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-6049759555369621938?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7234711294124752077.post-20401813873723958072009-05-19T07:21:00.000-07:002009-05-19T07:44:37.765-07:00look! i just found a shoutout to mindy, whose maturity i often find mind-blowing.<br /><br />Back in elementary school we had bathroom breaks, which were awesome because the bathrooms were right across from each other so you would have a line of 1st grade boys facing a line of 2nd grade girls in a great im-sexist-before-learning-about-sexism-but-i-call-it-cooties kind of way. But what was even more awesome was looking around at the different pee dances.<br /><br />And don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.<br />Indicators that a small child has to immediately pee include:<br />1. telling you that they have to pee<br />2. crossing their feet while standing<br />3. crossing their feet while slightly swaying their hips<br />4. finding a wall to lean against as they do 2 and/or 3<br />5. nervously looking around, presumably for an adult to tell<br />5. telling you that they have to pee<br /><br />you could always tell who had already used the bathroom because they would walk out of slowly and stand in the back of the line with self-satisfied looks on their faces.<br /><br />and really, what's not to love about peeing?<br />especially here in the west, where we don't even have to stare down sqautty potties hoping that they will reveal to us how to use them.<br />aside from the actually physiological intricacies that allow us to (usually) expel water from our bodies at our will (cool), the relief afterwards is. yes.<br />i also get alot of satisfaction from looking at the color of my pee; i am proud of myself when it is crystal clear because it means that a) i am well hydrated b) oprah says i can read a magazine through it<br /><br />the quietness of it is also much-needed. sure, i love trying to talk to friends when peeing because of the sheer absurdity, yet casualness of it, but really, there usually isn't much to do or say when you're peeing. lately, i've been trying to take this time to say two things to God: one, thank you for this pee. really. and two, open my eyes to you for the rest of the day.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7234711294124752077-2040181387372395807?l=kaplooie.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14708152629390431011noreply@blogger.com11