Internal Questioning

Do I have the courage to go through with it or will I miss the opportunity simply for reasons of comfort?

And the Fun Continues

So in planning my visit to Princeton, I didn't realize that Newark's airport, though it looks farther way, is in fact closer and provides many more ways to get to Princeton than Trenton. And since all the materials I received from Princeton tell me how to get there from Newark and only Newark, I find myself in a very interesting spot. Oh the joy of traveling.

Every time I speak to someone at the seminary, I do feel better about going out there and visiting. It's just a little stressful knowing that it could cost me a bit of money to get from the airport to Princeton, and when you're jobless, spending money is not an attractive option. But that is where my story lies.

Good quote

Thank you Ryan for letting me borrow this book.

"Is it possible, I wonder, to say that it is only when you hear the Gospel as a wild and marvelous joke that you really hear it at all? Heard as anything else, the Gospel is the church's thing, the preacher's thing, the lecturer's thing. Heard as a joke -- high and unbidden and ringing with laughter -- it can only be God's thing."

Frederick Buechner

Moved

It was simply a story about Abraham. It's been heard before, the story is no surprise. Abraham has the good life, God tells him to move to Canaan, he runs into problems all of his own doing, and then is told in his old age he will father a son. And yet somehow when Buechner writes this story with Abraham and Sarah's little suburban home with the two car garage and the color TV, and the appearance of the angel with Sarah's small giggles turning into full blown laughter and Abraham and the angel joining in, the narrative has so much more power. And the blow that got me was the part where God steps in with the expectation that Buechner's God is going to reprimand them for laughing. And it looks like that is what he's going to say. Then the surprise: God is laughing with them, or at least enjoys the fact that they laugh. "It is pretty ridiculous, isn't it," says God, "and yet I promised you that's what I'd do and I'm going to stick to that. And to help you remember, your son's name with be laughter, Isaac, so you will not forget that this is my blessing."

That's when the tears came, but not for anyone in the story. And if that weren't enough, the next two words were, "To weep..."

Perhaps God is an open God and his plan is open for change and free will and his creation loving him is more important to him than having everything set in stone, but I still believe that God has his appointed moments, the scheduled items written on his coffee-stained scheduler. And perhaps his computer alerted him of his scheduled appointment and he stepped away from his desk to sit by my bed while I read that section of Buechner's "Telling the Truth." Or perhaps it was simply a choice he had been hoping I would make and his secretary let him know that his meeting needed to be canceled because I did pick up that book. Whatever is was, God somehow became present in that moment, and it came at the right time.

"Laugh till you weep. Weep till there's nothing left but to laugh at your weeping. In the end it's all one." - Godric

Heading Out

So I'm heading for New Jersey on Jan 31 to see Princeton. It'll be a weekend trip to see the classes, meet some professors, meet some other prospective students, and make sure this is the place I want to be. I'm pretty excited about it. It should be a good trip.

...

There are some days when I forget the reason for why I've waken up.

Passing Comments

Just a few simple words that float by typically unnoticed at the time have a knack at sticking to one's mind. Walking between classes with a former professor, it managed to sneak in and I barely caught it at the time. This could be the last 8 months I ever spend this close to my family. It's a notion that had not crossed my thinking in the past week, and it was only a passing comment, but little things are just the right size to creep into the back of person's head and grow for awhile.

I wish I had the mettle to be more open and honest with those that I care about. I wish I had the strength to risk even when the odds are against me. And wishful thinking can lead to despair, but sometimes it's the catalyst to start change. Timing is also important; that is harder to discern. Part of me wants to risk it all while the rest isn't ready to give that up yet. Familiar territory being explored again.

Apparently

I try to be creative in the way that I write, using what little literary technique I know to attempt to make what I write not only interesting but thoughtful. But showing is much harder than telling, and I write the way I speak. But written words do not have the same effect as spoken words in my usage and what I end up writing either becomes too sappy, too cheesy, or simply uncreative. So I'm stuck writing what I ought to say, not what I feel, and that leaves what few readers I have unable to fully grasp what I'm feeling and what I want them to understand.

Last night I wanted so desperately to write about my feelings about Princeton, about my struggles, joys, worries about my acceptance, but each time I tried to start a paragraph I looked at it, rearranged a word here or there, looked down in disappointment, and erased it. I sit here again trying to do the same thing, this time just writing rather than editing.

I read Buechner or Billy Collins, Steinbeck or Fitzgerald, or even a certain Taylor I know, and I wish I could write like that. There is such a simplicity to the words and yet such a complexity that I don't know how to replicate. And when I read something, though it's difficult at times to understand or even be motivated to read it, I am invited into a realm where I can only sit like a child and stare at the images being drawn on the canvas. And I wish I could invite other people into that place rather than just show you what they've shown me. So I find myself stuck being blunt, telling rather than showing, and unable to say what I want to convey. They're simply words.


There were questions I thought would be answered when that packet arrived in the mail yesterday, and yet I'm stuck with those stupid questions sitting in my mind with so few answers being provided. Work isn't provided by knowing my future, financial problems haven't been solved, and as I have criticized so many in my mind for doing, I feel my departure is merely an escape from troubles I don't know how to solve here.

The truth is I'm not sure if I want to leave yet. I plan on leaving in the Fall and I don't anticipate that changing. But I'm not sure I want to go yet. Granted, what I want has very little to do with this. There are a lot of things I wanted and expected for myself by this point that simply haven't worked out. But even though we're told we can't always have what we want, it doesn't change the pain of not getting whatever it might be.

And there is only one reason I don't want to go though it is perhaps the reason I need to go. I'm risking my future on something that has no guarantee and is not set to be the best option for me. My mind and the world don't always synchronize, and chances are I'm fooling myself. But that 'what if' lingers. Holding off a year risks a wasted year, leaving in the fall risks a missed opportunity. But who knows if that opportunity even exists, or ever did? And so what if it turns out? What then? What does a year gain? Is it worth it?

First Post Here

So I'm going to try out blogspot, see what happens. A lot of people seemed to have switched over to this so I'll try it out. You can still check out my stuff at xanga.