2 Corinthians 5:1-8

Ron Teiwes went home to be with the Lord this past Monday.
When the spirit is melancholic (even though the sun is out), I think of these words of the apostle Paul that the pastor preached on during the memorial service:

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.

Minor complaint

I got up to face another day. Why didn't the sun? Can't we have some solidarity here?

Academic tremors

As part of my wonderful liberal arts education here a Wheaton College that will transform me into a whole and effective Christian person, I am taking a 2 credit science class called Natural Disasters.

I took a risk and bought the textbook from half.com for six cents, plus shipping.
Moment of Reckoning:


The book is in nearly pristine condition. There is nary a highlight nor an underlining. I consider it six cents will invested, and I am wondering how much I can earn by selling it back to the Wheaton bookstore.


I've even already gotten a few laughs from it. Here is the outline of chapter one which is 18 pages long complete with pictures and full page graphs.

Outline

• Natural Disasters in 2004 and 2005
• Pakistan Earthquake, 8 October 2005
• Hurricane Katrina, 29 August 2005
• Great Natural Disasters
• Human Fatalities in Natural Disasters
• Economic Losses from Natural Disasters
• Natural Hazards
• Overview of Human Population History
• The Power of an Exponent on Growth
• The Last 10,000 Years of Human History
• The Human Population Today
• Future World Population

If one portion of chapter one of my Natural Disasters textbook can inform me about the last 10,000 years of human history why am I taking a four credit World History class this semester too? In fact, my reading in my history textbook today brought me this choice quote: "What paltry learning is that which is congealed in dumb books!"

Why am I at Wheaton College at all?!

In the early morning hours

I ought to have fallen asleep hours ago, but my eyes are wide open and my mind is spinning, propelled by a dozen different thoughts. I can't focus on any one thing but my thoughts flit from one thing to another - the academic year ahead of me and the pressure of studies; concerns about what I should like to do post graduation and what I need to do now to prepare; the possibility of getting a campus job and what that could be; the future of the Voice for Life club; my responsibilities on leadership with College Group this year; the fact that I can't actually see the floor of my bedroom, covered as it is with clothes and boxes of books; my favorite paintings from Guanajuato that have gone missing, along with a book, the Case for Life; the friends that I miss very much and the friendships I may make or deepen this year; and, of course, the dozens of little things that need to happen in the next few hours before classes begin. Furthermore, a week ago I learned that one of my apartment mates is not returning to Wheaton because of serious health problems. Today I was told that there is a high possibility that I could be assigned a new roommate in the next few days. And I have an almost-uncle here in Wheaton who is suddenly very close to death. I am, in short, almost overwhelmed.

But my God is the God who said, "I will lead the blind in a way that they do not know, in paths that they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light; the rough places into level ground. These are the things I do, and I do not forsake them." Isaiah 42:16

I'm going to try to fall asleep by counting my blessings.

Linguistical conundrum

I like to listen to the way people speak. Perhaps a move from the northeast to the midwest has made me a bit more attuned to varieties of pronunciation, articulation, and enunciation. Or perhaps its self-consciousness of my own peculiar speech patterns. Numerous times since I've left NJ people have asked me where I'm from because they can't quite place my accent. Is it southern? British? No.

In any case, I was struck with a question when I came across the noun "high school" in a book I was reading. Why is it that when the word "high" comes in front of "school" we pronounce it slightly differently than if it were to come in front of "mountain" or "praise" or "expectations" or "-ly?" It sounds more like the first bit of the word "heighten" instead. The dictionary (at least a free online one) doesn't pick up the slight difference in vowel sounds between "high" and "height" but I'm sure there is one. I wonder what a new English speaker would think. Do you all pronounce "high school" the same way I do?

Down the shore

On my last day in New Jersey this summer, I went down the shore with my parents to Ocean Grove. It was a brutally hot day in West Orange, but lovely next to the water.

On the other side of that water and across a few mountain ranges live three of my sisters. Did you see me wave?

The dunes on the Jersey shore are just a little bit different from the Michigan dunes.

Besides having nice sand, good waves, and decent company, Ocean Grove has a boardwalk and cute beach houses. I was lazy with the camera - these ones aren't the nicest, they look fairly new. There are some older ones with gingerbread and whatnot. They'd look ridiculous anywhere but a shore town. Here they belong.

And we had ice cream at Nagle's, an old pharmacy, my favorite.

Chicago, IL.

I finally faced the 118 pictures I took one day in Chicago and narrowed them down to these fourteen that, for whatever reason, seemed best for the blog. I might upload the rest of them to picasa at some point. Some are decent; none are spectacular, regrettably.

Arwen and I took advantage of an absolutely beautiful July day to take the riverboat architecture tour in Chicago. I heartily recommend it if you ever come to visit me and the Windy City.

We sat on the top deck and listened to Judith, our docent, talk a little about the architecture and history of the buildings around us. I wish I could remember everything she said. Prairie style, modernism, neo-this, and something-that, are all scrambled in my mind. I do remember that modernism came over from Europe.

But I couldn't tell you if this building is an example of modernism or something after that. I'm pretty sure it's mirrored glass, which has become quite popular. Sometimes people get upset when a new skyscraper is built up to block their view, but actually with mirrored glass they end up getting a different sort of view of other buildings too. This building reminds me of the Flatiron building in NY, if perhaps not quite as cool.

This is Trump Tower.

We had Jersey fresh corn on the cob for dinner tonight, incidentally.

This might be a cool place to live, so long as you could remember not to throw stones.

This green building is one of my favorites. It's called the Knife's Blade, and it was designed to follow the contours of the river. You can't tell so well in the picture, but it's also the same color as the water. There's a special word for buildings that built to blend into their natural surroundings, but of course I can't remember what it is.

This is a rather odd perspective because 311 S. Wacker Drive is nowhere near as tall as the Sears Tower (now called the Willis Tower).

This might be my favorite building in Chicago, the Tribune Building. It's so pretty.

a picture of Arwen, finally.

Measure once; curse twice. I'm worried about this building.

Arwen had to take the train back for an evening shift, but I stayed in the city and was joined by another roommate, Ruth. Just for the heck of it we took a ride on a water taxi.

We bought a ticket thinking we could take the water taxi to Chinatown but turns out that's only offered on weekends. So we headed elsewhere, bought a cta pass and traveled to Wicker Park to visit a good used bookstore and used record store, some overrated and overpriced thrift stores, and an ice-cream place. Then we made it to Chinatown for dinner, and a quick poke around a Chinese grocery. That's the place to get dried octopus, if you're ever craving it.

And a train ride back was the end to a Very Good Day.

Posting a whole slew of pictures on my blog always makes me feel almost guilty. And then I scan my blog and see that my last picture-less post was in June. Oh dear. Uploading something worth a thousands words and leaving it at that seems a bit of a cop-out when part of the point of this blog was to turn me into a better thinker and writer.

Perhaps my readers are more forgiving than myself?

Ahoy!

A couple weeks ago I got to go sailing on Lake Michigan with some friends from the college group in the sloop of another College Church friend. (Note my use of the precise nautical terminology.)

It was a chilly, blustery day for early August, which was nice because we had a good, strong wind. It was nothing like the placid sails in my grandpa's trimaran off Vancouver Island when the cousins would lie out on the almas, drinking tea and trying to play spades without the cards blowing away.


Click on this picture so you can see it big enough to read the name of the boat written on the sail's cover. I think it is immensely clever:

Have I mentioned that I am falling in love with the Chicago skyline?

even on a stormy day

This is Clara, the young lady that I am very pleased to call my cousin. My grandpa married her grandma. That makes us family, right?

With the good, strong wind we heeled over a lot. T'was much fun.

This is the Smurfit-Stone building in the back. I always want to know the name of it, but can never remember when I'm actually in the city. I come back and look it up again at this cool website (though this one is usually more useful.)

We came back to solid ground again to listen to a free concert in Millennium Park. Millennium, not unlike Smurfit-Stone, is a word I have to look up each time in order to be quite sure of myself.

Another post about a dog.

My last week in Wheaton, I stayed with a wonderful couple from church. A few hours after I found out that I had a place to live except for a week at the beginning and end of the summer, they very kindly invited me to stay with them without even knowing of my need.

Mrs. King baked rhubarb pie, and Mr. King made root beer floats. Yes, the lines fell for me in pleasant places. They even have a dog!

Truman (part Golden, part Australian Sheepdog) is about as close to the platonic form of a dog of any dog I've met, and I've known quite a few. This is cemented by the fact that he brings in the newspaper every morning. I'm sure the platonic form would do that. He always greeted me warmly when I came back the house, as one would a long lost sheep, cried happily, and rolled over for a belly rub. When I sat down to stroke him, he would rest his head in my lap which melted my heart every time. He also has perfect, perky ears. They have the cuteness of floppy ears with the expressiveness of upright ears. He loves walks and rides in the car. Plus, he's responsible, loyal, and attentive. He sat next to me when I read on the couch and was waiting outside my bedroom door the morning I overslept. I'm pretty sure he would've started barking if I'd been much later.

No doubt the platonic form leaves room for quirks too. He howls when the answering machine comes on, and he's got one blue eye and one brown eye.

And he's cute too.

Another fun day.

I brought my camera in for the last full day of work.
I wish I had had it earlier in the summer when we had even bigger mountains of pillows. Each one of these has to be de-covered, slipped with four others into a plastic bag, and brought deep into the recesses of a dorm for storage.


Going through lost and found was definitely one of the highlights of the last week, not quite equal to the aquarium trip, but close. Kevin, in particular, took great delight in it. He presented the wares to us.

I'm wondering what anyone was doing with that long piece of lacey something or other in the first place.

There was room for two in that dress.

Needless to say none of us claimed these shorts. There might be room for three or four in them.

Anyone need a good Willy Wonka costume?

Betsy might actually consider wearing something like this, but the shoulder pads were a bit much.

I'm a little shocked at how much got left behind and never claimed - hundreds of dollars worth of lacrosse equipment, multiple cell phone charges, complete outfits. I walked away with an ipod charger. Perhaps the saddest left behind item was one left birkenstock, nearly new, size 40. I found it in a drawer.

Skyline

Yesterday evening I took my sister's road bike out for a spin. New Jersey isn't quite as flat as Illinois.

I biked up to South Mountain Avenue, my old stomping grounds for long walks with puppies, past Bloomfield Avenue and the Van Vleck Gardens and up to Upper Mountain Avenue for a little ways. Every once in a while, in between the houses and trees, I would catch a glimpse of NYC that almost made me catch my breath. It was beautifully clear, except for a few patches of pretty gray clouds to the right. Unfortunately, by the time I got back and we had supper and drove up to the Eagle Rock Avenue lookout, it had clouded up a little bit.

Here's midtown:


Every time I see the NYC skyline, I think of what I remember an NPR reporter saying a few days after September 11th. He lived in the city and his little daughter had a clear view of the twin towers from her bedroom window. After 9/11, she looked out the window and said that it was as if New York's two front teeth were missing. I can't think of a more apt metaphor.

After September 11, the lookout turned into a shrine as people left flowers and candles and notes all along the wall. Now there is a memorial with the name of each person whose life was lost engraved in stone.

CSA fun day

Every year at the end of the summer, the Conference Services staff go on a paid "fun day." This year we went to the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago.

It's right next to Lake Michigan, with a lovely view of the harbor. When the darkness and crowds in the aquarium began to make me feel claustrophobic, I went outside and walked along the lake.


Katie and Carrie, two fellow CSAs:


Sea Dragons. These guys are so stunning:


A polka dotted sting ray. I wonder if the one that got Steve Irwin was so chic?


This fish blends into its environment by looking like coral. Incredible:


A goth fish:


We had plans to go to Pizzeria Uno, but the wait was over an hour, and catty-corner to it is Pizzeria Due. Same food, not half the wait, and it's in this cute old house too:


Across the street, is the original Bloomingdales, formerly a Madina Temple:


Tomorrow we go back to room-checks and mountains of pillows and smelly, soiled linens.

The end of an era.

For some reason when I was cleaning the fridge last on Friday morning to move out of the apartment, I was hit particularly strong with the reality that the times they are a-changin'. I sometimes feel like I've arrived late; as if I'm running to keep up, but still being left behind.

That sounds depressing. I don't always feel that way.

This is the chair in which I curled up during small group with Megan and friends this past year. The springs are utterly shot. I always sunk down and curled up, balancing my hot chocolate on an arm rest, exhausted and content. Once, feeling slightly guilty for always hogging this very fine chair, I invited my friend Grace to sit in it. She sunk down, adjusted, readjusted, and finally said, exasperated, "I just don't know where to put my limbs!"

I'm gonna miss this chair too.

12 months

Sometimes I like to think back and remember what I was doing at this time a year earlier. Occasionally when I'm collecting dirty linens I remember that twelve months before I was picking up sweaty, dusty, work clothes (including undergarments) left behind by volunteers. A week ago, during a particularly long desk shift, I wistfully thought of the fun I had been having in Guanajuato the year before.

Late last week, I was doing the exact same thing as I had the year before: packing.

And I think it might have been this very day last year that I was miserably ill, but happy because Ashley had just asked me to be her bridesmaid.

I can't play this game without thinking forward. Where will I be this time next year? What will have changed? What will I be looking forward to?

Proverbs 16:9