Several years ago, my very best friend and I started traveling to places we had never been to do things we had never done. For a few days every couple of months we became Gypsies. We danced, we sang, we laughed, oh gracious to Heaven do we laugh!
The rules of Gypsy weekends are quite simple: one person plans and the other person follows.
That's it.
The other person gets to know where they are going, but nothing more than a packing list shall be known to them. And let me tell you, sometimes those packing lists cause more fear than faith. But in all my Gypsy travels, I've never once been hurt. Well aside from that one time I sort of almost fell off a cliff-like structure and a little bit hurt my knee and hip. But I chalk that up to user error and not faulty planning.
Gypsy weekends have migrated into other relationships along the years, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I've found the real key to these days where amazing memories are created is to be open, completely open to whatever is coming next.
This weekend is the first Gypsy weekend my friend and I have had in almost a year. As I was packing for this trip (and trying to find electrical tape as it was on the list), I could feel the Lord speaking into my heart. Despite my attempts to explain to Him that Gypsy weekends were not learning experiences, that I was done growing for the next 5 days, and that I wanted to finish finding everything on my packing list (including finding my fairy wings) and get excited about the things I didn't know were about to happen!
Let me get this straight. You are excited to race into the unknown with only a packing list and a destination, but you keep begging me to reveal the next step? That's not very Gypsy-like of you.
Huh. It seems the Lord just threw the Gypsy Gauntlet and He was right.
Then and there while looking for rubber ducks that would float upright, I was convicted. He has given me a packing list: avail myself of the Sacraments, spend time in His word, before His presence, and with Him, and walk in His passion. And He's given me a destination: Heaven.
The rest is just the journey.
Just as a true Gypsy would have it.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
STS-125
The shuttle went up today. To be more accurate, Shuttle Transport System-125 Atlantis slipped the bonds of earth.
I am quite possibly the biggest NASA nut out there. Well, to be sure, the biggest NASA-nut republican out there. I happen to believe that money should come straight out of my paycheck, circumvent Congress, and go right smack into NASA's budget. I think it's a great idea. On on a side note, don't talk to me about privatizing NASA. The discoveries of science belong to us all, not to Boeing. I digress.
The shuttle went up today. And I couldn't bring myself to care. And for the biggest NASA-nut republican out there, this is a problem. I've been off my game for the past 2 days and I couldn't figure out why. Then I remembered, the shuttle was going up today.
STS-125 is the mission to fix the Hubble telescope. It was supposed to launch last fall. I know this because we were supposed to watch it. The mission was scrubbed and my heart terribly saddened. For as long as I can remember, or as long as those Internets have been broadcasting launches, I have gathered my friends, co-workers, enemies, people I meet on the street together to make them watch the launch either online or on the NASA tv channel. Don't laugh, it really is a great channel. So to get to see a launch in person! Holy rocket boosters, Batman!!!
But STS-125 wasn't meant to be for us. Instead, he got us in to watch STS-126 Endeavor. It was amazing. We made a big trip of it. We toured Kennedy Space Center. We rode on this amazing ride thingy that simulated launch. We walked around the people and the projects that would make their way onto the International Space Station. We saw Atlantis being re-tiled. I touched her underbelly. I prayed beneath her cargo bay doors. We went to the launch pad after midnight to see Endeavor in all her glory, ready to fly. It was the most amazing 36 hours.
Launch morning started early with a surprise walk on the beach, beautiful prayers of thanksgiving for the Lord bringing us to "us", and a promise of coffee. The clouds were rolling in and I was almost certain the launch wouldn't happen. Have a little faith, he would remind me. All day I kept stealing his blackberry to check the forecast. If cloud cover got about 35%, the launch was a no-go. But we made it to Kennedy. We got to the Administrator's building and I had to remind myself to breath! We listened to Administrator Griffin give his briefing before the launch, we were introduced to some amazing past astronauts, and we walked to the Administrator's balcony to await lift-off.
I'm not always the most patient person. But standing on the balcony, eyes glued on the shuttle, his arm around me, I couldn't wait any longer! I am surprised I did not come out of my skin.
We watched it. A flawless lift-off under a full harvest moon. It pierced the sky. Literally pierced it. It was amazing. I got to hear launch control hand over the shuttle to mission control. I got to hear Administrator Griffin pronounce that the beans and cornbread were indeed "on", and I told I couldn't believe in the past year I got to mark two things off my "bucket list": be loved by an amazing man and watch a shuttle launch. I couldn't believe I got to do both at the same time!
Many of you come here expecting deep theology and sometimes you get something near my inadequate attempts at it. But today...today I don't have much. Because, you see, the shuttle launched today. Two shuttles have gone up since that perfect night in November, and I haven't been able to bring myself to care about either of them.
Right now, there are seven brave men and women headed to orbit. They will get to see some of the most amazing things. They will be a part of history. And because of their efforts, we will be able to see into the vast unknown.
The shuttle went up today. And for a NASA nut, I should be out of my skin. As they touch the face of God, I find myself wanting to be very far from the reality of my world: of never owning, completely, my NASA memories again, of not being able to display pictures from that weekend, or tell my children about how their dad and I hung out on a balcony with Neil Armstrong.
Not a whole lot today- just prayers for a successful mission, the safe return of these wonderful heroes, and for some guidance on getting out of this orbit.
God-speed 125, we'll see you on the flip-side.
I am quite possibly the biggest NASA nut out there. Well, to be sure, the biggest NASA-nut republican out there. I happen to believe that money should come straight out of my paycheck, circumvent Congress, and go right smack into NASA's budget. I think it's a great idea. On on a side note, don't talk to me about privatizing NASA. The discoveries of science belong to us all, not to Boeing. I digress.
The shuttle went up today. And I couldn't bring myself to care. And for the biggest NASA-nut republican out there, this is a problem. I've been off my game for the past 2 days and I couldn't figure out why. Then I remembered, the shuttle was going up today.
STS-125 is the mission to fix the Hubble telescope. It was supposed to launch last fall. I know this because we were supposed to watch it. The mission was scrubbed and my heart terribly saddened. For as long as I can remember, or as long as those Internets have been broadcasting launches, I have gathered my friends, co-workers, enemies, people I meet on the street together to make them watch the launch either online or on the NASA tv channel. Don't laugh, it really is a great channel. So to get to see a launch in person! Holy rocket boosters, Batman!!!
But STS-125 wasn't meant to be for us. Instead, he got us in to watch STS-126 Endeavor. It was amazing. We made a big trip of it. We toured Kennedy Space Center. We rode on this amazing ride thingy that simulated launch. We walked around the people and the projects that would make their way onto the International Space Station. We saw Atlantis being re-tiled. I touched her underbelly. I prayed beneath her cargo bay doors. We went to the launch pad after midnight to see Endeavor in all her glory, ready to fly. It was the most amazing 36 hours.
Launch morning started early with a surprise walk on the beach, beautiful prayers of thanksgiving for the Lord bringing us to "us", and a promise of coffee. The clouds were rolling in and I was almost certain the launch wouldn't happen. Have a little faith, he would remind me. All day I kept stealing his blackberry to check the forecast. If cloud cover got about 35%, the launch was a no-go. But we made it to Kennedy. We got to the Administrator's building and I had to remind myself to breath! We listened to Administrator Griffin give his briefing before the launch, we were introduced to some amazing past astronauts, and we walked to the Administrator's balcony to await lift-off.
I'm not always the most patient person. But standing on the balcony, eyes glued on the shuttle, his arm around me, I couldn't wait any longer! I am surprised I did not come out of my skin.
We watched it. A flawless lift-off under a full harvest moon. It pierced the sky. Literally pierced it. It was amazing. I got to hear launch control hand over the shuttle to mission control. I got to hear Administrator Griffin pronounce that the beans and cornbread were indeed "on", and I told I couldn't believe in the past year I got to mark two things off my "bucket list": be loved by an amazing man and watch a shuttle launch. I couldn't believe I got to do both at the same time!
Many of you come here expecting deep theology and sometimes you get something near my inadequate attempts at it. But today...today I don't have much. Because, you see, the shuttle launched today. Two shuttles have gone up since that perfect night in November, and I haven't been able to bring myself to care about either of them.
Right now, there are seven brave men and women headed to orbit. They will get to see some of the most amazing things. They will be a part of history. And because of their efforts, we will be able to see into the vast unknown.
The shuttle went up today. And for a NASA nut, I should be out of my skin. As they touch the face of God, I find myself wanting to be very far from the reality of my world: of never owning, completely, my NASA memories again, of not being able to display pictures from that weekend, or tell my children about how their dad and I hung out on a balcony with Neil Armstrong.
Not a whole lot today- just prayers for a successful mission, the safe return of these wonderful heroes, and for some guidance on getting out of this orbit.
God-speed 125, we'll see you on the flip-side.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The Marks of a Good Chef
Next to my dad, he's the smartest person I know. Next to me, he's the funniest.
Well, so he's probably funnier than me, but we're funny in different ways. It's an apples and oranges kind of thing.
At least let me think that, okay?
He is my brother and he also happens to be an amazing chef.
And he has the scars to prove it. Burn marks from grease on his hands, no fingerprints from testing sauces while they still simmer, and palms that can hold fire. They aren't the credentials of a great chef. Nope, that proof is in the pudding, or the risotto.
But the scars do matter. To the rest of the world, they show my brother has been through the fire. They show his wisdom comes from places other than a book- it comes from his living.
They aren't his credentials but they are his credibility.
Lately, I have been drawn to the writings of C.S. Lewis. He knew what we all should carry in our hearts. This journey, this walk with God is a battle. This world is a battle. We are engaged in a great war. Victory is assured, yes, Easter Sunday provided that promise. But that does not mean the battles will not be bad, be bloody, be strong.
Friends, this journey is not for the faint of heart.
Scars abound. Some on the outside, many more on the soul. And yes, they will all be redeemed.
They are not our credentials, those are found on the cross.
And unlike our vocations, those scars aren't really our credibility.
Not really.
But they are the marks of one who has held fire.
They are the marks of something else. They are the marks of having been a part of the battles. Day in and day out. Actively fighting in this war.
The safest road to hell is the gradual one - the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts. - C.S. Lewis
Well, so he's probably funnier than me, but we're funny in different ways. It's an apples and oranges kind of thing.
At least let me think that, okay?
He is my brother and he also happens to be an amazing chef.
And he has the scars to prove it. Burn marks from grease on his hands, no fingerprints from testing sauces while they still simmer, and palms that can hold fire. They aren't the credentials of a great chef. Nope, that proof is in the pudding, or the risotto.
But the scars do matter. To the rest of the world, they show my brother has been through the fire. They show his wisdom comes from places other than a book- it comes from his living.
They aren't his credentials but they are his credibility.
Lately, I have been drawn to the writings of C.S. Lewis. He knew what we all should carry in our hearts. This journey, this walk with God is a battle. This world is a battle. We are engaged in a great war. Victory is assured, yes, Easter Sunday provided that promise. But that does not mean the battles will not be bad, be bloody, be strong.
Friends, this journey is not for the faint of heart.
Scars abound. Some on the outside, many more on the soul. And yes, they will all be redeemed.
They are not our credentials, those are found on the cross.
And unlike our vocations, those scars aren't really our credibility.
Not really.
But they are the marks of one who has held fire.
They are the marks of something else. They are the marks of having been a part of the battles. Day in and day out. Actively fighting in this war.
The safest road to hell is the gradual one - the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts. - C.S. Lewis
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