So long . . .

. . . fair well, auf weidersehen, adieu. That is until I see some of you next week, or until I start posting again. I'm about to head back down to Claire's, where I will be helping her and Dave pack, doing some shopping, learning how to apply makeup (that's right, I'm 23 and have never learned to wear more than cover up and mascara), driving to Santa Fe to pick up jewelry hand made by April Szuch, and generally having a fun time. Next Thursday or Friday the three of us will drive to Spokane, then they'll tie the knot on June 10. I am so excited. Okay, everybody knows that. Anywho, I'll probably be burried in boxes, tulle, gift wrap, and love. I know it breaks all your little hearts to know that I won't be writing for a few weeks, but with the help of Christ and a caring support group I'm sure you can all carry on.

Lady of the Dance

I never wanted to learn to dance. For five semesters of college I went to the ballroom dances in the HUB to hang out with my friends, all of whom were experienced ballroom/swing dancers, and watch. I was happy with that. I enjoyed it, and I could always join in on a little Charleston or line dancing.
That all changed when I was faced with the necessity of fulfilling 2 PE credits in Spring of my senior year, and literally the only 2 classes that fit my schedule were Swing/Lindy Hop and American Ballroom Dancing. I moaned and groaned about it pretty much all semester, spending much time feeling tall and awkward and generally insecure. There were fun moments, yes, but the love of the dance had not yet seized me.
I graduated from Whitworth doubting that I would have many opportunities to dance, at least not outside my little circle of friends with whom I was comfortable looking ridiculous. But when I arrived at my parents two bedroom apartment for the summer of '05 with no friends within 10 years of my age in a 50 mile radius, Lindy Hop at the Mercury Cafe in Denver became my saving grace. Almost every week I met Dave and whoever he brought with him from Colorado Springs for an evening of dancing. I learned, I taught, I danced with complete strangers, and now I can honestly say I have interests outside the realm of religion and languages. Plus I got to know Dave a lot better, which is good because he'll be marrying my best friend in just under 3 weeks. At the wedding reception we are dancing to the song "On Revival Day" which we claimed as our own last summer.
Last night I returned to the Merc for the second time since last summer. I was with Dave and Claire, two of my favorite people and a great couple to watch dance together, and a bunch of college students from their church. I danced with some really good leads, discovered that I can Cha-Cha better than I thought I could, and generally had a great time. I still can't hold a candle to Claire or Dave as a dancer, but I'm glad to have overcome my blinding fear of the dance.

Hard Core Vegging (aka TV is the Devil)

I've been in Colorado for a few days now, and other than the fabulous 24 hours at Claire's I've been wasting away in front of the TV at my parents' apartment. Sad? I think so. I've tried to find alternatives, but all my high school friends have moved away and my Whitworth friends are either passing through too quickly to get together or are in the Springs, so I won't see them (okay, her. there's only 1) until next week. So call me, eh? As much as I feel icky sitting on my bum most of the day, it is also nice to give my brain a break. I'm still adjusting to not having any homework. In fact, I wish I had brought my Greek home with me so I could start translating Mark. Some veger I am. Currently I am sitting in my mom's recliner with my lap top in my lap and the TV tuned to Honey, I Shrunk the Kids on TBS. Fear not, I will not waste away forever. I'm having lunch with my pastor today, and working on embroidering my shoes for Claire/Dave's reception. Sunday I head back down to Claire's where Dave will be teaching in Sunday School, and then we start packing their respective abodes and preparing to drive to Spokane for the wedding.
PS: I hate the M*A*S*H* theme song. Literally, every night, emanating from my parents' room, that stupid theme song. I'm not exagerating either. Every Night! Aaagh.

Adventures in post-Finals Freedom

I've been living it up here in Princeton with my friends, who are a lot more entertaining now that they are free from the academic stress that never quite caught up with me (thank you Whitworth, for getting me out of intro. classes). I've had time to work, pack, and hang out. A lot of hanging out. It's sad that I didn't get to do more of this fun relaxing stuff during the year, but I've definitely made up for lost time.
Here are some pictures from Sunday's adventure to Ocean City, Atlantic City and the Diner somewhere along the way.
Tomorrow I head to Colorado, after finishing the packing and going to an interview for a summer cataloging job in the seminary library.
Boring post, I know, but I'm simply too excited to go home/Spokane to be creative.

It is finished!

Is it inappropriate to appropriate Jesus' final words to rejoice in something as ultimately trivial as finishing my first year of seminary? Perhaps, but I just did it anyway. 2 bluebooks and some hand cramping later, it's finished. I must do something celebratory! Like fly to Colorado then drive to Spokane. But since I can't do that until Friday, I'll just rejoice in God's faithfulness, chill with my friends, and maybe even have a drink.

The Grand Final(e)

Tomorrow afternoon I will take my last exam. My only exam. And my first real in-class test at seminary. I had one short mid-term last semester, and a take-home, but that's it. I've been writing papers. So tomorrow I will do what the rest of the first years have been doing all week: enter Stuart 6, take 2 blue books, and emerge three hours later with a cramped wrist and a depleted brain. Kudos to all the juniors for whom this is their fourth or fifth exam! I remembered over the last few days the sick pleasure I get from writing study guides and formatting them to my perfectly type A specifications. I also got a healthy dose of humility while studying with friends. Being put in a position/putting myself in the position of teacher when I don't know as much as I think I do is always humbling. I guess that's the paradox of my degree, the Masters of Divinity. Trying to master the unmasterable will always leave me realizes how infinitely beyond me God is, and how elusive some foundational doctrines can be. May my mind be used for the glory of God, rather than the pride of having others see me as knowledgable!