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Water Sports

      Yesterday, I went on a float down the James River. It was a nice, 2-hour relaxing trip in the water, and the next best thing to actually hanging out at the beach. Okay, not really, because the only thing the beach and the river have in common is the presence of water and sun, but that's still a great combination. Hopefully we'll be going to Smith Mountain Lake this week as well. We'll be hanging out at a house very similar to the one in this picture.  

I'm trying to get my sand n' sun in, since there will be no beach this summer for us. Our church is going on a canoeing trip in a few weeks, but I obviously can't go on that. So I think I'll live on last year's memories of the glory that is water sports. (Pictured: friends, husband, beach, lake; May 2007). 

Back by Popular Request: The Pregnancy Conversation

Or at least, you guys need my half of the conversation.

Okay, first of all, we're having a girl, and she's coming in one month. I've got my roommate praying for a father's day birth, since Johnathan's wanted kids since he was 12. She has favor with God, so I think I might get this one. 

And we will call her Aubriana Janell. Aubriana because I like the way it sounds (and it's not too trendy, ethnic, popular, classic, etc.) Janell because Janell is the French form of my mother in law's name, means gracious, and because my best friend is named Janell. This is also a good name for nickname fans (I belong to this club), because we could go a few different ways. Johnathan and I have been shortening it to Aubri, but you could go even more with Aub, or Bri, or Ana, or A.J. (but only if she's a super tomboy). And with a last name like ours, the more nicknames you have, the less you can expect to hear, "What you talkin' bout, Willis?"

Yes to breastfeeding. Even though that's weird to say on a public blog. 

Yes, we are excited. And so is Aubriana. She's actually been moving all day, trying to stick her butt under my ribs. I push it out, she puts it on me again. Johnathan and I are a little concerned that she already knows how to use her butt to get attention, but we hope she'll grow out of it (rather than into it!)

The nursery is not ready, because Danielle will be occupying her room until she gets married in July. Baby will just have to live with us for a little while longer. I did, however, get the valance for her room today, and I can't wait to put it up! 

My birth plan? Get her out. I think I'll let God take care of the how. (Although I am asking not to tear too much. Is that allowed?) 

Another popular request is for pregnancy photos. I'm not posting them. Who wants to show the world that they feel like a whale? Here's a picture of some cute ducks instead. 

The Pregnancy Conversation

When are you due? <1 month>
Do you know what you're having?
Have you decided on a name, yet?
Do you think you'll breast feed?
Are you guys excited? [sarcasm, here]
Do you have your nursery set up, already?
Have you written out a birth plan?

I've gone through it with perfect strangers and close friends. I don't tire of it-- it's actually nice to have something to talk about with people I am not familiar with. And I really enjoy when we diversify into discussing her possible skin, eye, and hair characteristics. Today, though, I got a totally new question-- one that floored me, from someone I didn't know:

"How many cup sizes have you gone up?"

Hmm. Well, I guess a little variety is good!

D-I-V-O-R-C-E

So today's sermon discussed several causes of divorce. The acrostic (yes, we're Baptists) was as follows:
D: dullness
I: immaturity
V: vexation
O: omission of God
R: lack of romance
C: breakdown in communication
E: entrapment in materialism

Replace "C's" "breakdown in communication" with CAT, and you've got my recipe for divorce. Yesterday we got home after 10 hours of being gone, only to find that Lux had been closed in my room the whole time and had left a beautiful present on my bed. It was one of those gifts that we'll be seeing a lot more of in a month, but well-wrapped in diapers. Lux thought the wrapping to be unnecessary.
I thought Johnathan was going to kill him. Or me.

Unpacking a Compliment

"Young lady, you have a beautiful ring on that finger of yours." -- elderly woman at the chiropractor's office.

"Wow, your wedding ring is incredibly sparkly!" -- middle-aged cashier at Walmart.

"Now, who's the young man who gave you that eye-catching ring?" --lady at church I'd never seen before.

These are simply the compliments I've received on my wedding ring this week. Now, my rings' characteristics have not changed one iota since I had them soldered together. They are still sparkly, still mid-size, and still diamonds. But never have they attracted so much attention as in recent months. I certainly don't mind the compliments, but I'm pretty sure there's more to it.

Perhaps it's presumptuous of me, but it seems that all these compliments can be re-worded to more accurately reflect the giver's state of mind.

"Girl-who-looks-too-young-to-be-that-pregnant, I'm glad to see you with a band on that left-hand ring finger of yours." -- elderly woman at the chiropractor's office.

"Wow, most people who come to Walmart as tore up and pregnant as you don't actually have a wedding ring. Perhaps you're not pregnant white trash after all." -- middle-aged cashier at Walmart.

"Now, please point out to me the man who impregnated you so I can double check and make sure he's wearing a wedding ring as well." -- lady at church I'd never seen before.

The Habit

Starbucks is habit-forming. Not only for the coffee, but for the intellectual stimulation I've grown used to finding there. Many years ago, during the development of my addiction, I visited Starbucks with others. I engaged my friends in conversation that revolutionized the way I thought about God, others, and me. Later, as life got me and everyone else, my Starbucks trips became more solitary-- my place to do homework, pray, journal, or read. Now, I go alone, or occasionally accompanied by my spouse or some other fellow reader with whom I don't need to interact.

But Starbucks is not the habit anymore; no, I have become addicted to my failure to interact. I have realized that I can't engage ideas. I can't engage others. I can't engage crowds or individuals or even academic stimulation. Has my brain turned to mush? Maybe, but I suspect it has more to with a protective shell I've sunk into. Over the last three years, I stopped the practice of connecting with others. I didn't have time, my friends moved away, my husband was busy, my homework came first. All of these are (I convince myself) valid excuses for my indifference. And yet, now that I have time, no homework, a husband who is home, and a new church with new (potential) friends, I feel stuck in a rut.

I'm just not interested in much anymore. I have become completely self-sufficient and independent, and there is very little wonder and awe in my life. I am sure some of that will return in a few weeks with the arrival of our daughter, but frankly, I am ready for God now. I want my soul to come alive to beauty and music and words the way it used to. I long to respond to ideas with passion, to friends with empathy, and to Jesus with humility. I've hit upon the formula: be less self-absorbed. get your thoughts in tangibility. devote yourself to Christ. Hopefully, Starbucks will be able to assist me in forming this new habit of outward looking!

Reading is Good

So I found myself wishing today for the books of my youth. Or more accurately-- the absorption in books that I had in my youth. I have been slugging through Les Miserables ("Shut up already, Monsieur Hugo!") and really missing the times when you couldn't get my attention for anything.

The problem is that now I know too much about literature to enjoy the stupid stuff, and the non-stupid stuff can honestly be a little depressing / annoying / heavy / thought-provoking, etc.

Sad! =(

Spring

There is one season I love-- warm but not humid. In California this is most of the year, but in Virginia that comes out to Spring and Fall. Spring is fantastic-- I love all the green and the beauty and how most of the bugs just haven't made it out of larvae stage yet. Unfortunately, it's also the time of the first invasion of the ants, not to mention the annual "spring cleaning".

With the arrival of the baby soon, and the amassing of stuff that we've been doing over the last two years, we realized how badly we needed more storage. We've pretty much exhausted the available space in the attic (you're not supposed to walk up there, so storage is limited to the immediate area surrounding the door), and our closets are chuck full of volleyballs, volleyball courts, and plyo boxes (the joys of off-season living), and our outdoor closet/shed has been occupied by bags of lime and seed and an old rug Johnathan wasn't certain he wanted to throw away. Solution on a tight budget? Sam's club and a small outdoor storage box. Now the lime and seed and ice chests have a home, and I can actually get to the tools at the back of the shed. Hurray for organization!

Now, it's time for some Southern sweet tea, front-porch sitting, to enjoy today's work!

That One Time I Got "Called Out"

I have been re-reading Les Miserables, an immense work that took half of my junior year to read. In high school I would tote these huge books to class and immerse myself in them; somehow I never got in trouble for it. So I extended that practice into college, where I busied myself first semester reading biographies.

One of my largest classes (which were always the safest for reading, as they are rather like London and Paris for getting lost in the humanity) was a Personal Evangelism class that everyone at Liberty is required to take. Our teacher was Dr. Lovett, who I thought was rather stupid, as he started off every class with a, "Jesus is what?" to which the congregational response was "AWESOME!" Then he proceeded to go through (pretty much verbatim) the workbook he'd had us fill out for homework.

Being one of those visual learners who doesn't require an aural repetition to remember material, I sat low in my seat and took out my C.S. Lewis biography. Typically when I read, you can only rouse me by calling my name, but one day I felt a stirring around me and looked up. Dr. Lovett had made his way up to my row and was staring right at me. "Young lady, are you a Christian?"

I closed my book. "Yes."

"And do you not think this material is important?"

(We were studying what Baptists term "The Roman Road"-- a collection of verses taken from Romans which is used as a guide to salvation.) So of course my reply was that I did think what we were studying was important.

"Do you know it by heart?"

(Probably, but if I said yes he would ask me to go through it and I worried I would make a mistake.) "No."

"And do you have friends and family that don't know Jesus?"

"Of course."

"And have you shared the salvation of Jesus with all of them?"

Honestly, I was pretty sure I had, but my answer was again negative. I feared that I would come across as arrogant and then ignorant.

"Then I'm going to assume what you're reading is less important than what I am teaching."

I was actually at the point where Tolkien is talking to Lewis about Christianity, and I was gleaning quite a bit from that, but I agreed.

He finally resumed his "lecture," but for quite some time I was known as "That Girl Who Got Called Out in Evangelism." Husband heard about it, and asked me a few days later if I had been in that class. I think maybe I blushed, "I was the one he'd caught reading." I think that was when Johnathan realized I wasn't as good as he thought.

Something Funny

So on Sunday mornings, Johnathan has to be at church at 6:45 to prepare for the 1st service. While I typically prefer the first service (less special music!) I have been attending the 10 AM service since I meet friends who can't get up any earlier. The routine sort of evolved where I head to Starbucks at 9 AM to enjoy a little Bible reading before church. Many times I meet the youth pastor, Jon, there, who reminds me of California home (he's from San Diego and looks like it.)

Anyway, on Sunday I was reading in this Bible that has the NIV on one side and the Message on the other. I flipped to Psalm 1-- you know, "Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers."

Guess what the Message pulled out of its butt? "How well God must like you-- you don't hang out at Sin Saloon, you don't slink along Dead-End Road, you don't go to Smart-Mouth College."

And all God's people said . . . AMEN!