Monday, May 31, 2004
What I'm Reading
I'm reading across a number of books, and am not totally captivated by any of them.
The Power of Now (Eckhart Tolle). This one really does totally captivate me, but it's like the Bible in that you can't just sit and read the whole thing at once. It's a spiritual philosophy of surrender and living in the present. It's general in an interesting way that can fit with Christianity, tho it's not Christian. This book is shaping me more than anything else right now.
The Enneagram in Love & Work (Helen Palmer). I'm starting to use this like a reference book to help understand my interactions with others.
The Breakout Principle (Herbert Benson). More mind-body stuff - how to trigger relaxation for "more effective performance" (ugly phrase!) in athletics, spirituality, work, relationships, etc.
Living a Year of Kaddish (Ari Goldman). Ari's dad died, and he goes through a year of mourning ritual in orthodox Judaism. This helps him grieve, and explore and reconcile his difficult relationship with his disapproving father. It's really good.
The Promise Keepers:Servants, Soldier, and Godly Men (John Bartkowski). A sociological book about the demise of Promise Keepers. BORING...but I'm writing a book review on it, so I have to finish it.
Are you reading something good that I should know about? Tell me, tell me! I'm reading more than I have in a long time, though I can't put words to the reasons why it feels so good.
I'm reading across a number of books, and am not totally captivated by any of them.
The Power of Now (Eckhart Tolle). This one really does totally captivate me, but it's like the Bible in that you can't just sit and read the whole thing at once. It's a spiritual philosophy of surrender and living in the present. It's general in an interesting way that can fit with Christianity, tho it's not Christian. This book is shaping me more than anything else right now.
The Enneagram in Love & Work (Helen Palmer). I'm starting to use this like a reference book to help understand my interactions with others.
The Breakout Principle (Herbert Benson). More mind-body stuff - how to trigger relaxation for "more effective performance" (ugly phrase!) in athletics, spirituality, work, relationships, etc.
Living a Year of Kaddish (Ari Goldman). Ari's dad died, and he goes through a year of mourning ritual in orthodox Judaism. This helps him grieve, and explore and reconcile his difficult relationship with his disapproving father. It's really good.
The Promise Keepers:Servants, Soldier, and Godly Men (John Bartkowski). A sociological book about the demise of Promise Keepers. BORING...but I'm writing a book review on it, so I have to finish it.
Are you reading something good that I should know about? Tell me, tell me! I'm reading more than I have in a long time, though I can't put words to the reasons why it feels so good.
Friday, May 28, 2004
A Good Church
Last night my dad and I went to the hospital to visit Austrid, a 91-year-old family friend. She looks every bit as old as you think she might. She was at the end of a 10-day rehabilitation process following a small stroke, and she’s heading home today. I don’t know Austrid very well, but I went along in hopes that I could get some insights from her about death and suffering.
Austrid is the only child of a single mom; her dad died of pneumonia when she was two. Her mother became a full-time housekeeper for a rich widower in Minneapolis, and Austrid was sent off to northern Minnesota to live with a childless aunt and uncle. She was reunited with her mother five years later when the rich man proposed, and she also gained a kind stepfather and two stepbrothers.
She joined Lake Harriet Baptist Church in 1928, where there was a thriving young adult group. As they began marrying and moving away, the 23 young women in the group started a Round Robin writing group. One woman wrote a letter to the group, and mailed it off to the next. The next woman added her news, and sent the whole thing on to the third. So the friends remained friends. Austrid’s best friend was my great aunt Katherine, and that is how Austrid became a friend to my dad’s family.
One by one, the beautiful young women of Lake Harriet Baptist Church were courted, married, and had babies. Except for Austrid. She remained single, and still is today. I asked her whether she hoped for children, and she furrowed her brow at me as if I were slow-witted. “Well, I never get married, so why would I hope for children?”
When she was twenty, many of her friends had toddlers, so Austrid got herself some children by becoming the Sunday School teacher for the 4-5 year-olds. She taught my dad’s cousins, and remembers their birthmarks, their silly phrases, and their unique ways of being brats. (My dad wasn’t in her class because his father, a pastor, was called to the distant lands of Iowa and Nebraska). My dad attended her retirement party, however, six years ago. At the age of 85, she retired from Sunday School teaching. She taught the 4-5 year olds for 65 years without missing a year, and she was honored with a special pin and a buffet of coffee, red punch, and five kinds of bars.
She talks about her Sunday School children still, many of them now in their fifties and sixties. She talks about her friends, too, and their deaths. I asked her if it is hard to outlive so many people. Again, the furrowed brow and implied slow-wittedness. “Of course it’s hard. It’s shocking. It’s very hard.” She said she’s glad that the Round Robin is still kicking, but sad that letters are shared now only between 12 women, because the other 11 have died. She’s also lost generations of friends. When great aunt Katherine died, she befriended Katherine’s sister, my grandma Marion. She reminisced about how sick Marion was before she died, and just like the unique bratiness of my dad’s cousins, she honored grandma’s unique way of dying.
She’s going home today, and a church member is stopping by the hospital to drive her home. Some other church folks are helping care for her at home, and a neighbor has watched her house during her hospital stay. A church member called her a few days ago to ask what’s new at church. Austrid laughed. “I have no idea what’s going on at church! I’ve missed so much! I’ve been gone from church for the last two weeks. Two weeks!”
This church isn’t just like a family to Austrid; it is her family. Her friendships extend back 76 years, and she’s an extended part of many families like my dad’s. She knows the children and grandchildren of her 4-5-year-olds. She doesn’t have a husband, but she has a family. She doesn’t have her own children, but she has nurtured everyone else’s children. She said, “I was never a mother, but I sure am a grandmother!”
I’ve never visited Lake Harriet Baptist Church because it doles out the same conservative, legalistic faith I was raised with. Women wear skirts even to the Sunday night hymn sings, and there are no drums or Power Point coming anytime soon. Only men preach. Austrid said to me that she’s sad about the death of my babies, but that “God is in control and you just have to trust Him.” Since my babies died, I’ve avoided predestinarians, and I don’t necessarily think God is a man. Sometimes I even like to think of myself as postmodern.
These Baptists don't have hip style, innovative theology, or progressive music, but I turn to my own slow-wittedness with furrowed brow and ask, “So what?” The church has love. A teenager with a dead father and a new blended family showed up there in 1928, and somewhere in the course of 76 years of loving, became whole.
Last night my dad and I went to the hospital to visit Austrid, a 91-year-old family friend. She looks every bit as old as you think she might. She was at the end of a 10-day rehabilitation process following a small stroke, and she’s heading home today. I don’t know Austrid very well, but I went along in hopes that I could get some insights from her about death and suffering.
Austrid is the only child of a single mom; her dad died of pneumonia when she was two. Her mother became a full-time housekeeper for a rich widower in Minneapolis, and Austrid was sent off to northern Minnesota to live with a childless aunt and uncle. She was reunited with her mother five years later when the rich man proposed, and she also gained a kind stepfather and two stepbrothers.
She joined Lake Harriet Baptist Church in 1928, where there was a thriving young adult group. As they began marrying and moving away, the 23 young women in the group started a Round Robin writing group. One woman wrote a letter to the group, and mailed it off to the next. The next woman added her news, and sent the whole thing on to the third. So the friends remained friends. Austrid’s best friend was my great aunt Katherine, and that is how Austrid became a friend to my dad’s family.
One by one, the beautiful young women of Lake Harriet Baptist Church were courted, married, and had babies. Except for Austrid. She remained single, and still is today. I asked her whether she hoped for children, and she furrowed her brow at me as if I were slow-witted. “Well, I never get married, so why would I hope for children?”
When she was twenty, many of her friends had toddlers, so Austrid got herself some children by becoming the Sunday School teacher for the 4-5 year-olds. She taught my dad’s cousins, and remembers their birthmarks, their silly phrases, and their unique ways of being brats. (My dad wasn’t in her class because his father, a pastor, was called to the distant lands of Iowa and Nebraska). My dad attended her retirement party, however, six years ago. At the age of 85, she retired from Sunday School teaching. She taught the 4-5 year olds for 65 years without missing a year, and she was honored with a special pin and a buffet of coffee, red punch, and five kinds of bars.
She talks about her Sunday School children still, many of them now in their fifties and sixties. She talks about her friends, too, and their deaths. I asked her if it is hard to outlive so many people. Again, the furrowed brow and implied slow-wittedness. “Of course it’s hard. It’s shocking. It’s very hard.” She said she’s glad that the Round Robin is still kicking, but sad that letters are shared now only between 12 women, because the other 11 have died. She’s also lost generations of friends. When great aunt Katherine died, she befriended Katherine’s sister, my grandma Marion. She reminisced about how sick Marion was before she died, and just like the unique bratiness of my dad’s cousins, she honored grandma’s unique way of dying.
She’s going home today, and a church member is stopping by the hospital to drive her home. Some other church folks are helping care for her at home, and a neighbor has watched her house during her hospital stay. A church member called her a few days ago to ask what’s new at church. Austrid laughed. “I have no idea what’s going on at church! I’ve missed so much! I’ve been gone from church for the last two weeks. Two weeks!”
This church isn’t just like a family to Austrid; it is her family. Her friendships extend back 76 years, and she’s an extended part of many families like my dad’s. She knows the children and grandchildren of her 4-5-year-olds. She doesn’t have a husband, but she has a family. She doesn’t have her own children, but she has nurtured everyone else’s children. She said, “I was never a mother, but I sure am a grandmother!”
I’ve never visited Lake Harriet Baptist Church because it doles out the same conservative, legalistic faith I was raised with. Women wear skirts even to the Sunday night hymn sings, and there are no drums or Power Point coming anytime soon. Only men preach. Austrid said to me that she’s sad about the death of my babies, but that “God is in control and you just have to trust Him.” Since my babies died, I’ve avoided predestinarians, and I don’t necessarily think God is a man. Sometimes I even like to think of myself as postmodern.
These Baptists don't have hip style, innovative theology, or progressive music, but I turn to my own slow-wittedness with furrowed brow and ask, “So what?” The church has love. A teenager with a dead father and a new blended family showed up there in 1928, and somewhere in the course of 76 years of loving, became whole.
1 Comments:
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Writing and Reading
Two phrases I don't enjoy reading:
1. "very unique" Isn't 'very' implied in 'unique'?
2. "the very fabric of our culture" Our culture is not made of fabric. I understand it's a metaphor, but metaphors are limitless- we don't need to use the same one over and over.
Things I don't like about my own writing:
1. I write very densely without explaining complicated ideas or making clear transitions.
2. I frequently write dogmatically, as if my conclusions are the only correct ones.
3. I use my own favored anthropological jargon that other people don't appreciate. (I'm editing a chapter, and the editors are making me remove the verb 'raced', as in "my personal identity is raced" because they claim 'race' cannot become a verb.)
4. I enjoy brainstorming and writing, but I am not a perfectionist. I do not enjoy the final stages of editing.
Today I'm finishing "The Social Construction of Race: Critical Thinking and Transformative Possibilities", a chapter for an edited book on Christianity, Race, and Ethnicity. It's an interdisciplinary project designed to foster conversation between Bible scholars, theologians, sociologists, and anthropologists. And while it's possible that 'transformative' isn't a real word, I'm going to try keeping it in there.
Please comment - What's easy or difficult for you about writing?
And I'm going to go work on that chapter now.
OK, now I'm really going.
Here I go.
Two phrases I don't enjoy reading:
1. "very unique" Isn't 'very' implied in 'unique'?
2. "the very fabric of our culture" Our culture is not made of fabric. I understand it's a metaphor, but metaphors are limitless- we don't need to use the same one over and over.
Things I don't like about my own writing:
1. I write very densely without explaining complicated ideas or making clear transitions.
2. I frequently write dogmatically, as if my conclusions are the only correct ones.
3. I use my own favored anthropological jargon that other people don't appreciate. (I'm editing a chapter, and the editors are making me remove the verb 'raced', as in "my personal identity is raced" because they claim 'race' cannot become a verb.)
4. I enjoy brainstorming and writing, but I am not a perfectionist. I do not enjoy the final stages of editing.
Today I'm finishing "The Social Construction of Race: Critical Thinking and Transformative Possibilities", a chapter for an edited book on Christianity, Race, and Ethnicity. It's an interdisciplinary project designed to foster conversation between Bible scholars, theologians, sociologists, and anthropologists. And while it's possible that 'transformative' isn't a real word, I'm going to try keeping it in there.
Please comment - What's easy or difficult for you about writing?
And I'm going to go work on that chapter now.
OK, now I'm really going.
Here I go.
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
We are Siamese if you please. We are Siamese if you don't please.
We are given homework each week in the mind/body class. Last week's homework (due last night) was to do an intentional act of self-care. Many women took this as liberty to spend money in ways their husbands normally disapprove of - pedicures, massages, shopping. I, however, am one of those rare women who is more cheap than her husband.
I decided to practice interspecies mindfulness (I made up the name). I went to the Humane Society in Golden Valley and sat on the floor of the cat room for about 45 minutes. I observed the cats and tried to join their environment, and waited for them to come to me. I tried not to have thoughts, but simply to be aware and present in the moment. It was a wonderful experience.
I reflected on it afterwards, and realized a few things I like about animals. I like them because they have complete integrity - wholeness and entirety in each moment. An animal never pretends to be a different animal, or to disguise its feelings, or to improve itself out of shame or jealousy. The absence of self-consciousness is a tremendous gift God gave everyone but humans. For the most part, you don't need to take personally the way animals treat you. They are motivated by intstinct and immediate need, and don't shape their behaviors to please or displease you. (Of course, it gets more complicated with social domesticated animals).
Animals have no altruism, either, which is quite a deficit. They can't think of others, and can't set aside their own needs for others. James commented that Ruby doesn't love us at all. In fact, she would gleefully eat us if she could. I acknowledge this, with gratefulness for my higher position on the food chain. It's a natural relationship, and I'm naturally dominant - good!
We see this kind of natural existence and present awareness in our species only in infants, and only for a few weeks or months. Of course, part of our task as a species is to learn to delay our own gratification for the sake of others - to become less self-centered is the primary spiritual task of humans, in my view. Animals are just supposed to survive and procreate and bless the earth with their presence. I'm blessed to be able to intensively watch a few of them do it.
And why cats? Because they're soft and pretty. Cuteness is actually an environmental adaptation - over great amounts of time, natural selection has favored the cute cats because they survive best (by manipulating humans into caring for them!).
No one can possibly still be reading this post, but that's OK. It feels good to write it.
Challenge from the cats: Be fully yourself, and live fully in this day without worry for tomorrow.
Second challenge from the cats: Identify something weaker than yourself, kill it without mercy, and eat it with joy.
Challenge from Jenell: Consider practicing an act of self-care today.
We are given homework each week in the mind/body class. Last week's homework (due last night) was to do an intentional act of self-care. Many women took this as liberty to spend money in ways their husbands normally disapprove of - pedicures, massages, shopping. I, however, am one of those rare women who is more cheap than her husband.
I decided to practice interspecies mindfulness (I made up the name). I went to the Humane Society in Golden Valley and sat on the floor of the cat room for about 45 minutes. I observed the cats and tried to join their environment, and waited for them to come to me. I tried not to have thoughts, but simply to be aware and present in the moment. It was a wonderful experience.
I reflected on it afterwards, and realized a few things I like about animals. I like them because they have complete integrity - wholeness and entirety in each moment. An animal never pretends to be a different animal, or to disguise its feelings, or to improve itself out of shame or jealousy. The absence of self-consciousness is a tremendous gift God gave everyone but humans. For the most part, you don't need to take personally the way animals treat you. They are motivated by intstinct and immediate need, and don't shape their behaviors to please or displease you. (Of course, it gets more complicated with social domesticated animals).
Animals have no altruism, either, which is quite a deficit. They can't think of others, and can't set aside their own needs for others. James commented that Ruby doesn't love us at all. In fact, she would gleefully eat us if she could. I acknowledge this, with gratefulness for my higher position on the food chain. It's a natural relationship, and I'm naturally dominant - good!
We see this kind of natural existence and present awareness in our species only in infants, and only for a few weeks or months. Of course, part of our task as a species is to learn to delay our own gratification for the sake of others - to become less self-centered is the primary spiritual task of humans, in my view. Animals are just supposed to survive and procreate and bless the earth with their presence. I'm blessed to be able to intensively watch a few of them do it.
And why cats? Because they're soft and pretty. Cuteness is actually an environmental adaptation - over great amounts of time, natural selection has favored the cute cats because they survive best (by manipulating humans into caring for them!).
No one can possibly still be reading this post, but that's OK. It feels good to write it.
Challenge from the cats: Be fully yourself, and live fully in this day without worry for tomorrow.
Second challenge from the cats: Identify something weaker than yourself, kill it without mercy, and eat it with joy.
Challenge from Jenell: Consider practicing an act of self-care today.
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Crisis of faith, part 2
And, of course, we can't create a hierarchy of Christians upon whether or not a person experiences crises of faith. I know Christians who wonder regularly whether God exists, whether He is real in the world, and whether He loves them. It seems to me that going back to the very beginning, over and over again, is part of their spiritual journey. It seems that some people believe in God's existence and in God's love easily, and some don't. Maybe sometimes this is shaped by family dysfunction or psychological problems, and one's spirituality will change as one's psychological health improves. For others, it seems like a persistent part of their spirituality.
We are saved by faith through grace, so that no one can boast. This seems to suggest that faith is a gift. In noticing spiritual differences between myself and my close friends, I think there are many gifts. Some have remarkable faith, some love, some trust, some hope, some peace. Faith is just one gift among many, and some people seem to have it in abundance, while others struggle. Christians seem to talk as if faith is the foundation of Christianity itself, but I'm not so sure about that. Maybe it's a web of faith, hope, love, peace, kindness, etc., and the web can be strong in some spots and weak in others, but the webness of it holds it all together. (I stole that web image from Doug).
I liked Joy Paul's story. It's very different than mine, but I recognize it and resonate with it because we are both witnessing to what we've seen of God in our lives.
Things I Learned by Experience Yesterday
1. Don't try to live the entire summer on the first day of summer. I tried to do yoga, do aerobic workout, clean house, write article, edit chapter, bake two cakes, and watch part of Oprah.
2. It is entirely ineffective to say to the rhubarb, "I love you. Please grow faster."
3. There's nothing like getting all the cat vomit residue off the floors to make you feel on top of things at home.
4. Yoga is good, but that doesn't mean that more yoga is better. I'm in pain today.
And, of course, we can't create a hierarchy of Christians upon whether or not a person experiences crises of faith. I know Christians who wonder regularly whether God exists, whether He is real in the world, and whether He loves them. It seems to me that going back to the very beginning, over and over again, is part of their spiritual journey. It seems that some people believe in God's existence and in God's love easily, and some don't. Maybe sometimes this is shaped by family dysfunction or psychological problems, and one's spirituality will change as one's psychological health improves. For others, it seems like a persistent part of their spirituality.
We are saved by faith through grace, so that no one can boast. This seems to suggest that faith is a gift. In noticing spiritual differences between myself and my close friends, I think there are many gifts. Some have remarkable faith, some love, some trust, some hope, some peace. Faith is just one gift among many, and some people seem to have it in abundance, while others struggle. Christians seem to talk as if faith is the foundation of Christianity itself, but I'm not so sure about that. Maybe it's a web of faith, hope, love, peace, kindness, etc., and the web can be strong in some spots and weak in others, but the webness of it holds it all together. (I stole that web image from Doug).
I liked Joy Paul's story. It's very different than mine, but I recognize it and resonate with it because we are both witnessing to what we've seen of God in our lives.
Things I Learned by Experience Yesterday
1. Don't try to live the entire summer on the first day of summer. I tried to do yoga, do aerobic workout, clean house, write article, edit chapter, bake two cakes, and watch part of Oprah.
2. It is entirely ineffective to say to the rhubarb, "I love you. Please grow faster."
3. There's nothing like getting all the cat vomit residue off the floors to make you feel on top of things at home.
4. Yoga is good, but that doesn't mean that more yoga is better. I'm in pain today.
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Monday, May 24, 2004
Crisis of faith?
In the midst of numerous upheavals, KP was asked about this "crisis of faith" and was offered Jer. 29:11 as a salve. She responded by wearing a sparkly red shirt to church, which is an obvious sign that she is not having said crisis.
I, too, have been asked whether I am experiencing a crisis of faith, which I am not. What is a crisis of faith? Have you ever experienced one? What sort of crises have been part of your life difficulties?
My babies' death sparked five crises: a crisis of health (my mind and body are taking months to heal), a crisis of life (there was lots of death), a crisis of happiness (obviously), and two faith-related crises. It was a crisis of peace because I was, for months, unable to relax and experience calmness of body, mind, or spirit. I resisted the situation instead of accepting it, and could not experience the contentment of the Holy Spirit that is available regardless of circumstance. And it was a crisis of hope. I couldn't imagine the future ever being better, and faced the future with fear and hesitance.
It was a crisis of these five things: health, life, happiness, peace, and hope. It was not, however, a crisis of faith, because God was close at hand every day. It was not a crisis of love, because loving people surrounded me, and still do. It was not a crisis of gentleness or kindness - love, gentleness and kindness were a shelter built for me by my friends.
A crisis of faith would depend upon how faith is defined. I think of faith as living with God in mystery and uncertainty. Faith is living in trust - I will face this day, even this difficult day, trusting that God will love me. Having theological questions (Why is God doing this to me? How does God work? Why me?) is not a crisis of faith. In fact, maybe absolute theological certainty is a real crisis of faith. When a person lives by his/her own understanding of God and God's ways, there is no faith. When a person is confident that future outcomes will correspond with current prayers or actions, there is no faith. This person makes their own live and their own future by their own effort. It doesn't really matter whether it is theistic effort or atheistic effort.
Theological doubts, acknowledgement of uncertainty, and facing the fact that life is really hard may be a tremendous step of faith, not a crisis. Seeing clearly that one's own efforts in prayer or morality do not pay off with outcomes, and seeing one's own theological limitations can free a person to receive God on God's own terms. Free of expectation and manipulation, the person can live with God in simplicity, come what may.
In the midst of numerous upheavals, KP was asked about this "crisis of faith" and was offered Jer. 29:11 as a salve. She responded by wearing a sparkly red shirt to church, which is an obvious sign that she is not having said crisis.
I, too, have been asked whether I am experiencing a crisis of faith, which I am not. What is a crisis of faith? Have you ever experienced one? What sort of crises have been part of your life difficulties?
My babies' death sparked five crises: a crisis of health (my mind and body are taking months to heal), a crisis of life (there was lots of death), a crisis of happiness (obviously), and two faith-related crises. It was a crisis of peace because I was, for months, unable to relax and experience calmness of body, mind, or spirit. I resisted the situation instead of accepting it, and could not experience the contentment of the Holy Spirit that is available regardless of circumstance. And it was a crisis of hope. I couldn't imagine the future ever being better, and faced the future with fear and hesitance.
It was a crisis of these five things: health, life, happiness, peace, and hope. It was not, however, a crisis of faith, because God was close at hand every day. It was not a crisis of love, because loving people surrounded me, and still do. It was not a crisis of gentleness or kindness - love, gentleness and kindness were a shelter built for me by my friends.
A crisis of faith would depend upon how faith is defined. I think of faith as living with God in mystery and uncertainty. Faith is living in trust - I will face this day, even this difficult day, trusting that God will love me. Having theological questions (Why is God doing this to me? How does God work? Why me?) is not a crisis of faith. In fact, maybe absolute theological certainty is a real crisis of faith. When a person lives by his/her own understanding of God and God's ways, there is no faith. When a person is confident that future outcomes will correspond with current prayers or actions, there is no faith. This person makes their own live and their own future by their own effort. It doesn't really matter whether it is theistic effort or atheistic effort.
Theological doubts, acknowledgement of uncertainty, and facing the fact that life is really hard may be a tremendous step of faith, not a crisis. Seeing clearly that one's own efforts in prayer or morality do not pay off with outcomes, and seeing one's own theological limitations can free a person to receive God on God's own terms. Free of expectation and manipulation, the person can live with God in simplicity, come what may.
Friday, May 21, 2004
Sometimes You Cause Your Own Problems
I considered all of your suggestions about grading, and talked some of them over with colleagues in the faculty lounge over lunch, and with James. Part of the mind/body program is to articulate one's feelings, so I meditated upon my feelings about grading. I feel a strong pressure to do all my grading before commencement, and to write extensive comments to each student about their papers. I feel that students want me to do this, and my stress is good because I'm sacrificing my own peace of mind for the good of my beloved students.
I articulated these things to my colleagues (old-timers), and they nearly laughed at me! As it turns out, students don't necessarily want or expect their papers back after spring semester. And commencement is a false deadline- we have another week to do grading (we get a memo to this effect, but I never read it). I should ask students to give me a self-addressed stamped envelope if they want papers back with feedback. I did so, and have only received four requests (of about 100 students). I asked one class about it, and most said they just want to know their grades - teacher feedback isn't what they most want to read during the summer. A few nerds (a kind term for the types like me, that will someday become professors) want extensive feedback.
So, this week I am grading more peacefully because I'm not writing extensive comments on most papers, and because I have the freedom to work into next week if I want to.
One old-timer said, "Jenell, is really this about you? Do you want to think of yourself as a professor who gives extensive feedback? Let that self-image go, and just do your best." If I weren't a gender-sensitive professional, I would have kissed him!
I was creating my own stress because of my own expectations, but was falsely attributing the stress to my external circumstances. I thought the situation couldn't be changed, but change was possible by changing my perception of the situation and by changing my behaviors.
This is one of the blessings of my boys. Their death was stressful, to be sure, but I do have choices (just not the ultimate choice - the choice to let them live). I can change my perception of the event - it wasn't just a tragedy, but a blessing. Their lives were a gift to me, and though brief, I enjoyed them at the time, and enjoy them still in memory. They live still in memory and in legacy, and my life and marriage would be less if I hadn't known them.
From dead children to grading, I see that I frequently create my own stress. Note to self: change your mind, and change your life!
P.S. I lifted weights and did yoga yesterday and it was great.
P.S.S. Do you like sex and sweets? The scantily-clad Timberwolves cheerleaders are handing out donuts downtown this morning.
I considered all of your suggestions about grading, and talked some of them over with colleagues in the faculty lounge over lunch, and with James. Part of the mind/body program is to articulate one's feelings, so I meditated upon my feelings about grading. I feel a strong pressure to do all my grading before commencement, and to write extensive comments to each student about their papers. I feel that students want me to do this, and my stress is good because I'm sacrificing my own peace of mind for the good of my beloved students.
I articulated these things to my colleagues (old-timers), and they nearly laughed at me! As it turns out, students don't necessarily want or expect their papers back after spring semester. And commencement is a false deadline- we have another week to do grading (we get a memo to this effect, but I never read it). I should ask students to give me a self-addressed stamped envelope if they want papers back with feedback. I did so, and have only received four requests (of about 100 students). I asked one class about it, and most said they just want to know their grades - teacher feedback isn't what they most want to read during the summer. A few nerds (a kind term for the types like me, that will someday become professors) want extensive feedback.
So, this week I am grading more peacefully because I'm not writing extensive comments on most papers, and because I have the freedom to work into next week if I want to.
One old-timer said, "Jenell, is really this about you? Do you want to think of yourself as a professor who gives extensive feedback? Let that self-image go, and just do your best." If I weren't a gender-sensitive professional, I would have kissed him!
I was creating my own stress because of my own expectations, but was falsely attributing the stress to my external circumstances. I thought the situation couldn't be changed, but change was possible by changing my perception of the situation and by changing my behaviors.
This is one of the blessings of my boys. Their death was stressful, to be sure, but I do have choices (just not the ultimate choice - the choice to let them live). I can change my perception of the event - it wasn't just a tragedy, but a blessing. Their lives were a gift to me, and though brief, I enjoyed them at the time, and enjoy them still in memory. They live still in memory and in legacy, and my life and marriage would be less if I hadn't known them.
From dead children to grading, I see that I frequently create my own stress. Note to self: change your mind, and change your life!
P.S. I lifted weights and did yoga yesterday and it was great.
P.S.S. Do you like sex and sweets? The scantily-clad Timberwolves cheerleaders are handing out donuts downtown this morning.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
We're moving!
Grading: 700 pages down, 600 to go.
James and I are buying a house today. It's a post-war 1.5 story in Mounds View (near County Rd I and State 10). The house is in a quiet neighborhood, and it has a deep yard with big trees and a deck. I've lived in inner cities for 13 years (my entire adult life), and this new house feels unbelievable. I didn't think I would ever live in a place free of urban social dysfunction -- oops, I mean "ministry opportunities." I thought all my peace and healing would come from within, not from my external environment. (A few people from Bethel seemed to think that this part of Mounds View has plenty of urban ministry opportunities, which just goes to show that 'ghetto' is a relative term).
Apparently when your children die, however, everything changes. I feel released from the call to live in the city, and feel free to live anywhere. This new house feels like a place where I can sit still and heal, and my house and environment will help. And none of my family members died in the house, which is a big plus. And it is close to work, which simplifies life tremendously.
And we're selling our house to some fabulous people - part of their fabulousness is that they read this blog!
Grading so much, seniors graduating, and buying a house is alot to do in one week. I am going to try to find time today to work out or go for a walk, even if such a thing would reduce my blogging time - sorry!
Grading: 700 pages down, 600 to go.
James and I are buying a house today. It's a post-war 1.5 story in Mounds View (near County Rd I and State 10). The house is in a quiet neighborhood, and it has a deep yard with big trees and a deck. I've lived in inner cities for 13 years (my entire adult life), and this new house feels unbelievable. I didn't think I would ever live in a place free of urban social dysfunction -- oops, I mean "ministry opportunities." I thought all my peace and healing would come from within, not from my external environment. (A few people from Bethel seemed to think that this part of Mounds View has plenty of urban ministry opportunities, which just goes to show that 'ghetto' is a relative term).
Apparently when your children die, however, everything changes. I feel released from the call to live in the city, and feel free to live anywhere. This new house feels like a place where I can sit still and heal, and my house and environment will help. And none of my family members died in the house, which is a big plus. And it is close to work, which simplifies life tremendously.
And we're selling our house to some fabulous people - part of their fabulousness is that they read this blog!
Grading so much, seniors graduating, and buying a house is alot to do in one week. I am going to try to find time today to work out or go for a walk, even if such a thing would reduce my blogging time - sorry!
Monday, May 17, 2004
Papers to Grade
400 pages of senior research paper drafts: done
300 pages of race and ethnic relations papers: not started
800 pages of independent research: not started
35 pages of race and ethnic relations exams: not started
Isn't there an easier way? Can you suggest a way of grading that allows me to avoid actually reading these papers?
My brainstorming so far:
Give everyone "A"s: insulting to the truly deserving
Assume final grades based on earlier grades: surprisingly accurate
Ask my mother to grade them: I know she would if I asked her
Throw them down the stairs and assign descending grades to them in order of landing: intriguing possibility
400 pages of senior research paper drafts: done
300 pages of race and ethnic relations papers: not started
800 pages of independent research: not started
35 pages of race and ethnic relations exams: not started
Isn't there an easier way? Can you suggest a way of grading that allows me to avoid actually reading these papers?
My brainstorming so far:
Give everyone "A"s: insulting to the truly deserving
Assume final grades based on earlier grades: surprisingly accurate
Ask my mother to grade them: I know she would if I asked her
Throw them down the stairs and assign descending grades to them in order of landing: intriguing possibility
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Stump Tom!
My friend Tom is a big Jeopardy! winner, and wrote a great article about the experience. He's super-smart, but not smart enough to know where my phone is. It reappeared without explanation. "Don't ask, don't tell" seems to help our marriage much of the time, so I applied it to the situation.
Tom recently taped the Tournament of Champions for Jeopardy! (he's the biggest winner of all time on Jeopardy!?) and says he correctly answered "#1 Ladies Detective Agency." Here are some more questions for Tom.
Please add more Jeopardy! answers to comments section, and let's see if Tom appears on the blog to provide questions.
Topic: Christian history. Answer: wrote "In Praise of Folly" as a criticism against the Catholic church.
Topic: Radio. Answer: Tom's favorite Minnesota-based radio show.
Topic: Biochemistry. Answer: Part of cell's surface that receives neuropeptides.
Topic: pet names. Answer: Jenell's demented cat.
Topic: Double names. Answer: Aunt of former ER star and common herb.
Topic: TV shows disliked by Tom. Answer: Outcome of Rachel and Ross' relationship.
Good luck!
My friend Tom is a big Jeopardy! winner, and wrote a great article about the experience. He's super-smart, but not smart enough to know where my phone is. It reappeared without explanation. "Don't ask, don't tell" seems to help our marriage much of the time, so I applied it to the situation.
Tom recently taped the Tournament of Champions for Jeopardy! (he's the biggest winner of all time on Jeopardy!?) and says he correctly answered "#1 Ladies Detective Agency." Here are some more questions for Tom.
Please add more Jeopardy! answers to comments section, and let's see if Tom appears on the blog to provide questions.
Topic: Christian history. Answer: wrote "In Praise of Folly" as a criticism against the Catholic church.
Topic: Radio. Answer: Tom's favorite Minnesota-based radio show.
Topic: Biochemistry. Answer: Part of cell's surface that receives neuropeptides.
Topic: pet names. Answer: Jenell's demented cat.
Topic: Double names. Answer: Aunt of former ER star and common herb.
Topic: TV shows disliked by Tom. Answer: Outcome of Rachel and Ross' relationship.
Good luck!
1 Comments:
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Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Me and the Abortion Clinic
Robbinsdale is the center of the universe for the maternal side of my family. They've lived in this small suburb since the 1950s, and my aunt still lives in what had been her parents' house. Robbinsdale (one suburb north of my urban neighborhood) is also home to one of Minnesota's few OB/GYN clinics that also does abortions.
Three years ago I naively looked through my insurance information for a new GYN. I made an appointment and drove to the address, and had an immediate fight-or-flight adrenaline response when I realized it was The Abortion Clinic. I went for my appt anyway, but my inner child was afraid that lightning would strike me becuase this could be the day that God's wrath would be unleashed, and He might forget that I was in there doing something other than getting an abortion. I told the doctor I was having a hard time getting pregnant, and she smiled and said, "I'm sure you'll be fine. Most of my patients have the opposite problem." She also asked me, in the middle of the exam, whether or not I felt abortion should be legal.
I drove by the clinic last weekend and saw the regular protesters there on Saturday. One sign said, "Need help with an unwanted pregnancy? Call xxx-xxxx." That seemed fine to me. Another man, however, covers his vehicle with 10-foot high photographs of mutilated fetuses (third-trimester abortions). The images are of torn and bloody body parts, including faces and heads. Now I can't get them out of my mind and they are very disturbing (the fetuses are about the same age as my babies). I thought maybe if I write it out, my mind will let it go.
Why are these images allowed to be displayed in public? I don't think a person could display sexual images, or a dead child, or the bloody body part of an adult in public. Why a fetus? I think it's obscene and offensive and should be censored. I also think the abortion clinic is not necessarily the place for abortion protest - try the state capitol or a courthouse or something where policy decisions are made. I think we should fight politically in the policy arena, and treat people pastorally in the personal arena. Women are going to the clinic to care for their health in the best way they know how, and it's not right to make it more difficult for them. It's just cruel and hateful and horrible, and I'm sad for the women, including myself, who have to receive the public outpouring of these protestors' inner anger.
I'm not expressing a political opinion about abortion here, but my view on the sad state of public discourse in our country.
Robbinsdale is the center of the universe for the maternal side of my family. They've lived in this small suburb since the 1950s, and my aunt still lives in what had been her parents' house. Robbinsdale (one suburb north of my urban neighborhood) is also home to one of Minnesota's few OB/GYN clinics that also does abortions.
Three years ago I naively looked through my insurance information for a new GYN. I made an appointment and drove to the address, and had an immediate fight-or-flight adrenaline response when I realized it was The Abortion Clinic. I went for my appt anyway, but my inner child was afraid that lightning would strike me becuase this could be the day that God's wrath would be unleashed, and He might forget that I was in there doing something other than getting an abortion. I told the doctor I was having a hard time getting pregnant, and she smiled and said, "I'm sure you'll be fine. Most of my patients have the opposite problem." She also asked me, in the middle of the exam, whether or not I felt abortion should be legal.
I drove by the clinic last weekend and saw the regular protesters there on Saturday. One sign said, "Need help with an unwanted pregnancy? Call xxx-xxxx." That seemed fine to me. Another man, however, covers his vehicle with 10-foot high photographs of mutilated fetuses (third-trimester abortions). The images are of torn and bloody body parts, including faces and heads. Now I can't get them out of my mind and they are very disturbing (the fetuses are about the same age as my babies). I thought maybe if I write it out, my mind will let it go.
Why are these images allowed to be displayed in public? I don't think a person could display sexual images, or a dead child, or the bloody body part of an adult in public. Why a fetus? I think it's obscene and offensive and should be censored. I also think the abortion clinic is not necessarily the place for abortion protest - try the state capitol or a courthouse or something where policy decisions are made. I think we should fight politically in the policy arena, and treat people pastorally in the personal arena. Women are going to the clinic to care for their health in the best way they know how, and it's not right to make it more difficult for them. It's just cruel and hateful and horrible, and I'm sad for the women, including myself, who have to receive the public outpouring of these protestors' inner anger.
I'm not expressing a political opinion about abortion here, but my view on the sad state of public discourse in our country.
2 Comments:
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Monday, May 10, 2004
Good Books
I've got a whole stash of new books, and only about 12 hours left to read them. I get 35 student papers tonight to grade, and more and more as the week progresses...no more recreational reading for a few weeks.
Sing Me to Heaven. Margaret Kim's story about her marriage to a man dying of AIDS (married him when he was HIV-positive, he died within 4-5 years). It's about what marriage is, how theirs developed, his liminal identity between homosexuality and heterosexuality, and their experience of God and faith through it all. I LOVE THIS BOOK!
#1 Ladies' Detective Agency. A simple novel about a clever women who starts a detective agency in Botswana. Simple and fun.
Scholarship and Christian Faith: Enlarging the Conversation. The heavens parted, and descending from the clouds was this book, given to me. When I read this book, my heart beats faster, my blood pressure probably raises, and I feel so excited and free. It's a challenge to the Christian Reformed domination of Christian scholarship, offering numerous models for how to be Christian and an academic. I plan to start stalking the authors soon, but I need to get this crazy talk out of my system first.
Question for you today: I haven't seen our phone for four days. I have to use one that is very static-y. What do you think James did with the phone?
I've got a whole stash of new books, and only about 12 hours left to read them. I get 35 student papers tonight to grade, and more and more as the week progresses...no more recreational reading for a few weeks.
Sing Me to Heaven. Margaret Kim's story about her marriage to a man dying of AIDS (married him when he was HIV-positive, he died within 4-5 years). It's about what marriage is, how theirs developed, his liminal identity between homosexuality and heterosexuality, and their experience of God and faith through it all. I LOVE THIS BOOK!
#1 Ladies' Detective Agency. A simple novel about a clever women who starts a detective agency in Botswana. Simple and fun.
Scholarship and Christian Faith: Enlarging the Conversation. The heavens parted, and descending from the clouds was this book, given to me. When I read this book, my heart beats faster, my blood pressure probably raises, and I feel so excited and free. It's a challenge to the Christian Reformed domination of Christian scholarship, offering numerous models for how to be Christian and an academic. I plan to start stalking the authors soon, but I need to get this crazy talk out of my system first.
Question for you today: I haven't seen our phone for four days. I have to use one that is very static-y. What do you think James did with the phone?
Friday, May 07, 2004
Two Gifts for You
I wrote an article for people at Solomon's Porch - I'm going to bring some copies on Sunday if anyone wants one. It's called "When Mother's Day is Hard." It makes me happy to see it, to think that my boys lives still matter, and can still be a source of blessing.
The second gift is a microwave from 1990. It is small, and has the old dial-type mechanism. It works, tho, and I need to get rid of it. Does anyone want it? If you're in the Twin Cities, you can have it for free. If I have to ship it, it might cost you $20. I'd have to recommend going to your local thrift store and picking one up for $2. If no one wants it, off to the thrift store it goes.
I wrote an article for people at Solomon's Porch - I'm going to bring some copies on Sunday if anyone wants one. It's called "When Mother's Day is Hard." It makes me happy to see it, to think that my boys lives still matter, and can still be a source of blessing.
The second gift is a microwave from 1990. It is small, and has the old dial-type mechanism. It works, tho, and I need to get rid of it. Does anyone want it? If you're in the Twin Cities, you can have it for free. If I have to ship it, it might cost you $20. I'd have to recommend going to your local thrift store and picking one up for $2. If no one wants it, off to the thrift store it goes.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Theology in the Making!
Here's postmodern theology in action. It's not "anything goes", and "whatever's true for you is true for you", but rather thoughts about God generated at the local level, discussed and modified in community with saints of today, other cultures, and the past.
I made statements about God based on my experience and my own hurt feelings - God won't help me buy a house because he doesn't seem to help orchestrate life events. He didn't help when I most needed it, so why would he help with a lesser issue? This is a legitimate theological statement, but it is obviously influenced heavily by my life experience and by my mood that day. (But, keep in mind that I did use "I" statements and tried to speak with humility...I've been in therapy long enough to know you only speak for yourself!)
Shelley and another church member (do you want to identify yourself?) wrote a comment and a personal e-mail about how God seemingly helped them find housing that had important implications for their lives. They both said they don't know why God didn't save my babies, but that He does sometimes seem to care and intervene in helping people get housing that will bless their lives and the lives of others. They also suggested that housing is not on the same level as paint color or capris. Then, I read some Frederick Buechner (Presbyterian) and Thomas Merton (Catholic) that I'll toss in as well.
So, in light of the saints speaking into my life, I'd like to modify my theology.
- God may or may not help James and I find a house, but I shouldn't preclude the possibility just because he was seemingly inactive before. God may very well care more about my housing that I do.
- God sometimes intervenes to help when such help would bless a person's life. Then he doesn't intervene other times, even when the help is obviously needed. Buechner says if Christians won't admit that God sometimes doesn't help in the way and the time he is needed, then people will go elsewhere to talk with people who are willing to look at reality as it is.
- A favorite quote from Merton. "Whoever seeks to catch Him and hold Him loses Him. He is like the wind that blows where it pleases. You who love Him must love Him as arriving from where you do not know and as going where you do not know."
- If people really love you, they'll let you be sarcastic sometimes because they understand where it's coming from.
Here's postmodern theology in action. It's not "anything goes", and "whatever's true for you is true for you", but rather thoughts about God generated at the local level, discussed and modified in community with saints of today, other cultures, and the past.
I made statements about God based on my experience and my own hurt feelings - God won't help me buy a house because he doesn't seem to help orchestrate life events. He didn't help when I most needed it, so why would he help with a lesser issue? This is a legitimate theological statement, but it is obviously influenced heavily by my life experience and by my mood that day. (But, keep in mind that I did use "I" statements and tried to speak with humility...I've been in therapy long enough to know you only speak for yourself!)
Shelley and another church member (do you want to identify yourself?) wrote a comment and a personal e-mail about how God seemingly helped them find housing that had important implications for their lives. They both said they don't know why God didn't save my babies, but that He does sometimes seem to care and intervene in helping people get housing that will bless their lives and the lives of others. They also suggested that housing is not on the same level as paint color or capris. Then, I read some Frederick Buechner (Presbyterian) and Thomas Merton (Catholic) that I'll toss in as well.
So, in light of the saints speaking into my life, I'd like to modify my theology.
- God may or may not help James and I find a house, but I shouldn't preclude the possibility just because he was seemingly inactive before. God may very well care more about my housing that I do.
- God sometimes intervenes to help when such help would bless a person's life. Then he doesn't intervene other times, even when the help is obviously needed. Buechner says if Christians won't admit that God sometimes doesn't help in the way and the time he is needed, then people will go elsewhere to talk with people who are willing to look at reality as it is.
- A favorite quote from Merton. "Whoever seeks to catch Him and hold Him loses Him. He is like the wind that blows where it pleases. You who love Him must love Him as arriving from where you do not know and as going where you do not know."
- If people really love you, they'll let you be sarcastic sometimes because they understand where it's coming from.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
A Song
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Jimmy,
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Jimmy,
Happy birthday to you!
It's False Teacher Tuesday (check out Todd Friel on AM 980 3-6 pm).
Holocaust speaker Henry Ohrlelt: fabulous.
Purchased with my $40: magenta mums to plant in my yard and chocolate-covered blueberries. Total cost: $10 (I’m too cheap to really spend extra money – I hoard it instead).
Question of the day: Will God Help Me Buy A House?
James and I are moving. Several people have said to me that God will lead us to the right house. I don’t believe this. I think God gave us breath, air, sunshine, etc. – all the things we need to do a house-search, but I don’t think he will intervene supernaturally. If God were this kind of fairy godmother, then I’d prefer that my three wishes be otherwise used. On my three children, for example. It’s an insult to think that God didn’t help preserve tender human life or two parents’ hearts, but He is close at hand to help us buy a house.
I know the question is probing the inscrutable ways of the Lord, and I know it is possible that He didn’t save my children, but He will help us buy a home. I accept whatever comes from His hand, but I’m not very quick to say I know what that is. Of course, we could also believe that the babies’ death was a gift from Him, and so will be the house He will give us, but that just doesn’t make sense, no matter how spiritually mature you are. (If you want to explain to me why that does make sense, please restrain yourself and just don’t.)
I’m not so much asking a personal question as just pointing out the oddness of evangelicals’ tendency to claim supernatural intervention for trivial issues like house-buying, parking spaces, clothing choices, paint colors, etc. Maybe this is why we avoid people who are suffering – our theology just doesn’t make sense. The conundrum is that while God seemingly led me to Restoration Hardware to find the perfect mellow cream paint for my living room, He also seemingly looked the other way while your whole life fell apart.
I am open, however, to God’s surprises. If you should look up into the night sky and see a guiding star, much like the wise men followed to Bethlehem, give me a call. James and I, in our green Subaru, will follow that star up 94E to 694E, and find the star hovering above a lovely home in Fridley or Columbia Heights. And we will know this is to be our dwelling.
Penultimate question of the day: Do believers deserve blessings when they indulge in sarcasm?
Holocaust speaker Henry Ohrlelt: fabulous.
Purchased with my $40: magenta mums to plant in my yard and chocolate-covered blueberries. Total cost: $10 (I’m too cheap to really spend extra money – I hoard it instead).
Question of the day: Will God Help Me Buy A House?
James and I are moving. Several people have said to me that God will lead us to the right house. I don’t believe this. I think God gave us breath, air, sunshine, etc. – all the things we need to do a house-search, but I don’t think he will intervene supernaturally. If God were this kind of fairy godmother, then I’d prefer that my three wishes be otherwise used. On my three children, for example. It’s an insult to think that God didn’t help preserve tender human life or two parents’ hearts, but He is close at hand to help us buy a house.
I know the question is probing the inscrutable ways of the Lord, and I know it is possible that He didn’t save my children, but He will help us buy a home. I accept whatever comes from His hand, but I’m not very quick to say I know what that is. Of course, we could also believe that the babies’ death was a gift from Him, and so will be the house He will give us, but that just doesn’t make sense, no matter how spiritually mature you are. (If you want to explain to me why that does make sense, please restrain yourself and just don’t.)
I’m not so much asking a personal question as just pointing out the oddness of evangelicals’ tendency to claim supernatural intervention for trivial issues like house-buying, parking spaces, clothing choices, paint colors, etc. Maybe this is why we avoid people who are suffering – our theology just doesn’t make sense. The conundrum is that while God seemingly led me to Restoration Hardware to find the perfect mellow cream paint for my living room, He also seemingly looked the other way while your whole life fell apart.
I am open, however, to God’s surprises. If you should look up into the night sky and see a guiding star, much like the wise men followed to Bethlehem, give me a call. James and I, in our green Subaru, will follow that star up 94E to 694E, and find the star hovering above a lovely home in Fridley or Columbia Heights. And we will know this is to be our dwelling.
Penultimate question of the day: Do believers deserve blessings when they indulge in sarcasm?
Monday, May 03, 2004
Lurking and stalking
Do any of you know someone expecting triplets (or recently had triplets)? I have a stack of triplet magazines and articles and a book, and I want to pass them on to someone. (I also want to see how powerful these blog networks are- if you ask for something rather obscure, can it be found?)
I would also like to issue a challenge today. Would the lurkers and stalkers please say 'hello'? That means people like Tom Johnson and Kristin Vogel, readers who never will say hello. Just "hi" - that's enough. My students know me to be a stalker of authors - if I like someone, I read all their stuff, google them, write to them, call them, and on rare occasions, go to visit them. Sometimes it pays off (I found my grad school advisor this way), and sometimes it's just amusing.
Not much else to say today. I'm taking my students tonight to listen to a Holocaust survivor speaking at Bethel. I'm excited about it.
Do any of you know someone expecting triplets (or recently had triplets)? I have a stack of triplet magazines and articles and a book, and I want to pass them on to someone. (I also want to see how powerful these blog networks are- if you ask for something rather obscure, can it be found?)
I would also like to issue a challenge today. Would the lurkers and stalkers please say 'hello'? That means people like Tom Johnson and Kristin Vogel, readers who never will say hello. Just "hi" - that's enough. My students know me to be a stalker of authors - if I like someone, I read all their stuff, google them, write to them, call them, and on rare occasions, go to visit them. Sometimes it pays off (I found my grad school advisor this way), and sometimes it's just amusing.
Not much else to say today. I'm taking my students tonight to listen to a Holocaust survivor speaking at Bethel. I'm excited about it.
2 Comments:
It is not anything pertaining to your site I just saw my name spelled the same way I do and want to let you know. My name is Jenell
I always see it spelled jenelle and it used to when I was young annoy me when someone write it that way . But now I just humor them. Well, Hi and you have a great name to go with a gret person I am sure.
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jenellm@gmail.com, at 8:57 PM
Nice reading, thanks for sharing those great books
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home teeth whitening, at 8:34 PM
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