Love

Last night, Steve and I sat around a pit fire with a group of friends in Upland. As twilight grew and the fire burned brighter, our conversation shifted to talking about love and dating. We laughed at each others’ funny relationship stories, wondered about love lost, and talked about finding The One.

It got me thinking about what being in love means. I only dated one other guy before Steve, and even though our relationship was short – only five or six months – and I was young (18), I’m pretty sure I thought I was in love. But I think that was the only words I had to explain it. Now, of course, I have the benefit of seven years of marriage that have given me a fuller picture of what love really means. (And I’m sure in 50 years I’ll look back on me now and be like, “Pshaw! Did I really think I knew what love was!?”)  But at the time, I think I really thought I had fallen in love.

But here’s the thing: I think love is a choice. I choose to love Steve, and I choose to act lovingly towards him. And beyond marriage – I can choose to treat people with love and respect…or I can choose to be selfish.

So when we talk about “falling in love” – where does that fit in? That denotes that you couldn’t help it; it was a visceral reaction. Maybe it’s a way of explaining the mystery of love, maybe with just a shadow of the wonder of Christ’s love for us.

At church last week, my pastor talked about the church being the bride of Christ. Absolutely amazing imagery, and as he went through various common wedding traditions, explaining how they relate back to the picture of Christ as the Bridegroom, I was constantly going back and forth between tears of gratitude for Christ’s love, and cynical wonderings about why God chose the symbol of a patriarchal marriage ceremony. There was talk of the groom “leading” the bride, and how it was so important for her to publicly announce her purity…. that double standard always has bugged me. And okay – I realize all marriages are different – but Steve doesn’t “lead” me! We do things together, with mutual respect and love.

Whatever. Anyhoo, I do appreciate the fact that God – in all His majesty and glory – chose a very human and “earthy” way to relate to the Church. There are implications to this symbol that I do not understand fully. But it’s a wonderful picture of an approachable God who really and truly loves and wants to have a relationship with His Church. And that, my friend, is pretty darn cool.

The Wanderlust

I feel it when I bike down a street I’ve never been on before.

I feel it when we plan our vacations – wanting to go somewhere we’ve not been to.

I feel the thrill of being in a place that is completely new to me.

Darn you, Wanderlust. I think it’s because of you that I’ve started to take longer bike rides to specific places – not just biking certain miles, but actually GOING to places – Swayzee, Sweetser, landmarks. I have aspirations of making it to Upland in not too long.

As I ride, I look. I see funny things, sad things, interesting things. I snicker at weird lawn ornaments, and gaze up as the killdeer dart around the cornfields. I keep an eye out for dogs who look like they have a score to settle, and I look longingly at lovely flowers. In doing this, I take in more information about people from here, learn more about them.

And I keep riding, pushing myself to get those next miles. I take risks, veering down roads I’ve never been that look like only farm equipment ever use. I nod at other bikers and walkers. And when I get home, I tell Steve about what I saw and did, my wanderlust temporarily abated.

Temporarily.

I hope I never satisfy it completely.

For now, I can be happy with my 18-mile ride to Sweetser tonight. I saw Garfield. See him? There he is! The Sweetser Switch is a surprisingly nice stretch of walking/biking trail. The first mile on the east is almost like a long park. Very nicely kept up. And there’s a Garfield.

Blueberry Soda

Blueberries are crazy good for you, so when Meijer had them on sale a few weeks ago, I bought two pints. I think I intended to make muffins, but I didn’t get around to do. And the blueberries languished in the fridge until I realized that I HAD to use them for something quickly.

I remembered watching an episode of Good Eats where Alton Brown made Blueberry Soda. Intrigued, I looked up the recipe and decided to have a go at it.

• 20 ounces fresh blueberries, approximately 4 cups, rinsed and drained (I only had two cups, so I halved the rest of the recipe, except the lime.)
• 2 cups water
• 7 ounces sugar (Alton is a stickler for using weights instead of cups, etc. I used about 3/4 cup for half the recipe)
• 1 lime, juiced
• Carbonated water (V. cheap – 69 cents for a Meijer-brand two-liter!)

Place the blueberries and the water into a medium saucepan, set over medium-high heat and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer for 15 minutes. Remove the saucepan from the heat and pour the mixture into a colander lined with cheesecloth (I had no cheesecloth and used a thin kitchen towel instead. Worked pretty well) that is set in a large bowl. Allow to cool for 15 minutes. (And they are NOT kidding!) Gather up the edges of the cheesecloth and squeeze out as much of the liquid as possible. Discard the skin and pulp. Return the blueberry juice to the saucepan along with the sugar and lime juice. Place over medium high heat and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Bring to a boil and cook for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and transfer to a heatproof glass container and place in the refrigerator, uncovered, until completely cooled.

To Serve: Combine 1/4 cup of the liquid with 8 ounces of carbonated water and serve over ice.

Tasty! It’s fresh, has that summery-sweet taste, and you can control how strong you make it. I think the amount I made will see me through two two-liters of soda water.

Screeching, er, Driving Down Memory Lane

I drove behind a student driver on my way to work. As I firmly resisted the temptation to swerve around them or tailgate or do other such mischief, my mind wandered back a few years to when I took driver’s ed. I was in the US for my junior year of high school, and Joe was about to start ninth grade. Our summer was full of travelling, so our parents decided the only thing to do was enroll us with a private driver’s ed tutor .

And to start out, neither of us were that keen on the whole driving thing. Apparently, in the US, kids can’t WAIT to get behind the wheel. It’s a huge rite of passage. But in South Asia, driving is really only something attempted by the fearless or half-crazy. You have to be incredibly level-headed to take on the busy streets filled with rickshaws, goats, people, cows, buses, people, dogs, baby taxis, more people, and other random forms of transportation. Horns are essential, not an extra feature you use to let someone know they pissed you off. All that to say, driving  to me was a necessary evil, not one that I embraced.

So we did the semester with the tutor, got my permit, logged some hours of practice – but then we went back to South Asia for my senior year, where I did not touch the wheel. During the summer before I started college, I somehow managed to pass the driving test and get my liscence. I still don’t know what happened there. I never did get inside those cones to parallel park.

Me and my Broseph messing around back in the day – I think I was 18 and Joe was 16

Then I started thinking farther back – to when I was 10 and we were in the US for a vacation. My Grandpa took us out to one of the hay fields in a beat-up old truck and taught us to drive. I was terrified, but I remember how patient and kind he was, not even getting mad when Joe accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and almost running over the dog. When I was 16 and far braver and dumber, I would take Grandpa’s vintage El Camino by myself and race around the hayfields, with one of my Geoff Moore and the Distance tapes blaring. (This was the 90′s after all!) Mom scolded me once for driving too fast over the bumpy field, and looked to Grandpa to back her up, asking if he thought I was going to fast. He said, “Well, when I saw her earlier, the back end looked like it was trying to overtake the front end.” We all laughed, and he said to me, “Be nice to my truck.” And, except for the one time that I might have accidentally run into an old fence post, I was very nice to that cool old car.

So, Little Scared Student Driver, thanks for taking me down memory lane. It’s good to remember the times and people who shaped you into who you are. Every time I see an El Camino, it makes me happy.

Precious in His Sight

I’ve blogged before about the Africa Gospel Church Baby Center in Kenya, a home for abandoned or orphaned babies, including babies with HIV/AIDS. Staci Keter, the director, frequently sends out email updates about new babies or babies that have found adoptive parents. Today, I got one that I felt needed to be shared.

“Yesterday, we received baby Precious. She is a tiny and, yes, very precious, 3-day old baby girl who has had quite the rough start in life. She was rescued from a pit latrine on her birthday and has a number of health problems as a result of that. In my heart, I have struggled with her situation. Today I stood over her crib, watching her sleep peacefully, and thinking how much she deserved that rest. I wept as I imagined her floating there in the midst of that waste, thrown out as if she, too, were waste. My heart rose up in desperate prayer that her body can be made whole, and especially that she will grow up knowing the depth of God’s love for her and how truly precious she is in His sight. I don’t know what “exchange” happened in the realm of the Kingdom of God so that her life was saved, but as I looked at her, I was so thankful that God redeemed her life and she was not overwhelmed by those waters!”

I can’t get over how beautiful she is. So perfect. I’m so incredibly thankful that she was found and was given to people who will care for her and tell her how truly precious she is. If you would like to learn more about the AGC Baby Center or participate in the wonderful work of saving “the least of these”, click here to go to the WGM website.