from romance to hope

It has been said by famous historian types that History, like all story, is told in one of four styles--Tragedy, Comedy, Satire, or Romance. I have not read every history book in my life through these lenses and cannot vouch for the sentiment; however, I admit that when I think about American history--it is all romance for me.

Recently I referred to myself as Patriotic, and a good friend was shocked. His confusion was justified, as in the last, let's say 8 years, my deep love for the American past has been overshadowed by my cynicism in reference to the American present. (president?) This contrast has been one of many factors recently that are bringing me back to my own past.

As a little kid, I deeply believed that America was the very best place in the whole world to live--how could anyone want to live anywhere else? I was deeply thankful to have been born here, and deeply saddened for those not fortunate enough to have had immigrants in their families, yet. I assumed that everyone, if given the chance, would move to America, and it was just a matter of time.

Though I realize now that the arrogance of that belief may be unfounded, I am remembering again why America is so great. I have always been intrigued by the history of the USA--the great ideas, dreams, hopes, our victories and failures, our ideals and the infrastructure to maintain them. Checks and Balances, for example, so elegant, so logical, so beautiful to me.

And yet, perhaps inevitably, the very things that made America so great in some ways, have also been our greatest downfalls. And the great myths of American individualism and self-reliance have gone too far. The "rugged individualism" necessary to settle the entire frontier was a misnomer--NO ONE made it very far all by themselves. The entire idea of a republic is intradependence (or interdependence? either way, not INdependence) Our Independence--so radical and necessary--from England was not a call to disconnection from one another. And yet that is where we seem to have landed these 200-some years later.

I am entirely guilty of buying into this myth, by the way. I love that I have my own car and never need public transportation. I love that I have a house of my own that I don't have to share with anyone...and isn't it even more impressive b/c I am a single woman under 30! I take great pride in my independent lifestyle--I can do what I want, when I want. I am living an American Dream!

Shockingly, in my efforts to gain independence, I haven't found what I thought would be there right next to it--happiness. Instead, I feel disconnected, uninspired, and lonesome. Independence does not bring fulfillment. I shouldn't be surprised--I know that I am made to bear the image of the Lord--who is in his-own-mysterious-triune-self INTERdependent. Jesus called us to love one another, to be connected--not to look out for number one. And the great ideals of America--while NOT synonymous with the Gospel of Jesus--also depend on people in community working together, protecting one another, together sending representatives to lead, relying on each other for their livelihoods, etc, etc, etc. Neither Christianity or Republicanism (the form of gov't, not the GOP) allows for lone rangers--it just don't work.

What is my point? My romance with America has been largely equivalent to all other romances in my life--I care deeply, really, I do, and together, in my mind, we (Fake husband & I /America & I) accomplish great things, but when it comes down to it, I am not willing to take risks or make any real sacrifices for the object of my affection.

I think love is about stepping up and making sacrifices, I believe this because there are people who I love in this world, they are the people who I consider my family--people to whom I am related by blood or by circumstance. I will make sacrifices for these people because I love them. I will do more than what is comfortable for me, because I love them. And because they love me, they ask me to do this for them. This is where my relationship with America breaks down.

In my entire life, I have never been asked to do more for America than go shopping, wear a flag pin, or put a ribbon magnet on my car. I grew up hearing stories of my grandparents' lives during WWII, and understanding about sacrifice from a distance, and I have been waiting to be asked to do something similar. I realize that my view of such things is also romantic and perhaps not realistic. I also know that left to my own devices I will do little that lies beyond my comfort, yet I also believe that my life is about more than that. I have been waiting to be asked to do more, waiting to be inspired. This week I heard a speech that calls all of us to remember how we are connected, to realize that our actions matter, and that to be an American means to take seriously the promise our forefathers made for us to--the people of the United States--to keep--the promise to endeavor to form a more perfect union.

America will never be perfect. A government made up of broken people, no matter how noble the vision will never be able to become perfect or fully restored--only the Master of the Universe can make anything "perfect," but we can each do our part toward the common goal--not to form a more perfect life for myself and my plot of land, but a more perfect UNION, for ALL of us.

I have been waiting to be asked to take part in this noble cause, and I will be voting for Barack Obama because rather than assuming I prefer a "political machine" to take care of such things for me, rather than assuming my personal vision is more important to me than that of my nation, rather than assuming that I don't have anything to offer, Senator Obama has called ALL of us to remember, to take responsibility, to connect.

If you have not yet read or heard the speech given by Senator Obama on Tuesday of this week, please take a few minutes to listen to/read it here. I welcome your comments.

Today has been wonderful in so many ways!

I was having lunch with my friend Sheree to make plans for the upcoming wine gala I am coordinating (lunch was delicious and delightful all by itself, but read on...) when Jenny called to say that WE ARE GOING TO ETHIOPIA IN TWO WEEKS!

I am traveling with Matt & Jenny & Eliana to pick up their new daughters/sisters, respectively in Ethiopia. Mostly I'll be helping wrangle kids on the plane ride back and hanging out with E while Matt & Jenny do red tape-y things. I've never really traveled at all and this is a heck of a way to start! Please pray for us.

Then I got a call from Joshua that he was accepted into his dream grad program at U Chicago. Even though I'll be sad to see the Eleks leave Wheeling, I am so glad for him. We knew he would get in, but it took actually getting in for him to believe it--not a bad strategy I guess.
The rest of the day was spent getting things taken care of for work--lots of emails and phone calls--all of which were full of great news and new opportunities.

Then this evening I went to a wine tasting at GMW which was nice on its own of course, but there was a moment during Dominick's ramblings about Pinot Noir that I had such a vivid flashback to evenings spent on the Veranda when I lived there. The Veranda was this wonderful little urban secret garden/patio that was the site of so many wonderful summer evenings spent with friends, a record player, and wine and cheese. I'm feeling nostalgic--indulge me:

All these pictures are from my 27th Birthday Party--sadly, we didn't often have a camera with us on the Veranda. We really did spend time out there on other occasions!

This is the first time I have been sad not to live there anymore. Since I moved into my little yellow house, I often forget I haven't always lived here. This winter provided many wonderful memories already, but none took place outside, under the stars, warm summer evenings flying by. I have a deck and I look forward to creating new memories there, but so few of my friends from the original Veranda are around--that's a place and time that I'll never have back.

I am not sure when I'll get around to understanding that time really passes, the world keeps turning, people move on, and all this without my having any say whatsoever. Maybe tomorrow.

Aslan's on the move

I am sitting in my living room shivering. The thermostat says it is 65 degrees in here. The old thermometer outside my kitchen window says it is 95 degrees out there...this seems wrong...wait a minute...Okay, the old thermometer may be broken, but still, weather.com says 39 degrees, and now my thermostat says 66... yet I shiver.

Yesterday I went to visit some old Wheeling friends who gave up the dream and moved away (something about needing jobs to feed their children.) Anyway, It was then 65 degrees outside so I sat on their front porch doing a bit of work while I waited for their son's bus to drop him off. Beautiful day, wireless internet, what more could this old fashioned girl ask for?

When David got off the bus, he ran to the porch, hugged me mercilessly, and said "LET'S GO TO THE SWING, KATIE!" (trust me, he said it in all caps)

"The swing" is one of those great backyard swings from dreams, movies, and hallmark cards. A really long thick rope with a plank tied on for a seat. The swing is my favorite thing about this home, and I like this place a lot, so that is saying something. It hangs on the branch of a huge tree in the rear wooded part of my friends' 7 acre yard. David got there way before me and was swinging in a winter wonderland. The snow persisted on the ground all around him, but where I was walking near the house the grass had gotten the better of the snow. It was like David was in Winter and I was in Spring.

All this reminded me of the part in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardobe, when Aslan is on the move and the White Witch's power over Narnia begins to weaken and the winter that has lasted so long and never brought Christmas is finally ending.

When I pointed out the resemblance of David's yard to Narnia, his dad reminded me that the snow melting wasn't the end. There was still a battle to be fought. Aslan was killed and the Narnian's had to fight for his land, even as it seemed he was no longer with them.

There are ways that my heart, my life, is like Narnia these days, but Aslan is on the move. The cold is melting, and while the Spring will bring challenges, pain, and even death--the victory is won.

I have felt apart from God, alone, disconnected and disillusioned--but as the snow around my little house melts, and I sit inside shivering, I feel Him. He's on the move, my story isn't over.

Lately, for the first time, I am thankful that I am not meant to be the hero of this story--I am freed to follow the one who is able to bring to life dead things--the real hero of every story, Jesus.

As I type these words the thermostat says 70 and I am no longer shivering--not with the cold, at least... amid the noise of my chattering teeth I hear the heavy, deliberate steps of a lion--and the powerful breath that gives life to stone.