The Best Picnic Ever - (Reflective)

The North Dakota badlands are a scene taken right out of the westerns, with its desert feel and its high ridged mesas. Setting does a lot for a story and large chunk of Peace Like a River takes place here in North Dakota. Enger sure is one that does his research. He includes many historical facts in this book, by playing off of the mysterious history of the infamous Butch Cassidy. It is still unverifide exactly how his life came to an end. A fact that Enger gladly picks up on and uses to his benefit in the novel. For an author who grew up in Minnesota perhaps he has visited the neighboring state and it thus inspired a tale of the west. He accurately describes the landscape through out the book and even takes note of its most interesting feature, the lands coal burning veins.

I having drove across the U.S. multiple times. I have driven from Idaho to Florida twice. From Florida to New York and than Ohio and even to Canada. But I have never actually made a trip through North Dakota.
In class we began to talk about the night of Roxanna's transfiguration. The night the kids recognized how truly beautiful she was. This was the night she took them in the middle of January under the "gibbon moon" to a midnight picknic. The place they hiked to seemed unreal. Just imagine a vein of burning coal and glowing orange embers coming up from the ground. It seems almost magical. I can imagine a spot to picnic that was sheltered from the harsh winds that trapped the warmth which seeped up from the ground.

This discussion led me to wonder if Enger himself had ever been to such a place. After talking about it in class I decided to do some research myslef and look up the so called burning coal veins.

There are not many pictures on the internet, but North Dakota is known for such burning veins. It is known for coal mining. I could not find that many pictures with bright orange embers ablaze, but the photos I did find really made the novel seem real. It gave it a greater Western feel, and it fed my imagination. I knew exactly where they were on their journey and what it looked liked.

I don't know if Enger himself had ever been to such a place when he was a boy, or if he just ran with his imagination.  Perhaps it was a little bit of both. But I can imagine a magical scene under a blanket of stars, in the cold of night, on top a blanket of food, by the warmth of burning light. What a great picnic. This is the type of place only the locals would know about. These places may take a hike to get to, but they are always worth it. The best part about such a place is the fact that so little know about it. Perhaps there is a place like this after all in North Dakota. If so, the locals aren't going to go posting pictures about it and ruin the secret. If not, I can always imagine.

* I used information found at http://www.npwrc.usgs.gov/resource/habitat/natareas/burncoal.htm
* I took my picture from: http://www.billyspostcards.com/Postcard/61635_Postcard_Roosevelt_Park_Burning_Coal_Vein_North_Dakota.html

Unmerited Grace - Reflective

Throughout the past few years I have had to read a lot of books. Most of then had been assigned to me by the University, but a few of I have just read on my own accord. But it seems like, out of most of the books I have read lately, none of them have been fiction. I have read biographies and autobiographies, and many books to help with my studies, but there is just something about a good fiction book. This book, Peace Like A River, is a great example of a good piece of fiction.

I am loving the characters in this book. I feel so attached to the family. I love Swede and her courageous fun loving free-spirit that is not afraid to speak her mind, I love Davy and his convictions, and I even like Reuben the character with whom we see the story unfold. I love his point of view, and believe is is very sincere.

This book is about life, suffering, healing and of course miracles. The theme of miracles are scattered throughout the text. We see a mighty miracle in the first chapter that sets up the whole story. Rueben was a still born and had lied there 12 minutes before breath ever entered his lungs, and yet he is still not brain dead, but a happy rambunctious kid for the most part who loses his breath every now and again. We see miracles of food being multiplied so it is able to feed guests. We see the miracle of Reuben's Dad not being injured in a tornado, though he was carried miles down the road. And the most impactful of all miracles so far was when Dad healed the Principle, Mr Holgren with a slap as he was being fired by the very same man.



This spoke to me so much. I see the Father as a figure of Jesus. He is constantly persecuted and yet never responds in anger, he is always gracious, and forgiving even when his former friends desert him. He is always prayerful and never raises his voice to defend himself. I see the evil Principle Holgen as myself. The undeserving soul, festering with blisters and soars.

The bible often  makes the analogy of comparing leprosy and sin. It is something painful and serious. Something we cannot cure ourselves. Something that isolates us from relationship with God Almighty, and yet Jesus is willing to touch the lepers and heal them of their condition, just as he is willing to do with us in our filthy sin.

Reuben who of course despises Principle Holgren and can't help but wonder why God would heal such a wicked man who persecuted his Father so. He even says in the book, "What right had Holgren had to cross paths with the Great God Almighty?" This reminds me of the prophet Jonah who despised God's mercy for his enemies. Why would God have mercy on them? I feel the same way sometimes. I wonder why would God have mercy on a sinner like me? Yet He dies for me while I was still disease infested in my sins. I am the despicable Mr. Holgren in the story who so unfairly treated Reuben's Dad, and yet all I got back in return was grace, love, and healing. What a beautiful picture of the gospel and a representation of the uunmerited favor God gives each one of us. I can't wait to see what happens in the next few chapters.

Mirror - (Annotation)

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of the little god, four cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

In order to better understand this poem, I believe it is crucial to take a good look at the life of the author. Sylvia Plath’s writing tends to be quite dark and depressing. It reflects a lot of the hardships she endured. As I began to look into the author’s life I realized just how much heartache surrounded her. She lost her father at a young age, attempted suicide in college, and was abandoned by her husband later in her life. She was left in poor circumstances to try and care for her two daughters. Her life and her writing show her volatile emotional state. This overview helps give us a perspective of her psyche as she may have written this poem. The tone is very depressed and lonely. It exudes a feeling of isolation and hurt.

This poem personifies a mirror, giving it human characteristics and a voice. It is evident within the first line that it is the mirror that is speaking in the poem.

“I am silver and exact.”

 The first stanza appears to be a possible flash back of someone in their youth. It tells of a mirror which “is not cruel, only truthful.” A mirror that reflects many faces, but it also stares at the opposite pink wall and sometimes darkness. This first stanza may also represent a childlike innocence. Children are also not cruel, but truthful. They say what they mean. It is often said that kids say the darndest things.

But the second stanza seems to not only portray a lake, but also an older woman. One who “is searching for what she really is.” Too often society gives women the notion that their identity can be found in the way they look. The two are often intertwined. This woman is disheartened by what she sees. This is evident in the line,

“She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.”

 The mirror, which is now a lake still faithfully reflecting her image notices that the woman has turned her back to the lake and instead “turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.” This could be a literal meaning or it could represent romance. Perhaps the woman has looked for her identity or image to found in a romantic relationship. But what they conveyed to her about herself was not truth.

The last two lines of the poem show that she is bitter about what she sees.

“In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman

Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.”

She sees her past has drowned and she is despises what has risen to the surface. She is older and yet she is still struggling to find her identity. This poem is perplexing and perhaps a bit difficult to try and understand. There may be multiple interpretations, however by looking into the author’s life you get a better understanding of where she is coming from.

Hills Like White Elephants - (Reflective)

To be honest, when I first read "Hills Like White Elephants" I didn't think there was much to the story, but boy was I wrong. It wasn't until we began talking about it in class that I realized just how much depth was there. I realize now that as my teacher says, "Art conceals art." The beauty of Hills Like White Elephants didn't come through until I read it a second time after our class discussion. In class some people felt for the American in the story. They thought he seemed like a genuinely nice guy who was concerned for Jig's feelings and well-being. I of course had not felt that way during my first reading. Because this is such a modern piece of literature it has embedded pauses, layered meanings and much ambiguity due to the fact their are no tags labeling the dialogue. This leaves so much of the story up for debate and interpretation. There are times when you don't even know who is necessarily speaking, let alone the tone in which they are speaking. It wasn't until after the discussion in class that I decided to try and look at the story differently. I had a negative view of the American and felt like he was subtly manipulative and really didn't want anything to do with a baby that may hinder his current comfortable way of living. But there were many men in class who said they felt like the American was sincere. When we read the story a second time through in class I tried to see it through their perspective and it really made a difference in interpretation. Depending on how you read the story and what tone you chose to attach to which dialogue, the story had a different feel. It all depends on your perception, much like in life. I hadn't particularly loved the story on my first read, but after we discussed the symbolism of the setting and looked closer at the scene, I really began to admire this piece of literature. It is so open ended, and I liked that about it. It never told you anything, but let you use your imagination.The first read, I saw the story ending with a decision that had yet to be made, but I felt like it would end up negative. However, the second time through I tried to read it a different way, and felt like the couple would end up keeping the baby. Either way you read it, it is fascinating to think about all that can be said by saying very little.

A Work of Artifice - (Annotation)

We discussed Marge Piercy's poem, A Work of Artifice in class briefly. This poem had powerful symbolism to me. It is a poem about the oppression of women in society. It compares a woman to a bonsai tree in an attractive pot. Piercy is stating that the Bonsai is a tree that has the potential to grow 80ft tall on the side of a mountain, but due to the careful pruning of the gardener, it only stretches to be 9in high. She is comparing the possibility of the natural identity of a woman with the reality of the artificial and constricted identity that culture places on her. They keep her confined in an "attractive pot" of beautiful dresses and curled hair.

This poem made me realize how difficult poetry can be to write. It wasn't until we started discussing the nature of the poem in class that I realized that such detail went into writing it. Not only does the poem convey powerful imagery of women and bonsai trees, but even the precise layout of the poem was intentional. Like the carefully pruned bonsai the poem has also been pruned. All the sentences are kept very short. That is all but one. All the sentences are short except for the sentence, "could have grown eighty feet tall". The poem not only displays a  powerful piece of imagery and art through each word written, but it also portrays powerful imagery in the placement of those words. I truly have an appreciation for this poem.

The poem goes on to talk about how if the tree was eighty feet tall it may be destroyed by lightening. I believe this line refers to a natural way of coming to an end which is preferred, rather than an artificial controlled environment. The use of the word gardener is very interesting to the poem since it is not an evil word, although we may interrupt that pruning and controlling the bonsai is cruel. Gardeners are people we consider to bring the best out of a landscape and out of a plant, but this gardener is doing the opposite. It didn't become clear until I choose to look up the word artifice.

I looked it up as it is not a common place word in my personal vocabulary. It turns out that it is defined by Miriam-Webster.com as a "clever or artful skill". It is also mentioned as a "false insincere behavior" in the social concept of the word.  It is used to trick or deceive others. Another dictionary called it outright fakery. This one word brought everything else into perspective. The gardener isn't a gardener at all, although that is how our culture may perceive him. He is insincere in his care for the plant. He is pruning the bonsai all the while crooning over it. He is declaring how lucky the little tree is to even have a pot while at the same time he calls her weak. This is out "outright fakery". He tries to deceive the plant to believe she is something she is not. This type of oppression is not always as blatant like the bound feet of another culture may seem to us. Piercy is saying that it is the subtle deception of curlers in a woman's hair. The perceived cultural norm or confinement of how a woman is to look, act, or behave. It is manipulative. The gardener croons, pretending to be caring for the tree. But the manipulation is that he is stunting her growth under what the text in my literature book calls the guise of kindness or concern. An artifice is considered an artful ruse. In doing this the culture sees the bonsai as beautiful, but that beauty is artificial. Truly the bonsai could have been something quite grand if left to grow in the natural world.

"artifice." Miriam-Webster.com. 2012. http://miriam-webster.com/ (1 February 2012).

Seasons of Life - (Creative)

In some sense compartmentalizing your life is not a good thing. I have always looked at my life as a whole and at everything I do as being interconnected. However many people section their lives into different compartments. They learn to leave there work at work and not to take it home with them. They learn to leave the drama of their home life at home and not bring it into work with them. They may even learn to leave the sermon on Sunday at church and not carry it with them into the week. As a Christian I have had a negative view of the term compartmentalization. I don't believe I am to act one way at work, one way at home, another at school, and whole other way in church. I know we all have different "hats" per se or different offices at different times in our life, but no matter where I am, I am still a wife, a sister, a daughter, a mentor, a missionary and a friend. I am a Christian both on the field, at work or at work. It is part of who I am, no matter where I am.

Since we read the Curious case of Benjamin Button in class, I have been pondering the notion of humanity's need to compartmentalize. I'm not talking about the compartmentalizing of the present, but rather the past or the whole gamut of life's experiences. In F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story he tells of the life of a man who starts his journey at the end and works his way to the beginning. He was born an old man and instead of aging, he became younger and younger until he eventually died as an infant. The seasons and chapters of life are well defined in the telling of this story. The stages of life seem more pronounced because they are contrasted with those around him. We get to see Benjamin start his life with knowledge and maturity. He is not entertained by the usual things a child or a young boy should play with. Benjamin prefers cigars and the Encyclopedia Britannica to rattles and construction paper. In fact, he mostly relates to his grandfather rather than boys his own age. We see him throughout his existence in different stages of his life where he is working hard to earn a living, fighting for his country, chasing after love, and pursuing a higher education. This got me thinking about our need as humans to look back upon our life and see the various stages we've been through. Below is a photo essay of some past seasons of my own life thus far.

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The first Season of my life was spring. It was the years of youth and innocence. When life was care free and simple. My mom home schooled me and taught me the basics. I grew a fond admiration for my older sister and wanted to be just like her. I was baptised by my father and became involved in the church. This season was full of life, laughter, and dreams. I hadn't yet experienced any disappointments that life too often brings, and I dreamt of one day becoming an actress or a nurse in remote African village.

The next season I began to flourish. My mom decided to go back to college to become an elementary teacher and she enrolled me in public school. I can still remember my first day of school in the 6th grade. I was so nervous. This season was exciting and new. It was full of exploration. I wanted to try new things. I tried skateboarding and soccer. I tried painting and music. I tried cheer leading, snowboarding, and even golf. Later I got involved in theater and school leadership. Life was exciting and it was a season of growth and adventure. As I grew my relationship with my sister became strained. She often found herself in trouble and she began to resent the fact that I never got into any trouble of my own. She began to despise me. That rejection killed me, for I still looked up to her and wanted to be just like her. Never the less, I continued to try new things. Some stayed with me, like soccer, while others such as cheer leading was gone as soon as it came. But all these activities could not hold my attention. My excitement began to wane and disillusionment began to set in.

I grew insecure and public school wasn't what I thought it would be. I had a great foundation educationally, but socially I found myself stunted. My peers were disingenuous and I found you had to keep up with the Joneses to remain popular. You could be in one minute and out the next. I was naive and unprepared for junior high and high school. I was thrust into a culture I didn't understand and I longed to be accepted. This was a hard season of life for me. Although I was involved in so many activities, in my mind, I didn't really fit in. I wanted to protect myself from rejection, so I aimed to please. I stayed away from boys lest they hurt me. I found my solace not in another's arms, but in a substance or quite a few. I began to experiment with drugs. My sister's life was crumbling before my eyes as she spiraled down and got further involved in heavy drinking and hardcore drug use. My deep rooted insecurity and lack of a sense of belonging fueled me to take the invitation when one day she invited me to expand my horizons with even harder drugs. One time was all it took. Drugs gave me the escape, the adventure, the comfort I needed. This season was the start of the fall for me.

If you have ever been up north for the fall season, you can't help but be awed by the beauty of the changing leaves. This is how it was for me. I was enamoured with beauty of my new found escape. I became so obsessed with it, that literally that was all I thought about. Where was I going to get my next high from? This season I became even more insecure and I grew depressed. Although I carried a cheerful disposition I hated the way I felt inside. I would get high to feel something different; to feel anything really. But afterwards I'd just feel empty again. I felt dead like winter and I began to hate myself. But just like the winter season, where some months bring a heavy snow and others warm up, I too began to pull out of my depression. My sister had checked herself into a clinic for meth, but that only lasted a day. I saw the effects of the drug on her life and I decided to never use that drug again. I promised I would not become like that. I would only use drugs recreationally. And so I did. I used drugs to try and enhance art and music. I used drugs to bring me into a deeper community of friends, and I used drugs to try and find God. Little did I know that He was about to find me.

One of my favorite lyrics from a Lauryn Hill song says, "After winter must come spring." And spring sure sprung. I had developed quite a comfortable life living for the weekend. My friends would DJ in clubs and I would go to raves and dance until the sun came up. I may not have even realized it then, but somewhere inside I was still empty. That is until spring sprung and brought with it new life. The Lord got a hold of me in a powerful way one morning. I still remember the day. It was October 5th, 2000. The day Jesus not only became my Savior, but my Lord. I could literally feel the prayers of father being answered. After being born again, the change was dramatic and quick. I took off running. I left my old life and began a fresh. I graduated high school and started an internship at my local church. My love for God was loud and I began to minister wherever I could. I even remembered my old dream of being a nurse in Africa. This was a season where God taught me and trained me to be his disciple.

There have been many other seasons in my life that have lead up to now. But today I am happy and flourishing. I am married to a wonderful man of God, leading the youth group at my church, and studying here at Southeastern about communications and missions. I have had the opportunity to minister in many places already and have had the privilege to travel outside the country. I have been involved with doctors and nurses in Kenya for seven or so years now. Today is my birthday. And although I am another year older, I am pleased with my life thus far and can't wait for the next chapter.

 I realize that the future will hold seasons of winter, summer, spring, and fall. But I look forward to the them all no matter the weather. I'm just happy that unlike Benjamin Button, I'm headed the right direction.

A Challenge to Love - (Problematizing)

The Bible tells us in Matthew 5:43-48 to love our enemies. It explains that it is not enough to just love those in your life whom love you back, or of whom it comes natural to love. There are people even now who we come in contact with in the daily confinds of our lives, who we find it difficult to connect to. We may not understand them, we may find them constantly on our nerves, or we may just find them challenging to be around. Those people may not be considered our enemies, but they do pose a challenge for us to like them, even love them. Carl Morse touches on that challenge in his poem "How to Watch Your Brother Die."

The poem is about a man who travels to see his gay brother in the hospital in his last days of life. He is assumably dying from aids, although the poem never says this directly. We can see that the man never quite knew how to realte to his brother. When his brother told him he was gay, the man didn't know how to react. It made this relationship a real challenge. So he stuffed his emotions, and ignored the issue. It appears he really didn't talk to his brother much after that. He ignored him too. The man mostly dialogues with the brother's lover, as he tries to understand and learn more about who his brother really was. They exchange words over coffee in the hospital cafeteria. The man tries to relate, but I perceived this attempt as rather uncomfortable and awkward at first. The man tells the lover he is "extremely good-looking" and even apologizes saying, "He doesn't know what it means to love another man."

As you read the poem, the narrator is constantly mentioning the different actions he's taking. It is almost as if he is on auto-pilot and numb to what is really happening. But as the poem continues, we see the narrator begin to show his feelings. He begins to show is anger. He grows loud at border patrol guard who won't allow him to bring in drugs that may save his brother. He sees the hatred in that man's eyes. He's angry at the way he sees his brother is being treated, and he is angry about the unfortanate circumstances in general surrounding his death. He may even be angry that he too didn't treat his brother as he should have, or at least regretful. The last line of the poem states that the man is flying home from his brother's funeral reminiscing about the past and thinking about hugging his children, of which are not a challenge to embrace or to love.

Who in your life poses a challenge for you? Is it a co-worker? A classmate? or even a family member? As a Christian we are called to love our neighbors, even as we love ourselves. The man in this poem couldn't reconcile his feelings that what his brother was doing was wrong with his feelings of brotherly love and affection. So he just ignored the situation. This poem made me cry. Mostly becasue I saw the hate others have toward homosexuals, and the way they just have to get used to it. That look of disgust in someone else's eyes is something they see regularly. I too have a sibling who is gay. I understand the strange challenge as a Christian to, as they say, "love the person, but hate the sin." I understand the uncomfortableness of not knowing what to say in certain situations, and I understand the deep hurt that my sister feels, that no one accepts her. It can make one not want to accept themselves. She would much rather be a drug addict than a lesbian in any given Christian circle, because at least then she would be treated with more dignity.

This poem poses a challenge to us. How are we going to respond to the challenge to love in our own lives? I guarentee there is someone in your life, whom you don't agree with. Life is filled with much judgment and condemnation. We judge people if they are too pretty, or not pretty enough. If they have to much money and are frivolous, or if they don't bother to work and use the system. Some of us have a parent we just can't seem to relate too, or a boss we don't respect. There is someone in your life that is a challenge to love. That makes you uncomfortble and is just easier to ignore. But as a Christian, if we truly want to follow the teaching of Christ we must love not only those in whom it is easy, or those we don't agree with, but also those who truly are our enemy.