21. Keeping up

A usual phenomenon--struggling just to keep up with what's right in front of my face.

I have had an amazing past few weeks, though.

Here's a (not so) small part:

(1) To begin with, the weather has been absolutely gorgeous. Clear, sunny days and weather in the 70's is unheard of for Michigan at this time of the year. We've gone outside many of the days at school, and our language arts class is heading off for our annual writing retreat tomorrow. I am always excited for this, but this may be our first warm -- and sunny -- year!

(2) Our Conference Council on Youth Ministries lead a Confirmands' Rally for about 250 youth from both the West Michigan and Detroit Conferences. I was the chair of the planning committee and put in many late nights getting things together, but every second was worth it. Those who volunteered to help with the rally -- from the praise band at the college and local church, to our youth coordinator, to the amazing CCYM leaders who worked with workshops and worship, to all the attending youth who willingly participated. There were some kinks, and I learned a lot along the way, but I enjoyed it so immensely. God was working in so many awesome ways.

(3) This past weekend I went to a Youth Lay Speaking Weekend in our district, taking the Advanced Class, Lay Speakers Tell Stories-- the course is written by Ray Buckley. As my last time attending as a youth, as well as one of my last times truly being laity (I'll be in the transition this time next year as a certified candidate, God-willing), it meant a lot to me. I enjoyed spending a silly weekend with some older friends and getting a chance to meet the new youth there for basic. We paired up with them as prayer partners and really had some awesome conversations. It got me ready for a week of work-- but alas I'm off for another retreat. I will have mountains by the time I get back on Thursday because...

(4) speaking of work, I have a lot! Finals for my Spanish class are next week. Our group is presenting on women's changing roles in society in Spain from the Civil War there through present. I have an ending narrative to write, severe memorizing to do as the narrator, an evaluation to prepare, and I'm sure, as the week progresses, several other details to attend to. As well, I have a final paper to write for that class on elements of theatre in Todo Sobre Mi Madre (a subject I chose myself and am interested in, but still have no reason to look forward to writing!) I am weeks behind in AP French--thank goodness for an understanding teacher. I have a test to finish, three essays to write, two quizzes, and a discussion board post. I need to gain momentum to finish the course early, as well, since I'm graduating before the end of the course as scheduled. My Japanese course...is well, not being done. Out of 8 lessons (that take me approximately 2 hours each), I've finished exactly one...and maybe a half.

Why is it so much easier to write about work than to do it? I also have books to read and a paper to write for English and a chapbook to put together. But I will get through it, and it will feel good when I do because

I.am.graduating!!!!

(5) In a windfall, I received two jobs for this summer. One, which I have started, is at a cute place called Tropical Smoothie Cafe. The hours are somewhat long, but I love the work, love the people, and definitely love my discounts on the food. I'll also be working at the zoo after the start of their season in May. I am very excited for this summer! It will be busy but a good one.

(6) And the other things filling my time? Various church events, registering for housing and orientation at U of M for next year, working through the Candidacy Process and preparing for the psych assessment that comes next, and trying to find some time to spend with friends and family (particulary my mother -- and Sammy and Ashton whom I haven't seen in a few weeks!) as well as squeezing in an occasional nap or two.

Off to do tomorrow's packing--

Grace and peace!

20. Cain's narrative

Here is a written version of roughly the story I told at the lay speaking training I attended this last weekend. Subject: Storytelling. Contrary to what I would have thought as I was writing it (especially since not even the idea was in conception before arriving), I think I actually did a much better job of telling it without the words in front of me! In fact, I keep trying to remember all that I said to help flesh out the written version. One facilitator told me that she was amazed that I didn't use a single "um." -- I have to say I was amazed at that too. God works in awesome ways!

I. Growing up, I felt an amazing sense of freedom. The world was open to possibility. I would walk for miles in every direction -- sometimes to pass the time and other times as our family searched for new soil to cultivate. And no matter where we walked, there was never an end in sight -- just wide-open spaces that stretched on forever. There was so much possibility in this space. I knew that my brother and I would have children and grandchildren enough to fill this world. Surely, God created us for great things. 

II. Yet as I grew older I started to lose sight of this. The weight of the endless possibilities started to be a load upon my shoulders. I soon began to wonder if somewhere in that wide-open space God had created another family, and if not, why us? Why us with such a great capacity to sin? You see, I began to hear the stories of my parents' exile from the garden of Eden, which means "luxuriance." They were exiled from luxury for their sin, and they did not fit in this new land. This land that had been so open for me, and so full of possibility, had been a source of contention for my father. I loved to work with the land-- smoothing out the rough places, opening up the pinecones and fruits and sliding my fingers inside to take out their seeds, planting seeds deep in the ground, caring for them and watching them grow. When we grew old enough, my brother and I knew we had to choose what to do to maintain our living. It did not make sense that we both would do the work of our father -- both farming and caring for the animals--so we chose to each do what we liked best. For me, I knew automatically. I loved the soil and wanted that to be my work. In part, it was a way for me to make up for my parents' actions. This may be their punishment, but I would make things right again. Abel, my younger brother, chose to shepherd the animals. These were the animals our father had named, and he wanted to carry on that name. And so, here we were-- me striving to rectify the past, and him, striving ahead for our father's attention. 

III. We worked well in this way for many years, side by side providing for our parents, and for our brothers and sisters as they came along. One day, the idea came to Abel that we should give back part to our God. He had provided so much to us, and it seemed only right to give part back. My father loved the idea, and I? I thought it was another attempt for my brother to take the forefront. Our parents' love was not enough -- was not I too providing in equal amount for our welfare. He wanted God's approval as well. I went along with the idea though--how could I not? As I was picking my crops, though, I couldn't help but pause. How does one determine what is the best for God? Is it wrong to want the best for my family? They are here. They are tangible. What I give to God, I cannot give to my family. And so, as I wandered the fields, I picked the second best. I picked a beautiful array -- of fruits and vegetables of every variety and fine wheat and grain that I had watched over all year with gentle care. I was pleased with my work, and I hoped silently that it was enough. I brought my offering first to the altar we had constructed. I hoped my eagerness might erase my doubt. But, alas, Abel arrived with the best of his flock, and he made great show of his sacrifice. Afterward, God commended him, and to me, he said nothing. 

IV. Then, finally, he spoke, but his words were too big, and I did not understand. He said, "Sin's urge is toward you, yet you can be its master." Was it sin to give God second best? What was sin? I had known my parents' sin, but I did not yet know the capacity of my own. I did not understand. 

V. The weight continued to build. Now, I had the possibility for good things so strong upon my shoulders that there was hardly any room for freedom. I wanted to rectify the mistakes of my parents. I wanted to love my brother. I wanted to follow God's words for me. I waited and I wrestled with these things upon my heart, but the load only grew and my heart became to heavy to love anything-- not even myself, for I felt worthless. 

VI. And so, one day, I called for my brother in the fields, and I killed him. And then, I hid from God. 

VII. It was rash, adn the guild was too much to even comprehend the details. Had I truly stabbed him with his own knife? I, who had never hunted? I, whose work was with the gentle care of plants had slain my brother. And I did not know what I was doing. But one thing I knew. Suddenly, that immense weight had been lifted. The pressure had broken from all sides -- for I was in hiding even from myself. And yet, I did not feel free. What had been a sense of purpose, though burdening, had been replaced with the weights of guilt and remorse-- under which I was helpless. 

VIII. And so, God found me in this state, cowering. And as he demanded to know what I had done with my brother, his words were deafening to my ears. They rushed at high speed and stole all else from my mind. Was I my brother's keeper? I did not know, for I could not claim something I had not fulfilled. When God had finished speaking, I was low to the ground. It was my good-bye. For I could no longer work with the soil I loved. The blood of Abel was there now, and nothing was any longer as God had intended. I had violated nature's trust and it had rejected me in turn. I lay low to the ground, and I pleaded with God. I begged him, "At least, Lord, as I am wandering, may one along the road kill me." But that was not to be. I had killed my flesh. His blood shed was not only his own but that of his descendents. God knew I must live with this memory in order to be healed. But I was scared. A life of wandering was not for me -- to leave the famiyl I had provided for? to leave the rich land I had cultivated? I had no idea what was to come or even what I might encounter-- only that I would live through anything. I stood in the still wind, facing East-- even further away from the garden where it had all begun-- wondering that God had marked even me. God had marked even me.

Amen