Generation Why?

I wanted this blog to be about generational preparation by God--I was in a bible study tonight and we started reading Ruth and I was struck as to how much preparation by God went into Ruth and Boaz meeting and falling in love. How if Rahab hadn't helped the spies and thus been spared from the fall of Jericho then her son Boaz would have never met Ruth, for he would have never existed. If Ruth hadn't lost her huband and then decided to stay with her mother-in-law instead of her family for 10 years she too would have lost out. How much detail goes into the makings of the right moment and person! Have I ever even considered that what is directed or placed or decided now can have such a profound effect on my family; how much those decisions from 50 years ago can manifest themselves today?
But what has been in my head tonight is forgiveness. God can plan into the infinate future, but yet he is so good at forgetting the past. How am I to be like this? How am I to take the shortcomings, misundersandings and personality quirks of those I love and, with grace and patience, love them anyway? God has a standard that we are to live up to, yet he knows we cannot do it alone. Do I have a standard in my life that I hold others to, yet do not show mercy when they undoubtly fail?
Where are those decisions and directions in my life that I stumble over now, and only later will see the complete plan of he who made it so? I am at a loss for words, realizing that something as minute as my lovelife may have had generational preparation...and generational consequences.

You Have Two Hands For a Reason: A Women's Understanding of the Beauty of Multi-tasking.

Now one of my guy friends feels the need to constantly poke fun at a female's uncontrollable urge to multi-task; I find this entertaining, since he must halt all other activity (including breathing) in order to present such a comment. However i may walk, chew gum, flirt, fix my hair, check out the people around me and possibly hold a rather lively conversation, all while thinking of what I want for dinner. This is a beautiful thing. Life would be boring if I could not multi-task; it's the most productive sort of ADD out there. It may be a biological phenomonon how women may know where 4 kids, 2 pets and 1 husband are located, what is cooking at that moment, who's getting into what and still putting the finishing touches on that meal for the PTA bake sale. I mean multi-tasking should be an olympic sport.
Most men simply cannot multitask; if they are eating, there must be something there to remind their bodies to continue respiration, at least to some degree. The only time I have ever seen or even heard of a man multitasking involves the release of bodily functions. Men become wonders while on the john. They may talk on the phone, read a large novel, play a video game, brush their teeth, eat, it doesn't matter. They can do it all right there. I heard that LBJ used to bring his assistants into the bathroom with him, as he would make important decisions there (Does this explain the gulf of Tonkin Incident? who knows. Bad bowel movements can cause a bad day, but a major war, we cannot say.) Women multi-task everywhere else; this may explain why we tend to be worse drivers. Driving and multi-tasking are not a good mix. Mascara should not be applied while driving, nor should changing shirts, eating cereal, applying eye-liner, etc. Driving is not like cooking; if we take our eyes off of it for just a sec, it does matter. But I digress.
I am only a medicore multi-tasker; I tend to start 47 things at once, and forget about 46.5 of them so that my pants are half sewn, the laundary is half done, the pets are half-fed and i only picked up half the groceries. I will hone my skills. But seriously--if women ruled the world, so much more would get done b/c we can do it all at one time--congress would be passing laws, attending social balls and visiting foreign lands at the same time...just as long as they weren't driving.
(BTW i was multi-tasking while I was writing this, so if it's not rational or complete I apologize I was doing......

A Month of Sundays!

Well it's been quite a while, ain't it? My last post found me in Syracuse, eager to graduate from college and anticipating my summer spent in New Hampshire with the folks at Winni Kayak. Well here it be, the end o' August, and wouldn't you know it, I never made it to New Hampshire. After some serious cramming I somehow fit myself and (most) of my stuff into Roy the Raging Tempo and made the 7hr drive to Virginia, where I have promptly stayed ever since. My back problems have worsened to the point where standing and even sitting for a long period of time causes minor back spasms, and those just really aren't conducive to kayaking instruction. So suddenly my Summer of Too Many Opportunities turned into the Summer of Injured Reserve. Being back here--in my father's house, with fragments of my family around me--has brought joy and insight, but also so much frustration that I may need to rip my hair out before this expereince is over. I feel as if I'm being forced to learn a bit of patience, and I clearly do not have the attention span for such a lesson.
How else to summarize almost four months of activity? Idyllic. It was wine tours, bonfires, cowboy hats, concerts, movies, minigolf, dinners, stars, latenight walks, beers, brewery tours, shopping trips, books, guitars, songs, friends and rediscovery of those around me..some of whom have been standing there all along.
So what does this fall hold? Hopefully a fixed back and a fulltime job, but one need not be lofty at a time like this. Right now it holds a new guitar buddy, new friends in unexpected places, more concerts, and hopefully some definition in those who've stuck through the rodeo ride of my life.

Twenty-somethings

So I graduated from college this weekend. La De Frickin' Da. Now granted it is a huge event in my life, one that I will will forever recall with whimsy and fondness, but it is a college graduation; it's not like I won the Nobel Prize or something. I think that most of the events in the lives of 20-somethings are like this; they are incredibly interesting to those living them, but rubbing in the face of those who've already passed that age are long for the youth and vigor of those non-wrinkled, independent years. They always say, "Oh college and the years afterward are the best years of your life! Enjoy it while you can..." as if a man is going to ring my doorbell,shove a box of responsibility in my hand, and run away laughing as soon as I hit 30. I have no idea what they are talking about. I mean, a clue as to what I'm supposed to be doing with my life would be nice, as would the idea of a steady, non-seasonal income that does not involve food service or living in a tent.

Motha! Tell Your Children Not To Walk My Way

Yesterday my advisor came back from maternity leave to show off proudly what 9 months of serious bitching may produce. Her name is Katie; she's 11 days old and is an absolute mystery. The delicacy of her features; the size of her hands--it was as if she was too perfectly doll-like to possibly be real. It's amazing the instant love and affection we humans exhibit for the young of certain creatures, like puppies, kittens, cows, bunnies, lambs, etc. Soft, fuzzy delicate miniatures of the parents, so cute in such a way as to obviously show that they need our constant love and attention. But what got me most as I was sitting there, meeting Katie White for the first time, was the look on her mother's face. It completely floored me. As I sat there with the sleeping mass in my arms, Julie had this look of immense pride and unequivocal, unconditional love, a look I had never seen on her face. In that moment, around those women, I caught a bit of an insight into the mystery and power that women have in bearing children. For men, they do not go through a physical change to create this child, then afterward the marathon-run of the attempt to expunge the largest crap-like thing of your life; they do not have this random creature constantly attached to their chest for the next few months, as women do. They do something, then nine months later or so (long enough to forget it) this thing appears and then they have to do something about it. But this is not about knocking men, this is about childbirth. I guess I never realized that amazing initial connection between child and mother, and the burning love and pride that a mother has for her child. It's truly a secret club, one that no man could ever infiltrate, no matter his drive, for it is bound by an unspoken connection to that little alien creature that took over your body for a few months, punched you from the inside out and made your ankles swell.
I think I have a different opinion on mothers at this point--when does that pride and unconditional love fade into nagging and distrust? Probably around the stratosphere that is the early teens, I wager. In my own life, when did it go from that love to this distant casual behavior and disapproval? Motherhood is a great and worthy charge in life for any woman, unlike I have ever viewed it, I however never want to answer that call. I do not want my own children; I am just not the motherly type I guess. If I am happily married and get pregnant then I will keep it, but that decision does not come without its reservations about my abilities as a person and as a mother. The proverb, "Do not judge, lest you be judged" pops into mind when my own mothering comes to the forefront of a conversation. I fear that being so critical of my own mother's abilities has made me susceptible to my own pediatric critics.
And besides, I heard the yearly dues to stay in the motherhood club are KILLER.
Aunthood is soooo much cheaper, and the benefits package includes the "give them back to their mommies" clause.