Ivy Tech Thoughts

I am currently sitting in the faculty lounge waiting for my cousin Jac to call me. We are meeting for lunch today! I'm excited - we haven't spent much time together since we were little, so it'll be nice to see her again.

In the meantime, I've been working, goofing off, and talking to other faculty while I wait for her [to wake up? Yes, I know it is noon, but we are talking about Jac].

Some school thoughts:

What do you do when: a student signs all his papers "Yours truly"; uses adjectives in his paper to describe you like, "wonderful", "fantastic", and "brilliant"; and sometimes looks at you with puppy eyes? I am still trying to figure that out.

What do you do when another faculty member (this is the fifth) challenges your presence in a room because they believe you're either a confused student or a kid that gets a thrill from being somewhere they're not supposed to be? So far I just smile as sweetly as possible and tell them what class I instruct. Not all of them believe me, though. Perhaps I should wear my contract around my neck?

I do have one personal success as far as dealing with awkward situations. I was always uncertain how I would behave if I was unliked. I want a good rapport with my students, because I feel that can be an important factor in a student's investment in a class. However, I also just have an overwhelming desire to be liked sometimes, so it's not just about the students' success. Anyway, I am happy to report that nasty looks, personal comments, and talking about unfair grades (in hoarse whispers during class time) have only been reprimanded because they are unprofessional. Unexpectedly, and fortunately, they have not phased me on a personal level.

Overall, teaching at a community college has been a rewarding experience. I use the perfect tense because we only have two weeks left, and I feel that I've gotten from this experience all that I hoped to and more - I don't think it's something I will continue to do next semester. Teaching however, I hope to do forever, so it's time to find a new venue!


Top Reason to Learn Greek/Hebrew


You might think it is so that you can have a deeper connection to/understanding of God's word in the language He chose to reveal it.

You might think it is so that you can look smart carrying around some ancient documents.

You might think it is so that you can listen critically to sermons using the original language as support for their sometimes less-than-accurate points.

You might think it is just because Greek and Hebrew are cool (and, yes, they are very cool).

But the number one reason? The top reason to learn these, or any, ancient languages?

So that your friends can come and ask you before they:

- paint something on their wall
- make a piece of jewelry for a friend
- tattoo something totally ridiculous on their body

Biblical Literature students: saving the world from inaccurate tattoos, one intervention at a time. This is our high calling.

Latin Moment 02

Me: Melissa, can you read our next vocabulary word?

Melissa: Sure. Assen...askend...ascendit?

Me: Yeah! This word means, "he, she or it climbs." Now what are some English cognates we have of this word?

rapidly the kids list off all the cognates they can think of...

Emily: ascend!

Melissa: ascent!

Me: Yes! And some other words you might recognize when you come to them, like...

Austin: Mountain!

pause

Me: Actually, Austin, "cognate" means...

Austin: Birds!

pause

Austin made us laugh pretty hard more than once yesterday. I had no idea what was going through his mind for about half the class, but it was definitely fun to try to get him back on track.

Also, the newest character in our story is named Sextus. I don't think I even need to mention some of the craziness that arose from that introduction. In pictura est alter puer, nomine Sextus. They didn't even try to translate that sentence - there was much too much laughter going on.

With all the rowdiness that sometimes goes on in class, I would still say I have the best group of Latin kids I could have hoped for during my first semester.

Freedom

uploaded on Flickr by Sarah Lee

I found a love in me.
I always somehow knew that it existed,
it just needed to be set free.
Bon Voyage.
~Relient K

Emmy

This is one of the best pictures of Em I've ever seen. It was taken by Kristin Roy for the Les Mis cast bios, although I did my best at cropping out the other lovely ladies because I wanted to focus on my magnificent sister. The editing job is bad, but Emily's face is perfect.

Another Chesterton quote from Orthodoxy (the "Paradoxes of Christianity" chapter) sums up how I feel when trying to talk about Emily:

"If one asked an ordinary intelligent man, on the spur of the moment, 'Why do you prefer civilization ot savagery?' he would look wildly round at object after object, and would only be able to answer vaguely, 'Why, there is that bookcase...and the coals in the coal-scuttle...and pianos...and policemen.' The whole case for civilization is that the case for it is complex. It has done so many things. But that very multiplicity of proof which ought to make reply overwhelming makes reply impossible."

My friend Rachel works at the Latte Cafe with me at GFR. She comes from a big conservative homeschool family like me and went to the same university, so we like to swap stories about our childhood, our schooling, and our siblings. A while ago she asked me, "What's Emily like?"

Ummmm....where do I start?

A couple of months ago I was listening to one of Beth's random cd mixes and "You'll Be in My Heart" by Phil Collins came on. I started singing along, and then thinking of Emily, because one time she and I had a movie night that culminated in Disney's Tarzan. I started crying like an idiot - the same sappy way I cry in Hallmark card aisles, at Little House on the Prarie, and the same way I cried when I saw that picture of Emily.

Here's what I was crying about. Phil Collins wrote it about Emily and me (probably):

Come stop your crying/ it will be alright
Just take my hand/ hold it tight.
I will protect you from all around you.
I will be here, don't you cry.

For one so small/ you seem so strong
My arms will hold you/ keep you safe and warm.
This bond between us can't be broken
I will be here don't you cry.

It's weird to sing "don't you cry" while you're crying. And yes, this is an insight into one of my more pathetic moments. But I feel this depth of emotion about Emily pretty often. Sometimes it arises inexplicably.

Some things are very simple, even mundane - but some things are very true and beautiful at the same time. Emily is this way to me. Our relationship isn't something magnificent to write about - I mean, it's not Epic of Gilgamesh material. We don't have wild times. It's not as if Emily has a genius IQ, is a great athlete, or is a prime candidate for some Disney type modeling gig. She's just Emily!

What's so great about that? Well...there's her jokes....and there's that hat she wears....and bad fake accents....and laziness....and her thing for kittens....and her wrinkly nose....and honesty.....and her annoyed voice....she's good at Latin....and sometimes I feel like there's a little me running around the house, only better in so many ways.

I love each member of my family very much. I feel about Emily in a unique way, though. Maybe because she's the baby, because she's so much younger than I, because she's having a childhood totally removed from my own, or who knows why. The feeling that Emily is a gift from God is very strong. Not many people have the opportunity to watch their sibling to grow up like this, to shape their life, and be inspired by a baby sister while they're an adult. At least that's how I feel - that Emily is a very unique gift. There would be a cavernous hole in my heart if Emily were removed.

I talk about Emily like someone talks about the person they're in love with - trying to express their feelings, how amazing this person is...while annoying everyone around them! People at work are totally annoyed by my rants about Emily.

But all these words don't seem to be enough! I want to babble on like the "ordinary intelligent man" in Chesterton's story. There are bike rides! Cartwheels! The serious face she makes: slightly raised eyebrow, slightly pursed lips. Puberty! Yes. Puberty.

Anyway, this is enough. I have to go to her soccer game now. If you're reading this, I assume you've at least met Emily, if you're not enamored by her like me. Leave some Emily love in the comments - what would your grasping, Chesterton explanation of Emily look like if someone asked, "Why is Emily better than no Emily?"

Patriotism

I feel as if I ought to post something, but I'm very tired! Here's something I wrote on facebook a while ago (4th of July?) but never posted. I think I was afraid it sounded too offensive to some of my friends' more defensive sensibilities, but rereading it makes me think otherwise. Here you go!

...

I am one of those who has had some real problems with patriotism. I never saw the logic of it, and never heard a consistent definition for it.

I think I first started having these issues in middle school, when I heard the definition for "nationalism:" the idea that your country and its inhabitants are inherently better than all others. To me, this sounded like what a lot of Americans called patriotism, and it sounded wrong and dangerous (this attitude in multiple countries was a huge contributor to both world wars). Also, I had a very paranoid aversion to the pledge of allegiance...it freaked me out that I had learned to recite it before I knew what it meant. I don't know what that has to do with patriotism, but I felt it was connected at the time.

Now hear me out, because I know I have some vehemently patriotic friends, God bless you, that are ready to jump all over me already. I'm describing a journey here, so stick with me to the end.

When we entered Iraq, I heard a lot of people say that God was on our side. I even heard people say that we are God's country. Just war theories aside, we are certainly not the hand of God to punish or bless the world.

I know what America is not. America is not perfect. Neither is America God's country. America is not a Christian nation - founded on, informed by Christian principles and ideals, sure. But our direction and our focus is not Christianity, and most certainly not Christ.

America is not always the land of the free. Millions and millions of unborn dead cry out silently for justice. America is not always the home of the brave. Politicians waver and fall under the pressure of high-profile interest groups instead of standing for what they know is right.

Patriotism: love and devotion for your country.

What is my country? What am I supposed to love? Is my country defined by the people that comprise it? Because I love the citizens of Ukraine just as well as the citizens of the U.S. Is it defined by the principles it was built upon? I don't agree with every one of these principles, and our country is racing away from the ideas that it was once composed of.

You hear a bit of bitterness? I really am sorry for it. It's something that God is extracting from me, painfully but surely, ever since He helped me to understand patriotism in a new way.

I think my patriotism was born, not when I became able to define "country," but when I understood love and devotion in a new way.

This realization has been a long one, years long, but it culminated only a couple months ago in my reading of "Orthodoxy" by my man G.K. Chesterton:

"The point is not that this world is too sad to love or too glad not to love; the point is that when you do love a thing, its gladness is a reason for loving it, and its sadness a reason for loving it more..." "Let us suppose we are confronted with desperate thing - say America. If we think what is really best for America we shall find the thread of thought leads to the throne or the mystic and the arbitrary. It is not enough for a man to disapprove of America: in that case he will merely cut his throat or move to Canada. Nor, certainly, is it enough for a man to approve of America: for then it will remain America, which would be awful. The only way out of it seems to be for somebody to love America: to love it with a transcendental tie and without any earthly reason. If there arose a man who loved America, then America would rise into ivory towers and golden pinnacles; America would attire herself as a woman does when she is loved. For decoration is not given to hide horrible things: but to decorate things already adorable. A mother does not give her child a blue bow because he is so ugly without it. A lover does not give a girl a necklace to hide her neck. If men loved America as mothers love children, arbitrarily, because it is THEIRS, America in a year or two might be fairer than Florence. Some readers will say that this is mere fantasy. I answer that this is the actual history of mankind. This, as a fact, is how cities did grow great. Go back to the darkest roots of civilization and you will find them knotted round some sacred stone or encircling some sacred well. People first paid honour to a spot and afterwards gained glory for it. Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her."

This is something I think we all can relate to. Because, as Chesterton also says, "there is the great lesson of "Beauty and the Beast"; that a thing must be loved BEFORE it is loveable."
I love America with a completely irrational love. I love it because of my vision of what it can be, what men have died so that it can be, and what every day we're trying to shape it into. I love it for the freedom I have to protest its frivolity and pride, and I see hope every day that we slowly change into something different.

So today, I send out special thanks. Thank you to the people that began this whole thing - to Washington, Adams, and even Jefferson (although I bet we would have some heated debates about his funky theology). To the countless others that had a dream of independence and responsibility that we are trying to rediscover. Thank you to all the men and women who have died, and those who put their life on the line today, while I sit at home whining about the pledge of allegiance. You have it figured out - thanks for protecting my rights while I struggle to understand them. Thank you to the politicians who listen to people and conscience instead of pressure (read here: my dad).

And thank you all for loving me in the same way that I love America: that even though I'm a mess, there's an untapped greatness inside of me. You see not who I am, but who God created me to be. And maybe you love my little quirks, too, just like I love America's: jazz music, free museums, free enterprise, cancer research and Hank Thoreau.

May God continue to bless America.

Courage Within

Courage Within, by Don Artamas.


The first abstract artist that has spoken to my soul. I saw his exhibit at IWU when I was a junior, I think, entitled "New Beginnings." I'm looking for one of his works I saw that day called "Ancient Faith" or something similar to that, and I've never been able to find it. It was, hands down, my favorite.

Latin Moment 01

I teach a Latin class for some kids grades 3-6 on Thursday afternoons. Today we were going around the table translating a passage in the Ecce Romani book.

Sarah: "Cornelia iam sub arbore sedet et legit." Emily?
Emily: Cornelia...under the tree...sits and reads.
Sarah: Iam?
Emily: Now!
Sarah: Right. "Now Cornelia sits under the tree and reads." Next, "Etiam in pictura est altera puella, nomine Flavia." Hannah?

The translation for this one is, "Also in the picture is another girl named Flavia." All I got from Hannah was a raised eyebrow.

Sarah: Let's go one by one. Etiam...
Hannah: incredulously Flavia?

It seems Flavia is one hilarious name. Any time her name was mentioned for the rest of the lesson all the kids would burst out laughing. If her name went unmentioned for too long, Austin made sure to throw it in a sentence.

My favorite moment:

Sarah: Zach, which question would you like to read?
Zach: Mmmm...the bottom one.
Sarah: What words do you recognize?
Zach: laeta...and.... looks at Emily knowingly

Zach and Emily then said "Flavia" in stereo, in the most sultry tone imaginable.

Well, I think this is going to be a fun semester.

IVY Tech Moment 01

I'm walking out of class behind Ebony, a young mom who arrived late to class to turn in a crucial assignment. As we head down the hallway, a guy steps out of his class in front of us and mumbles something to Ebony. She immediately begins to strut an attitude as she flashes a "talk to the hand" signal.

He looks at me.

"All you ladies make comin' to school real pleasant."
I continue walking, and say, "Oh?"
He starts walking alongside of me. "Yeah, in class it gets real distracting, but on breaks its a real pleasure."
"Oh."
"I don' mean that offensive."
"No?"

We stop walking and look at each other. Awkward raised eyebrow from me, awkward shrug from him.

I keep walking, but I can't pull off the attitude like Ebony.

Assume Love

Lately....

every song on the radio touches my soul.

every person I know makes me laugh - not because they're funny, but because the joy in knowing them has to spill out.

hearing a beautiful truth makes me dance - in my room, in my car, on the sidewalk.

love between friends has become something wondrous.

I've been having feelings of joy, and it's all because of a realization that I'm finding difficult to articulate, even to myself.

Maybe God's grace isn't an oasis in a horrible world. Maybe God's grace is so humongous that it overshadows the sin, overpowers it, overwhelms it. Lately when I look at the world, I see love instead of darkness.

Maybe I'm not a sinner. Yeah, I sin, every day, I know. But what if that's not who I am, not the consummation of my identity? Without Christ, I'm a sinner. But with Him I'm glowing, full of hope, changing, reforming.

A couple of weeks ago I was telling a sweet friend of mine about my brilliant 1-year old nephew, Elliot. He had a bit of a "dag tood" - a bad attitude - and was mumbling to me "ma ma ma" in a grumpy voice because he was mad at Megan. It was a funny story, and after laughing my friend said, "oh, that little sinner!"

Technically, she didn't say anything wrong. But inside my heart hurt, because when I see Elliot, I don't see a sinner. I see God's love pouring not only into him, but out of him. I see a vessel of joy and comfort and glory.

I'm not saying the world is, or people are, "basically good" (although I think this feeling is the kind of excitement that motivates that theology). I'm saying God's poured SO much love into me, His love is what I see when I look at myself. But for the grace of God, I know where I would stand. But I feel like we're always talking about where we would be "if not for God's grace." Okay - but now I have God's grace! What now? Shouldn't I see myself differently? Shouldn't I see the world differently?

We are most certainly not "just passing through." We are here to change the world.

There is knowing something. Hearing it, saying it, memorizing it...

and then there is knowing something. Feeling it. Living it.

I now know that God's love and comfort offers more than enough joy to overwhelm any fear.

I now know why people say, "assume love."


, originally uploaded by nikolinelr.
Break forth! Shout joyfully together, you waste places of Jerusalem. For Yahweh has comforted His people - He has redeemed Jerusalem.
Isaiah 52:9

New Skin!

So the last html code I had uploaded was missing a few bits and pieces here and there. Deluxe Templates recently removed it from their options because I suppose so many users were having trouble with it. I really liked the grunge look, but for now, we are going green. Try commenting - I hope it will work better now.

Intimidation Survey

I am thinking of sending out a survey. After the usual demographic info, it will say:

How intimidating do you find Sarah on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being not intimidating at all and 5 being paralyzingly intimidating)?

1 2 3 4 5

If 1: Thank you.
If 2 or above: Why the heck? (Please feel free to use reverse side of the paper. Or simply go out to lunch with me because, really, I'm not that bad)

I just don't understand this. To intimidate means to make someone timid, fearful. Webstah!

Pronunciation: \in-'ti-muh-date\
Function: transitive verb
Etymology: Medieval Latin: intimidatus, past participle of intimidare, from Latin in- + timidus timid
: to make timid or fearful : frighten; especially : to compel or deter by or as if by threats
synonyms: cow, bulldoze, bully, browbeat. "to frighten into submission"
intimidate implies inducing fear or a sense of inferiority into another

A new friend of mine, Joe, recently told my sister that he found me intimidating (but also said some nice things, so we'll let Joe off the hook). The real issue is that I said, "Why the heck?" and my sister proceeded to tell me that most of her friends find me intimidating. No, strike that - most people find me intimidating upon meeting me. I don't think this is true - but I have to concede that Bethany has some verifiably true stories about people that came to her feeling inferior/frightened/whatever after meeting me.

It would be one thing if I were rude to these people - that would be very bad, but explainable. But I always come away thinking, "Hey! That was a good time! I really got to know them! I really respect them!" or something along those lines. Because, while I'm certainly not intimidated by Joe, I felt we were pretty at home/relaxed. But no! Joe was intimidated! And so were a dozen other folks! (No worries, Joe, it's not you - you are just the final straw.)

I am very small: 5'2". I am not strong - anyone in my family could beat me in an arm-wrestling match. I am not a success machine - I live with my parents, earn minimum wage, and am a little socially awkward. I like kittens and gardens. I wear the same clothes almost every day, and they are not stylin'.

Mostly this whole intimidation thing discourages me. I want to convince others of their own value, not my own. When people find me intimidating, I feel as if I've failed at that.

At the same time, I want to be myself. I don't want to limit my vocabulary if I have an effective word. I don't want to be cool with people's actions/words when I disagree with them. Maybe this is what is intimidating?

I feel like Mystique is intimidating. Or maybe Cat Woman. I don't know any real person that I find intimidating - because I have been give a spirit of POWAH!

So please answer my survey. Or enlighten me. Or tell me how to lighten up and help people relax. Because people shouldn't be frightened of a poofy-haired, wobbly-in-high-heels, bites-her-fingernails teacher. That is just silly.

Seminary Words

Okay, I added this fellow to my links list on the right sidebar over there, but I just had to include this particular link today. It made me laugh out loud several times. He writes about how Christians like to overuse their "one seminary word."

My favorite, although it's not a theological word, is "behoove." It's somehow added to everyone's theological lexicon as soon as they return from their first day of seminary. "I think it would behoove us to clean out the refrigerator tonight." There are some words you use that are ineffective, not because they don't mean exactly what you think they do, but because I'm so distracted that you actually just used that word.

My olde worship pastor at church started using this word when we first started studying Greek together. He used it 5 times in 5 minutes, and he didn't even notice. This was before he went to seminary, though - but he was thinking about the move at the time. I think the infection was that strong - even the inclination of seminary started shoving ridiculous words in his head.

Also have you noticed that very educated people often mispronounce words (esp. historical figures, places) just to be distinctive? They aren't ignorant, it's just that they think they've earned the right to tweak our pronunciation a bit. Athanasius. Galilee. You can't fool me, guys - I know Greek and Hebrew.

My personal downfall is outdated slang. But I suppose that's annoying on a different level.

Guerilla Gardening : How to Make Moss Graffiti







































I want to do this. Soon.

Guerilla Gardening : How to Make Moss Graffiti


Gaither Moment 01

We got totally crashed (our way of saying swamped) at work today. One of my managers, Eric, likes to sing and make jokes so that we don't get too stressed out.

Eric: La chicaracha, la chicaracha...

Me: "la chicaracha"?

Eric: You know. Spanish.

Me: No. "La cucaracha."

Eric: Oh. sings La cucaracha, la cucaracha.

returns after singing for about five minutes

Eric: What does that mean?

Me: The cockroach.

a look of horror crosses Eric's face. He realizes he has been singing about cockroaches in the Latte Cafe.

I laughed. Eric didn't. As far as I can tell, what he was singing first translates to something like, "the girl gust."

Oh no...it is me.



xkcd.com

IBS...in Sunday School!

This coming Sunday our ABF/Sunday School class will begin our study of James. Steve Kester (our teacher/leader/what-you-will) sent us away a couple of weeks ago with an admonition I haven't heard for over 9 months now:
What I'd encourage you to do is to take get an electronic copy of James, take out all the chapter and verse divisions, and just read the whole thing.
I wonder if he could see my eyes widen in excited surprise.

We are doing inductive Bible study. I looked around the classroom, and I realized most of them had not the slightest hint of what we were getting into.

Inductive Bible Study (lovingly referred to as IBS) is a course required by every Religion major at IWU (as far as I know - it's at least required of the Biblical Literature majors). It's a class with an epic reputation. During this class, there is no family, there is no social life, there are no other classes. There is only IBS. The students are stationed semi-permanently in the library aisles lined with Bible study tools. They grab at your ankles as you pass by and plea pitiably for help. "What is the Strong's number? I can't find it." Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they have milk and cookie parties while they study from early in the morning until the library closes. Sometimes professors visit the aisles like they would an inner city mission, offering what assistance they can before they go to their next class and leaving the students even more despondent than they were before.

The students are learning exegesis, and for many of them, exegesis is the most awful, wonderful thing they will ever take away from their time at IWU. After you learn it in IBS, you inevitably have lather, rinse, and repeat for every Bible class you take during your time there.

I took a lot of Bible classes, as evidenced by my major. Like a lot of people, I grew to love the IBS process. I was one of the milk and cookies people - one that got A's on my papers, frequented the aisles to offer help, and did my Initial Observations on the Greek text. I miss it. I miss the camaraderie, the way you could feel your mind changing shape, and the piles of books all over the tables like a scene from Pagemaster. Most of all, I miss the "aha" moments. The moment you realize you had it all wrong. The moment God iconoclastically blasts away what you thought about Him, and puts the truth in its place.

I graduated December of 2008. School will be starting up again for some of my friends in less than a month. The freshmen will be innocently shuffling into their first IBS class. And I will be missing it.

I know I can do IBS on my own. I have done it a few times since I graduated - word studies, outlining, etc. Never a complete exegesis. I think it's because I have no accountability, no one to bounce my ideas off of, and that I'm a lazy bum.

So I have been a little down in the dumps about it...until Mr. Kester popped out of the blue with an IBS assignment. He told us to read through the book, outline it, and come up with some themes we saw emerging throughout the book. There were some furrowed eyebrows, because folks aren't used to studying the bible that way (except maybe my mom). I think it's going to stretch our class, not just in the amount of work it will require, but also in that it's going to challenge some assumptions they're going to have a hard time giving up. We started talking about authorship and canonical issues the very first day, and you could see people getting a little rankled. I think it'll be good for us, though.

I plan on keeping an update here of my study progress. Give me your feedback, and I'll take it back to class with me! Maybe that way I can blame shift, as well. "Well, one of my friends suggested..." "Yeah, it was a stupid idea, huh?"

I know I won't have the library, but I will have my Sunday School class. And maybe I can bring them some cookies and commentaries for old times' sake.

Beginning Aromatherapy

I have been trying my hand at aromatherapy for about 2 months now. I've learned a lot in a short amount of time! I've always been interested in homeopathic medicines and natural cosmetics, but it really had only been curiosity for the most part. A more intentional exploration/experimentation with aromatherapy started when I went with my sister Meg to a workshop in Massanutten, VA led by a crazy lady who thought that essential oils were divine and ought to be respected (worshiped?) accordingly.

We were both a bit incredulous, but a couple of things she said piqued our interested, and we liked how everything smelled. We also liked the idea of not lathering poison or preservatives all over our skin since it quickly becomes systemic, not just topical. My grandma always said, "Don't put anything on your skin that you wouldn't put in your mouth." While I know this rule can't be applied everywhere (how on earth would you garden? or clean up particularly messy...messes?), it makes you consider the ingredients in your lotions, shampoos, makeup, etc. a little more cautiously.

I thought, well, I will do some of my own research, maybe make my own essential oils. I went to the library as soon as we got home and got a book that implied we ought to pray to the herbs before we harvest them, and classified them into lunar, solar, and sacred categories. Hello, Vedic mantra!

I like aromatherapy. I will define it as, "the therapeutic, cleansing, or medicinal use of essential oils, raw plant materials, and plant extracts for ingestion, hygienic use, or massage." That is my original definition! You can source me.

I think that considering aromatherapy a spiritual art is dangerous ground, either in respecting essential oils as divine, or in using them ritualistically. The first of these is certainly pantheistic and, in my mind, idiotic. The second reminds me of Nadab and Abihu.

Anyway, I've learned a lot and had some fun in refining all the information I've accumulated about aromatherapy - keeping the gold and throwing away the dross. I've come to decide that aromatherapy certainly has a direct effect on people emotionally. A lot of research has been done to demonstrate that our olfactory senses are most directly related to our memory. For a nice summary, go here. The results of aromatherapy in this case are subjective. Peppermint might remind me of Christmas, and it makes me excited. Peppermint might remind you of that time you ate an entire pack of gum and got sick, and make you feel nauseous. I dunno!

Aromatherapy also has an obvious physical effect. Some essential oils are antibacterial, anti-fungal, anti-inflammatory, stimulating, calming, cancer-fighting, etc. Essential oils are 100x more powerful than their raw plant form (don't quote me on that one, I don't remember my source), so taking them internally or topically can be really effective. Spearmint, I learned, is a powerful drug, and should not be taken indiscriminately. Watch out! Same with patchouli.

I had ringworm (ew, but it was from gardening, I swear), and it cleared up with two applications of tea tree essential oil a day. Score!

For me, the whole process is just...lovely. I have a routine now in applying all my products, and it makes me feel nourished, not stripped or sterilized. Here's part of my bathroom setup:


1. a bowl. I don't know what I'm going to put here. Some kind of cleanser - my bar is currently residing on the side of the tub.
2. refined white sugar. It's a super good exfoliator, but I little rough on my skin, so I only use it every couple days.
4. my mixing bowl.
5. my mixing spatula. Got it for $1.50 at GFR, my workplace.
6. my awesome golden jojoba oil. Just look it up yourself. This stuff is WICKED SWEET!
7. I put some lemon balm in the vase to make the bathroom smell good, and I put the zinnias in there because they make me happy. Aw. Pretty zinnias.
8. Mixed some tea tree and rose oil with water and lit a candle under it for some more good smells. I painted this myself - found it at a yard sale! I actually lit this because I had recently rubbed down the counter with citronella to ward away ants. I hate how that stuff smells.
9. my perfume! Found the bottle on Ebay, the scent is passion fruit in carrier oil (jojoba and sesame seed, I think). That's my deoderant next to it from LUSH.
10. raw cane sugar, because it's a much more mild exfoliator.

I got the colorful bowls, plate, and oil jar at a freaky store in Massanutten for $16. They were meant for dipping bread in seasoned oil, Meg says. My grandma gave me the tea cup tower for my birthday.

Anyway, that is where I am on my aromatherapy journey. I'm going to see if Meg will help me make some essential oils from our practically unlimited herb supply at Victory Acres. Maybe!

So I am a crazy smelly hippie, I know. But if you knew how great it was, you would be too. ^_^

Bingua


gotta love xkcd

Before I could create this blog, the folks at google, in order to confirm that I am not a robot, asked me to recognize a word. This word was bingua. "Bilingual" was robbed of its l's and one of the i's ate the other. Or something.

Anyway, it made me think, "Too bad I'm not bilingual." People are always asking me (well, maybe they just ask me more than I would prefer), "How many languages do you speak/know?" I always say "Just one." I have seriously studied seven. I feel guilty saying that I know seven. I really don't know them...I just know enough to impress people and maybe translate some ancient documents with a lexicon near at hand. Also, are you still "bilingual" if you don't really speak a language, you can just read it? For instance, I've studied some Latin. If I had a fairly comprehensive understanding of Latin, but never spoke it, would I be bilingual? I think it makes me biscriptal. Or something. So I am septascriptal.

I have a friend that speaks Latin fluently. He tries to speak to me because the knowledge makes him lonely, I think. I can follow along, at least.

One time, my professor told me that there are thousands of Akkadian sherds that haven't been translated because it's a boring job. I thought, "Give me 6 months to learn. I will translate them. And it will be fun!" But then I thought, "Does that make me boring, or eccentric, or exotic? Or a snob?" So I decided not to learn it, just in case it was anything but exotic.

I think I just feel like a quirky knick knack that no one knows where to put in their house. Here is a very frequent exchange:

"What did you study in school?"

"Biblical Literature."

"What?"

"The Bible and dead languages."

"Wow. Sounds...smart."

What does that mean? It feels like an insult. I know it is not an insult, but I'm sensitive these days, because I'm a septascript working a McJob at minimum wage.

Well, I decided this summer that I am tired of living outside the box. Rather than get back in it, though, I'm going to expand its edges so that I fit inside. Okay, actually, I just spent so long away from language studies that I started to miss them, and decided to teach them and share the joy. Because it is truly a joy for me, even if you don't understand it.

But maybe you would like to understand? Or maybe you would just like to be a misunderstood multiscript. I'm offering Latin, Koine Greek, and Biblical Hebrew. Hit me up.

This rant brought to you by "bingua."

I am the problem.

I was reading Blue Like Jazz a couple of months ago. It made me cry like a baby more than once. Donald Miller is my hero, you see - I disagree with him politically, doctrinally, and who knows how else, but he is still my hero. He gives me an awesome picture of authenticity.

I think authenticity is hugely important. If God says, "My power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9), then we need to be open about our weaknesses - we need to shout them out! "Hello, my name is Sarah, and I'm a terrible mess of pride and self-hatred...I hardly know how that's possible." As uncomfortable as it may be for some of us, it's important to be open about it, vulnerable. Paul only ever boasts in two things - did you know that? He boasts in Christ, and he boasts in his own weaknesses.

That's so hard for us, though. Well, it's hard for me. It's much more easy to get caught up in the weaknesses of others - in pointing them out, "helping" them out. It's easy to see weaknesses in the system: our school's organization, the nation's policy, our family's dysfunction. I'm not saying we should ignore those things, but I am saying we tend to blame "them," whoever they are, for most of the problems in the world.

Here's what Donald Miller says in Chapter 2 (which contains the best explanation of human depravity I've ever read. Read it sometime.):
I think every conscious person, every person who is awake to the functioning principles within his reality, has a moment where he stops blaming the problems in the world on group think, on humanity and authority, and starts to face himself. I hate this more than anything. This is the hardest principle within Christian spirituality for me to deal with. The problem is not out there; the problem is the needy beast of a thing that lives in my chest.

The thing I realized on the day we protested, on the day I had beers with Tony, was that it did me no good to protest America's responsibility in global poverty when I wasn't even giving money to my church, which has a terrific homeless ministry. I started feeling very much like a hypocrite.

Do I want social justice for the oppressed, or do I just want to be known as a socially active person? I spend 95 percent of my time thinking about myself anyway. I don't have to watch the evening news to see that the world is bad, I only have to look at myself. I am not browbeating myself here; I am only saying that true change, true life-giving, God-honoring change would have to start with the individual. I was the very problem I had been protesting. I wanted to make a sign that read "I AM THE PROBLEM!"
I have since wanted to do this very often - step into a group of protesters and tell them it's me - it's them. We need to fix us.

I wrote a mission statement for my life one time. Part of it said, "I will be honest about who I am, and excited about changing into who God wants me to be." You would be surprised how difficult this is. You would be surprised how easy it is to pretend you're more knowledgeable than you really are, to act like the type of person you want to be known as, rather than the type of person you know you should be. Well, maybe you wouldn't be so surprised.

"I know now, from experience, that the path to joy winds through this dark valley." Page 23.

Or like God says, "I give grace to the humble." Sort of. 1 Peter 5:5.

I intend to change the world. This sounds very big. Well, it is very big, isn't it? Because the world is huge, and, as Megan said (although I can't recall why), "I am very little."

But.

As I see myself slowly changing into the person God created me to be, I see the people around me change, too. A man at IWU said one time that we are like puddles of water, and God is the waterfall. Trying to fill each other on our own is completely draining...but if we place ourselves right under Him, we can't help but drench everyone around us.

I really think I can change the world. Back to 2 Corinthians 12:

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

God already changed the world in a HUGE way. He's given me the chance to be in on it, to tap into this huge, world-changing power. "Just become weak."

Or, in my case, just be real about how weak you really are.

So here is Sarah raw:

I am a mess. Sometimes...I feel like changing into Your likeness is never going to happen. This is because I constantly feel like I'm regressing...and that is probably because I am. I have so much head knowledge of You that I feel like I could scoop it out of my brain with a shovel. It feels ancillary and cluttered. But my heart knowledge of You is so weak. I want to rest my head on your chest so that I can feel your heartbeat, live your heartbeat. I want to stop reading books about You and start writing them.

Semper reformanda. We say this because it was one of the battle cries of the Reformation - always reforming. They meant it about the church, but I mean it about myself - because I am the problem.

And God is the solution. And maybe, if I stop presenting the world with a cardboard cutout of myself, then the real me, the weak, God-powered me, can be part of the solution, too.

Next time I roll my eyes at you (I do this often), or lift an eyebrow in derision (I do this more often), remind me that I'm a punk, and that you love me anyway. Next time I get hypocritically...critical about something irrelevant, remind me that I should love my enemies, get over myself, and remember that passion without patience is annoying and ineffective.

I think I'm going to change the world in a big way, maybe something bigger than I've imagined. Maybe I won't even know it in this lifetime. But I can say with certainty (although I can offer no proof) that more world-changing is done in the small things, in the mundane, than in world-recognized greatness.

1 Corinthians 10:31. Whether you eat, or drink, or whatever you do - do it all for God's glory.