The Wave by Susan Casey

this is my latest read, which was a thoughtful gift from the hubby for valentine's day. i figured i'd have to wait awhile to get my hands on this one, since it's relatively new, and therefore, relatively expensive. Casey is a literary journalist who pursued the topic of the rogue-wave filled ocean with absolute dedication - researching and traveling with scientists and tow surfers alike for years. she presents to the reader her evidence with a healthy dose of everyday language, which makes the entire book approachable and fascinating, like a great science unit peppered with personal stories and eye-witness accounts. i really loved all the surfing stories - i'm blown away by such a corageous art. i'd give it a four out of five.

disconnected.

i've come to terms with the fact that some people are magnets. they draw a constant orbit. they are at the center of community, of relationships, of life. they make you feel instantly comfortable. they make you laugh and think and maybe even frustrate you. they are dynamic, unaware, vibrant, and bold. i love those sorts of people. in my life, i am surrounded by beautiful magnet souls. 

i've also come to terms with the fact that i am destined to live in the peripherals. i'm not the aforementioned magnet. i'm much too timid, hesitant, politically-correct, and self-aware to draw much admiration or excitement. i suppose i have my mom to thank for these suburbanite traits. for the purposes of being a writer, i'm okay with the title of observer. i'm content to listen, to write about the characters around me while i shuffle along behind them. 

but here is the most persistent and frustrating thing about my personality: though i always identify best with (and even want to be) behind-the-scenes, i still often get to feeling like i don't matter. like i'm not central to the story, or even a part of the story. like if i ceased to be a part of a community, no one would be all that upset. 

the potentially nomadic nature of my near-future amplifies my insecurities. if i leave, if i am gone for a year, who will care? who will try to even keep in touch? i experienced this once in australia, and was saddened by the results. now, in a new community, will the same thing happen when i leave for twice as long? 

being married, unfortunately, amplifies this feeling of being unimportant. there is an invisible line, i think, between the wedded and unwed, and suddenly i am seen as "other." in a category that doesn't warrant a phone call or an invite to every girls night out. don't get me wrong, i am so blessed to get to be with the love of my life, but that isn't all there is to life. there is always a deep human need for community and relationships. to be a part of something. to matter. 

so i guess i'm feeling insignificant tonight. i hate when i get this way. i feel like it's weak of me to write about it... or it comes off like a petty cry for attention when that's not the case. but on the same token, i need to acknowledge and own up to my weaknesses. i might as well write about them, and get them out. i might as well try to put these emotions into words. i might as well be honest. 

Arise from the dead.

"God does not give us overcoming life; He gives us life as we overcome. When the inspiration of God comes, and He says - "Arise from the dead," we have to get up; God does not lift us up. Our Lord said to the man with the withered hand - "Stretch forth thy hand," and as soon as the man did so, his hand was healed, but he had to take the initiative."

- my utmost for his highest

"awake, o sleeper." this always has been one of my favorite verses, poetically speaking. but it also comes up time and time again when i need a good reminder to shake off the shackles, the muck and mire of darkness and sin, to arise, to step out of the grave and allow Christ to work, to move, to shine in my life.

spring reminds me of this transformation, this crossing over. i've smelled the damp air all day, been hypnotized by the blue hues outside my window, and know that winter is almost over.

i like the idea that we have to take some initiative, and that Christ will meet us there. our lives are like this lately... we are starting to step out into some uncertain waters, but we are also starting to move. we are stretching out our withered limbs in fear and in faith and humbly saying "Your move."

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

i'm trying to stick to my goal of intermingling the classics with the contemporaries this year, and after finishing this book, i'm so glad i did. as an english major, i'm often embarrassed by all the good stuff i've never actually read, and this was one at the top of the embarrassment list. not anymore. it's gorgeous, epic, sprawling and strong, and i had such great vocabulary while reading it. no one writes like this anymore. 5 out of 5, certainly.
things that struck me - jane herself, who was an independant and admirable heroine, who i could completely relate to, time and time again. the historical backdrop of england in the 1850s - shocking how much the world and societal norms have changed. the christianity and religion woven through the pages like thread, with biblical references abounding and morality as a central issue. the romance, they type of classical, pent up emotions and unspoken words that can make any girl sigh. it was a great read. also, turns out basically every book i read lately has a (unbeknownst to me) current movie counterpart. i purposely don't google or research any book i'm about to read, because i want to come to my own conclusions, but once i'm done i'm always curious to learn more about the author and what other readers have to say. so, i google jane eyre, and what do i find? a movie trailer, set for release in march!?!?! awesome.

a hint of thanks

what strange dreams i've had lately - of behemoth wooden ships sinking in the deepest of seas, of hallways lined with lockers, stuffed full of suitcases, of babies and loved ones long gone... these are not my usual nightly visitors.

...

the blur of january into february is my least favorite time of year. everything becomes grey and monotonous, but a couple noteworthy events sprinkle my recent memories, so i'll pause to recollect them here.

the last saturday in january, i had a refreshing all-girls day out. the gathering consisted of ann benson, one of the most vivacious and sincere people i've ever known who now lives in omaha, sweet friends melynda and britta who live in ankeny, and elizabeth who came down from mtown. we ate a delicious lunch at dos rios (i think i could live on guacamole for the rest of my life). then we went bowling, which was a hilarious endeavor on a saturday afternoon. i'm horrible at bowling, but it was great fun to chat and catch up and goof off with girls i can truly be myself around.

david and i participated in the traditional superbowl festivities a week later, inviting elizabeth and craig down and heading over to brent and kari's place. i could care less about football, but i love the community that temporarily evolves as everyone hunkers down around a tv to cheer and celebrate together. and, of course, i'm a sucker for all the finger food and snacky items spread out in the osborne's kitchen. (my husband is my hero, he spent the whole afternoon in our dinky kitchen making some phenomenal won ton appetizers!). my favorite part of the day had to be watching the kids, especially little evitt, one of the cutest one-year-olds around, as he shuffled his feet in a silly new style of walking that he'd acquired as of late. it was great to have liz and craig around too!

i still need to write about all the crazy things i'm learning in perspectives, but i don't even know how to begin to break it all down. suffice it to say, i'm in awe of the Kingdom of God and what it all means, and i'm coming to realize that my motives for mission needed a serious shift. it's been so refreshing for david and i to take this course together, and to explore what it could all mean for us as a couple in the future. maybe i'll tackle it all in more detail in a future post, but it has been such a blessing on monday nights, and we're only 4 weeks in.

An Exact Replica of a Figment of my Imagination

this short memoir was heartbreaking and enlightening. for a reader who has never had a child, much less lost one, i felt like an honored guest invited in to witness grief and solace first-hand, and i am changed for the better because of it. elizabeth's heart is raw and brutally honest, so much so that she points the finger at friends who both buoyed her and failed her, and i kept wondering when and if they'd read about themselves. certain little things kept me from falling head-over-heels in love with this book - the lifestyle and the luxury that mccracken and her husband lived in no doubt helped pull them from grief quicker (with her descriptions of distant travel and gourmet meals) than they typical family who cannot afford such easy, lucky escapes. also, the fact that she subscribes to no faith denied the book of a spiritual dimension. she so matter-of-factly dismisses God and the afterlife, that hope dissipates. i'd give it 3 1/2 out of 5 stars. if nothing else, i've learned how to respond to loved ones better because of this book, and i've learned you don't shy away from the tragedies of life, paralyzing though they may seem.