My sister Shannon’s wedding this weekend was a blast. Highlights included:
1. Riding the famous Spokane carousal right before the wedding. The whole wedding party participated in the frivolity, inspired by Shannon of course, who is always up for having a good time and making a public spectacle.
2. Seeing my sister and her new husband tango dance. They are incredible. My mom and I were doing a pretty good job not crying until we saw them dance together. That’s when the Kleenex was especially needed.
3. Hearing the toasts and giving the toasts. Heather’s was amazing– a good mix of serious and funny from the older sister. I think Marcie (Shanny’s best friend) and I did a good job with ours too; it was pretty much all humor, and we had lots of props. The basic idea was providing Jason with a marriage survival kit (it included items like Chemistry for Dummies so he could communicate with my scientist sister and a few other items…some of them ever so slightly scandalous :).
4. Busting a move with my younger cousins on the dance floor, even if they don’t know who Madonna is! (What!) Also, turns out my long-time neighbor Matt (who I haven’t really hung out with since we played basketball in the driveway when we were 8) is a terrific dancer, because he was happy to be as silly as me. I also made my uncles dance with me. All in all, I got in the necessarily twirling and dipping, even without a proper date.
5. Staying in a fancy hotel. Yep, the night before the wedding I somehow got very lucky and got to stay at a quaint old downtown hotel. “Mom,” I said, “I feel like a princess.” “Kimberly, dear, you always feel that way,” says my mother. Ok, that’s maybe true. But, when I have fluffy down comforters and fancy cucumber shampoo I especially feel like a princess.
6. Being with my family. We had 200 plus people at the wedding. It is so wonderful to be part of a family where people come from all over the country to celebrate. I felt very rich.
7. Having approximately 47 people at the wedding ask me when I was getting married (ok, so my feelings on this last item are entirely sarcastic–such is the plight of being the last unmarried daughter).
All in all, it was a fantastic weekend. Between Michigan and the wedding, I am having trouble transitioning to everyday life. I have one more trip planned home again this weekend for Bloomsday festivities (that’s the race my family runs every year). Then, I will settle back into Seattle.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Michigan Joys
Thank you to those of you sending me thoughts and prayers while I was in Michigan! I had a rich time at the writers’ conference this past week. I felt surrounded by brilliance and creativity– the conference organizers had brought in amazing speakers and writers. Here are some highlights:
1. Listening to Yann Martel, author of Life of Pi: He was one of the most eloquent, humble, and imaginative speakers I can remember hearing in a long time. I still get chills! He also has a witty and pointed sense of humor. He has a blog at whatisstephenharperreading.ca, which keeps a record of a series of books that he sends every 2 weeks to his prime minister. The prime minister of Canada, says Martel, has a very low view of the arts, so Martel thought he would help him out by sending him good literature, enclosed with a letter to describe to Stephen Harper the gifts found in that particular book. The most recent April package for the prime minister had a copy of Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. Martel might just be my new famous–and–forty–something author crush. You should read his blog. His mind and imagination are just fabulous.
2. Hearing Katherine Patterson read from her children’s literature: She brought me to tears. She is a regal woman, and hearing her read from the books I read as a child brought me right back to being 11 years old and turning the pages of Bridge to Terabithia. She brings children rich, full, and imaginative stories. When she spoke, she had such a high sense of the nature of play involved in the creative process. Her final words, which were also the ending words of the conference as she was the last speaker, invoked us all as writers to “go play.” It was divine for me. (For those of you know how obsessed I am with working–and how much I need to learn to play again as a writer–you will see the glorious message for me.)
3. Meeting with an editor from HarperCollins: This was truly a little thrill for me along the way in my writing process. I had sent in a book proposal to the conference a few months back, and mine had been seen by an editor at HarperOne, the spiritual division of HarperCollins, and she had contacted me for a meeting to discuss the project.
4. Being on a college campus in the Midwest: I really liked the green, wide–open spaces of Calvin’s campus. I loved just being on a college campus and walking around discovering the paths, bridges, and little ponds. Calvin is so charming and Michigan is beautiful. The sun was out and spring was in full bloom.
5. Listening to Davis Bunn teach writing: I was so inspired by this man as he taught the elements of good storytelling, because I realized I needed to just not work harder but “work smarter.” He has so much to say, and I wanted to run home and start revising my 100 pages of drafts. He lives in England, but I hope to find other conferences he teaches at in the States. Good writing teachers are like gold!
1. Listening to Yann Martel, author of Life of Pi: He was one of the most eloquent, humble, and imaginative speakers I can remember hearing in a long time. I still get chills! He also has a witty and pointed sense of humor. He has a blog at whatisstephenharperreading.ca, which keeps a record of a series of books that he sends every 2 weeks to his prime minister. The prime minister of Canada, says Martel, has a very low view of the arts, so Martel thought he would help him out by sending him good literature, enclosed with a letter to describe to Stephen Harper the gifts found in that particular book. The most recent April package for the prime minister had a copy of Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. Martel might just be my new famous–and–forty–something author crush. You should read his blog. His mind and imagination are just fabulous.
2. Hearing Katherine Patterson read from her children’s literature: She brought me to tears. She is a regal woman, and hearing her read from the books I read as a child brought me right back to being 11 years old and turning the pages of Bridge to Terabithia. She brings children rich, full, and imaginative stories. When she spoke, she had such a high sense of the nature of play involved in the creative process. Her final words, which were also the ending words of the conference as she was the last speaker, invoked us all as writers to “go play.” It was divine for me. (For those of you know how obsessed I am with working–and how much I need to learn to play again as a writer–you will see the glorious message for me.)
3. Meeting with an editor from HarperCollins: This was truly a little thrill for me along the way in my writing process. I had sent in a book proposal to the conference a few months back, and mine had been seen by an editor at HarperOne, the spiritual division of HarperCollins, and she had contacted me for a meeting to discuss the project.
4. Being on a college campus in the Midwest: I really liked the green, wide–open spaces of Calvin’s campus. I loved just being on a college campus and walking around discovering the paths, bridges, and little ponds. Calvin is so charming and Michigan is beautiful. The sun was out and spring was in full bloom.
5. Listening to Davis Bunn teach writing: I was so inspired by this man as he taught the elements of good storytelling, because I realized I needed to just not work harder but “work smarter.” He has so much to say, and I wanted to run home and start revising my 100 pages of drafts. He lives in England, but I hope to find other conferences he teaches at in the States. Good writing teachers are like gold!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
If It Ain't Got That Swing...
I am trying to go to bed, but I just went out swing dancing and my being is too excited to sleep. It has been so long since I have been on the dance floor and I almost forget the thrill of it all. Swing is so playful, creative, mutual, and spontaneous. I spent a whole evening not thinking¬¬– just being in the moment, and it was so good for my heart.
I love how you can never tell by first judgment what kind of dance you will create with a stranger. Sometimes I am so surprised! You can find this connection on the dance floor you would never think if you were off the dance floor. I love the guys who lead with so much openness to responding to the woman; who provide structure, but give up control of the dance and let it be a co–created, organic process. So amazing. My favorite dance partner tonight was probably 50 years old. I had absolutely no anxiety, even though he was an incredible dancer (I usually get nervous with the really good ones). But in these dances, all my creativity came out, and we both just delighted in this graceful and energetic mix of improv and traditional steps. One observer told me she thought the dance looked so intuitive that we must have been dancing together for a long time. Off the dance floor, I would never have supposed connection with this stranger.
I was in heaven all night. I must do this more; but then, not every night on the dance floor is always this magical. I think those dances were sent just for my weary heart.
I love how you can never tell by first judgment what kind of dance you will create with a stranger. Sometimes I am so surprised! You can find this connection on the dance floor you would never think if you were off the dance floor. I love the guys who lead with so much openness to responding to the woman; who provide structure, but give up control of the dance and let it be a co–created, organic process. So amazing. My favorite dance partner tonight was probably 50 years old. I had absolutely no anxiety, even though he was an incredible dancer (I usually get nervous with the really good ones). But in these dances, all my creativity came out, and we both just delighted in this graceful and energetic mix of improv and traditional steps. One observer told me she thought the dance looked so intuitive that we must have been dancing together for a long time. Off the dance floor, I would never have supposed connection with this stranger.
I was in heaven all night. I must do this more; but then, not every night on the dance floor is always this magical. I think those dances were sent just for my weary heart.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Almost Springtime Thoughts
Today there were fat snowflakes falling on the cherry blossoms. I sat at my table at Pete’s Coffee with my usual Friday writing group, enjoying my view of Green Lake. Quite contentedly, I watched Seattle’s version of a blizzard. The other day I just had had a moment of panic when I realized that winter is very nearly gone and I needed to start savoring the limited time left to wear scarves. But, I don’t think it is quite time yet to panic over such things.
This afternoon at 5:00 when the sun came out, I walked to the post office and put my first book proposal in the mail. It is the culmination of 7 months of focused work, and still it feels like only a little seed. I have written about 100 pages of this book (rough draft, mind you!) and it all feels like seeds. Ok, maybe it’s more like the little Spring flowers just barely peeking above ground. It is amazing that something that could take so much work, heart, angst, and emotional resources, is still so young in its lifespan. I long for summer with this project– when I have the completed rough draft of the manuscript and I can more fully see the story it wants to be.
I gotta go! I am off to a bridal shower for my sister.
This afternoon at 5:00 when the sun came out, I walked to the post office and put my first book proposal in the mail. It is the culmination of 7 months of focused work, and still it feels like only a little seed. I have written about 100 pages of this book (rough draft, mind you!) and it all feels like seeds. Ok, maybe it’s more like the little Spring flowers just barely peeking above ground. It is amazing that something that could take so much work, heart, angst, and emotional resources, is still so young in its lifespan. I long for summer with this project– when I have the completed rough draft of the manuscript and I can more fully see the story it wants to be.
I gotta go! I am off to a bridal shower for my sister.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Taxes and Tulips and Sadness
Today I went to a tax accountant for the first time. As I was driving home in the dismal rain and reflecting on the thousands of dollars I owe the government (yikes), I remembered a Bible verse I think I learned when I was 13– “the peace of God will guard your heart.” I repeated it to myself and felt a mini soul exhale. Sometimes I surprise myself in my moments of rare equanimity, but my hunch is that when I get the most super–duper stressed out is just when all my mechanisms of denial operate at their best. So driving home and reflecting calmly on the 2493 dollars I don’t have that Mr. Sam is waiting for, I was either practicing a measure of surprising faith or just deciding I didn’t really feel like dealing too much with reality today.
Then, since it was such a rainy day, I went to the supermarket for soup. As I always do, I hung out in the flower section for a while perusing all the bouquets. I am usually just a window shopper when it comes to flowers, since they don’t make the budget of necessities. But, today the yellow and orange tipped tulips tempted me too much. And I bought them. I felt terribly guilty for spending 7 dollars on a bouquet of flowers and every step of the way home I vacillated on the foolishness of my splurge. But, I wanted to protest, it is such a dreary day and…I want to remember Spring is on its way…and who else was going to give me flowers…and isn’t this soul care to attend to beauty and invest in tulips for your kitchen counter? My pep talk didn’t work very well, though, because by the time I got home, I think I felt more stressed out and had more knots and fears in my stomach over a bouquet of tulips than thousands of dollars in taxes. Such is the brilliance of my system of worrying, in that I can project all fear onto 7 dollars just to forget 2, 493 dollars.
When I got home, I got a phone call. A friend of a friend– a thirty something woman– had gotten a headache this afternoon. She suffered a brain aneurysm and is now at Harborview with a prognosis without much hope.
So, now I am sitting here, aching and looking at tulips and praying. I am feeling how much of our lives get sold to moments of worries and fears and worries and fears that are such a foolish waste, because every day– every morning and afternoon and evening and friendship and birthday party and dance and song and loved one and flower bouquet and raindrop is always, always a gift. Life is so ridiculously precious. Why does it take tragedy to jolt that into me? I don't get this. Why do I pretend life is about so many things when it might just be about noticing we are alive and are receiving something so fragile and mysterious and exquisite that most of the time we just glimpse the gift we are living and breathing in?
Then, since it was such a rainy day, I went to the supermarket for soup. As I always do, I hung out in the flower section for a while perusing all the bouquets. I am usually just a window shopper when it comes to flowers, since they don’t make the budget of necessities. But, today the yellow and orange tipped tulips tempted me too much. And I bought them. I felt terribly guilty for spending 7 dollars on a bouquet of flowers and every step of the way home I vacillated on the foolishness of my splurge. But, I wanted to protest, it is such a dreary day and…I want to remember Spring is on its way…and who else was going to give me flowers…and isn’t this soul care to attend to beauty and invest in tulips for your kitchen counter? My pep talk didn’t work very well, though, because by the time I got home, I think I felt more stressed out and had more knots and fears in my stomach over a bouquet of tulips than thousands of dollars in taxes. Such is the brilliance of my system of worrying, in that I can project all fear onto 7 dollars just to forget 2, 493 dollars.
When I got home, I got a phone call. A friend of a friend– a thirty something woman– had gotten a headache this afternoon. She suffered a brain aneurysm and is now at Harborview with a prognosis without much hope.
So, now I am sitting here, aching and looking at tulips and praying. I am feeling how much of our lives get sold to moments of worries and fears and worries and fears that are such a foolish waste, because every day– every morning and afternoon and evening and friendship and birthday party and dance and song and loved one and flower bouquet and raindrop is always, always a gift. Life is so ridiculously precious. Why does it take tragedy to jolt that into me? I don't get this. Why do I pretend life is about so many things when it might just be about noticing we are alive and are receiving something so fragile and mysterious and exquisite that most of the time we just glimpse the gift we are living and breathing in?
Saturday, February 23, 2008
My Writing Life
This week I have the first article of a two part series being published at theooze.com entitled Rethinking the Sin of Sodom: What We Missed and Why It Matters.
I am curious to see the feedback I get, as I am essentially arguing this particular story of the Bible has pretty much nothing to do with modern notions of same–sex relationships (how it is almost always interpreted by evangelical churches). I did the research for this article last summer when I took a class on the Old Testament: I changed its original tone and format to try to make it more palatable for a larger audience.
On another writing note, for those who remember me mentioning last fall the article I was writing with Andy on homosexuality and Christianity, we heard back last week that it is being considered for Relief Journal.
(Its not a guarantee of acceptance, just some encouragement that the article made it to a good stage in their rounds of review. We shall see, but it brought a very large smile to our faces to hear from them.)
And as a final note, I just purchased a plane ticket to go to Michigan this April for the Festival of Faith and Writing. I am so thrilled for the opportunity to go, and encouraged that not being in school this semester is allowing me to focus so much on writing dreams...though I could not have imagined before how difficult it is to spend so many hours of the day (and night) creating words. It is a tremendous privilege to get to live into this part of my heart (I do love it), but the joy of it is rarely on the surface these days.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
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