Family

Today was a long day. I spent the morning at work, rushed home for a hurried lunch, enjoyed an enlightening PULSE seminar about a new model for higher education, cooked dinner for twelve, and did some grocery shopping with the girlfriend. By the time I arrived in the sanctity of my somewhat disheveled room (which I quickly fixed, as those of you who know me well would expect) I was ready for bed.

But I called home to thank my wonderful mom for the earmuffs and nice note she sent me in the mail. I ended up talking not only with her, but my step dad, Mike and my little sister, Naomi as well.

Homecoming night!

There's something to be said for having conversation with the people in your life who love and care for you the way only a family can. I felt relaxed and in lighter spirits after getting off the phone and catching up with my family. However, one thing was missing and that was a conversation with Hannah. But that's coming this weekend!

I just want to briefly say something about each of them:

Little Naomi. That's what I call her (and thankfully she doesn't mind!). Whenever I see her or call her on the phone she always greets me with the same warm, cheerful, Naomi-like greeting, "Hi, Joel!" To which I respond, "How's it 'goin little Naomi?!" She's great. Just had her first Homecoming this past weekend! I'm so proud of her for many reasons :)

She'll probably kill
me for using this photo,
but it's so Hannah...

Hannah. Hannah is getting back from San Diego this weekend after spending three weeks there on a cross-cultural adventure. I can't wait to hear her stories this weekend. Hannah is always happy to see or hear from me, and always anxious to see how I'm doing. She's very bright, has a heart for young children, and always keeps the mood light and fun when we're together. I'm proud of her too!

Mike. Good 'ol Mike. He takes care of our family in a way I admire greatly. He has the coolest collection of antiques which are fun to peruse, he knows a lot of random stuff which is always interesting, and he selflessly gives anything to help us out. He's a good guy.

Mom. My mom is especially great. She's recently been dealing with an uncharacteristically early and unexpected bout of rheumatoid arthritis. It was hard to hear about and observe the pain she experienced through this. Recently, she's been able to find some medication to get rid of pain, and I'm so glad she's feeling better and able to get around to do all she does. She's a great woman. She's been through the heck of lot in her life for no older than she is, and I have so much respect for the way's she's handled it all. She's the best mom I could ask for, and I continue to appreciate her care and support of me in everything I do. You're the best, mom :)

These are the people who will forever be a part of me. They speak to me and move me in ways I can only begin to understand...just by being themselves.

After tonight's conversations, I was reminded of how much these special people mean to me.

Mike and mom sending Naomi off for homecoming

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

This past weekend Anna and I spent a lot of time together...which is always fun. We did a variety of tasks together from grocery shopping to cleaning, hanging blinds and curtains to rearranging furniture, and just hanging out and enjoying time with each other.

Throughout the weekend a particular phrase kept popping up as we went about our tasks: slow and steady wins the race.

I've heard that phrase in passing many times, but have never really taken time to appreciate the value of it. Well, I think Anna and I both learned the value of that saying through our endeavors this past weekend, and its sober convicting yet sometimes comical tone is one that will always be with us.

Here are some of the lessons we learned:

1. When driving down the impossible slope of an icy, unplowed Graham Street (the street on which I live) after a snowfall, slow and steady wins the race.

2. When driving anywhere in the city in a car fueled on the budget of a young, recent college graduate who also happens to be a poor volunteer on an $80/month salary, slow and steady wins the race. Who knew that driving like grandma was actually a cost effective means of driving...

3. When navigating a grocery cart through the congested isles of the grimy Giant Eagle grocery store in East Liberty (also known as the "dirty bird" because of its griminess), slow and steady wins the race.

4. When mounting blinds and curtains for the first time in your life, slow and steady wins the race.

5. After five hours of mounting blinds and becoming slightly impatient and, to borrow an old term from my mom, snippy with each other, slow and steady wins the race.

6. When moving large pieces of furniture around in tight spaces, slow and steady wins the race.

Tired of hearing that phrase yet? We got tired of it to some extent, but we also enjoyed an easy-going, low-tension, stress-free, accident-free weekend because of it. Oh, and all tempers were kept in check...also a good thing.

It's easy to overlook the value and relevance of these pithy statements to our lives, but if you think about them a little bit you begin to appreciate them a lot more.

Monday Bus Ride

Being a student of theology I can't help but look for creative ways that God reveals God's self to us through various moments in our day to day lives.

I had one of those moments on the bus yesterday morning on my way to work. As we approached a stop a woman carrying a young child made her way to the front of the bus. Now, walking on a bus as it's simultaneously jostling over the uneven, pot-hole ridden roads of Pittsburgh and slowing to a stop is no easy task, and this woman struggled a bit. She stumbled as the bus driver hit the brakes, and this caused the young boy she was carrying to bump his head on one of the aluminum poles positioned throughout the bus for passengers' stability.

It was at this moment I looked up to see the child clumsily bring his hand to the hurting spot on his head and gently touch it. He didn't cry, nor did he make any sound at all. He quietly sat in the crook of his mother's arm and looked back at the pole on which he hit his head and then out the bus window, his big brown eyes moving from point to point.

I don't know exactly what it was but I felt a connection with this child. I felt sorry for him and wanted to help him. Maybe it was the sad look he gave me as he touched the hurting spot on his head, I don't know. But I do know this: I didn't know this child; not his name, his age, his family, nor the sound of his voice. Yet I still felt compassion for him, still sympathized with his hurt, and still felt this unexplainable connection.

Perhaps that was a small taste of the way God feels toward us, the way God loves us, the way God likes us. Perhaps this is the relationship between the divine Creator and humankind: in the absence of our human words, love, and acknowledgment of the divine source of human life, we are still loved. And this love is merited not by anything we should say or do, but by our sheer existence which is born of that same love.

It's inspiring moments like those that sustain a joyful spirit within me throughout the day.