Tomorrow I leave for a week of middle school church camp. Now most of you, having read that previous sentence, have immediately developed hives all over your body in response to the idea of spending a week with middle schoolers. I, however, by some kind of miracle, could not be more excited. In 2005 I spent the summer working camps at ACU, alternating weeks of middle schoolers and high schoolers. It was during that summer of 2005 that I discovered that either:
1) Middle schoolers are God's gift to the Earth
2) God gave me a gift of ministering to middle schoolers and loving them at the same time.

My hunch is that most likely we're working with option #2, but thankfully I believe #1 wholeheartedly. Middle school can be such a traumatic age, and I experienced both the best year of my life (7th grade) and the absolute worst year of my life (8th grade) during that period. I love how independent middle schoolers try to be yet are still so impressionable. And I love that they are not quite yet jaded by the crappiness of the world.

I'll leave you with an email that one of my middle school campers sent me the summer I worked camps. This still cracks me up as much as the first time I read it...I've highlighted my favorite parts in red. Enjoy!

Cris I already miss you, and ACU. You are so nice, and have a giant heart. Thanks for always being there when I was bored, wanted someone to talk to, or just needed your beautiful smile. What's your phone #? I'm so sad to be gone. I miss everyone so much I'm having trouble not crying. I feel like I can talk to you when I'm down, and know you'll listen. My e-mail address is -------- . Oh I miss you so much. You are the greatest friend I've ever had, and that's sincere not play. My phone # is ------- please call me. I wish so bad that you could come and visit, you are just soooooooooooo nice. Please write back or call.

Love Sophie (Sophaloaf)

ACU

Abeline Christian University

P.S. I sent you another e-mail but I don't think it went through.

P.S.S. I miss you so much

P.S.S.S. call me

I'm sad to tell you that, despite being the greatest friend she'd ever had, I don't think I ever talked to her again. Bummer. Stay tuned for more delightful tidbits when I get back next weekend...

My Summer Reading Powerrankings

My summer reading total is up to 8.25 books, 1 magazine, and infinity blogs. Now we all learned and struggled with the idea in the 4th grade that "infinity" is not actually a number, therefore to say I have read "infinity" blogs is not exactly correct. We hated this idea because up until that point we thought that telling someone we were "infinity times infinity" cooler than them was a legitimate argument, or that when we grew up we were going to have "infinity dollars" and be a millionaire. (Figure that one out...) But I've told you before that I'm quite loose in my blog-reading, so infinity accurately describes how often I'm out perusing other spaces just like this.

Anyway, I thought I would share with you the books I have read so far and rank them on a little rating system (a rating system that is infinity times cooler than your rating system...) in case you're looking for some good recommendations to add to your summer reading list.


#1 Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Every person I know should read this book. On a scale of 1 to 10 I give Kite Runner a 15. It will give you a new appreciation for people from Afghanistan and other middle eastern countries and show you a side of their culture that Americans don't see very often. Read it when you have a nice chunk of time, though, because I didn't put it down for a straight day and a half until I was finished. I'm not the kind of person who buys books before I have read them, but I can go ahead and tell you that you will want this one in your library so it's safe to buy before reading.


#2 The Color of Water by James McBride. I'm in a big-time memoir phase, so I really enjoyed this one. McBride is 1 of 12 children who grew up in NYC. His story is really about his mother, a white woman of Polish descent, who married a black man in the 1930s and went on to raise 12 black children through the civil rights era and times of racial discord. The stories about being one of twelve are hilarious enough to read the book, but the stories of how his mom responded to criticism and hatred and the issue of race are powerful examples of what our country still needs to be striving toward. Out of 10, I give this one an 8.

#3 How We Are Hungry by Dave Eggers. You will see this author show up 3 times on this list because I love him that much. He has become one of my favorite authors practically overnight because his stories are so intricate and believable. This book is an anthology of short stories he has written and published over the years, and it gets a score of 9 out of 10 because of one story in particular. It's one of the most beautiful pieces of literature ever written. :)



#4 What is the What by Dave Eggers. Big surprise, here we have Mr. Eggers again, only this time the story is about one of the Lost Boys of Sudan and his story from the time he was a boy fleeing his village and walking across the country to Ethiopia to his life as a resettled refugee living in Atlanta. The story is based on the life of Valentino Achak Deng and is an incredible picture of the life of millions of refugees we see and hear about. I definitely recommend this, especially if you always wonder who those kids are that Angelina Jolie is always seen loving on in refugee camps. My sister replaced To Kill a Mockingbird as her favorite book with this one, and in my family, that's huge. Read it. 8 out of 10.

#5 To Own a Dragon by Donald Miller. I mentioned this book about a month ago on my blog and credit it for the initial inspiration to dream of one day becoming a writer. I've been a consistent fan of Miller's for a long time and recommend all his books. Blue Like Jazz is and probably always will be my favorite, but To Own a Dragon offers good insight into the life of a boy growing up without a father. Miller describes his experiences of not knowing his father in addition to developing a father-like relationship with another man in his life. Good, quick read. 6 out of 10, and only because I can't as closely relate to his experience as, say, a guy without a father would.

#6 The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama. You've been hearing this guy's name a lot lately, and this book helps you get to know him better. He wrote this supposedly before he was considering running for president, but it gives a good history of his political career and where he stands on key political issues. It shows very clearly his vision for the United States and every American. All in all it's a good read, especially if you're interested in hearing more than "I opposed this war from the beginning." 7 out of 10 for its informational value.


#7 The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Kidd. I'd been hearing about this book for a long, long time and it's always gotten great reviews, so I figured I would give it a try. I enjoyed it but wouldn't necessarily say everyone should read it. It's another book about black-white relations in sensitive times (are we noticing a pattern here?) and has very lovable characters. I don't cry when I read books, but other people who do cried during this one. :) Just giving you fair warning. 5 out of 10.


**FYI my new laptop just arrived so these last couple will be rushed due to the fact that I absolutely cannot contain my excitement to play with my new toy. It's like Christmas.**

#8 Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi. Another memoir, slow to get started, but pretty great if you love literature. I would recommend having read at least one of the books she talks about in the recent past otherwise you will be very lost and very bored. Another good book for insight into the middle east and appreciation for their culture that was robbed from them. 5 out of 10.




#8.25 You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers. Just started this one last night, but 50 pages into it it already holds Eggers' classic storytelling and writing style. So far from what I can tell it's about two friends who intend to travel around the world in one week going only one direction. They started out intending to go from Greenland to Rwanda, but already they discovered Greenland does not fly directly to Rwanda (go figure) and that Greenland's bad weather will delay their trip by days. Their travel plans have changed and they are now waiting to board a plan for Senegal. Should be another good one...so far, the first 50 pages get an 8 out of 10, Dave's traditional score. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Time to play!

It's your basic, all-purpose garment.

I have nothing exciting to share and the slow-pace of my summer schedule is to blame. The most exciting thing that happened to me this week was getting the chance to babysit the most awesome 5 year old in Oklahoma, maybe the world. He's not awesome because I am a good babysitter and pretend to be best buds with the kids I babysit-- he is legitimately awesome. He is 5 and a half going on 35, and in the two times we have hung out we have had a bevy of adult conversations. He is hilarious and knows it, and on Tuesday we had this conversation:

Sitting in the McDonald's play area at lunch time, a family he knows walks in.
Noah: "Hey! They go to our church!"
Cris: "Oh yeah? What are their names?" (just making conversation with a 5 year old)
Noah: "Uh...uh...hmm...well, the girl's name is Isabella... and I have no idea what the other kid's name is."
Cris: "Noah, you aren't particularly interested in learning people's names, are you?"
Noah: "Nah." (Keep in mind we have already been together for about 2 hours at this point.)
Cris: "Do you know my name?"
Noah: "Nope."
Cris: "Do you care to find out?"
Noah: "Not really."

Ok.

On a completely unrelated note, my mom and I attended a tea this afternoon for the women who are on a new mission team my church in Edmond is sending to Vienna, Austria. Usually I would avoid an event like this, but seizing the opportunity to a) leave the house, b) be in contact with more people than just my mom, sister, and brother-in-law, and c) being a soon-to-be-kind-of-missionary myself, I went, and was pleasantly surprised at how nice of a send-off it really was.

My mom read a blessing from Colossians over the women and I was reminded of how much I love that particular passage. When I was a camp counselor two summers ago, many of the nightly devotionals I led with my middle school campers week after week were over that passage, and I know that when I am in Natal it will serve as a source of strength, encouragement, and motivation for me. Just wanted to share it with you in case you're in the market for a new Favorite Verse. I'm willing to let you borrow it. :)

Colossians 3:12-17 (I'm partial to Eugene Peterson's translation, taken from The Message, but you are more than welcome to look it up in any translation you like. It's fantastic in all of them, I've checked.)

"So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It's your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it."

"Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other. None of this going off and doing your own thing. And cultivate thankfulness. Let the Word of Christ—the Message—have the run of the house. Give it plenty of room in your lives. Instruct and direct one another using good common sense. And sing, sing your hearts out to God! Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way."

Why I'm Excited

Dear readers, there are many, many reasons why I am excited. For starters, my summer has gotten off to an excellent start, with some weddings, some nice little trips, and some good old fashioned family fun. I'll give you some pictures to look at rather than words, because aren't pictures worth 1000 words? Here are like...5000.





Here is a snapshot from wedding #1, my dear friend Brooke.













Here we have some of my favorite people in the world at the Brooke James-Tyler Tallon nuptials. The curly-headed boy on the left was actually a groom himself this past weekend. Congratulations, sir. (Don't know why this is blue and underlined...it doesn't link to anything.)










My dearest friends in the world, Daniela and Lara Morgan. I was destined to be friends with them since before our moms met our dads, and life has carried us from Brazil to Santa Barbara to Abilene together...and then to the British Library, where this photo was taken.









And here we are on the Cherwell River through Oxford, England, smiling so big because we didn't have to paddle. (Not at that point, anyway. Janine bravely took the oars later on into the trip and safely delivered us back our docking point. Hooray!)













Ok. Now for another reason why I am so excited...and another visual aid.
Now, my friends, if you are new to this space, you may not know what this is. But if you have been reading for a while....you have seen this before. Except last time you saw this chart, it had a much, much larger blue region. Out of the $18,000ish that I am raising for the first year of my internship, I only lack 1.5%!!!! Which equals between $200-300. This is AMAZING. This is the chart we've all been waiting for, and this is the chart that makes me not just excited, but elated.

And now, reason #3 why I'm excited. The very reason that the chart makes me so excited, actually. I would like to share with you snippets of emails I get from the missionary in Natal, and let you see why exactly I'm so jazzed to get down there and begin working with them.


"hi my special girl,
it´s very good to hear from you. everybody is waiting for you in september, 3rd. each month we are talking about you are coming and the people is asking me: are you sure cris is coming? and i answer: yes, i´m. then they ask me: can i go with you to the airport to take cris? i believe i´ll need to buy a bus until september. ah ah! we are very busy right now because we have many personal bible classes during the week and programs with the people at the weekends. we have cooking class, english class, class to read and write to old people. ladies bible class and girls bible class. i need you here...
the church is growing day by day and we have many new people. you´ll love them. they are very special people. please, pray for this new people.
we have a english conversation class waiting for you. i promise them you are coming to help us and they are very excited. they are not christian yet but i gave them an english bible to study for while....
i´m very proud of you about your graduation. congratulation baby! i´ll send you some pictures from us.
we love you. even when we don´t write you we have you in our hearts and mind. we want you here. God is sending you for us.
we love you,

marisa"


Mmm...beautiful, isn't it?

This is NPR...

In my family there was one basic characteristic that distinguished the adults from the children. Typically this characteristic manifested itself on car trips, but on the occasional Saturday morning it could also be found in the Carpenter household. Once the line was crossed, that's how you knew you were no longer a kid anymore...you had finally grown up.

My friends, I crossed that line recently. No, it had nothing to do with graduating from college. It has nothing to do with moving out of the country (though every person in my family seems to think moving out of the country after is college is just what you do...hey, no complaints here!). It has nothing to do with, on average, how many fights per week occur between parent and child.

It has everything to do with National Public Radio.

If you've had your own NPR experience, you realize that the SNL skits that spoof the programming are actually dead on. The reporters sound like they are sitting in in a dungeon of a basement somewhere, reporting on news from around the world. On car trips I used to groan as I heard the monotone voice, that always sounds the same, come over the speakers, knowing that listening to my Walkman was out of the question due to the high decibel level of the spoken voice. I usually chose to fall alseep in protest. I hated NPR.

Recently I find myself growing bored with music on the radio. Top 40 stations seem to play the Top 3 same songs over and over, and usually it's some bad hip hop song that never would have made it in the 90s (aka The Decade of The Greatest Music of all Time). I tune to alternative rock and it's the same thing, just some guy singing who sounds like he's constipated. (Hinder, anyone? I rest my case.) So I've been left with silence-- *gasp!* -- or NPR. And I chose NPR.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially an adult.

Yesterday on NPR I heard a story about a man who is suing a dry cleaners for $54 million because they lost his pants. It helps that he's a judge, so he knows the legal system in and out, and under consumer protection laws he's figured out that since they displayed a sign that read "Satisfaction Guaranteed" and they lost his dockers he, naturally, should get a mere $54 million in reparation. The business is owned by a Korean immigrant family, and the report said that just in legal fees alone he has already cleaned them out. The trial began yesterday, and I wonder how long it will take this jerk to figure out that he deserves to never have any friends ever again for the rest of his life? I understand the need for fair treatment, blah blah, but when does doing the right thing and NOT suing an immigrant family for an absurd amount of money over a pair of pants cross his mind?

Listen and repeat

In preparation for Brazil (in less than THREE MONTHS!) I have been trying to re-learn a little Portuguese so that I won't be completely lost when I get there. Although Portuguese was my first language, I lost most of it when my family came back to the States when I was 6. It just simply wasn't cool to be bilingual in Kindergarten, you know? Kids can be brutal, and I was self-conscious. I could go into how much I wish my 6 year-old self had had a little insight into the future and retained her Portuguese fluency...but I feel as though maybe my expectations can't be too high. Anyway, lately I have been listening to the Pimsleur language learning system in order to build my grammar and learn basic phrasing. I have it on my iPod and have decided that I will listen to one lesson per day, usually as I am laying in bed at night. So far...here is what Mr. Pimsleur has taught me.

Excuse me ma'am, do you speak Portuguese?
Excuse me sir, are you American?
Excuse me ma'am, do you have Reais (Brazilian currency) or dollars?
Excuse me sir, do you understand English?
Excuse me ma'am, do you know where the Flamingo Restaurant is located?
Excuse me sir, do you know where the Columbus Hotel is located?
The Columbus Hotel is located over there.
The Flamingo Restaurant located here.

These lessons have actually been good refreshers for me, as I generally have a basic knowledge of how to say all this stuff. I'm sure as I get farther I will be learning a lot that I didn't already know. My one question is this: what is the Columbus Hotel? Because I know where it's located. Over there.

I received good news earlier this week. I am only about $550 away from completing my fundraising for my first year in Natal! I can't tell you how HUGE of a blessing that is, and how humbled I am by everyone's generosity. With my departure less than three months away, it's comforting to know that I am so close. I also have been keeping up with the blogs and Facebook photo albums of the LST team in Natal right now, and it looks like they are having as great of a project as we had last year, if not better because they have twice as many people! I am so thankful that God continues to bless the church in Natal with great workers. I am so excited to join them and hope that I will be able to continue the great work that the missionaries and LST teams from the past have begun. Please keep them (and me!) in your prayers.

From across the pond...

In the last 5 days I...

-finished one book, read one book, and began one book. I love summer reading!

-thoroughly explored a quaint little ancient town and casually tread paths that have been visited by tourists and scholars for hundreds (one thousand, actually) of years from around the world

-developed an unconscious mental English accent

-almost passed out in church

-had 2 Guaranas, 1 brigadeiro, and 1 coxinha, all at a French bakery

-met an old English man wearing a legit Confederate soldier's hat (as in from the American Civil War....I know...random.)

-found a 30 gig video iPod

I'd say my summer is turning out pretty well...what are you up to?

P.S. I'd also like to add this tidbit of what I find to be interesting information...my second book up there was again about someone who aspired to one day become a writer...is this a sign?

The first chapter of my memoir

Over the last week or so I have a new hope, new dream, new aspiration for my life. For those of you who happen to know that I attended two and participated in one, coming to a grand total of three, weddings all in the span of one week, no, my new dream is not to be a bride. I am quite content with my consistency in being a bridesmaid and audience member and not yet being the bride, and am happy to keep it that way for quite sometime.

I have a new career goal, and it has nothing to do with my degree.

At the age of 5 I was determined to one day own my own bakery, essentially deciding that a baker must sit around all day and eat bread, therefore holding the title of the greatest occupation of all time. (For the record, if a baker does, in fact, sit around and eat bread all day, I still deem it the greatest occupation of all time.) I found myself mimicking my older sister's career aspirations all through elementary school, (interior designer? Really Cris?) and in 7th grade settled on the plan to one day become a psychologist. That plan carried me all through middle school, high school, college, and eventually across the commencement stage in Moody Coliseum last month. The only problem was that a few months before graduation I decided all I really wanted to do after I returned from Brazil was sell real estate. As much as I loved psychology, real estate seemed like a perfect fit. Still kind of does, actually. While you people are Facebooking and perusing blogs, (ok fine, not just you people, me people too) I am perusing real estate websites, looking at all the cool houses I would like to sell to you.

Well, parents who have graciously paid for my college education, never fear, the real estate dream has faded and a new one has taken its place. I want to be a writer when I grow up, whenever that may be. This new passion actually comes at quite the convenient time. Seeing as how I don't actually have a job for this summer, I can really take the next couple months to experience what life is like with no set schedule, and allow myself the time to brainstorm, organize, and pull together the ideas that will one day win me a Pulitzer.

I blame Don Miller and the author of The Kite Runner (I'm sorry, sir, that I don't know your name. Your book was wonderful and, obviously, inspiring) for this new obsession, for making the life of a writer seem so wonderfully attractive. I don't see myself making any progress on those psychology and real estate dreams while abroad, and writing is something I will be able to pursue in Brazil, writing to relax, to report, or just to practice.

I recently told a friend that I should be a professional life planner, because I think I have really good ideas for what people should do with their lives. Good to know I have not failed myself. Need some life advice? Need someone to encourage you to follow your dreams? I can help you. Hmm...maybe instead of being a writer I can just do that instead...

Don Miller and Adam Levine?

I experienced the quintessential literary moment today. I only wish I was making this up, but in many ways I am nowhere near this mundanely creative to fabricate this kind of story.

As I was sitting in my backyard, enjoying the beginnings-of-summer, breezy weather, trying desperately to add some hue to my skin but dancing the line between brown and red, I was reading the latest Don Miller book and listening to the newest Maroon 5 album on my iPod. Sunbeams were poking in and out between the trees, every few minutes muted by a passing cloud. In the particular chapter I was reading, Don was talking about the life of a writer, not remembering what it was like to set an alarm and only knowing mornings that began with sunlight awaking him. He talked about how he writes only every few days, and how working for a publishing company before his writing career took off was a shaping experience. I paused for a minute and gazed off into the small ivy-weed-fern jungle growing in our yard below three towering trees. Adam Levine crooned in the background, some song sung in much too high of a falsetto to a beat perhaps slightly too poppy for my taste. I wondered what life would be like as a writer, being able to write your thoughts down and get paid for them, being able to say almost anything you wanted (until your editor got a hold, of course) and knowing people would want to read it simply because YOUR name was on the cover. I thought about if I could do it, if I would enjoy that life, and that perhaps by some stroke of luck someone will happen upon my blog while I am in Brazil and hire me as a travel writer, sending me around the world to write about exotic places some people only want to visit in a book. Then-- and this is the absolutely unbelievable part, and not in the least exaggerated-- a butterfly landed on the page my hand had been holding open during my daydream.

I kid you not. A butterfly.

This particular butterfly was brown with a badly damaged wing. Rather than take in the moment, I thought about how I once heard that butterflies only live for one day, and although I don't think that's even true, I thought about how he better get on with his life instead of waste his time perching on my book because life would be over for this little guy sooner rather than later. Then I thought about the last time I took the time to pay attention to a butterfly. I was about 9, and I remember walking past the playground in our apartment complex toward the direction of my elementary school. There were 2 butterflies, and in my mom's sex education words, they were "cuddling." I had never seen insects "cuddle" before, and I was fascinated when they flew away stuck together.

My wounded butterfly flew away before I had finished chuckling to myself over the cuddling butterflies, but I think he either came back for a visit later or sent his buddy to check me out. Either way, I became jealous of the life of a writer, the person who gets to create their office in Starbucks or their backyard. I'm sure some writer some place would have turned that very moment into a literary illustration about spiritual intervention or the fact that nature reminds us of something significant (this is the part where we see why Cris doesn't have a publishing contract), but all I had was butterflies doing it.

Next time I'll tell you about the unbelievable dream I once had about being married to Will Smith. It is a story of valiant loyalty and friendship. Until then, please keep the church in Natal in your prayers. Their LST team arrived today and will begin working tomorrow-- pray that God sends them lots of readers with open hearts and that that team has as wonderful of an experience as we did last summer!

Also, haven't reminded you of that link over there >>> in a while, so if you have it in your heart to contribute toward my internship, your generosity is welcomed!

From the barren wastelands of Oklahoma...

Despite what all you Texans may think, my corner of the globe is actually much more good-looking than the majority of your state. This may come across as a fairly hostile way to begin a new entry, but recently I have received not one, but two comments on what a shame it must be to be from a "barren wasteland" or whatever clever words you people choose to make yourselves feel better about where you are from. These comments are nothing new, nothing original, and I willingly chose to be subjected to the Texan Snobbery when I made the decision to go to ACU. But I'm gone now, and I choose to put up with it no more. Texans, bring it on. (Before you get entirely, speechlessly offended, keep in mind that 1. I am not actually challenging you to a fight and that 2. I am half made of Texan blood. My father would be just as fired up at my fightin' words as you are.)

I've been home in Oklahoma for 2 days now, and for the first time since high school our family of 4 + 1 are all living under one roof. So far we are in the honeymoon phase, enjoying our time together sharing bathrooms, driveways, and lovingly poking fun at our mom. Hopefully it will be a long honeymoon, and we even have a few out-of-country trips planned to keep it interesting (not with each other, though, which might be the secret to familial bliss.)

It still hasn't hit me that I am a college graduate, and as I look for babysitting jobs to keep my cell phone bill paid for the summer, I don't make much progress in attaining that realization. Some of my friends are sending in resumes for big girl jobs, but not me. I'll be a nanny 3 days a week, thanks.

To my two special friends who leave on Friday for The Most Exciting Trip of Your Lives, GOOD LUCK! I'm already praying for you and can't wait to hear all about it. Take good care of South America for me, I'll be there soon.

Cheers, friends, and please watch this for the greatest laugh of your life.

Blog me this

I have mentioned before on this thing that I am a bit promiscuous when it comes to reading other people's blogs. I'm not even ashamed that I am a blog stalker and I am not ashamed that on many, many occasions I begin a conversation with "So I read your blog, and..."

Although I find it curious that, as Facebook declares, perusing blogs really is a primary interest of mine, I find the reason for why this is even more curious. What is it about an online journal that I find so fascinating? A better question would be why do I, and the other members of my generation (I'm not only gonna incriminate myself, here), find this voyeuristic hobby so enthralling?

I think the reason I love perusing the blogosphere so much is that it invites me in to snippets of my friends' lives without an actual invitation. (Important disclaimer here: friends in the above sentence is a key phrase. I read very, very few blogs of people I don't know, and when I do it's usually because I have some connection to them. I'm not so much of a blog freak that I just click "next blog" for hours on end...my perusing doesn't quite go that far.) I get to find out about how their kids are doing, what great vacations they just went on, how they will spend their summer, how life since I saw them last has been turning out, what they thought of the most recent episode of Grey's Anatomy, and general life-tidbits that are much more interesting in writing. For example, the reason I love reading my friend Justin's blog is because he usually has something interesting to say about national/world events. He is very smart, very well-read, and always has a sarcastic comment or two to keep me coming back. I read Ann's blog because in order to be able to keep up in a conversation with my mom I kind of have to. (Haha, just kidding. Two and half of you will appreciate that. The other half of one of you will appreciate it but try to hide it with disdain.)

I don't enjoy blogging myself as much as I wish I did, but am already looking forward to updating once I am in Natal. After all, you who have been around from the beginning remember that was the sole reason I decided to begin blogging in the first place. I don't support subjecting innocent recipients to unwarranted mass-emails, so in order to keep up with my comings and goings in Brazil, my friends and family will be able to choose when they want updates.

One more thing. The list to the right is by no means a comprehensive list of the blogs I peruse. I would say that list represents about one-fourth. I just don't have the guts yet to admit publicly how many and whose blogs I am actually keeping up with on a regular basis. However, I would love to know who drops by this site, even if only occasionally, so please say hello when you do.

Fundraising update: As of this past weekend, I only lack $975 for my first year of work in Natal.In case you were wondering...that is INCREDIBLE. Muito obrigada!! (Thank you very much, for you non-Portuguese speakers.)

Three cheers for the purple and white...

I graduated college today.
Weird.

Nothing compares 2 u

I don't know why I have refrained from listening to the 90s channel on cable until now, but it has significantly improved the quality of two already very good days. Last night, after another rousing game of Life, I sat in my living room alone staring at the TV, soaking in the goodness that was coming from its very tiny speakers. I've known many a person who is obsessed with the 80s, but have yet to find someone who loves the 90s as much as I do. I would live that decade over and over and over again if I could, oversized shirts, grunge rock, TGIF and all.

I don't want to hog all the music to myself, so join me for a trip down memory lane as we look over some of my favorite tunes from the best decade of all time:

One Headlight- The Wallflowers
Basket Case- Green Day
1,2,3,4 Get Your Woman on the Floor- Coolio
Nothing Compares 2 U- Sinead O'Connor
All I Wanna Do- Sheryl Crow
Tubthumping- Chumbawumba
Pretty Fly for a White Guy- The Offspring
The Way- Fastball
Gangsta's Paradise- Coolio
Head Over Feet- Alanis Morissette
Kiss From a Rose- Seal
I Love You Always Forever- Donna Lewis
1979- Smashing Pumpkins
Killing Me Softly- The Fugees
Selling the Drama- Live
Lightning Crashes- Live
Roll to Me- Del Amitri
Fantasy- Mariah Carey
Love Rollercoaster- Red Hot Chili Peppers
Don't Speak- No Doubt
Semi-Charmed Life- 3rd Eye Blind
Truly Madly Deeply- Savage Garden
All Mixed Up- 311
Walking on the Sun- Smashmouth
Crazy- Aerosmith
Wonderwall- Oasis
Buddy Holly- Weezer
Runaway Train- Soul Asylum
Misery- Soul Asylum
Only Happy When it Rains- Garbage
Only Wanna Be with You- Hootie and the Blowfish
Freshmen- Verve Pipe
Bittersweet Symphony- The Verve
Kiss Me- Sixpence None the Richer
Big Bang Baby- STP
I Want You- Savage Garden
How Bizarre- OMC

I actually could go on and on...and on and on...but these are the first few that come to mind. You may notice that there is large representation from the years spanning about 1994-1997. That was what I qualify as the pinnacle of alternative rock, when Green Day, No Doubt, Stone Temple Pilots, Smashing Pumpkins, and most of the one-hit-wonders were in their hey day. Thanks to VH1's "I Love the 90s," I have also determined that 1997 was the best year of my life, period, and so that also explains why so much of this music comes from that time period.

Any additions, friends? Kelly I know you will have some input to share...

Lifetime Achievement Award

Finals week is always my favorite week of the semester. "Is Cris deluded?" you ask. No. Quite the opposite. Consistently, for eight glorious semesters, finals week has been the most fun week of the semester because that's when the best hanging out is done. No matter that we all have ridiculously large tests to be studying for, (well, not we all, my 5 hour semester is turning out quite nicely for me during finals, and only throwing one my way on Friday,) we know it will be a long time before we have these chances to play again, so we make every minute count.

Last night, after organizing our own, very successful mind you, midnight breakfast at IHOP, some of us came back to our house to hang out further into the night...er...morning. It seemed like a good idea to turn on one of the music channels on cable as background music, and then it seemed like a really good idea to start playing The Game of Life at around 2 in the morning. I had never played The Game of Life, but given that we are all about to graduate from college in 3 short days and move on to "the real world" (except not really, we had 3 who are going to grad school, one who will be student teaching, and me, who is escaping the real world to live in Brazil for a year or two) it seemed like a good idea to get some practice on what real life is like through a board game.

I won, but that's rather insignificant. It took us an hour and a half to finish, (yes, Mom, 3:30 am during finals. Gasp!) and that hour and a half was some of the most fun I have had this semester. In addition to winning, I also won the Lifetime Achievement Award, discovered a Solution to Pollution, and invented a toy. My life turned out rather nicely if you ask me, and all while driving a little red car with my husband in the front seat.

All this fun we've been having just makes the quickly-approaching graduation ceremony on Saturday less and less exciting and more and more looming. As excited as I am about what God has in store for my future, I'm not ready to let go of this place that has been my home for the last four years.

Pulling from one the greatest television show of all time (tied with Arrested Development, of course) I now leave you with "Farewell Bayside," the graduation theme from Saved by the Bell's Bayside High School. Although I may not have spent time at the Max, and I think I went to one ACU football game ever, and most definitely never went on a double date, Zack, Kelly, Lisa, Jessie, Screech, and Slater sum it all up pretty perfectly for me:

It seems like only yesterday we started,
But soon we'll put away our books and pens.
We'll go on with our lives once we have parted,
But how can we say farewell to our friends?

The double dates, the parties, and the dances,
Crammin' for a midterm until three.
The football games, the Max, and the romances,
Soon Bayside will be just a memory.

Our four years here have all become unraveled,
And so our high school story finally ends.
But years from now, no matter where we've traveled,
We'll all look back and think about our friends.
We'll all look back and think about our friends.

Um now if you thought any part of me was serious in posting those lyrics, I encourage you to introduce yourself to me and get a grip. :) I am, however, dreading the goodbyes that have already begun and am predicting right now that this is only the first of many "I can't believe it's over" posts. Happy finals and cheers to you until next time!

Community

From what I can tell, one of the big buzz words in the postmodern church right now is community. Perhaps the word has been buzzing for a while and I just started to hear it, but it seems as though every author I read has something to say about it and every sermon I hear mentions its benefits. Shane Claiborne has quite a bit to say about community, as does Mike Cope. I've heard more definitions of what community really means than I know what to do with, but over the last few months I have actually managed to conjure up a definition of my own of what community means to me.

My definition has no words-- not my own, anyway. My definition has come through experience. Through hugs. Through text messages. Through Facebook. Through contributions. Through questions. Through interest. Through the birthday/going away party my roommates threw for me tonight.

My community is the people who have cried with me in my sadness, confusion, and disappointment. They are the ones who have encouraged me to not give up. They are the ones who unquestioningly believe that "it's all going to work out," and make sure to tell me so. They are the ones who don't cease to be friends with me, even when I'm being irrational. :) They have offered to pray for me, with me, and over me. They have spoken godly words of wisdom and encouraged me to take even the slightest of positive events as signs of God's approval and delight.

I think the beauty of community (other than the fact that those two words rhyme...) is that, of the qualities I just described, they all have been effortless. My community did not make the decision to be encouraging, they just encouraged. They did not choose to share my tears, they just cried.

My community has shown me what it means to live in 1 Corinthians 13, always protecting, always trusting, always hoping, and always persevering.

Don't get your hopes up

I won't consider this a real post, just wanted to give some shout outs and make a few observations.

My apologies to Brenna Schartz for not including her in my list of readers in that last post. I know very well that Brenna is a loyal fan of crissallissa.blogspot.com and my oversight is shameful. She is a good enough friend to remind me that she was wrongfully excluded, and I thank her for that. Brenna and I go way back to the days of pledging season 2004, ACU Leadership camps 2005, Office of Admissions 2005-2007, Jeanene Reese's Women in Christian Service class 2006, and Karaoke 2007. If you know Brenna, you know that Karaoke 2007 is probably the connection we have that you would most like to be a part of. :)

Tomorrow I have a lingerie shower to attend. In a week and a half I take the GRE. In two weeks I graduate from college. In a month I am a bridesmaid in the second wedding to come from my group of best friends from high school. In about 4 months I am moving to Brazil.

Conclusion: I am growing up way too fast. I still feel 14, (and maybe even look 14,) and 14 year olds do NOT attend lingerie showers, do NOT take GREs (they don't even take ACTs), do NOT graduate from college, are NOT bridesmaids in weddings, do NOT move out of the country (well, not without their parents, anyway.)

In the spirit of cliche, WHERE DID THE TIME GO??

Here I am, Lord. Send me.

Perhaps it's good to not leave that last post up for too long or I might lose my readership. (I say that like I have a little blog following, and though that counter on the right may have high viewing numbers, I don't actually know of anyone other than my mom and sister who read this. So...leave a comment.)

My sweet friend Deanna is also preparing for mission work in South America, but, unlike me, she is on a mission team that is committed to stay for at least 5 years. They won't be leaving for a few more years, but have an exciting survey trip planned at the end of this coming May. She wrote this on her blog yesterday and I was shocked at how eloquently she wrote exactly what I have been feeling:

"I desire with all my heart to do ministry in S. America but it is so scary to think of leaving awesome Colorado, my amazing family and friends, and the comfort of the US. But what is even scarier is thinking of what it would mean if I didnt go, knowing that God has called me to it. I dont want to be Moses, I want to be Isaiah. I dont want to say "Lord please, send anyone else" but "Here I am Lord, send me." (emphasis mine)

I just finished reading a missionary biography of a single woman missionary who spent her life working in India. When she first left home she was about my age, and she talks about how she listed all of the possible reasons she could think of why leaving all that was familiar behind to do mission work was a bad idea. I have to say I definitely identify with that, and have had plenty of sleepless nights where I myself list all the reasons going to Brazil is a pretty stupid idea. However, the outcome is always the same. I don't end with "Lord, send someone else," but with "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

I made another pie chart to show my fundraising progress. You will notice that the colors are the same (duh) but the proportions are different this time. Less blue, more yellow, just the way we want it to be! The 23.4% that I still lack is only $4,181 this time...and that is AMAZING. God is good. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I have now received $1,007 as a direct result of the Facebook group...YEAH!!!

Great News

You might find this post odd, even disgusting, but if you have ever lost a toenail, you understand its blogworthiness.

It all began July 9, 2006. My team was on our way out of Brazil, stopped in Sao Paulo for our 12 hour layover. We had tearfully left our friends in Natal only to be greeted in SP with the news that, due to the bankruptcy of the airline we were supposed to fly home on, we had no flight to the US. A 12 hour layover quickly became the biggest blessing in the world, giving us ample time to figure out how we would get home. For 6 hours we traversed back and forth across the three terminals, going from airline to airline, repeatedly being told how unfortunate it was that we had no tickets to get on their planes. For 6 hours.

6 hours.

In what I recall to be about hour 3, we realized how much time we were wasting by pulling our luggage behind us. Did I mention that this particular day happened to be the day of the World Cup final? Gaggles of people were crowded around every single TV in the terminals, which made navigating our way around the airport for 12 hours pretty awesome. Anyway, in hour 3 we stopped to pick up some luggage carts to make our adventure easier. As I hoisted my big ol' bag up on my luggage cart, it happened to catch my big toe nail on my right foot and pleasantly detach it from my toe. However, because the injury gods knew how fantastic of a day we were already having, the nail did not come off entirely, only enough to bleed profusely and hurt for the next 9 and half months.

If you're doing some quick math, 9 and half months from July 9, 2006 happens to put us at about...today.

If you're wondering what other kinds of things happen in a span of 9 and half months, allow me to share the things I've thought of for the last 9 and half months:

• the conception, development, and birth of a child
• 2 semesters of school plus breaks
  
• Fall, Winter, Spring
• Winter, Spring, Summer
• Spring, Summer, Fall
• Summer, Fall, Winter
• the life cycle of a big toe toenail
  

So this past weekend. My little toenail has been diligently growing out, viciously shoving its late counterpart into the light and away from life. I've nurtured this little thing, protected it from further injury, nursed it when it got stepped on. Last Friday I cut off what seems to be the last remaining parts left over from that fateful day in July. And this, my friends, is GREAT NEWS.

If you take a moral from this tale, which I hope you do, it is to always, always, travel in close-toed shoes.

If you're entirely sicked out and never want to visit my blog again, I apologize, and promise to not write a follow-up entry about how this was actually the second time in my life to lose this particular toenail. Oh, 6th grade science camp...

What do you want from me?

Question: What do you want from me?
Questioner: Jesus.

Setting: Wednesday night Bible class. 5 high school students and 5 college students sit in a sparsely decorated classroom. The high school students come from extremely low socioeconomic class, the college students all attend a private Christian university. The high school students are at church because the college students pick them up and bring them each week. The college students are freshly bathed, adequately fed, and there as "mentors." The high school students often scramble for meals in their homes and wear the exact same outfit every Wednesday. The discussion leader asks the group to imagine being with Jesus face to face when he asks,

"What do you want from me?"

Answer: A college student, on the verge of graduation and preparing to embark on a 2-year-long missions internship in an unnamed South American country (ahem) ponders the question. Of all the things she could ask Jesus for, she can't seem to narrow it down to just one. Finally, in admitted selfishness, she shares with her small discussion group consisting of 2 high school students and one other college student. "I would want Jesus to tell me it was all going to be okay, that I would be safe, my family would be healthy, my life would pan out in a normal course with no tragedy or bumps in the road."

After the college student's response, a high school student prepares her answer. "Surely her response will be parallel to mine," thinks the college student, "as she faces so much more instability in her daily life."

Then, contradictory to her typically loud and abrasive nature, the high school student timidly says "You know how in the Bible it says that Jesus baptized his disciples? I would want him to baptize me."

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:1-4

Let me clear something up. Contrary to what my previous post may suggest, I actually do have a life. A productive one. "This is what I do on Saturdays" is actually a comment on my taking the opportunity to rest on Saturdays. (Observation #1: I am a nerd. I consider making a pie chart "rest".)

Contrary to what a coupling of the previous post with the post before that may suggest, I do not spend all my time blogging, making pie charts, and getting banana cream pie shakes from Sonic. Those are activities included in the restful part of my life, when I'm resting from the productive part. The productive part includes classes, a job, and involvement with the FROGS class at church (which really deserves to be its own subject of a post.) Primarily because of these three broad categories of activities, added to the random activities that come up week per week, Saturdays are my days to sleep in, lay around, and make pie charts, apparently.

Today at lunch I turned on CNN and was bothered to see the breaking news about the tragedy at Virginia Tech. When I left for class the count of fatalities was up to 22. When I came home three hours later and turned it on again, the count was up to 33. I have been physically nauseous since. As students described details of the day, I couldn't help but wonder what that must feel like for those students, trying to imagine something like that happening at ACU. I couldn't. I couldn't imagine hearing about some guy shooting his girlfriend in Gardner, or maybe actually hearing the gunshots, then finding out he crossed campus to the Sherrod building and opened fire on classes that my friends were in. I can't imagine him walking in to my classroom and shooting my professor right in front of my eyes.

My stomach is churning for the students who witnessed it, the students who got up for a normal day of classes and never made it home, the families who might yet not even know that their child, in fact, was one of the 32. My stomach is churning for the "6-foot tall Asian guy wearing a leather jacket" who woke up today and thought this was his best option.

Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.