Ok, so I'm not normally one to read to much into my dreams but this one seems significant and I hope against hope that it will be. Here goes, in rushed, sleepy prose:

The first part I can remember (I'm pretty sure there was more) starts at the bottom of a hill in an urban area where I am watching these kids do tricks on their bikes and such. One of the kids in a pack with maroon and gold bikes breaks off from the group and heads up the hill into a cul de sac (sp?). He then, while still in motion, transfers from the bike to some kind of a scooter and then to an indy style racecar and goes back down he hill. At the bottom of the hill he gets on some other moving object and suddenly I'm in the car on a racetrack. Not knowing what the hell I'm doing, I start spinning out and eventually end up in the middle of the track, trying to rejoin the race but not wanting to endanger any of the other drivers.

Somehow, I get out of the car and am sitting there in the grass when a tall, skinny man comes out to transport me (I was assuming I was in trouble at this point) back to the outside of the track. We have to go through some kind of a built-in elevator shaft to do so. He stomps on the ground below us and suddenly this circle of sod we are on starts sinking, quickly into the ground. This is the scary part. There are no handles, no walls in the shaft and we are descending very, very quickly. For some reason, I am falling faster than the man and am sprawled out, hanging on for dear life because I'm falling off of the sod circle. He is still in hearing distance and can't figure out why we are falling so far so fast or why I'm falling at a different rate either. His only suggestion is because I weigh less than him.

Anyway, I crash to the bottom without getting hurt and end up in this very tight little space. I move out of the way so that he doesn't land on top of me and take some time orienting myself, relying on the fact that gravity would tell me what was down. I remember that I had to squeeze through a tiny opening to get into the main passage (like a brick sewer system). There was a light on. I waited for the man, but the person that crashed down was none onther than Kimberly Ness.

Even in the dream, I realized at this point that this was a process of spritiual growth, vocational discernment, rite of passage or something based on her prescence. So Kim squeezed through the opening into the passageway and we started to find our way out. Just around the corner there was a staircase that was somehow a PC(USA) document that I can't place now, but that in the dream seemed very familiar to me. We climbed the document and at the top (definetly not as far of a distance and we had fallen) we were back at safety thinking "Well, that was too easy."

And then I woke up.

So yeah... if this isn't a reflection on my vocational turmoil lately, I don't know what is. If you've got any insight as to what the details or overall message might be, please let me know.

For those of you who don't already know, Thursday was a big day for the living wage campaign at Vanderbilt... yeah escalation!

For the details, see the following press links:

http://www.tennessean.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061116/NEWS04/61116043
http://www.insidevandy.com/drupal/node/1996

For my take, see this poem:

"Prophet's Song"

To sing when fleeting breath and truant hope forbid,
To stand when gusts of fear at cyclone strength prevail,
To act when blanket-heavy apath surrounds
To roar when falsehood, clothed in silence, overwhelms.
This then is faith: the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen,
and in God's good grace, to sing, to stand, to act, to roar.
We are called to live this faith.
-John Thornburg

Ok... so I'm really freaking tired of getting crap surveys posted in the bulletin section of myspace, especially when they have intriguing titles.

"Oh, this looks intriguing (as intriguing as anything on myspace can be). Nope, it's a crappy survey."

With your help, I plan to draft a survey that will actually tell you something about someone, whether they are a lifetime friend of yours or a complete stranger. And hopefully, we'll be able to come up with stimulating enough question that the taker of the survey can learn something about themself. The idea is to keep it semi-light/amusing but still have some telling info rather than random junk.

Below are a few of my intitial thoughts:

Do you carry pictures in your wallet? Photos displayed in your home? If so, of whom?

What mode do you usually keep your cell phone on? How often do you check it, even though you haven't heard it ring?

On a related note, what ringer do you have? How do you feel about personalized ringers?

Do you live in or near your hometown? Will you ever go back?

When you travel, do you enjoy the journey or the destination more? Would you rather travel alone or with someone? Who?

What is the time of day that you feel most alive? How are you maximizing that time/feeling?

What is the first thing you do when you wake up? The last thing before you go to sleep?

If you have a college education, are you using it? The major or the overall education?

Do you believe in God? Do you see value in organized religion? Do you actively participate in organized relgion? If not, what would have to change for you to consider it?

What is the oldest memory you have? Do you think things actually happened the way you remember them?

If you exercise, do you do it for weight/image reasons or for health reasons?

What is your favorite outfit? Is it a going out outfit or a staying home outfit? Would you wear it everyday if you could?

Do you have a nickname? What is the name/nickname you have secretly always wanted?

Do you vote? Do you feel you are informed enough to vote, either way?

What is worse, breaking up with someone or being broken up with?

Can you really ever be friends with an ex?

Do you work to live or live to work?
Do you love your job, put up with your job or hate your job? What would you do if you could do anything (other than nothing) for a career?

Are you proud to be an American, where at least we know we're free?

What is the one thing you wish someone would have told you when you were sixteen years old? Twenty one years old?

There have been way more ideas over the last few days while I commute, but of course they are escaping me as I type. As long as a few people follow up on this blog (suggesting questions, tailoring my questions), I'll keep building the list and eventually release the survey. Also, if you have any ideas on how to write a catchy preface so that people know this isn't your run of the mill survey... hit me.

In my defense:

1.) I had no idea that catnip was effectively feline pot. Yes, that little plastic baggy it comes in gives one an eerie feeling, but still. How would I know, my mom made me give back my first kitten (age 7, orange tabby named Frisky and no, I'm not over it yet) after two hours?!?

2.) Had I known rationale uno, I might have inferred that you are not to give said controlled substance to kittens until they are at least six months old. Maybe I'll take away the nip-filled fishy chewtoy for a day or two and see if the paranoia and muchies subside.

PS - I think his/her/its name might be Choxie (as in the cheap chocolate at Target) but I haven't decided yet. See a pic of the new addition with the rest of my lovely photos.

Inspired by a new friend to post poetry, I considered walking the line between humility and confidence required to post "Phenomenal Woman" and then I found this...

They Went Home

They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But... They went home.

They said my house was licking clean,
no word I spoke was ever mean,
I had an air of mystery,
But... They went home.

My praises wer on all men's lips,
they like my smile, my wit, my hips,
they'd spend one night, or two or three.
But...

-Maya Angelou

Dare I say...
Word, Maya.

I'll fill in the details later, but I know you all are just dying to hear what a fabulous time my vacation was. Seriously... it was a fabulous time!

With the exception of a few minor speedbumps, it was absolutely perfect. The food, the drink, the sun, the people, and most of all, the happy couple.

The pics are already up and I'll write about my adventures when I have a little more energy. Here's the teaser: my stories include a groomsman "cleaning up" a little tequila "spill".

Below is an essay that Katie Anderson and I were asked to write for HC's fall essay booklet on the theme of "Service & the Self". Beware, it's a little irreverent at times, but it also very fun, honest and hopefully a little insightful. At the very least, it was a blast to write. Enjoy and let me know what you think. Please excuse any cut & paste formatting funk.

What We've Got So Far
(Yes, that is our real title.)

Disclaimers:
1. The content herein was developed via e-mails, phone calls and one coffee shop bender during tumultuous times in both authors' lives -- break-ups, major life transitions and general anxieties over what the world wants from us and what we want from the world, etc. We could say that we did this to connect better with our readers, (after all, you aren't going to be in some serene place, literally or figuratively, when you read this). But, the truth is, we are still living these ramblings.
2. The answers to all of your burning questions about service or anything else will not be found in the next few pages. In fact, you'll probably have more questions when you finish. Don't be afraid to ask them.
3. We are not the type of alumni who are typically asked to write essays. We are not happy, successful, responsible citizens who have their lives together.<
4. This essay is not the retelling of our respective years/lives of service. Neither is it a call for you to join the PC (USA) Young Adult Volunteer program or a guilt trip to make you take that alternative spring break trip. Gag me with a spoon. Rather, this essay is an honest reflection of where we are at right now, with just enough perspective to make us dangerous.
5. Trust us, both in this essay and in life, what you expect to happen won't happen. What you want to happen won't happen. What you've planned to happen definitely won't happen. Figure it out as you go along. That is what we're doing, and this essay is what we've got so far.

This essay is, essentially, a tale of two cities [for you Dickens' fan(s)] -- a tale of being recalled to life, resurrected from a valley of dry, brittle bones and given new life to breathe; a telling of the golden thread in our lives, the good and gentle Spirit and Source that brings joy and miracles of grace and, a tracking of the storms in our lives lived out in service, where that same Source that gives goodness also brings loneliness and fear. This is a tale of two cities; two lives longing for meaning and fullness and grace, longing for something more than the banality of our daily existence living with the irrational certainty that living in uncertainty might just be the way to go...

You should know that writing and reading this essay is an exploration, a journey through service. What is service? We don't really know. But we do have a few ideas to offer you about our own experiences. Throughout this journey with us, you'll find some great bumper-sticker-lines, but most likely no answers. Remember, this is your journey, too. You decide.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times...
We departed HC, promising yet disillusioned English and Physics majors (very practical disciplines, we know), relieved to be taking what we thought was a "year off" from real life. We thought we'd do something good, something important, something terribly admirable for a short time until we were ready to go to graduate school and eventually become every student's favorite college professors. After entering the PC (USA) Young Adult Volunteer program, we found ourselves in places very different than those from which we had come. Surprise, surprise, Miami and Nashville were nothing like Sterling, CO or Clarkson, NE -- not even like Hastings, God forbid. We constantly met blank, confused stares when we tried to explain what we were doing and why we were doing it. A year of volunteer service may make sense to many of you; however, the majority of folks, including our families, could not begin to understand.
Let us run down the list of questions posed:
1) What the heck is community organizing and what do you know about it? You're from a small town. Community means your uncle is the mayor and your grandma lives down the street. You wanna be a leader? Be the homecoming queen. And, the equivalents of community action in both of our hometowns are yard sales and potlucks.
2) Why would you leave the Eden that is the Midwest? All that big cities have to offer is sex, drugs and (pre-gasp!) diversity. Not to mention a total rejection of family values! And when you have been attacked by a vicious hurricane or stampede of country music fans, just remember how safe and peaceful our bubble really is.
3) How are you going to put food on the table? $100 a month? You made more money tending the Perkins Library front desk. Parents dream of sending their children to college so that they can have better careers and live more comfortable lives, not so that they can go off and do the equivalent of slave labor for a "greater cause". What they did not understand is that our educations were about more than avoiding run-ons and split infinitives and mastering second order, non-linear homogeneous differential equations.

So, we had to explain the details of the job, the YAV program, and then why we were doing it. Because we wanted to save people's souls? I can think of a few things of greater importance. Because we wanted to feel like altruistic world-changers? Hardly. Because we waited to the last minute to make a decision and had no other plans? Well, maybe... We went because we had to. Why did someone give up their donkey for Jesus to ride into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday? "The Lord is in need of it." Period. End of story. In the same way, why did we do a year of volunteer service? The Lord was in need of us.

Our years of service were hard. They were hard. We have experienced some of our darkest and loneliest days in the last two years. But we don't serve the Sacred, others, and the Earth only in the good times. God always needs us -- wherever we are; wherever we want to go.

It was the age of wisdom; it was the age of foolishness...

From the Anderson-Hamernik coffee shop dictionary:
Wisdom: intelligence or maturity of the heart
Foolishness: all the crap you have to wade through to get there; and even then, you never really "get there."
Just before my time ended at Hastings College, I was on a walk with a good friend. I remember talking about future plans, not knowing what would happen after graduation. I spoke of pressure from my parents; I talked about hopes of professors; and mostly, I expressed fears of disappointing both. I was worried I would make a bad or wrong decision. My friend stopped me in mid-ramble. "Katie, stop. Please, just stop. Go out there and bleep(!) up your life! Don't worry what anyone thinks of it!" Um, okay. That is not something you hear everyday. The funny thing is, that may have been some of the best advice I have ever received. And right now, it feels like that is exactly what I did. "Go and bleep(!) up your life" could mean whatever I needed it to mean. For me, I think it meant entering into some of the dark spaces of my life; embracing some of my shadows and challenges and letting them take me into mystery and even loneliness. (For more on my personal darkness, please see this through to the end, as I will have to.)
In traditional terms, my life, right now, seems like complete foolishness. I live in a cottage in the woods for free, next to a pen of loquacious goats and roosters, which both enjoy my front yard better than their intended grazing places. I sleep in the sweet-Georgia heat with air-conditioning and satellite television. I split the day between a restaurant and an organic farm. I almost rejected such a seductive deal, because what about (pre-gasp!) service? What about (2nd pre-gasp!) justice? I just spent two years pouring love and time and energy into organizing Miami��s urban poor. This isn't service. It is far too easy.
But I am serving, I am literally serving safe food that does no harm to people who are hungry, and I am serving the earth by growing food in a way that does take care of it. You see, service is not an either/or -- there is not one right way to serve. It is more like an aura, a way of being or place from which one operates. Once service becomes a sort of posture for you, it also becomes natural. You can always serve no matter what you are doing. Maybe service is as simple as doing all that you normally do with a spirit of love, justice and gratitude for life.
I think a part of service is choosing to be reflective about our lives -- deliberately looking into how and why we serve and are served. It is about going deeply inside of our selves and becoming intimate with our own souls �� embracing our faults and foolishness. It is about always looking for wisdom, most of the time not finding it, yet always being grateful.

It was the epoch of belief; it was the epoch of incredulity...
It seems to me that people (maybe even you, heaven forbid) make assumptions about those who serve the church or do church-related service like we have. One thing that I know people assume with me is that I have done so because of my faith and/or rock-solid beliefs...not so. If anything, I have served and continue to serve because of my doubts and my incredulity. Let me explain the difference.
Even though I may not agree, doubt is usually defined as a bad thing, in negative terms of fear, suspect, lack of confidence and, almost always, lack of faith. Incredulity, on the other hand, is simply an unwillingness to accept what is offered as true. Tada! We have a winner!

Doubt is static. Incredulity is dynamic.

Doubt is: "Umm... well... I'm not sure..." (To be read in a wavering voice).
Incredulity is: "Yeah right. Prove it. Or, better yet, let me prove it." (To be read in a sassy voice, with a triple-snap).

I encourage incredulity...it's much cooler than doubt. Incredulity is the process of deciding �� actively searching, taking on those doubts and putting them to the test for you.
Service will put both your faith and your doubt to the test. There is no better way to stretch belief than to stick your hand in Jesus' bleeding side, Thomas.

It was the season of Light; it was the season of Darkness...
I once stayed at a Benedictine monastery while on a discernment retreat, and I heard the most wonderful and heartbreaking story. Mother Teresa took her ministry to the streets after experiencing God��s powerful and real voice inside of her, telling her she was needed there. But she never experienced that kind of calling, so loud and so clear, ever again. She lived in constant darkness for the rest of her life, never knowing again what to do or where to go. Yet she remained faithful to the darkness, and she continued to serve for the rest of her life. That is darkness, pain and loneliness that I cannot even imagine.
I am starting to realize that service is like this -- God rarely gives us specific, map-quested directions telling us exactly where to go and whom to serve. More often, our paths and lives of service will be a kaleidoscope of joy, despair, comfort, pain, doubt, confusion, etc. The beautiful thing is that we get to make our own decisions. God isn't "out there" controlling our every thought and manipulating each move. God is within and around and here and there, breathing life into us and letting us wander, sometimes even into darkness.
I have been told more than once that I am a "light-bearer" to others. But I wonder, what if the light-bearer is inside of her own darkness? What if I am so exhausted and consumed with my own shadow that I have nothing with which to serve? I've learned that that is okay. It is part of my process of "bleeping up my life." I keep thinking of a William Blake line: "And we are put on earth a little space, that we may learn to bear the beams of love." Maybe that is another bumper-sticker definition of service. Service is not only about loving, but also being loved -- allowing others to meet your needs and serve you. So, I say, let the dark be your womb when you need it to be. Steep in it. Remain in it. Risk being alone and feeling lonely. Bask in the glory of light when it is there; but don't be afraid to get down and dirty with the dark.

We had everything before us; we had nothing before us...
At the end of a term of service, the PC (USA) asks each YAV to complete a simple evaluation. It's been ten months and I have yet to complete my evaluation. So too, does my co-author. Yes, we feel a tad guilty about it. Yes, we understand that our responses can help to shape the future of the program. No, we are not terribly lazy or irresponsible people. We just aren't ready to process.
We are not Veg-o-matics, people, and our experiences are not blocks of cheese, so back off!
If this hasn't happened to you yet, it will. Soon, very soon, someone will ask you to "process" a recent experience, reflect on it, journal about it, discover what significance it has for your life. At first, I thought this was the corniest thing in the world. It wasn't until I started to deal with the big stuff �� faith, vocation, living intentionally, doing justice, etc. - that the structure of processing started to make sense, becoming both invaluable and infuriating.
Here are a few helpful hints to avoid burning out your Veg-o-matic motor:
1.) Be choosy. If you take the time to process every little aspect of you and your actions, you won't have any time to DO anything. You have to be particular about what is really worth reflecting on. Trust me. It is possible to become so reflective about your life that you can't see straight enough to live your life.
2.) Take your time. Don't rush into processing, as I have exemplified by not yet writing my evaluation. It's not that I don't have a lot to say about my year, I just don't feel the need to dig through it all yet.
3.) Don't let the process or the other people participating in the process dictate what you are actually feeling. It's easy to get sucked into the assumption that there is a right way to think about, feel about or learn from each experience. In conversations with people over the last two years I have honestly found myself making up things to say either because I didn't have anything highly reflective to say at the moment, or because I felt that my true reflections weren't what they were supposed to be. Sure, I feel like I grew closer to God in my own way, but not in a praying-all-of-the-time, let's-talk-about-how-much-I-love-Jesus way and that's all right.
Live it and learn from it, but don't force it.

We were all going direct to Heaven; we were all going direct the other way...
I once threw a little "dollar dinner" party, where everyone pitches in a buck or two to pay for the food. Afterwards, one of my friends said to me as I was clearing the plates for everyone, "You really have a servant's heart."
Umm, ok. All I did was clear the dishes, but thanks, I guess. What did he mean by that? I knew it wasn't a negative comment, but I wasn't sure how positive it was either. Little did I know how important that phrase and that inclination to serve would become in my life. You may have a very similar instinct, especially extending to those closest to you. The hard part for me was cultivating that into an instinct to tend to strangers, as we are called to do. Sure, I'd gone on mission trips in high school and done the work and experienced the spiritual high that a lot of people experience, but it never really clicked with me that service was about more than a one-week expedition to "the other side of the tracks."
A couple of weeks ago at Sunday school, my kids (1st and 2nd graders) were doing an art project with watercolors and straws, blowing as the Spirit blows. Not surprisingly, there was a mishap and an entire cup of magenta tainted water spilled down the front of my jeans and onto my sandaled feet. The amazing thing was after the project, when we all settled down on the carpet, recapping the lesson, kids using wet-wipes to clean their stained hands. Like something right out of the last supper, two little girls, ever so seriously, started to wash my feet. Just as my Sunday school kids constantly remind me of how to have "faith like a child", they reminded me of how to serve as a child. You do what people need to have done. It didn't matter that I was older than them or that I could have wet-wiped my own feet. They were there and were willing to do so for me.
For me, service has become more than just serving "the least of these" the way we would typically designate "the least of these." It's not just about the material "haves" giving to material "have-nots". It's those who have love giving to those who have not, those who have patience giving to those who have not, those who have a smile giving to those who have not. Give freely because you can never really know what someone's true needs are, just as you likely do not know what your true needs are. Service is more of a way of life than anything else. It's a posture you take, whether you are eating with friends or preparing the taxes of a low-income single mother.
We'd like to say that our year of service helped to forever cement our faith in God and perfect our practice of spiritual disciplines. (Insert wild, uncontrollable giggles here.) All sarcasm aside (yeah right), we grew spiritually by coming to know a greater sense of divine mystery in our lives. The mystery of godliness is great. Damn right, it is. We have more questions �� questions about God and our lives as Christians and our role in the Church and the Church's role in the world than ever.
Paul says, "Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God's mysteries." (1 Corinthians 4:1) We used to want to be astronauts, opera singers, library ladies, or even cats when we grew up. Now, if we can be stewards of God's great mysteries, we will have found our calling.

Another Blake line:
I give you the end of a golden string
Only wind it into a ball
It will lead you in at heaven's gate
Built in Jerusalem's walls.

Take your golden string. You know you have one. We all do. Wind it, twirl it between your fingers, scrunch it up tightly in your fist; you can even use it to play cat's cradle. But do something with it. Serve with it. Its mysteries will surely lead you into the darkness at times, but...

So this new burst of healthy energy and workout variety may just kill me... seriously. Kickboxing, kayaking, and yoga all in one week, on top of my regular workouts. Sure, I'm a healthy, active person, but do I have a deathwish or what?!?

Sore quads, sore calves, and broken blood vessels, oh my!

Btw, thanks for a great kayaking trip, Blaino!

Ok, so I've had this myspace account for about six months and just got around to putting a picture up and adding friends and such. Yeah for me. I'm not going to commit to anything too extensive, but I am going to try and blog here every once and awhile to keep people informed on moi.

I sum up:

Living in Nashville, TN for two years now
Leaving work at United Way to get my M.Div at Vanderbilt (full ride, baby)
Loving my life