A HPH take on the Royal Wedding

Did you hear?  Prince William married his long-time girlfriend, Catherine Elizabeth Middleton!!!  I know, I was completely shocked when I heard it, too; I mean there had been NOTHING on the news for weeks, no months, about the blessed event.  And in true British royal style, a small, intimate affair was completely pulled off without even a hint to the mass media.  Yet again, the royal family has succeeded in keeping their laundry (dirty or otherwise) out of the public eye.

Right.

So what did we here at Hyde Park Heroes think of the wedding?  I'm so glad you asked!  Because I am a true connoisseur (yes, that's spelled right) of all things royal as of, well, yesterday, I thought I would fill you in on my thoughts on the matter.

1.  It's a ghost!

When Kate first stepped out of her hotel into her sweet ride, I thought "Oh, she's borrowing Grace Kelly's dress!  What a symbolic gesture to the hundreds of thousands of Americans who care more about this wedding than the Brits do!  And what a great way to save cash in troubled times!"  Upon closer examination, of course, I realized that while the dress did look strikingly similar to the former Queen of Monaco's 1950s look, Kate's dress was beautiful in and of itself.  I really do mean that.  And of course showed a lot more skin.  Which is always appropriate for a wedding, right?  I mean have you ever seen "Say Yes to the Dress"?  Especially that see-through "looks like lingerie dress" that all the Jersey girls love?  Classy.  We've come a long way in 50 years...

2.  Can't see the forest for the trees

While I like to think that the trees that were brought into Westminster Abbey made the whole affair look a little more, well, "British country shabby chic" I would have been SO PISSED if I was one of the guests who had flown in from Lesotho or Israel or the Jersey Shore or wherever and was stuck looking at a stupid British tree.  Wow, it's a oakus maximus.  How thoroughly boring.

3.  Not his best side

I get that dear William isn't supposed to watch his bride walk up the aisle (which, good Lord, took long enough!  Get there already!)  Unfortunately, it also gave us a 3 1/2 minute view of his bald spot.  Poor guy; each day he looks more like his fuddy duddy father (are you allowed to say that about the future King?  Of course!  That's why we fought the revolution!)  Someone get this man some Rogaine! 

4.   See no evil, hear no evil...

I literally laughed out loud when I saw this picture.

Not because kiss one and two were both slightly awkward, but because of the priceless face (and hand placement) of the little girl on the left.  Poor thing, it was so loud!  And besides, she's only like what, four?  Enough with all the pomp and circumstance already.  Someone get that girl a lollipop.

5.  I think someone wore this to prom

I'm sure Pippa is a nice, sweet, ladylike young woman, even if her name is horrible.  But I'm also pretty sure that I saw this very same dress at our high school prom in 2000.  Is she going retro?

______________________________

Ok, ok, I've been a little harsh (and I haven't even mentioned the ridiculous fascinators worn by some members of the royal family).  But when we spend so much time thinking and talking about one royal wedding, we're inviting in a few snarky comments.  That said, it truly was a beautiful day and, hopefully, a sign of good to come for the royal family.  More importantly, I think it would do us good to remember the words of the Anglican priest who gave the homily:

Every wedding is a royal wedding with the bride and groom as king and queen of creation, making a new life together so that life can flow through them into the future. 

Every wedding is about more than who wore what, what the flowers looked like or the hats that someone wore.  Every wedding reminds us of our place in creation.  Every wedding reminds us of the gift of oneness.  And ultimately, every wedding reminds us that we are the bride of Christ.

Now to pick out my tiara...

If You had been here...

As of late, I've been struggling with a few specific issues where reality has not lined up with my expectations.  Frustrated, tired and ready to just give up,  my mentor encouraged me to turn again to the story of the death of Lazarus.

In case you don't remember the story (found in John 11), Lazarus- the brother of Mary and Martha- was ill.  The sisters, knowing the healing power of Christ, sent for Jesus.  But instead of immediately coming to their aid, Jesus takes his sweet time, eventually showing up after Lazarus is dead.

Mary and Martha are pissed (that's the Liz translation.)  First Martha confronts Jesus: ""Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²²But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you."  Then, a little later, it's Mary's turn: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." 

The Gospel tells us that Jesus was deeply moved by Mary's weeping (apparently Martha's matter-of-factness was less moving), and upon seeing the dead Lazarus, Jesus himself weeps.  Eventually, we see that Jesus wakes Lazarus from his slumber, and lots of people believe.  Yay!

 
But the part that really hit me this time isn't the healing; there is something about the words of both Martha and Mary that sum up almost exactly how I feel about some of the things I'm struggling through right now: "if YOU had been here, my brother would not have died."  It's the feeling of, "Come on God, you're the ONE PERSON who can do something about this!"  "If you really loved me, this wouldn't have happened/been happening."


But what does Christ do?  Wave his magic wand? (Well, eventually, yes.  But that's not the point.)  He, first and foremost, meets each woman where she is- validating their frustrations and standing with them in their struggles.

I think sometimes when I struggle with things that I know God could do something about, I miss the part in the middle where Christ enters in with our sufferings.  That he literally wants to mourn with us.  I'm so quick to have him "work His magic" that I forget that a big part of real relationship is allowing Him into these horribly intimate moments of despair and hurt. 

And then I see His words at both the beginning and end of the passage: "Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him" and Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”

I have to believe that the experience of frustration has some sort of purpose in producing belief.  I don't really understand it completely, but I can't deny that it's very clearly there.  There is something to be said about believing we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living and, ultimately, as Jesus himself says in this passage, rest in the promise of life eternal: “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die."


I've been reminded and encouraged that Christ wants to enter in with us in our times of pain.  Not just so He can "make it better" but because this is what real relationship looks like.  And at the same time, I'm encouraged that He does sometimes do things to help our unbelief, to encourage us to trust and believe more deeply in Him, His providence and His grace, ultimately pointing to the greatest thing He ever did, laying down his life for us. 

A Big Week

 

We'll be spending Monday night through Sunday morning in DC.  It's a big trip.

M was recently selected as a Presidential Management Fellow, and this week is the three day job fair (hard to explain exactly how this works, but it's not just a normal job fair- people are actually interviewing you and hiring you, if not on the spot, then within a week or two.)  And since it overlaps nicely with Easter- when our favorite church has our favorite service (and it also happens to be M's birthday), I get to come along, too!

It's a big week.  The reality that we will be moving back to DC once M graduates is finally really sinking in...and I honestly can't hide my excitement.At the same time, there are a lot of unknowns- what exactly will M be doing?  What will I be doing, besides basking in the glow of being back in DC?  Where will we live?  How muggy and hot will it be this summer in DC?  You know, life-changing questions.

So if you're the praying type, we would definitely appreciate your prayers.  Not just for a safe trip, but for a successful trip.  That those positions M is most interested in would also be the most interested in him.  And that, ultimately, he would be able to use the skills and abilities he's been given to make our country a better place. (Cue cheesy, patriotic music. And a few waving flags.)

 

Holding Our Arms

March has been quite a hard month.  While there was a wonderful week of vacation with my family in California and a couple of days of fun for me with friends in DC, the reality of the end of M's time here at the University of Chicago is sneaking up rather quickly. 

Most of our days have been spent applying to jobs, networking as much as possible and lamenting the current federal budget problems and general economic climate.  Now is not the easiest time to be looking for a job, to say the least.

And so we have prayed.  And cried, and prayed and cried.  We are asking God to continue His faithfulness to us, and to remind us of His goodness.  And yet even in this, we must know that His goodness does not mean that M will get a job that he loves or that he'll get a job at all.  Of course that is what we hope for, but God's goodness to us does not always manifest itself in the way that we would like it.  I know too many people who love the Lord with all their heart and yet have no job, no home or no family.  God's goodness is that we are allowed to be worshipers of Him, to know Him more and to be in His presence, not that we have a nice job and a big family.

Last week, I hit a wall.  Exhausted, overwhelmed and feeling discouraged, I asked friends to pray for me, even as I felt that I could no longer pray for myself.  And in that time, God reminded me of this passage:

Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed; and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed.  But Moses' hand grew weary; so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it.  Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side; so his hands were steady until the sun set.  And Joshua defeated Amalek and his people with the sword. (Exodus 17:11-13)

I am so thankful to those who have been holding up our arms, even as we are exhausted and feel like we can't do this anymore.  I'm so thankful for a stone to sit on and the arms that have taken the weight off my arms.  And I am so thankful that as the sun sets, we are assured victory, even as we do not know exactly what that victory will look like. 

History

M and I have recently gotten in to learning more about our families and their history.  As a student of history, what others before us have experienced has always been fascinating to me; sometimes when I think about what my grandparents or great-grandparents saw in their life, I'm blown away by how privileged we are to live the life that we live.

In this case, I'm particularly thankful I wasn't around in the time of M's great uncle.

Robert Laird, Jr. was 24 when he was (according to the Pensacola Journal) murdered by a mad Italian barber (who may or may not have been in the mafia.)  According to reports, Robert had accused said Italian barber of shaving him out of a dirty cup.  Holding a grudge, a week later, the barber murdered him.

Oh, but it gets more bizarre.

Arrested a few weeks after the murder, the Italian barber set himself on fire, placing a burning blanket over his head and burning himself from the waist up.  He did not actually succeed in ending his life, however, and suffered on another three months before succumbing to complications from his wounds.

Ah, family history.

The Coming Spring

On days like today, it's hard to not be discouraged by the continual gray of February.  Rain, sleet and snow seem to be nearly a daily companion, causing headache-inducing traffic, short tempers and angry mouths (or fingers).  I know that spring is around the corner, and yet sometimes I cannot see it for the dreariness that seems to surround the city.

And yet there is reason to hope.  New grass, a day of sunshine, temperatures that reach into the 50s.  Just little tastes of what is to come, a glimpse into the land of the living, a promise that the dead of winter is not a year-round reality.

We've had little glimpses of our own "spring" in the last few weeks.  A good meeting here, a positive conversation there, reconnection with old friends and the excitement of travel and relaxation soon.  All little encouragements of what is hopefully to come.

And so we will continue to watch and pray, looking for more positive signs of the coming spring.  And at the same time, I will continue to pray that I will treasure the winter for what it is good for- contemplation, reconnection, quiet.  Even in the dreariness of winter there is still purpose.  I don't want to miss what is here, now, because I can only think of what is to come.

There is purpose, even in winter.

The best brussels sprouts you will ever eat

Quite a statement, right?  But friends, believe me, these are some dang good brussels sprouts.  (And who knew it was "brussels" and not "brussel"?)

I was first turned on to brussels sprouts from a friend who told me about the amazing sprouts she had at another friend's house.  Then last night, I consulted Mark Bitman's How to Cook Everything Vegetarian- a gift from another friend (did you know M was a vegetarian until he suddenly started eating meat on our honeymoon?  True story) added some bacon and came up with this.

1 lb brussels sprouts, trimmed and cut in half.
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 slice uncooked thick-cut bacon (you can add more), diced
olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

1.  Coat a large oven-safe skillet with olive oil.  Heat oil on the stove top on medium to medium-high heat.
2.  When oil is heated, add brussels sprouts, cut side down.  Sprinkle with garlic, bacon, salt and pepper.
3.  DO NOT TOUCH THE SPROUTS.  If you're anything like me, this will be extremely hard.  But just let them be!  It's better for them, and for you.  Trust me.  If you have to do something, you can shake the pan a little.
4.  After approximately ten minutes, remove sprouts from stove top, stirring.  Do you see their golden beauty?  Yep, that's because you left them alone.
5.  Place skillet in 450 degree oven for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
6.  Enjoy the best brussels sprouts you will ever eat.