Michael W. Smith might just be right

M and I just returned from a (slightly extended, due to complete failure by Delta) trip back to DC for our friend Brittany's wedding.  It was a wonderful time to catch up with friends, spend some time relaxing and not, well, really do anything (minus the whole wedding coordinating part.  Minor detail.)

We are cute!  And bright!

And when we finally touched down last night, I thought to myself that- as much as I hate to admit it- Michael W. Smith might just be right.  Friends are friends forever, if the Lord's the Lord of them... (everybody now!)  The ladies and gentlemen we spent our weekend with are people that we haven't seen- in some cases- in nearly a year and, in other cases, in a few months.  And yet-- these are still mostly the people (outside of our families) who know us the best, who love us the most and who we hope to continue to foster friendships with for years and years to come.  

And then something else hit me: this group, this community, is truly a gift.  It's not just about having fun (though I think riding around with his friend in the cop car might have been one of the highlights of M's time in DC)...it's about rejoicing together, weeping together and ultimately sharing life together.

Of all the things I miss about DC, I can honestly say that this community I'm describing is what I miss the most.  Don't get me wrong, we have a fledgling little community here in Chicago- but man, oh man, I don't know if I ever realized how great I had it.  And yet, more than ever before, I also realize how important it is; to have people there when you're hurting, there when you're rejoicing, to spur you on towards love and good deeds and sometimes say those hard words to you.  At the heart of it, I believe this is what we were created for ("No man is an island" ring a bell?)  I believe that deep- and often suppressed- inside all of us is a desire to be a part of something bigger than ourselves, to be loved and encouraged, to mean something to others and to have others who mean something to you.   

I am so, so thankful for these friends and the others (college roommates, amazing Florida friends, pastors who love us) who are important actors in our lives and who- we hope- will continue to provide this important thing called community moving forward.  

This doesn't mean I'm now a Michael W. Smith fan.

Bright Lights, Big City

I've just this week realized something about Chicago.

It's a BIG CITY.

Don't get me wrong, I've known all along that it's bigger than DC, even bigger than Houston.  And certainly bigger than any other Midwest city- not that I really know or care about many of those.

But, gosh darn it, Chicago is a big city.  This week, as I've driven M downtown for his internship (side note: his office- an intern has an office??- has two large windows that look out over the Carbide and Carbon building and this cool, wavy new condo building) I've been struck by the number of people.  They're everywhere.  On the roads, on the trains, in the cars, in the taxis.  Maybe it's because East Garfield Park isn't exactly overflowing with people and Hyde Park is more college town (nerdy college town, but college town nonetheless) than downtown.  But I've just really been struck by the thousands and thousands of individuals walking to and from work, up and down Michigan Avenue and circling the city on the L.

While DC will probably always take the prize for "most fanny-packed tourists per capita" Chicago is overflowing with tourists all its own.  From places like Small Town, Iowa and Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, Chicago is- for so many people- the epitome of the Big City.  I don't know for sure what it represents, but I think it might be a bittersweet mix of industrial development, capitalism and Americana.  It's midwestern enough that these tourists don't feel too out of place and yet different enough that a trip here can feel like a trip to a somewhat foreign locale.  There is something familiar and yet so completely unknown that it's exciting and daunting all at the same time.

And it is finally now- in this now 10 month adventure in Chicago- that M and I realize how much we love the city.  Not necessarily the specific city of Chicago, but just the grander idea of the city.  In the city, you can't help but rub shoulders with people who are altogether different.  You can't beat the cultural and artistic opportunities it affords.  The city is always thriving and teaming with life; yes, sometimes quite heart-breaking and oftentimes depressing, but thriving nonetheless.  Deep inside of us there is a desire to continue to live out life in a place like this, where traffic will most likely drive me to the point of insanity and we will never be able to afford a house the size of the ones we grew up in.  Which we most likely don't need anyway.  

And yet under these bright lights and in a Big City, we will choose to live our life.  And just like the draw those fanny-packed tourists feel, this experience- so familiar and yet so unknown- will no doubt continue to be both exciting and daunting at the same time. 

We Are the World

I readily admit that when it comes to world geography, I'm a bit of a snob.  Chalk it up to being a History and Political Science major, where I had to learn all the countries (and capitals) of Europe, North and South America and Africa (interestingly, my worst geography is still Asia).  Or maybe it's that I've been fortunate to travel the world relatively extensively.  Or maybe it's that I worked in international economic development.  Whatever it is, I also admit that I'm embarrassed by the lack of knowledge of world geography for most Americans.

As we've been watching the World Cup this weekend, I can't help but think that most Americans had never heard of Cameroon or Cote d'Ivoire before today.  And most probably don't know that Slovenia is different than Slovakia, which is different from Serbia.  Yugoslavia?  Yeah, it's no longer a country.  Neither is Czechoslovakia.  And Austria doesn't have a coast.

But why does it really matter?  What do these little boundaries mean anyway?  We're America!  That's what matters!  (Never mind the fact that Americans would riot if someone accidentally referred to us as Canada or Mexico.)  Knowing geography matters because people matter.  People around the globe matter.  And just as the people of Canada (few that they are) have different traditions and a different history than America, the people of Slovenia have a very different history and traditions from Serbia.  I'll never forget reading Robert Kaplan's book Balkan Ghosts.  Kaplan suggested that if his readers wanted to understand the political, religious and social turbulence of the Middle East, they should look to the area formerly known as Yugoslavia.  In essence, he summed up why I think history and geography are important: if you want to understand what's going on in the world, you need to understand its intricate past and its geopolitical present.

Now who knows where Lesotho is?

Why I now love hockey

Like 98% of the residents of Chicago, last night M and I watched the Blackhawks take on the Philadelphia Phlyers (ok, it's Flyers, but shouldn't it be with a PH?  I agree.)  I have to admit, I think it was the first time that I actually watched an NHL hockey game.  I vaguely remember going to a game of the Houston Aeros- yes, that's how it's spelled-with my dad when I was younger, but they're a part of the AHL- American Hockey League- and they play in Houston, Texas so they don't count.

And now I'm going to say something that will most likely make EVERY diehard hockey fan squirm.  I submit that hockey is a truly, truly beautiful sport.  I know, I know.  Blood, teeth everywhere, fighting, hitting.  Big men covered in pads running into each other.  Men throwing themselves over the walls of their little team box thingy.  (technical term)

All that aside, I can't get over the beauty of the skating.  Even when the men playing look more like Transformers than humans, it's amazing how the players glide down the rink (?) so effortlessly (and slam against the plexi-glass so effortlessly, too).  And even when they're punching each other, it's in such a fluid, graceful movement.

And really, could anything be more beautiful than this?

Congrats to the newest holders of the Stanley Cup, the Chicago Blackhawks!

My own little war zone

(Before I write ANYTHING I want to clarify that I am not actually comparing my story below to a real war zone. Also, I saw Vince Vaughn today at lunch and had to tell someone.)

After a weekend of not using the car at all (it was parked in Egypt because our famous neighbors were in town and our street was shut down) I got into the car this morning and realized that I was pretty much on empty. Not really wanting to fill up at the local BP that will run you $3.19 a gallon, I got about $5 worth of gas and then headed to work.

After lunch, I mentioned to my co-worker S (actually, that's confusing because there are 3 "S" names upstairs. Not kidding. Out of, like, 10) that I was going to go get some gas. She told me about a gas station in the neighborhood where I work that I had never seen before, where the gas is ridiculously cheap. She warned me "it's always crazy" but I didn't think much of it.

Then, I pulled into my own little war zone on the corner of California and Fulton. Never in my life have I seen so many cars going for so few pumps. Of course at a price of $2.81 (I think that was right), what do you expect? It was literally, crazy anarchy (this is why I think government/rule of law is a good thing!) I cringed MULTIPLE TIMES as cars came thisclose to hitting me. And then there was the dude with the thumping, loud music, and the lady who decided to take half an hour to figure out how to use the gas pump. (I'm thinking if you haven't learned by now, don't even try.)

I wanted to flick people off. I wanted to yell at these stupid people. And then I started thinking...it's funny the way people behave when going for what they consider to be "theirs," myself included. You could just see the tempers rising, and people starting to lose their cool. Maneuvering in and out was a mess and I am truly shocked, SHOCKED that someone didn't pull a gun by the time I left. Not that that's the way to fix a situation, but that's the way it rolls a lot of times in my hood.

And then I started thinking a lot about the violence in East Garfield Park. At one point this year, more people had died in Chicago due to violence than in Afghanistan and Iraq combined. What is it that makes us think it's ok to take life (whether by literal death or chewing out or demeaning, or destroying) for something? Is the gas, or your honor, or that piece of candy, or those extra profits really worth the value of a human life? What kind of culture do we live in when self, profit and property come before respect for one another? It's not a white thing or a black thing, or a poor thing or a rich thing, because it manifests itself across all racial, economic and social divides. It's a human condition thing. Why do you we feel so threatened by anyone taking what's "ours"?

And then I can't help but think of this guy I've studied. He said that when someone asks for a tunic, you give him the one off your back. When someone asks you to go one mile, you go two. The reality is that there's no room for selfishness in living out this call. There's no way you can think of yourself before your neighbors. Because, in fact, this Guy said there were two basic rules we were to live by: loving His Father and loving others.

What would our own little war zones look like if we truly lived like this?