A Moment of Vanity

A moment of vanity to start the week. And a moment of gratefulness, too. I have a vast catalogue of pictures. Shoeboxes full of ones I took with my 35mm film cam, poorly composed photos in our dimly lit family room, high school dance photos where I could sharpen a pencil with my bony elbow, messy college photos of bygone debauchery, and eleventy million of my husband, my daughter, and increasingly fewer of me.

Which is why I treasure this photo. It is one of my favorite photos of myself. If pictures tell a thousand words, this photo exceeds its word count.

I am 24. I am working 2 jobs, I have 2 roommates, I am getting married in 2 months. Which is why my church friends, the most faithful of the friends I have met in Boston, are throwing me a surprise bridal shower. I am never surprised. Surprises elude me. At this time in my life, I find most people transparent, most experiences in life a let-down, and nothing really surprises me. I have been rejected from all of the top law schools to which I applied, I have no sense of joy about my upcoming wedding (only stress and disillusionment). I am going through the motions of a confused twentysomething and trying to understand why all of my life's decisions are needing to be made NOW and why they are all hinging on ME.

And then my girlfriends throw me in a salad spinner, rinse me off, pump me up, and whirl me around. I knock on Eunis' apartment door and there is laughter from within. "Here's your notebook back, Eunis. Sorry to interrupt you -- I'll let you go---OH! OHHHH!" I have never been so surprised in such a joyful way. By such joyful friends. It has been a long winter and I am finally feeling the thaw. Lovey Loverpants is there, and I cannot stop hugging him for helping to pull this off. I cannot wait to get married. I am thrilled, blessed, and surprised to experience this combination of feelings all at once, at age 24.

Your turn....

Home of the Brave

I pulled my ballot from the envelope after passing the Vietnamese clerk, the Cambodian registrar, the African-American police officer, and, looking down at my Korean-Irish daughter, the firstborn American citizen on her father's side, I began to tell her how important it was to vote, and I couldn't get the words out, I got so choked up. This happens to me almost every time I vote - the swell of pride, the taste of tears. It is such a precious freedom to me, right up there with the right to worship the god of the corn muffin (if you so choose) and not be sent to the slammer, as well as that whole freedom of not being set aflame if I leave the house without my male escort. That's a nice one. It's a beautiful E-Day here in Bostonland.  The ladies at the coffee house down the street gave me a free cup, not for voting, but because I had no cash. Baby Girl is going commando around the house as a home remedy for this pernicious diaper rash of hers. Yes, we're feeling mighty free in all respects today. It is good to be an American, today and everyday, you betchya.

Content/Complacent

What is the difference between contentment and complacency? Where does content end and blur into complacent? Am I generally content, or am I deceiving myself and if you listen closely to all of my pep talks, you'll hear the sound of a silly woman who is just complacent?

Hard business this conte-mplacent...

I want to be content with what I have, I don't want to be complacent with what I do with what I have. In theory. But take our car. Beloved Green Bus. I love this car. I love to drive it, sitting up high, stomping through the puddles that the byzantine drainage system in this city leaves in the wake of rain. I love that it's old, a gift from my in-laws, and that I know where each scratch derives.

But I dream of new wheels, what will be our next car, like we're riding this continuum of vehicular ownership, one to which we're entitled. So I'm really not content, am I? I'm embarrassed by the damage Loverpants did to both sides of it. I am embarrassed that this damage was never properly fixed or even an attempt made to paint over it, which is evidence of my own complacency, my own resortings to "That's just how it's going to be."

I've been so blessed in this life, way way beyond any measure of deserving, and yet, I have a strong faith in something better. A place of flourish and blessing so much more profoundly amazing than this world can hope to offer. Which is why I don't want to stay content or complacent. I want to be faithful in what I believe and hopeful for what is to come. Where a perfect contentment might be known. Where no one is complacent, for they live as angels.

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But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: why God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he has prepared for them a city. ~ Hebrews 11:16