Truth # 1: The Cult

Ok, so the first truth is that I did almost (mostly accidentally) join a cult when I was studying in London.  In my defense, it wasn't a really bad cult, like not the occult or anything.  Here's the story-

I studied abroad in London the Spring of my sophomore year.  And by "study" I mean "took two classes" - British Novel ON FILM (where we read 3 books and watched the movie) and Survey of British Theatre (where, get this, we went to the theatre EVERY WEEK - at student rates! - and then wrote a little paper).   I also had an internship two days a week at RNLI - the Lifeboats which has since managed to gain me legitimate street cred with every Brit I know (you know, the two of them).  Also, random fun fact, but the launch of one of the Lifeboats was Kate & Wills' first public appearance as an official engaged couple.  Oh, and by "sophomore year" I mean "really kind of like my senior year because I started my freshman year with the equivalent of 48 credits" so it either took me 3 1/2 years to finish college or like 6.  I'm sure you can figure out which I tell people.

Back on topic: so only a year before leaving for London is when I had sort of a big spiritual moment and realized that I wanted my Christian experience to become more personal and serious (this may be described as a conversion experience).  I'd been in such a great environment at school with these great FCA meetings every week, great fellowship, solid Bible studies, an awesome girl a year above me to disciple me.  Totally blessed!  And I knew that wasn't how it was going to be when I was in London and I was kind of freaked, so I was the girl at Orientation asking "Is there a Bible study?" and hanging around in the activities director's office (who I'm sure thought I was a freak) asking about religious opportunities.  All my friends (4 other people in the program not interested in partying) knew I was really interested in finding a Bible study, so one of them said to me "Hey, the girl next to me in the computer lab invited me to a Bible study in the canteen tonight.  I'm not going, but I thought you might want to."  Heck to the yeah!

I show up at the Canteen and there's a group of 4 Chinese students who are so excited that I came (this is so highly ironic in light of how I spent basically the entire decade of my 20s).  Anyway, we started going over what it meant to be discipled by someone and they were totally floored that I knew what that was and when I said I was actually already being discipled by someone in America.  (For my readers not familiar with Christian subculture lingo, "discipled" is basically Christianese for a spiritual mentor type person). Anyway, I started going to their events and telling friends back home about these great news friends I'd found and this whole International Church of Christ that I was getting involved in.

The emails I received back from friends generally went something like this -
Hey Jennifer,
Wow!  That's so great that you go to see Stonehenge!  And you went to Julius Caesar at The Globe and Oklahoma! in the same week?  Awesome!

So you know that Christian group you mentioned, the International Church of Christ?  Well, here at Vandy/UGA/USC/UF/etc. we were warned to stay away from those folks at our Orientation.  So, they're a cult and prey particularly on international students.

Hugs,
Your Friend X

My response: They're so not a cult.  They're really nice to me.  I think some people just don't understand Christianity and it freaks them out.

Another Friend: Umm, so I was talking to my pastor friend and he was telling me all about how they're a cult and you really should avoid them.

Me: I mean, but, like, they're nice.  And they sing good songs.  Except they REALLY want me to go to this Evangelism day in the park thing.  And when I went to the church service I felt super compelled to put all the money I had with me in the offering plate.  But I think I might get re-Baptized with them.  I feel pretty good about that.

Friend: For the love of... Please, stop!

(Random Sidenote:  I'm pretty sure that when I was actually in college and studying all the time and reading all the English Lit and being smart that I actually used neither the word "like" nor "super" nearly as frequently as I do now that I'm mature woman with 2 freaking MAs).

My solution:  I went to the Christian bookstore and got a book called "Cults of Christianity."  I was having some little niggling doubts based on the facts that I was a) feeling kind of pressured and b) wondering if the onslaught of emails from the home front might be legit.  Since I knew I was meeting with the leader lady later in the afternoon, I spent all morning (must have been a day when I had a light class load) reading the book.  And while Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses comprised the bulk of the book, there were a few scattered references to the International Church of Christ founded by Kipp Somebody in Boston like last year.  So...that clarified things a bit.  Of course, in all my 20 year old naive wisdom, I kept the appointment with the leader lady and tried to convince her religion was wrong.  You know, they were off on little things like salvation by faith.  Me: faith alone.  Her: Yes.  And some works.  Me: You're wrong.    So yeah, that conversation went smashingly well.

That was basically the end of my involvement with the cult people although the sweet Chinese girl who was my recruiter kept calling me trying to get me to come back (poor thing, she probably got lots of extra points if I joined) until I took rather a firm stand with her (ooo- doesn't that sound British-y).

However, shortly after, I did see a flyer for a Bible study in a different place.  So, I risked it, and tried again, and met the most amazing girl from Botswana named Mesago who had also been unsuccessfully recruited to ICC and we bonded tons over that.  And I'd found a dear, sweet Christian sister who had the MOST fascinating testimony on how she came to faith that involved a near death experience and the presence of someone she could only describe as an angel and it all happened in her village in Africa and she didn't know any other Christians and it was AMAZING.  And she also introduced me to Wagamama (super yummy restaurant chain)!

So there's the first truth.  Stayed tuned for more fun stories!!

Two Truths and a Lie

I've been intending to write some of my favorite stories about some of the crazy things that happened to me/I did while traveling and living overseas.  So to get started I thought I'd present the first series of stories as Two Truths and a Lie (aka Stories I'm Pretty Sure I've Never Told My Mom - Hi Mom!).

Here you go!  Take a stab at which one your think is the lie.  No spoilers from folks who know!!

1.  I almost joined a cult while studying abroad in London.
2.  A rat fell on my head in my kitchen in China.
3.  I was strip searched in a Venezuelan prison.

The first story will be posted tomorrow night.  Stay tuned!

Ash Wednesday: Some Thoughts on Lent

I know it’s been forever since I posted.  I wasn’t really in the mood/I’m thinking up some great stuff to write about, but it’s going to be hard, so I’m obviously procrastinating. 

But here’s a couple of Lenten thoughts because that Catholic little girl inside of me loves her some holy days.

This poem was printed in our worship guide at the Ash Wednesday service tonight.

Is this a Fast, to keep

The larder lean?

And clean

From fat of veals and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish

Of flesh, yet still

To fill

The platter high with fish?

Is it to fast an hour;

Or ragg’d to go,

Or show

A down-cast look and sour?

No:  ‘tis a Fast to dole

Thy sheaf of wheat

And meat

Unto the hungry soul,

It is to fast from strife

And old debate,

And hate;

To circumcise thy life.

To show a heart grief-rent;

To starve thy sin,

Not bin;

And that’s to keep thy Lent. 

By Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

There are so many things I love about this poem, not the least of which is how it calls us out on giving up food for Lent instead of giving up sin for Lent.  Just about everyone I’ve talked (myself included) is giving up something food-related for Lent.  Personally, I’m giving up chocolate (suck!).   But I’m thankful to this poem for reminding me again that giving up something I love/enjoy/am addicted to isn’t really the point.  The point isn’t to starve myself but to starve my sin and so my prayer this Lenten season is that when I want a cup of cocoa at the end of the day, or a shot of M&M’s from a colleague’s desk, or a giant slice of cake that God would use those moments to remind me of my sin, and break my heart about it, and lead me to repentance.  I want to starve my sin (or some days: God help me to even want to starve my sin). 

And now, here are two totally random thoughts that managed to creep around in my brain during the service despite my best efforts to concentrate on the holy stuff.

1.  How do they make the ashes?   I mean, where do they get such nicely colored, stick-to-your-forehead, high-grade ashes.  I went to seminary and I must have missed the class where they talk about how to make the best ashes.  Do pastors google that?  Is there an online store where you can buy them?  Are they saving up cigar/pipe ashes from the last year to mix with water to make a little paste?  Real thoughts by Jen, folks.

2.  Oh please, oh please, oh please don’t let Shayne notice how greasy my forehead is?  Why do I not have any of those little rice paper-blotter things with me?

Church Recap

Yesterday I got to share about the Children's Ministry at ASF during the "ministry minute" time slot.  I used to be a regular up in front of churches during that whole missionary thing.  However, it's been a couple of years since I've been doing that regularly so I was a little more anxious than usual (which leads to a fun story at the end).  Here's a little recap

These are the top 3 reasons to participate in the Children's Ministry at All Souls.

1.  The KIDS!  The kids at our church are so awesome.  I love when we worship and they're singing and dancing with their whole bodies, playing air guitar or even leg guitar.  I love when I get a drive-by hugging from a kindergartner in between services.  I love when you see them wrestle with truth or deeper meaning. I love when every time we ask what they're grateful for, they say their X-box.  I love that when we talked about thinking good thoughts the boys drew dripping brains and the girls drew flowers.  I love when they need a hug because they miss their mom and when I ask where she is they point across the hall to the 2s & 3s classroom.

2.  The ADULTS!  It's such a joy to get to work with so many other great teachers.  I love that one of our candidates for elder teaches in the classroom next to me.  I'm so thankful for the other teachers I've gotten to know, to be involved in their lives and share burdens and prayers even in little ways, as we wait for the kiddos to arrive.  And it's also fun to get to know the families of the kids better, even when those parents might not know how well the Sunday school teacher is getting to know them.  Take, for instance, this conversation from last month.

Scene: Sunday school classroom, kids working on ornaments to give away to someone since we're learning about Generosity.
Me: Wow!!  That's such a great ornament!!  Who are you going to give it to?
Kid: My dad.
Me: Really?  I bet he'll love it.  Why are you going to give it to your dad?
Kid (with great enthusiasm): He's so COOL!!  He sleeps without any clothes on!!  Not even underwear!!!
Me: Oh. Well, um. Wow. He's gonna love it!  (Inside my head - "I'll let Mr Reid do parent pick-up today").  :)

3. Faithfulness.  In our church whenever a child is baptized we (the members) promise to assist in bringing that child up in the truth of the faith.  Our pastor always says "You just signed up to teach Sunday school."  It's a joke, but it's also not.  We did make a commitment to help in the lives of these little ones and teaching Sunday school is a simple (notice I didn't say easy) way to accomplish that.  All the kiddos are gathered in one place.  There are other teachers, and lesson plans and resources and even a short little movie that the kids are really excited to watch (although, I feel like the teachers usually get a lot more of the jokes).  Mostly it just takes a little time.  And let's face it, it's way less skeevy than chasing  around random kids at Community Group to make sure they grasp the Gospel.

That's about it.  I did have one totally embarrassing moment in the first service.  I was talking about the baptism bit and listed each pastor by name "Shane or Kellet or...uh...oh my gosh...(glancing frantically at back of sanctuary where pastors are standing, including the one who's name I can't remember, who I was talking to FIVE minutes before I came up here)..."  Awfully thankful for the folks who shouted out "Seth".  What's particularly embarrassing (I mean, like forgetting your pastor's name in front of the whole congregation isn't bad enough) is that I think he's the pastor most likely to actually know who I am (although now they probably all know me as "ha ha, that girl who forgot your name in front of everybody, Seth, that was so funny).  Sorry, Seth!! I did apologize in person after the service as well. So my advice is that if you're going to name pastors in front of the whole congregation, write them down (I have so much more compassion for those Oscar winner people now) or at least bring the bulletin up with you.

Shopping Experiment Update

Earlier this month I posted that I was daring myself not to buy any new clothes for the entirety of 2012.  See post here. New clothes means brand new from stores; second-hand shopping is still quite acceptable.  I'm just going to give a brief update on what I've learned in the first month.

1. I don't really miss it all that much.  Of course, it's only been a month, and the month right after Christmas and during my birthday (not that I received many clothing items then), but maybe I've been pleasantly distracted from wanting new clothes because I did receive other new things (toaster oven! new bedding!)

2. I think it's worked out pretty good financially.  I definitely didn't realize how much was disappearing in little ways here and there from month to month last year.  Things didn't seem quite so tight at the end of the month this time, right before payday (yes, I only get paid once/month, I've actually only ever had jobs that pay once a month as an adult, I'd have no idea what to do with that whole bi-monthly business, yes, this is quite the tangent).  It'll be interesting to see if that repeats from month to month.

3. Last weekend a friend called up wanting to go shopping on Saturday evening.  I can't buy anything, but sure (actually, shoes & accessories are still possible buying items).  One of the things I realized while thoroughly perusing the racks (all that extra time with nothing to try on) was that I don't actually spend very much time thinking through clothes purchases at all.  I was in a store that I used to frequently buy things in and the longer I was there, the more I thought that the clothes were kind of cheaply made.  I had the time to notice since I wasn't so distracted by price and fit.  Also, I could pay more attention to style, what people are actually wearing (or being told that they're supposed to wear).  I'm hoping this year will make me a more thoughtful shopper when I do return to the world of clothes-buying.

4. Finally, I realized that the things I saw which did catch my eye would like much, much cuter in a smaller size (this involves other goals related to health and exercise that I haven't published for the world to see.  yet.) Having the freedom not to buy clothes actually reinforced the other goals that I'm working towards in my life.  It might just be working!  Can self-control be contagiously spilling to other facets for life?

That's the update on the Double Dog Dare of 2012.  In February, I've already set up a weekend of thrift-storing with a friend, so I'm looking forward to what I'll discover with that - discoveries both about myself and for my closet.  

Daddy's Special

Today I'm going to take the time to tell one of my other favorite stories from last week's poem.  Daddy's Special is the name of a favorite family recipe.  The "daddy" in question is not, in fact, my own father but rather my grandfather.  Daddy's Special is what we serve on Christmas morning.  After opening stockings and sharing gifts we plow into a Publix raspberry coffee cake (which it's entirely likely we went to 3 stores to find on Christmas Eve) and a big 'ole heaping plate of Daddy's Special.

So what is Daddy's Special? Only the best scrambled egg concoction ever.  It's a treasured recipe that's been passed down through generations in our family, that I shared with my "family" on the mission field as well, and that I hope one day to pass down to my own children (umm...and all of you, I'll share the recipe further down).

With all of the sweet memories and Christmas traditions wrapped around this recipe, imagine my surprise when I learned the true origins of this holiday dish a couple of years ago. Oh yes, Daddy's Special started out its life as "Grandpa's trick to sober everybody up and send them on their way at 3 a.m. after a Mad Men-esque night of imbibing at the swanky clubs."  Say what!?!?!  Oh wait, that sounds EXACTLY like my family.

Apparently, the actual story is that my grandparents were quite the well-to-do partiers in the 1950-60s.  After a night out drinking screwdrivers and highballs and other things people drank in the 60s at their country club or other fancy drinking hole, they'd invite the whole crowd back for some munchies before going to their own homes.  I can just see Grandpa frying bacon and whipping eggs while Grandma is chatting with her hair all done up and jewelry flashing.  And maybe Bob, Rick, and Kathy on the stairs peeking down at all the fancy folks having fun in the kitchen.

As much as I love Daddy's Special (and I do, oh how I do), this story made it SO. MUCH. BETTER.

And I use the period after every word with full confidence even though it is apparently becoming passe as I see more and more blog writers making fun of it or proclaiming that they've never used it or that it's really, truly their very first and only time to use it or that it's bad grammar, whatevs, it's way fun.

Here's the receipt (British terminology and inflection compliments of my recent inauguration into the wonderful world of Downton Abby).

Get some bacon.  Cut it in little bit size-ish pieces.  Fry that up in a pan.  Drain grease (maybe dab bacon a little with a paper towel for extra grease if you're concerned about that).

Get some tomatoes.  Chop 'em up.  Get rid of the gross hanging, gushy, seedy parts if you're like me and don't like them.  Sprinkle some dried onion flakes over them and stir together.  Toss in the pan with bacon.  Cook until they're warm but not all shriveled up and super mushy.

Get some eggs.  Scramble those suckers.  Add a bit of milk if you do that.  Then sprinkle Parmesan cheese (from the can, baby) over the eggs until there's a layer.  Mix it up.  Pour egg mixture into pan and scramble away.

Remove from heat when your eggs are at their desired consistency (towards the dry side, thanks).  Serve big spoonfuls to waiting mouths (alongside a nice, big slab of raspberry coffee cake).  Enjoy!!!

Behind the Scenes

A couple of nights ago I posted a poem using a template called "Where I'm From."  I had lots of fun writing the poem and thinking back through childhood and family lore.  Many of the memories dredged up brought me a smile, so I thought I'd share a couple of the best.

So for all of my non-Catholic friends out there, I'm going to take a moment to explain the "extra name you get to choose yourself"line.  You may or may not know that when you go through Confirmation in the Catholic church one of the perks is that you get to pick an extra name.  This new name is officially recorded absolutely nowhere, but in theory, it goes between your middle name and last name.  You're also supposed to pick a name of one of the saints.  I may have just made that up but that was my impression.  Confirmation happens around 7/8th grade.  I'm pretty sure mine was in 8th grade, but not 100% sure.  I started a new school in 7th grade and I feel like I'd been at school long enough to know very clearly who the cool kids were as well as to know that I was not of their rank.  There was (and still is) only one of each denomination in my town (small town, with big 'ole wealthy churches) so if you were Catholic in my grade, then you were in my Confirmation class.

Back to the name choosing thing.  The bottom line is that 8th grade is a pretty horrible time to allow kids to amend their names.  The good news is that it could have been worse a few years earlier when I would have picked something super rad like Tiffani.  No, instead I picked Katherine which really is a nice, normal, lovely name.  I told people that I picked the name because it's in my family (cousin, and then my mom is Kathleen), and I even looked up something on St. Catherine (who I just checked out again on Wikipedia and was actually pretty awesome - a princess and scholar - SCORE!!! - I might want to take a pass on the virgin martyrdom, though).

However, here comes the real reason that I choose the name Katherine.  Sigh, this is embarrassing.  In middle school I was obsessed with the book Gone With the Wind.  The book, mind you, not the abridged, watered-down, revisionist movie.  I loved Scarlett.  LOVED her.  I probably wrote 5 different sequels in my head before that horrible Alexandra Ripley dross came out (which I totally got in trouble for going out and buying even though it was on my Christmas list because I just couldn't wait any longer).  Anyway, any true lover of Scarlett knows that Scarlett was not actually her first name.  Nope, Scarlett O'Hara was actually Katie Scarlett O'Hara (Hamilton Kennedy Butler).  And choosing the Confirmation name Katherine was my secret, private nod to my heroine (ignoring the multiple failed marriages and driving Rhett away).

True confession: I even had my mom make me a Scarlett costume for Halloween (cough. in 9th grade). My dress didn't look like this one.  But I loved this dress.  When she comes down that double stairway and Rhett sees her for the firs time. Swoon.  Hmm... I guess there are some things I liked about the movie after all.  

Well, that secret's out.  And I'll wait until tomorrow to share the even juicier secret of the true origins of my family Christmas breakfast.