the end

Irony -- the 200th post will be the last. Thanks for reading.

two things

Thing 1: My goal is to learn plant and bird names by the end of the summer.

Thing 2: I confess that I have never "witnessed" to someone with words. That was one reason I would get really nervous in conversations with my (now ex-) co-worker that veered toward religion. He went to a "Christian" college and took several religion classes, so he knows his theology and his Bible better than many Christians. He knows what he's talking about in a conversation. I'm a little shakier. (Plus I cannot think on my feet.)

Some friends of his have been trying to get him to visit their Bible study. He's really ticked off about this. And he made a good point: What's a more threatening picture than joining a group of people who all believe this Bible is truth when you don't and they're all going to be attacking you with questions?

What then is my role as a Christian? Apparently asking someone to your Bible study is not a clear-cut answer. Pushiness does not seem to be the answer. Is it being that "book" for others to read? That friend who listens? Or just to plant another seed as a picture of a Christian who was not judging him?

packing

Awhile ago I heard about a speaker who asked his audience to love the poor and leave things behind as they left that very room. It would have been so powerful to see.

The challenge is even more stressful as I take a good look at every single thing I own and attempt to box it up for transport. How much of this do I need? Eight plates? There's only one of me. I don't have company often enough to merit seven extras. On the other hand, most people want a full set of plates (if I were to give them to goodwill).

One big issue is the TV. I picked up this bigger TV at a yard sale. For me, it's huge, since it's just me and my old TV (which I still have) is 13". Now, no one person needs two TVs. I could get rid of the little one... only it's a VCR combo and the whole thing goes wacko if you put a tape in now. So it's essentially junk to someone else. To me, it works just fine without the tape component. What would be truly generous is to give the big TV. But I paid for it with my hard-earned money. So? God didn't really ask how you got it or why you have it.

Then there are these CDs I don't listen to. They're not in the greatest shape. I might want to listen to them again. Or maybe my siblings will want them. Hmm...

Looking at the pile of stuff I have to donate, it is not the cream of the crop of my crap. It is the things I don't like, don't use, don't remember. It is not a sacrifice. I can't afford to sacrifice right now. I can just barely afford to move at all. The woman at the temple gave everything she owned.

I really need some new Birkenstocks this summer. No, you don't. Seriously, they're six years old and ratty-looking.

Is there a line between generosity and wisdom? Giving everything and risking becoming a burden on society yourself? Are there moments we're not called to give everything? That we're allowed to keep some of it?

P.S. Books are my biggest weakness. I actually had to go out and buy a bookshelf this week to accomodate all of them in my new apartment -- I have a built-in bookshelf here. What about libraries??

And above all these, restore to me love.
The love of life:
sunshine
quacking
chocolate
snowstorms
necks
humming
red
blue
nectarines
words
hugs
cold
sandpaper
flannel
hills.
The love of people:
angry ones
wrong ones
fat ones
anorexic ones
sad ones
cheerful ones
noisy ones
irritating ones
bashful ones
mine.
The love of you:
whom I've never seen
doubt others really see
who is silent
colorful
not a hugger.

don't you just hate it?

Do you ever get upset about getting upset over something little?

Today, for instance. I get in to work and pick up this week's paper and the very first thing I see is a mistake -- because it's a pretty blaring one (to me at least). It's the headline on the top story on the front page. Part of it is MISSING. (For techies, I text-wrapped an object around its clipping path on the left hand side, and either the object got slightly shifted or the text got shifted a bit so that the first two words got blocked off.)

Yes, the two words that are missing are miraculously not crucial. It still happens to be a full, appropriate phrase without them. Just a capital letter is missing on the first word, and there's this glaring white space. Part of a cutline is missing, too, which wasn't saved as well, but I don't care about cutlines. I probably misspelled the lady's name, anyhow.

And I'm ticked off. I went and looked at the page before it was PDF'd for production, and it's wrong right there, which means the error was made here and not at the printer's. I looked at my printed copy, and it's still just fine there. Conclusion: it's my co-worker's fault. Obviously he didn't try to do it and is beating himself up because he did. I know he feels terrible and angry. (Although he also doesn't feel as bad because he's blaming it on the incompetency of the printer, who caused him to mess with it at all in the first place.)

So I shouldn't be mad at him. These things happen, and this thing could have been much worse. If a certain part of this woman's name had been cut off, we'd have had problems. Big problems. But I'm ticked! It was a neat set-up, and now I can never use the clipping. And yes, he works too hard already, but if he'd taken one more second to double-check his work, we wouldn't be having this discussion.

Why am I so mean? I make mistakes, too, in fact have made a similar affecting someone else's work before. And he does work too hard. But when people see the mistake, I'm the one who will look stupid.

Get a life, Ariel.