Just finished 3 days of orientation at UT for both my master's program and my assistantship. It was all fabulous! I must say that I have been very impressed with everything I have seen from the school, faculty, and fellow students. The semester will be quite a challenge, but I am ready!
I enjoyed having lunch yesterday with my advisor... among many other things, I learned about how his sister (Asian-Indian) met her Indian-American husband through here. I would've imagined such endeavors to be scandalous in the land of arranged marriages. Who knew?
I've also been working nonstop on our trip planning for Costa Rica. Less than 5 months away now! I can't wait to experience this for myself:
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Excited!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Keeping it real
Don's grandmother passed away so we drove to NJ to spend most of the week with his family. It was interesting as usual. John and Beth served faithfully as our islands of sanity amidst the predictable escalating drama.
The actual funeral was difficult for me. Not so much because I miss Grandma... I really didn't know her well and I'm happy for her that she's not suffering anymore. My discomfort was related to the religious rites of the funeral itself. Let me preface this by saying that my intent is not to knock anyone's choices... I'm just stating my observations.
Grandma was Roman Catholic. The funeral was exactly what I would've expected based on my few experiences attending Catholic mass with friends. Sit, stand, kneel, stand, kneel, sit. I could NOT keep up! Bland songs. Somber expressions on all faces. Creepy-looking icons. Incense. Recitations. Going through the motions. Our family was sitting together in front, and I'm sure we looked like a group of heathens since obviously none of us had a clue of what we were supposed to be doing.
A few years ago, D's uncle died and he had a Russian Orthodox funeral which basically consisted of burning incense and chanting the same phrases over and over again for hours. I never heard any mention of Uncle Yogi, and that broke my heart. The priest and choir of chanters (or whatever they are formally called) spent the entire time begging God to have mercy on the soul of his servant who had fallen asleep. I didn't see any purpose to that at all. Why couldn't we have spent that time rejoicing and thanking God for Yogi's life? I was seriously upset after that one.
I can hardly bear taking part in these kind of services where God is reduced to some mythical, austere, impersonal, egotistical, demanding being in the sky. God is so real and alive to me. He's approachable. Warm. Loving. Just. He wants my heart and my trust in His plan. I can't understand how anyone can read the same Bible I do and still think that they have to "earn" their way into a relationship. I could light candles and chant and do the sign of the cross all day long, and still accomplish absolutely nothing of eternal value. Who started all of this stuff and what convinced them that God ever cared about these pseudo-pious rituals?
If that was what God was truly all about, I never would have given Him a second thought.
The actual funeral was difficult for me. Not so much because I miss Grandma... I really didn't know her well and I'm happy for her that she's not suffering anymore. My discomfort was related to the religious rites of the funeral itself. Let me preface this by saying that my intent is not to knock anyone's choices... I'm just stating my observations.
Grandma was Roman Catholic. The funeral was exactly what I would've expected based on my few experiences attending Catholic mass with friends. Sit, stand, kneel, stand, kneel, sit. I could NOT keep up! Bland songs. Somber expressions on all faces. Creepy-looking icons. Incense. Recitations. Going through the motions. Our family was sitting together in front, and I'm sure we looked like a group of heathens since obviously none of us had a clue of what we were supposed to be doing.
A few years ago, D's uncle died and he had a Russian Orthodox funeral which basically consisted of burning incense and chanting the same phrases over and over again for hours. I never heard any mention of Uncle Yogi, and that broke my heart. The priest and choir of chanters (or whatever they are formally called) spent the entire time begging God to have mercy on the soul of his servant who had fallen asleep. I didn't see any purpose to that at all. Why couldn't we have spent that time rejoicing and thanking God for Yogi's life? I was seriously upset after that one.
I can hardly bear taking part in these kind of services where God is reduced to some mythical, austere, impersonal, egotistical, demanding being in the sky. God is so real and alive to me. He's approachable. Warm. Loving. Just. He wants my heart and my trust in His plan. I can't understand how anyone can read the same Bible I do and still think that they have to "earn" their way into a relationship. I could light candles and chant and do the sign of the cross all day long, and still accomplish absolutely nothing of eternal value. Who started all of this stuff and what convinced them that God ever cared about these pseudo-pious rituals?
If that was what God was truly all about, I never would have given Him a second thought.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Renaissance
I feel myself coming back to life.
I can eat. I can laugh. I can accomplish tasks and read books and sing out loud and concentrate.
God is faithful.
I can eat. I can laugh. I can accomplish tasks and read books and sing out loud and concentrate.
God is faithful.
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