Apartments, Storms, Power Outages, and Syllabi

Well, I found an apartment. It's the downstairs of a neat old house in Newtown. And I love that concept. The house is on a little V of land between State St. (the main st. of Newtown) and Court, a residential street which goes off at an angle. Means that there's traffic out almost every window, but since it's Newtown, most everything rolls up by 7 PM. Anywhere I go is going to feel noisy after my current apartment; I figure I'll get used to it. The apartment is the bottom floor of the house, and the top two floors are a separate apartment (a little larger). I had originally looked at both, and liked the idea of either, though the upstairs is probably more than I need, and therefore more than I need to spend. There's a patio/deck out the back, fenced in, for outside-ness, and then, of course, all of Newtown for walking and exploration. I love both the main street and the surrounding neighborhoods there, so I look forward to lots of walks. Right across Court St. is the Friend's Meetinghouse, with a big hedged lawn, that Chuck, the owner of house, said they often went over and used when they wanted grass space.

Aiming for mid- to late August for moving in. I'll miss being where I am now (in terms of setting, and comfortableness of the people), but I won't miss how far away it is from everything! I'm looking forward to avoiding the turnpike. Currently I'm spending almost $20 a week in tolls alone.

PBU is on a four-day work week over the summer, so I'm basically working Monday through Thursday, and taking Fridays off. So yesterday was the "end" of an extremely long week. Here's hoping when Lisa's back in place things will settle into some sort of routine. Pretty much the entire department will be completely new. Good things and bad things about that. It means that we won't be stepping on toes when we say, "no, we're not doing things that way anymore," but it also means that there's no one around who knows what's been done and whether or not it's worked...guess we'll have to find out the hard way.

It was my intention to do some writing last night, and maybe watch an episode of something off of Hulu, but as I ate dinner, the heavens opened, and I set my computer aside to watch the storm. I closed up all my windows and the rain came down like a waterfall. Fascinated, I changed into clothes that could get wet and stepped out the door. I was hot and sticky (yesterday was a truly Philly summer day), and figured I would probably need to take a shower to cool down anyway, so I might as well let the rain soak me. Within a minute I was absolutely drenched, and at about the two-minute mark I was cold. That and the sporadic lightning encouraged me to go indoors again, so I went in, dried off, and changed. I walked through the living room with the wet clothes to take them to the laundry, and somewhere between the living room and when I entered the laundry, the power went off. Suddenly my evening plans changed - no computer (or, very little since I didn't want to use up the battery and I couldn't get online), limited phone use (again to save the battery), and no lights...I pulled out a book and used the daylight while it lasted and then a flashlight for a little while before sleep overcame me - got more than halfway through.

After the rain stopped, around 8 o'clock, Chris (my landlady) hopped into her car to go get Bill (her husband) from the train station. He was coming home from a business trip. About 10 minutes later she was back, there were two trees down at the end of our road, and she couldn't get out. She ran into a neighbor whose son was bringing him back from the end of the road in a golf cart and he had gotten home from work after the trees fell, so his car was parked on the far side. He agreed to go get Bill, and a bit later Bill was delivered safely home by golf cart.

The power was out all night, and Bill pulled out the generator early this morning to cool down our refrigerators for a few hours. The road got cleared by about 8:30 AM, so I came on over to Starbucks for a while. I have a syllabus to finish and had planned to work on it here anyway, just now I do it out of necessity. That said, I should probably stop writing this note and get cracking on that...it's due by the end of the day. Hopefully the power at home will be restored rapidly. This time it seems to just be a downed line, whereas when it was out the other year the entire transformer had gotten struck by lightning...here's to less than two days without power!

Irregular Update
From Carrie Givens
Blog: MaidCarolyn.blogspot.com
Facebook: MaidCarolyn

What’s Been Going On?

For the length of time it’s been since my last “irregular update,” I can only apologize and say that I’ll try not to let it happen again. I feel like I’m getting back into the sort of life that lends itself to sending out updates on a more regular basis, but the past two years have been anything but.

Let me show you what I mean:

May 2007 – Left Alaska after two years and flew to Macau, China for two weeks before heading back to Michigan for the summer.
August 2007 – Packed up everything that had made its way down the Al-Can Highway and moved it to Pennsylvania.
September 2007 – Started my Master’s in English with an emphasis in professional and creative writing and teaching at Arcadia University. Began working for Starbucks Coffee Company.
Fall 2007 – Took three full-time courses, worked 30 hours a week at Sbux, worked 4 hrs/wk in the AU Writing Center (WC).
Spring 2008 – Worked 35 hrs/wk at Sbux, 4 hrs/wk in the WC, took three more full-time courses.
Summer 2008 – Took two full-time courses, worked 8 hrs/wk in WC, 35-40 hrs/wk at Sbux where I became a Shift Supervisor.
Fall 2008 – Took three full-time courses, worked 30 hrs/wk at Sbux, 4 hrs/wk in WC, and taught one English Composition course.
Spring 2009 – Researched and wrote my thesis, worked almost 40 hrs/wk at Sbux
May 2009 – Graduated with an MA in English from Arcadia University, planning to continue working at Sbux while looking at possibilities for employment and pursuing publication.

What’s New?

I had planned to spend another year working for Starbucks and exploring writing opportunities. God decided He had different plans.

In May, I met Lisa Weidman, the Communications and Marketing Director at Philadelphia Biblical University. In our conversation she asked me questions about the types of writing courses I took in my program at Arcadia. Her eyes lit up when I told her about the Writing for the Web and New Media course that I took last summer.

A couple weeks later, Lisa and I got together again and she began to pick my brain about my concept of a biblical university. We talked for nearly two hours about how a university should present itself. Concurrently, Lisa was working with a team to reevaluate the entire Communications structure in place at PBU. Basically, an overhaul of the system was needed.

About three weeks after our first meeting, I met with Lisa again and she offered me a position as a Communications Specialist in the new Communications and Marketing Department at PBU.

I accepted the job. Next week I’ll start full-time at PBU, but I’ve been going in a few afternoons to get my feet wet. Rethinking the whole system is going to be a big task, especially as we’re putting together a new team to do so. It will be a challenge, but I’m looking forward to it.

Oh, and meanwhile, I’ll teach two freshman English courses at PBU and possibly a course for home-school high school seniors this fall, too.

Celebrate and Pray with Me:

· Thank God for His provision of a good job in an economy where so many are struggling.

· Praise the Lord for His guidance in the education I received that prepared me adequately for this new position.

· Pray that I’ll find a new apartment. Working at PBU means I’ll daily be in Langhorne, about 40 minutes from where I’m currently living. Therefore, I’m looking for new digs closer to campus.

· Pray for God’s continued provision for my needs, my health, and my energy.

· Pray for the new Communications and Marketing Department at PBU, that we would be able to handle the tasks set before us and that we would be able to communicate the value of a biblical education to the varied audiences PBU reaches.

Where I Am Now – Keeping Focused

This morning, someone made a comment about passages of Scripture that have, in the past, impacted you so deeply that they’ve become a part of the fabric of your being. At the words, I cast my memory back and thought of passages like that in my life.

The first to come to mind was a verse in Second Timothy that resonated with me in times of struggle during college, hard times when I didn’t even have the strength to pursue Christ: “If we are faithless, He remains faithful—for He cannot deny Himself.” Having the strength for faith isn’t something I’m currently struggling with, but the verse still resonates—it is a truth I rely upon and live in.

Today, though, I went back to the beginning of the chapter to take a look at that verse in context. I wanted to see what I was to do with the phrase right before the one I’d grasped: “If we deny Him, He will also deny us.” It’s a frightening verse, really. What does it mean by the word deny?

These days, my spiritual struggles are wrapped up in the struggles of others. I have friends and mentors who have turned their back on the God who is my life-force; friends and mentors with whom I learned Christ and a biblical worldview. And I do not know what to do with that. If God taught me something through the words or actions of a friend, and that friend no longer follows that teaching, what am I to do? How am I to comprehend that teaching now? Through prayer and consideration, I’ve come to realize that my philosophy that God’s Truth is Truth, no matter in what vehicle it is presented, applies here, too. But even so, the struggle remains. My faith is currently secure. By God’s grace, I am not doubting His person, His faithfulness, His goodness, His justice. But these friends cannot say the same—and some have said the very opposite; they have rejected God.

So I read the whole passage again, finding myself in a different position than when I last spent time looking at it. This is what I read:

“You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus, and what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also. Share in sufferings as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him. An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops. Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything.

“Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel, for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound! Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect; that they also may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory. The saying is trustworthy, for:
If we have died with Him, we will also live with Him;
if we endure, we will also reign with Him;
if we deny Him, He will also deny us;
if we are faithless, He remains faithful—
for He cannot deny Himself.” (2 Timothy 2:1-13)

Who am I in all this? Where do I stand today? I am the “child” addressed at the very beginning. I’m exhorted to be strengthened by Jesus’ grace, by the truth I’ve heard all my life. I’m commanded to pass this truth along—which is what I’m doing right now.

I’m to pursue Christ single-mindedly, undistracted by those around me who doubt. Not without care for them, but with the knowledge that my pursuit benefits them, as a soldier’s obedience to this commander serves everyone he protects. Yes, certainly, there is reward for faithfulness, like the athlete’s crown or the farmer’s crop, but that is secondary to the soldier’s focus upon his commander. That aim to please the commander comes with hardship sometimes; soldiers are asked to lay their very lives on the line, but their aim is not focused upon the suffering, rather the goal.

And what is that goal? That Truth will be heard and understood. Paul exhorts me to remember Christ Jesus. He is bound for the sake of the Truth, but the Truth still speaks, still goes on. Paul sets aside his own cares; he shows the soldier how to endure the suffering for others’ sakes.

This is where things get nitty-gritty and theological, and I’m not sure if I’ve got it all right, or even exactly how it plays out in real life, but here’s what I’m thinking on the end of the passage. Paul says he endures everything for the sake of the elect, and it is in that context that he says what follows. He knows the elect will be saved, but he wants them to obtain salvation with eternal glory…living fully forever, starting now.

The saying Paul quotes at the end of the passage is the part I’ve always spent time upon. There’s salvation: dying with Christ and also living with Him. There is suffering and reward: enduring and reigning. And then that denial. Those who deny Christ will be denied. So who are these ones? I think, based in the idea of election, these are those who are not elect, who were never saved to begin with. The faithless, on the other hand, are believers who falter, either through willful sin or simple exhaustion. To them, Christ remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself – and they have co-died and co-lived with Him.

So where does it leave me with these friends who have turned their backs on the Savior who suffered for them? I mourn to think that some of them may have denied Him from the start, and they will be denied by Him. But others, even those who have shaken their fists in His face and said, “I will not serve!” may still yet find Him faithful. For He cannot deny Himself, and they are His.

I wish I could figure out who falls into which category. I wish I could shake those who have lost faith and say, “Wake up! Don’t you see? He’s still here! He hasn’t given up on you!” Right now, I don’t have the opportunity to say those words, but at least I can keep my focus and hope He speaks through my life. I also co-died and co-live with Christ. He is my commander. It is He for whom I compete, for whom I work. And it is that that will benefit those friends around me; it is that which will point to the Truth. I love that right in the middle of this whole passage there’s an encouragement to think on all this, and a promise that God will give understanding. I don’t know if I’ve got it yet…but I’ll keep my focus.

Unfathomed Mystery

It's funny - strange, really: grief. One of those mysteries of life we experience as human beings but never really understand.

This week I watched episodes from the show Roswell--not a series of great depth or insight in general, mostly just fluffy teen pulp with aliens thrown in for good measure. An entertaining diversion, but not much more. But there was an episode I saw in which one of the main characters died in an accident and the rest of them dealt with the loss. It was a very real hour of drama. Despite the random alien elements of the show, it took the time to focus on how death affects us as humans, how we grieve.

I've been grieving lately, that's no secret. My niece died in January and the loss has marked me forever. As I watched that episode this week, I shed a few tears for Keren. But here's where grief bewilders me: that recent loss was not at the forefront of my mind as I watched. Instead, I found myself once again grieving the loss of my friend Carrie Wolfe who died in 2003.

I got word of Carrie's death just after we'd finished celebrating my birthday a day early. The next morning, the day I turned 22, I awoke to the knowledge that my friend was gone. It was not the happiest birthday I've ever had.

In the Roswell episode, on the morning after the accident, one of the guys, Kyle, awakes to his typical morning routine but then, remembering, he crawls back into his bed. His dad comes in and, sitting next to him, says, "Not a very happy day, is it? I want to tell you something. It may not seem like much, but you need to know it: your friend died yesterday, not today. Have a happy birthday, son."

At those words, the loss of Carrie washed over me once more, and it was followed by a wave of relief. I'd never realized how closely I've connected Carrie's death and my birthday in my mind. With the words of a fictional character on a silly television show, God reached into my heart and set up a hedge of proper separation between the two events.

I lost a friend, and that loss is a thing to grieve, and the knowledge that Carrie is in heaven is a thing to rejoice over, and the anniversary of the day I was born is a thing to celebrate. But they are not one event. I can commemorate each, day after day. Though they fell together in time, here on this earth, God holds them each in His hands individually, having known since before the dawn of Creation that He would place both grief and happiness in my life and that they would become intermingled. But to give each event its own value, I cannot remember them as one. Instead, I should hold them separately, as precious memories in my heart.

Random and Ridiculous

An occasional assortment of things I've found of (humorous) note:

1. T'other day, I drove through a neighborhood on the way home from work. In one lawn stands a lightpost. That day, there was a bright yellow recycling garbage can upturned over the lamp post. I'm still not quite sure why.

2. Sometime in the media blitz that followed the American Idol win of Kris Allen, I saw a clip from the first morning after his win. He arrived at a red carpet press gathering early in the morning after only a couple hours of sleep to begin the morning show interviews. Upon arrival he was greeted by a woman (some sort of publicist or something), who asked him if he'd gotten any sleep and then offered to get him a cup of coffee. He accepted the offer and she took off. A little while later she returned, and pulling him aside between interviews handed him what I know to be a venti-sized Starbucks reusable mug. "Thanks! Oh, look at this," Allen said, admiring the mug. "Yeah, we're being eco-conscious, too!" the woman replied. "Vanilla latte, right?" Kris took a gulp. "Wow," he said. "Thank you."

And I laughed. Originally offered: Cup of Coffee: $1 at a 7-11. Recieved? Mug: $19, Vanilla Latte: $5. Yep, that "cup of coffee" was worth nearly $25. Welcome to your new life, Kris.

3. Yesterday, my friend Courtney and I went to Max & Erma's for dinner. The closest one is more than half an hour away, so it's a treat to head there. I, confident in my memory of the direction, did not look it up again before going. My confidence obviously misplaced, my memory failed me and when I took what I thought was the right exit, I found myself feeling that I was headed in the wrong direction. Courtney offered to pull out her GPS and fix the problem for me by typing in Max & Erma's and getting the Garmin to lead us there. When she did so, the woman in the little box informed me that I was headed in the right direction and that Max & Erma's was less than four miles ahead. Still slightly suspicious, I believed the determined voice of the woman, and drove on. Then she told me to turn right. Doing so, I found myself in a neighborhood. Continuing along, I followed her directions through the neighborhood back to a main road where she told me I'd arrived at my destination. I looked right. There was an STS Tires, Honeybaked Ham, and Curves. None of those were Max & Erma's. After a little fiddling, I found the right town on the Garmin's map and she eventually led us to our destination, which was, after all, in the direction I'd originally thought was correct. Silly GPS.

4. In the course of the above adventure, Courtney informed me that when she first got the GPS she wanted to call it Jack Bauer, 'cause it was so often useful for getting her out of a pinch. But, realizing that the little black box had a woman's voice, Courtney found that Jack Bauer was probably not the best namesake for the little device. So instead, she named it Sydney Bristow. "I usually just call it that to myself, though," she said. "Not many people understand." I, of course, understood completely, having often attempted to name myself Sydney Bristow whenever I have some sort of experience that I can remotely connect to being spy-like.

Did America Get It Wrong?

For weeks, now, Adam Lambert has been proclaimed the preordained holder of the American Idol crown. He fit the bill, too: powerful vocals, huge personality, determined glint in his eye. Adam singing a cheesy victory song with confetti raining down around him at the Nokia seemed a foregone conclusion.

Then Ryan opened the envelope and read the winner’s name: Kris Allen. The guy from Arkansas, the boy next door, the “dark horse” takes home the crown.

How did it happen? Even before the confetti began to fall online message boards were throwing accusations around: “Did people not vote for Adam because he might be gay?,” “They must have messed up the tally!,” etc. Shall we shut the door on the accusations straight away? America voted. America got what it wanted.

Surprisingly, perhaps, for Simon Cowell, America doesn’t want Whitney, Celine, or Mariah anymore. Paula Abdul might be shocked to learn that glam rock is no longer in style. Randy could be mistaken in thinking that vocal ability is all it takes to make a star. Kara may be surprised to discover that “artistry” has been redefined in recent days.

I’m not trying to put anyone down. I love classic rock and glam rock. I recognize the powerhouse vocals of the divas of the late 20th Century. I state unequivocally that Adam Lambert is an amazing vocalist.

But I think America has chosen from its heart, rather from nostalgia or homage to ability. The past six months have been tough ones for this country. The economy is in bad shape, the promised change is not as quick to arrive as the voters expected it to be, friends and loved ones are still in danger in Iraq and Afghanistan. American Idol has played its role admirably this season. It has been an escape.

For a season that so many found difficult to “get into,” Idol has, in recent weeks particularly, become a nail-bitingly close competition between remarkably different contestants. The final five could not have been more individually unique: Matt, the jazz singer; Allison, the rocker; Danny, the crooner; Adam, the glam; and Kris, the boy with his guitar. Yet their performances on Rat Pack night were almost equally good. There wasn’t a let-down in the bunch. Matt went home, but it wasn’t because of “My Funny Valentine,” the jazz classic. Allison the rocker went home in Rock week, singing Janis Joplin’s “Cry Baby” with a passion that rivaled the original. Danny left after crooning “You Are So Beautiful.” Each went out on a high note.

The same could be said of Adam. While I found his vocal stylings awe-inspiring from the get-go, I have to say I struggled to be an Adam fan. His pattern of back-and-forth manic-and-maudlin performances got dull after the first few. He is a man of extremes: screaming (perfectly on pitch) the lyrics to “Whole Lotta Love” or delicately handling “Tracks of My Tears” in a falsetto, Adam rarely used the middle ground. But in his final performances, he found the center, singing “A Change is Gonna Come” with a strong, full, restrained voice. Even so, Adam didn’t take the crown. America voted for Kris.

When his name was read, Kris seemed shocked. “Adam deserves this,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He was right. That said, he deserved it no less himself. Both men had week upon week of solid performances. Both men had a slight misstep (Adam with “Ring of Fire,” Kris with “All She Wants to Do is Dance”), both an “off” performance (Adam’s “One,” Kris’s “The Way You Look Tonight”).

The difference between the two is the difference between the entertainer and the everyman. Adam is entertaining. No matter whether you loved him or hated him, you watched, just to see what he would do next. Every performance was expertly crafted, so well that the stitches were invisible, but crafted nonetheless. His confident attitude assured us we were in the hands of a proficient. Kris, on the other hand, is everyman. He picked up his guitar or sat down at his piano just like he would in your living room, with gentle, but complete, authority. He understood that he couldn’t compete with the belting power of Adam, or Allison, or even Lil, so instead he imbued his performances with a quiet, moving passion. His humility, so annoying to Simon Cowell, made everyone else smile; his genuine surprise at his success brought joy to everyone watching.

America chose the everyman. With Adam, a distance was created: he was the performer, we were his audience. We reveled in our role, for who doesn’t like to be audience to a great performance? But we didn’t intimately connect with this entertainer, who, after all, seems by all accounts to also be a really nice guy. He was confident, but never cocky. He was polished, but grateful for good advice. He pointed the spotlight upon those who helped him and those he worked with. All this and a great voice, yet Adam’s not the American Idol.

Instead, the American Idol is the guy who said, “Don’t cry, Momma,” when mothers around the country are shedding tears over how to pay next month’s bills. He’s the guy who sang about hopefully pointing a sinking boat toward home when families are trying to keep from drowning in their troubles. He put aside the band and the back-up singers and invited us to join him as he sang. Instead of his audience, we were his listeners, and we heard greatness in the quietude.

2009 is the year that a little movie about choosing love over money took home the Oscar. 2009 is the year that Kris Allen became the American Idol. Both things you wouldn’t expect in a country looking for escape.

Did America get it right? Did the best man win, or even the better man? Let’s set aside the superlatives. They don’t seem to matter at all this morning. Both Kris and Adam deserve their moments of glory. If 19 Entertainment has any foresight at all they’ll give both record deals, because America still loves the diversion of the entertainer, even when our heartstrings are tugged by the decent humility of the everyman.

A Few Notes on My Weekend

1. While originally intended to be a party of multiple members of an older generation and multiple members of a younger generation, Friday night ended up being just me and Kristina - so, at least we got one representative from each generation - since the Rebeccas were both busy, as was the Christine, the Courtney, and the Bonnie. Anyway, the purpose and intention of this gathering was to introduce the wonders of Newsies to the younger generation. Kristina, born in the year the film was released (oh, goodness I'm old!) had never seen the movie. As a girl who spent many, many hours of my teen years watching Christian Bale and David Moscow singing and dancing their way through the streets of New York (or, at least, Disney's version of the streets of New York), I felt it was my civil responsibility to correct the egregious error of Newsies omission in Kristina's education.

She liked it. My favorite moment of the evening: after telling me that she'd just recently seen The Dark Knight with her brother and his girlfriend, Kristina began to examine the Newsies DVD case. She pointed to a picture of Jack and said, "Who is this actor? He looks familiar." My reply: "Um, well, that's Batman. Much younger."

2. Friday morning when I got to work at five AM, it was thirty-five degrees outside. By noon on Saturday, it was ninety. This weekend, when I wasn't working, I spent time in front of fans and finding new things to freeze in my freezer.

3. Last weekend I mentioned to mi madre that I'd love to have some of the Tupperware popsicle forms that we had when I was growing up. She went to the basement, pulled out her two sets, and handed them to me. Thrilled, I packed them up and brought them back to Philly. I was not expecting to use them quite this soon, but I was glad to have them yesterday afternoon when I had apples to use up before they went bad, so I quickly made applesauce and then filled the popsicle forms with it. I've been eating applesauce pops for a day...they're delicious.

4. So far, with the applesauce pops, tank tops and shorts, the fans, and the shades down at every sunny window, I've managed to remain at a decent body temperature these past few days. However, I'm looking forward to Wednesday when the high is supposed to be sixty-eight.

And looking forward:

5. Tonight is Chuck's season finale. I live in fear that it will not be renewed. If that is the case, I will weep. Okay, maybe not weep, but definitely be sad. That said, I've decided that I would totally hire Zachary Levi to be in my coffeshop sitcom, if only just to hang out with him, 'cause he seems pretty cool.