out the front door

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Tumblr Tuesday: Women’s History Month

Who Needs Feminism? All of us.

Equality for HER Health Educational Rights (HER) has been celebrating WHM (Women’s History Month) with biographical snippets and minimalistic portraits of influential women past and present.

Women of Library History Name some badasses. “The Navy SEALS?” Sure. “B-613?” Maybe. “The Feminist Task Force of the American Library Association?” Fuck yes. Shout out to our Tumblarians.

Cool Chicks from History Chicks have been cool since forever.

Stop Telling Women to Smile An art series letting you know that it’s not okay to tell women to smile.

Photo via Who Needs Feminism?

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I tried to shut the door on you, but it was too late- you already made your home in my amygdala and I couldn't cut you out without losing part of me.

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Beaded Doll Necklace | MollyMoo

What I love about this little lady is that she has so many uses! I know my niece would love her on a necklace (and is so much sweeter than the plastic junk I see in the shops). But I can see her hanging from a pair of keys, or even attached to a zipper on a bag! You could even paint little doll versions of your friends and attach them to gifts!

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Learn Calligraphy Basics | Julie Blanner

I’ve been wanting to learn calligraphy for ages (and just won a set on eBay for $4!) but there’s no classes near me and the only online class I could find is $95! Then like some kind of kismet I find this awesome free online calligraphy course! If you’re like me and want to learn, go and start your first lesson!

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Bargaining chips

“I begged God to take me instead.” Words spoken by a man whose wife was in the hospital, brain dead. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. It seems like it ought to be enough. Why should it matter to the Almighty whose life? As long as a life is taken, it ought to be enough. Fair trade. But we can’t bargain with God. Perhaps subconsciously, most of us know this truth. And yet, faced with a situation in which we find ourselves powerless, we use the only bargaining chip we have: ourselves. Whether it be our life, our time, our focus, whatever we find that we have withheld from the God who has allowed this chaos into our lives. Broken and empty we hold it out to Him, praying that by some divine mercy He will relent, take our empty offerings and give us back what was taken from us. We prayed desperately before that final exam our senior year in college ‘just give me a passing score and I will give you whatever it takes. I will do whatever it takes. Just let me pass.” And we do pass and we forget our desperation and our promises, believing instead that somehow the “miracle” of a passing grade was bought by our own merit. Perhaps I did study harder than I felt like I did. But when something much larger, something world-shattering hits us and we are left completely powerless, like the man whose wife is brain dead, forced to acknowledge the reality of the situation, we find we turn to whatever power-that-be that ordains this universe, regardless of whether or not we’ve spoken recently. We turn to whatever or whoever we can in an attempt to cling to the normalcy of our world. And we try to bargain with God; blind to the blood-splattered nails at our feet. Deaf to roar of the heavy shroud of the grave as it was ripped in half. A tooth for a tooth. A life for a life.

[handfulofquietness]

We grow wary of light

because behind it hovers

darkness, and it is not a question

of if the darkness will return,

but when. For the darkness

and the light are battling

for our very souls.

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Part 1: 62nd National Prayer Breakfast

As part of the fellow program, Mary Nell, Katie and I had the opportunity to serve at the 62nd Annual National Prayer Breakfast this week in Washington, D.C. I will confess, while I was excited about visiting our capital for the first time, I was skeptical about the prayer breakfast. It was going to be a lot of wishy-washy, liberal mumbo jumbo I thought. Well, as it turns out, I was mostly wrong. We arrived late Monday night at our host couple's apartment in Falls Church. Since they had to work the next morning, they had gone on to bed- in fact, we only met the wife- and I didn't meet her till we were leaving on Thursday. They were very kind to let three strangers stay for three days without seeing them. We headed to the metro about eleven Tuesday morning. Since we didn't have to be at the Washington Hilton until that evening, we figured we'd sight see a bit first. The metro in DC is more expensive than in NYC- they have "peak hours" which double the price of a ticket. We spent a good bit of time trying to figure out how much we needed on our card with the help of the kind metro worker, the metro stole $20 from me (which I need to call about) and eventually we got ourselves straightened out. I will say, that thanks to our previous experience in NYC last semester, the metro this time was a breeze. We had one near-miss moment of panic when we realized that this was our stop just before the doors closed, but we made it. i am glad we could provide some humor to those we left on the metro. And we had one true miss, when on Thursday night, out of sheer exhaustion we misread the line and got on the wrong train. This was soon remedied a couple of stops down and we were none the worse for it. So, Tuesday afternoon. It was bitterly cold, and Katie and I had layered as much as possible while at the same time trying to look respectable since we would not have a chance to change before we were greeting important people at the hotel later. I'm pretty sure I would have bounced if I had fallen down- which MN did at one point, on purpose. I still have no idea what happened. We exited the metro at the smithsonian, and walked towards the memorials, where I found Mississippi in the WWII monument, and the girls found North Carolina. Then we trekked along what I assume was the reflecting pool, but because of, I also assume, the frigid temperatures, there was naught but one depressing puddle in one corner. I tried not to take it personally. At the far end of the reflecting pool sits the Lincoln memorial. The walk from the smithsonian to Lincoln is much further than I had expected, and by the time we reached him, the endless flights of stairs seemed, well endless.. Which they really aren't- Lincoln has to sit somewhere, which happens to be at the end of the stairs. The steps were also icy, which made the journey that much more perilous. However, I am happy to report that the three of us made it to his feet with no mishap. Lincoln was the main memorial I had wanted to visit. There is truly an air of respect in about him, most people seemed subdued as they paid their respects. After Lincoln, we embarked on a long quest to find food, which we eventually found, ever so many blocks north. After lunch, we walked several blocks over to the White House, listened to a protester until we decided the reason we weren't sure what he was protesting wasn't our fault, and made our way back to the smithsonian. We toured the space and air museum briefly- unfortunately briefly, we were all three rather uncomfortable about how a certain shady trio kept popping up wherever we were. It was probably nothing, but it was enough to make it impossible to enjoy the displays properly. We then found Starbucks and recaffinated in preparation of a busy, late night ahead. We headed to DuPont circle to make our way up Connecticut avenue to the hotel. One of my favorite things about DC are the historic buildings you see every where. The architecture is beautiful, and the older buildings give a sense of historical grandeur. They are also, by modern standards, not very tall, so one can see the sky and breathe properly. Unlike in NYC. We found the hotel, the Washington Hilton, which until last year, had the largest ballroom in the city. Which is part of why it was chosen for the NPB. MN and I registered and found our respective stations and promptly got to work. I worked the international registration desk, which was quite fun once I got the hang of it and figured out how not to throw away tickets. The other volunteers were very kind and patient as I tried to figure out how everything worked. MN was a greeter, at which you know she excelled. We got off earlier then expected and had a chance to hang out a bit in the downstairs lobby. Katie came along to drive us and make sure we didn't start a riot, but mostly so she could network with people for the Toloha Water Project. She and MN are extroverts, which I am exceedingly thankful for as it would have been more difficult to meet people without them. I'm not used to introducing myself out of the blue to others, especially if they look important. That night we met members of the Indonesian parliament and a two-star general, who was very happy to have his picture taken with three American ladies, multiple times. We also met a member of the German parliament, who was very kind but quiet, and I think we blessed him by befriending him. We also met the director of Young Life from Armenia and a pastor with him. They were very excited to discover MN and Katie are YL leaders in Kinston, and gave them the highest compliment: "we saw you over there, and I thought, they are not normal. Now I know why- you are with young life!" At least, I am pretty sure it was supposed to be a compliment. Wednesday and Thursday we both served as ushers while Katie made friends and got tickets to various events. I realize I did not get to my skepticism about the whole event, but as I have taken such a long time just giving you a breakdown of our itinerary, I will go more in dept into that in part two.

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The thing about life is we tend to bring certain expectations to the table. Even if we claim to have low or no expectations, we still have the expectation that our expectations will not be met. I live in the South, where it only snows but once a year. We do not expect more than that one snow. That is part of why 90% of us live here, we hate cold and we live in a part of the US that expects one snow per year, at most. Welcome to North Carolina where it is now snowing the third time this winter. Apparently I am not far enough south. Although Mississippi is getting ice as well right now. Maybe I just need to move to the Bahamas. Or the Mediterranean. I could live in Greece.

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Leon

At the end of last week people began to through the word "snow" around. At first in a cautious whisper, and then, as more reliable data came in, it was said with eager anticipation. Snow was projected to fall Tuesday evening into Wednesday morning, and by Tuesday morning we saw totals of a foot being suggested. Then the snow was supposed to start midday. It didn't. It didn't start after five either, or by one Wednesday morning- because I was awake and peeked out the window. However, by the time I got up this morning around nine, there were several inches on the ground. And it was beautiful. A pure white blanket that softened the the harsh outlines of the trees left bare by the changing seasons. We watched the birds as they flocked to the feeders outside the large window in the sunroom. There were tufted titmice dressed in soft grey, brilliant red cardinals, sweet caroline wrens, chickadees, dark eyed juncos, gentle doves, a woodpecker, and a purple nuthatch. We even saw the red flash of a fox as he darted through the underbrush. It was lovely to sit there, sipping coffee and sharing life, warm and protected. Until I received a text from my mother saying that in Birmingham, AL, where my brother lived, the interstate was backed up for miles. People had been stranded there since Tuesday morning. The storm had hit hard and fast, and for a southern town, that spells disaster. They were only supposed to get a couple of inches of snow, but it blew in fast, and the schools and government didn't choose to shut things down in advance, because after all, it was only a couple of inches. Stranded on the highways, commuters are running out of gas, leaving their cars to walk miles under-clothed just to find shelter. My brother was stranded at a church member's house- he said the city looked like the apocalypse had struck. Even though I knew he was ok, it was still terrifying. For those people stuck with no where to go. I was struck by the contradiction between here in rural ENC and the larger cities of Birmingham and Atlanta. How could something so beautiful and seemingly peaceful wreak such havoc elsewhere? I know we can all find analogies here- it wouldn't be difficult. But I don't want to go there. I want you, dear reader, to find the analogy for me. What comes to your mind when you think of something so powerful and yet so innocent, pure? Snow, which in one place brings laughter and fun and joy, but elsewhere brings pain, suffering, and fear? I just saw a story that Chik-fi-la passed out free sandwiches to stranded motorists. Some stores stayed open all night just to provide shelter. I believe that as time progresses and more information gets out, more stories of hope and resiliency will be heard. Also, probably stories of greed and selfishness, because unfortunately that is human nature.

[handfulofquietness]

1.22.14

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The Hobbit: A Review **SPOILERS**

"This is Peter Jackson's adaptation of The Hobbit. It is not Tolkien's Hobbit. It is Peter Jackson's Hobbit. Inspired by the book, NOT the book. This is Peter Jackson's Hobbit..."

This was my mantra for the past couple of weeks as I tried to mentally prepare myself for seeing The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. I had low expectations for the first one, and while I definitely had issues with it, I more or less liked it, but I made sure to lower my expectations even more.

They were still disapointed. How do low expectations still manage to be disappointed?!

First, Jackson's adaptation cannot decide whether it wants to be a grown-up film or a children's film. The on-screen beheadings and lengthy battle scenes would try to convince a viewer that this movie is adult- what better way to say that then with violence? However, the film also carries with it child-like improbability- excessive even for a fantasy film. The escape methods defy imagination, and when Legolas started playing whack-a-dwarf as he hopped from one laden barrel to the next as he fights the chasing orcs, I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. I actually did that many times, and even may have snorted at a couple of scenes (Tauriel-love-triangle anyone??) or when the wounded but valiant Fili, who has just saved the Company by managing to open the water gate, pulls himself painfully to the other side and rolls off- landing smack in his unoccupied barrel as it rushes under the open gate. Or when the dwarves are running from Smaug, and a couple of them happen to land in the mining carts, or when....I could go on, but to really get the picture, just watch the movie. I found it hard to take the violence seriously when so much of the film was just plain ridiculous.

Second, the Tauriel-love-triangle thing I mentioned briefly in the first point. What was up with that? I have no problem with a female character in the movie (purist will note here that there are none mentioned in the book.), what I have a problem with is the whole dumb love-triangle between her, Legolas (who can't marry her because she is commoner and he is a prince- sound familiar?) and Fili (a dwarf, whose race is basically a sworn enemy of elves). There is a long, painful and ugly history between dwarves and elves, which Tolkien mentions many times- even referring to it in The Lord of the Rings- it takes Gimili and Legolas a long time to put aside grievances and become lasting friends- such good friends that Legolas even requests that Gimili be allowed to sail to the Grey Havens with him, something that had never been allowed before or since. For Jackson to suddenly ignore all that history and allow an Elven woman (captain of the guard) to be smitten with a lowly dwarf at first sight completely throws that history out the window. I would argue that she would never have seen him as more than dwarf rabble- at least at first. It would have taken a very long time for her to see past her preconcieved stereotypes. Psychology, people.

Third. So we all know that Jackson made The Lord of the Rings first, and even though each movie was three hours (excluding the extended versions), there was one movie per book. We also know that he has chosen to take The Hobbit- one, single book which also happens to be the shortest- and extend it into three movies. Three books = three movies. One book, approx. 300 pages = three movies. Roughly 100 pages per movie. It was predicted that Jackson would supplement with information found in other writings by Tokien, specifically those that explain why Gandalf leaves the company so suddenly at the eaves of Mirkwood. I would have been ok with that. However, the amount of supplemental material in DoS is actually very small compared to the unecessarily lengthy, drawn-out battle scenes and escapades. In fact, Jackson cuts original material to make room for more action. And by action I mean beheadings, high-speed barrel chases, and general slaughter. Beorn, which is one of my favorite parts in the book, got hardly any screen time, and there was none of the wonder or mystery attached. That scene could have been so much fun, and have given room for more character development for the dwarves, instead it was greatly pared down. The same thing with Smaug- Bilbo visits him a couple of times in the book- in the movie it felt very rushed. Everything happened in one visit. I would have loved to see it more drawn-out, more anticipation and suspense built.

Basically, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug is Jackson's attempt to ride the coattails of his previous success, LOTR. He attempts to capitalize on the popularity of the attachment of Tolkien's name without putting in much effort to ensure that his efforts add to the success. It felt like a sloppy film, as if he decided he didn't need to put much thought into it because people were going to go see it regardless, instead of intentionally and thoughtfully continuing the magic he started with LOTR. I'm ok with directors deviating from the original source as long as they make sure to maintain the integrity and spirit of the work, because there are obviously going to be some issues that arise in adapting a work for screen. DoS appears to be little more than a piece of money-generating fan fiction meant for those who haven't read the book, or don't care about the book. 

I will add here that the acting, as usual, was spot-on. Martin Freeman makes the perfect hobbit- the best interpretation of the Little People anyone has done. Benedict Cumberbatch does a great job with Smaug and I really liked the actor they chose for Bard. I'm still feeling out Lee Pace's Elven King, but I think that's just because I'm having a hard time subconciously getting past Ned. Still love the dwarves too- Richard Armitage is one of my favorite actors.

What are your thoughts? Agree? Disagree? Points I missed?

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on why writing terrifies me (honestly)

I used to write a lot when I was a teenager. Mostly fiction; short stories and such. In fact, I had at one point completed a novel which was ready for editing, when it disappeared from the computer hardrive. Never to be seen again. It may have been a blessing in disguise, but regardless, I think my writing died with it for a while. That is, until I discovered poetry.

I began writing poetry in college I think. I still was not churning out the massive volumes of work I thought I needed to be in order to bear the label of ‘writer’. My pieces were few and far in between. Looking back over my verse, I find a tendency towards the pensive and darker, brooding side of life. I don’t write happy poems. Not that they’re dreadfully melodramatic either; I write out of the hard and bewildering times in my own life. Poetry helps me provide a form for whatever I am trying to process without having to provide a definition. God knows how many things happen that just don’t make sense, for which words, marching along a page in perfect prose cannot be found to fully express.

It has only been in the past couple of months that I have dared to face the question of “what if”. What if I could be a writer? What if, however crazy it sounds, I am a writer? What if? Which has led me down the path of exploring who I am (or could be) as a writer. And I have discovered some not so pretty things about myself- my own skeletons in a closet.

I am terrified of writing.

There, I have said it. But it is true. And once I could name that fear, I could begin exploring the why. Why am I afraid of writing? And the answer, quite unpleasantly, came this past week.

I fear the vulnerability.

Most people write in order to process. That is precisely why I don’t write. Writing is difficult, and sorting out thoughts and emotions and trying to make sense of everything that hits you is much harder than some people realize. I think also, for a while I’ve been in survival mode- just trying to get through alive. I also avoid conflict, so it only seemed natural that I would also avoid writing about it. I should get a gold medal for avoidance. I am a star at it. I avoid conflict, vulnerability, and hard things, pushing them back in the corners of my mind until I no longer remember what they are, but they still hover uncomfortably at the fringes of my consciousness. So yeah, writing is about yourself- putting your fears, your opinions, your whatever- out there. For everyone to see. And its taken me a long time to be ok with that. That is also tied to a confidence problem, which is another topic.

In a way I feel I am learning how to write again. How to be open, and real; how to write with confidence and strength (and have the confidence and strength to stand behind it). Being aware that my opinion really does matter- and learning to be ok with that. I have to learn how to process things- which can be a hard thing to learn. I can sit down and help you think through the pros and cons like a pro (see what I did there?) but in helping myself process, I tend to either A) over process so much that I just shut down or B) block it out without acknowledging there is even something to process in the first place.

I guess now that I have acknowledged it, I have to do something about it, right? I can’t just lock it behind a door like I have for so long.

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On giving

Allow me to preface this by saying that I do not have children. However, I have been blessed to live with a family with young kids, and several friends have young ones as well. I have noticed a recurring conversation among these parents concerning the question of Santa Claus. Its that time of year when children write long wish lists and parents threaten and cajole them with a watching elf who reports back to the big man on their behavior. Is this a misplaced focus on the materialism of Christmas? Or is it merely trying to give our children something to believe in- the magic of Christmas? You have, on one hand, those who cannot comprehend not introducing their children to the man in the red suit; he is the very essence of Christmas spirit and to deny his existence to impressionable young ones is so Grinch-like its not be tolerated. On the other hand are those parents who desire more from the holiday than a fictional character used to manipulate children’s behavior in the last couple of weeks before the 25th (after which he will not be pertinent until Thanksgiving next year).

Regardless of where you stand on this rather sticky issue, there is much both sides can glean from understanding the history of Santa Claus, originally known as Saint Nicholas.  St. Nicholas was a real person who was born in the third century AD in what is now southern Turkey. He took the Biblical commandment ‘go, sell your possessions and give to the poor” literally and sold all he had to support the needy. He died on December 6, AD 343. Since then, many legends have arisen establishing the saint as a protector of the poor and needy, of children, and of sailors.

Santa Claus, while ultimately the same individual, evolved, as we know him, in America in the 1800s. An anonymous poem, in which he arrived in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, began to shift his image from that of a Christian saint to a man who rewarded children’s good behavior with gifts. This image was further solidified by the publication of “Twas the Night Before Christmas” a few years later. By the 1920s, Santa’s image of a jolly man who wore red suits and had a long beard was recognized across the country. In 1931, Coca-Cola began using Santa Claus in commercials promoting their products, thus beginning the tidal wave that has connected the ‘jolly old elf’ to countless products and services since.

Santa has become a byword for consumerism and materialism, both of which greatly afflict the American society at large. Regardless of whether you as parents choose to teach your children to believe in him or not, I feel we need to highlight the persona of St. Nicholas. Giving gifts is almost more fun for the parents than for the child receiving them. Why not give our children the same Christmas magic- that of giving to others? Instead of teaching children to focus on the wish lists and what they want, why not teach them the other half- the joy of giving? There are countless charities local and international that you, as a family can give to. World Vision has a “gift catalog”- let your children pick out a goat or chickens to gift to a family in need. Pay for someone’s order the next time you’re at a restaurant and let your kids write a note on the receipt. Bring cookies to a friend. There are countless ways to get involved; be intentional. Be culture-changers. For those of us who are Christians, Christmas is about the ultimate Gift- Christ being born. Santa should not be the focus, but he can be used to support it. Teach your kids early that Santa and Christmas magic is about the giving and helping and it will be a lesson they will carry with them throughout the next year and the rest of their lives. And don’t we all need some magic year round?

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Mississippi sees snow in NC

We had snow showers last night. Ok, it was a cross between snow and sleet- it definitely wasn’t just sleet, but the flakes were pretty crunchy balls- not big, wet intricate shapes that stick on your eyelids, making your mascara run. Regardless of your definition of ‘snow’, white stuff fell from the clouds, and this Mississippi girl calls white stuff falling from heaven, snow.

It was dark, I do not have a picture to record this marvelous event- surely November 13th has to be close to a record for earliest snow??

Also, based on my unscientific, casual observations, North Carolinians do not seem to get as excited about white precipitation as my Mississippi friends.Nobody mentioned the blessed occurrence then next day!

I tried to tell the clouds to swing back south, where they’d be more appreciated, but apparently they were tuckered out and needed a break. Sorry guys.

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Thy kingdom come

Last night was the Toloha Banquet and auction. I am so blessed to have been able to be part of the official launching of this cause.

Daniel Makako is from Tanzania and now lives here in Kinston. It is his hope and prayer to bring clean water to his village. Currently women must walk five miles, and the water is dirty.

This is where the banquet comes in. When I moved here in September, I heard references to Toloha and something about Africa, but I didd’t really pay attention- there are always fundraisers going on for Africa. I’m usuallly more inclined to stay close to home and focus on problem-solving in the US. But then I met Daniel Makoko, who used to live in Tanzania. He came to the US in 2001 leaving his wife and son behind. When he left, the villlagers charged him to “remember the village”. Part of that promise for Daniel, means bringing the village clean water. The banquet kicked off our fundraising efforts- we hope to break ground in January 2014 and we have to have between $40,000 and $50,000 to start.

I tend to look at Africa, and become overwhelmed with the need. Where does one even start? I think sometimes, it comes down to us, you and me, being willing to pick one, and say “I choose this”. We can’t do it all. we have to choose. One need is not greater than another, but for me, because I have now a personal connection to the village of Toloha through Daniel, I can say I choose Toloha.

It is a concept I have long struggled to grasp. It is much easier to allow yourself to become overwhelmed rather than actually doing something about the problem, because I feel like I am doing something without expending any real energy (I know, pathetic, but its true isn’t it?).

God didn’t call us to save the world, or even fix it. He already saved it, and is in the process of making it new and whole again. We are called to join in this ‘kingdom work’ as NT Wright puts it. It doesn’t always mean buying a one-way ticket to Africa. It can mean that, don’t get me wrong. But we do not have to do huge, ground-shaking things to join in on Jesus’ kingdom work. Let me repeat that: we do not have to do radical, earth-shaking things in order to live for Christ. If he calls you to that, all power to you. But what about the rest of us?

Remember the story about the talents? we must learn to be faithful with what we were given. Where we are. I don’t necessarily believe God has called us to stay safe- he wants complete and reckless abandonment. For us to come to a place where we can trust him regardless of what culture says, or our families say, or society says. But, reckless abandonment to Christ doesn’t always have to mean buying that one-way ticket. Sometimes, being ‘sold-out’ to Christ is the hardest when we aren’t called to move to a third-world country. Sometimes living by grace and faith is the most challenging in the daily grind, where we don’t have to rely every hour on God for the next meal. Where we are comfortable, and it can be hard to see God’s handprints in our lives because days blur together and we get lost in an 8-5 routine.

God placed Toloha in front of me, even if it wasn’t something I would have naturally gravitated towards. It was a need that is very near me that I could help meet because of my gifts. Where is there a need that God has placed near you? Step outside the box.

Be a kingdom-maker.

**For more information about the Toloha Water Project, visit us on the web at http://www.tolohapartnership.org or on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/TolohaPartnership