Growing Up

Post written by Bridget Strub.

photo courtesy of DeaPeaJay

In case you haven’t heard yet, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. This past weekend though, I’ve started feeling nostalgic about life in a funky way and it’s affecting my Christmas spirit. I keep looking back on where I’ve been, and wondering where in the world I’m headed. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I’m missing the boat somewhere. As I wade through my thoughts, one thing has become unpleasantly clear. I’m growing up, and I hate it. This realization has begun to suck the wonderful out of this time of year. Depressing, I know. Not something I should be writing a week and a half before Christmas, I know. I guess I’m just hoping to find some clarity by processing my thoughts in writing. Better yet, maybe you can share some of your wisdom with me as I sort through this season of wondering.

To give you a reference for when this all started, I was in the car with Pete on our way to a Christmas party. I had been feeling a little reflective that day, but a song on the radio seemed to pull my thoughts right out of my head. The song kept repeating the lines,

I’ve overcommitted myself.
I guess this is growing up.
I’m sleeping so little these days.
I guess this is growing up.
I have a feeling things are about to change.
I’m guessing this is growing up.

So it may not seem revolutionary by the look of it. In fact as I copied those lyrics I couldn’t help but feel a little childish. I recognize that they’re pretty simplistic, but I heard the song in one of those moments that seems to make everything clear. The kind of moment that can never be replicated. The kind that happens when you’re lost in your thoughts while looking out the window of a moving car and you suddenly hear every detail of each chord played and harmony sung as clearly as if the musician had reached into your heart and yanked out what you’d been feeling and put words to it. I love those kinds of moments. They are epic. Those kinds of moments leave imprints on my soul. Those kinds of moments get archived into my memory as treasured scenes from my life’s movie. Those kinds of moments generally make me feel alive. In this situation though, I was left more with questions than with exuberance. Those questions have been amplified as my weekend trudged on, and I’m not quite sure where to go from here.

What I do know is that Pete and I don’t have a ton of commitments these days. We have our jobs, and a few nights a week that require our attention. Otherwise we’re pretty free to sit on the couch most evenings. The strange thing is that when we get to our busy weekends, we feel as though we’ve sprinted to a finish line and need a week to recover. Ironically, in our dating and early married years were defined by over commitment, but had ample time to spend with each other and had tons of fun in the process. We loved having good ole fashioned, irresponsible fun. In fact, we were the king and queen of fun country. We didn’t care about the repercussions of staying up late or pushing ourselves beyond our limits. We lived for those moments. We thrived on the busyness…until it caught up to us and we bottomed out…hard. It seems as though we’ve never fully recovered from that and the only culprit I see in that is age.

I’m a perpetual 23 year-old in my mind. After acknowledging each birthday since then, I’ve reverted back to the age I was when I was queen of fun country. I have an image etched in my mind of a girl dancing barefoot through a field of tall grass, hair tossed by the wind, not a care in the world, laughing. That’s the world I long to live in, but then I have moments like the one in the car the other night and my bubble is burst. I don’t know how to get back there, and it scares me to think that my life will continue on in this pattern of disappointment. Sure, I’m a more responsible woman who has held a steady job for three years now. Yes, I can pay my mortgage and other bills on time each month. Woo hoo, I have a savings account. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But where’s the fun? Where’s the adventure? What am I doing to change the world? I miss the uninhibited passion I had to reach out and grab hold of my dreams. I don’t even know where those dreams are anymore. That scares me. I used to live for dreaming, for possibilities and action. I used to be a world changer. Where have I gone?

I’m reluctant to move forward into adulthood, but know the doors of my 23 year-old life have long since closed. What am I supposed to do in the mean time? Who am I meant to be? I have a hard time finding a place for the queen of fun country in the “appropriateness” of being a professional, well-behaved woman. I guess what I’m trying to say is I recognize this is growing up, but I don’t think I can do it gracefully and am scared I’m going to fall into the abyss of a monotonous, ineffective life. I miss that little girl in the field with possibilities as endless as the sky. I miss the laughter, joy and the heart behind it all. I have to go find her.

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Winter!

Post written by Pete Strub.

photo courtesy of laserstars

To me winter means three months without sunlight. Three months of driveway shoveling. Three months of double-long commutes. Three months of wondering whether this will be the day I drive into a ditch for the third time (What? You haven’t done that before?). Three months of bulky winter coats. Three months of salt marks on my shoes. Three months of our dog Monty dragging me like a dogsled through the snow on walks. Three months without my bike or my running shoes. Three months of chapped lips. Three months of depression. In short, I’m not a big fan of winter. If it wasn’t for people around here that I really love and like, I’d be out of Rochester. I would move to the south and spend Christmas on the beach. I know that some of you probably look forward to the winter and cherish such things as snowmobiling, skiing, or snowboarding. Personally, these are all sports I could do without. If I have to dress like an Eskimo to do something, there is no way it can be fun. If I was sure that global warming had the potential to eliminate winter, I would buy a Hummer and spray aerosol like it’s the 80’s. There are, however, exactly two good things about winter. The first is snow days. As a teacher, I get to stay home on snow days – this is ridiculously awesome. The second good thing about winter happened to me today for the first time.

Getting on the road on the way home from work today, it was clear that it was not going to be a normal drive home. Usually my drive home from school is my own personal NASCAR race, but in the snow I turn into an elderly woman. This evening, the roads were bad enough that just about everyone had gone into grandmother mode (no offense grandmothers). It took me forty-five minutes to make a drive that normally takes me eighteen minutes. And this, believe it or not, is the other thing that I really like about winter. A couple of times each winter, the weather is bad enough, that everybody’s plans get wrecked and everything slows down or comes to a stop. I look forward to these days. We all know that we move too fast in our world, but very few of us will take the initiative to slow down on our own. These bad weather days feel like a reminder that there are bigger and more powerful things than our busy schedules and to-do lists. I think that God loves these days, too. We are forced to be slow, be still, and peel back the layers busyness and stress. The only way we can mess up these wonderful days is to fight the slow-down. I suggest we just succumb to the slowness, give up our to-do lists, and enjoy. Or we could all move down south…

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Cookie Commotion

Post written by Bridget Strub.

photo courtesy of Link576

Each year around Christmas time I set some pretty lofty goals for myself that involve Christmas cards arriving in people’s homes by the third week of December, having all my gifts purchased and wrapped before Thanksgiving, and decorating the house from top to bottom on Black Friday – after I’ve spent the morning bargain hunting for the cheapest prices of the season of course. Here I sit at the end of the first weekend in December and I’ve not purchased the cards yet or even attempted to search through the attic for our Christmas decorations. I have started my shopping, but am sure the rest of it will be done with minutes to spare on the 23rd. That just seems to be the way it goes each year. Each year since I’ve been married I’ve set those ambitions for myself and each year I’m let down as the month slips by and my goals get shoved into the background. Last year we didn’t even buy a tree! There is one tradition, though, that was established my first year of marriage and I’ve cherished it ever since.

Pete’s family has a rich history of recipes passed from generation to generation. It’s not unusual to see recipe cards with handwriting from my mother-in-law’s grandmother or recipes with titles of Aunts or Uncles names in it. Each Strub family get-together is marked by a hearty main course, savory side dishes, and baked goods to die for. Christmas is no exception in the Strub household. Each year Pete and I get together with his parents and sister or sisters to make not one, not two, but six different kinds of Christmas cookies. It is an all day occasion filled with hot, hard work, but the memories I have as a result of those days with my family is priceless.

Just today Pete and I spent close to seven hours mixing, measuring and frosting cookies. In the midst of those hours though I was able to share life with people I love. I got to play hide and seek, tickle fight and some other games I didn’t really understand with my four year old nephew. I heard the incredible heart of my father-in-law as we shared a conversation about the world. I learned from the wisdom of my mother-in-law and shared laughs with my sister-in-law. All of these moments, though easily taken for granted, were priceless. I won’t get that time back.

As I left the house exhausted, arms full of sweet goodies, I realized how much I appreciate the excuse food provides to get people together. We use the excuse to catch up with old friends over coffee and a pastry. We use the excuse to get to know a significant other more intimately over a meal. We use food as an excuse, or opportunity rather, to share life, love, and community with those around us whom we hope to learn from. Food is unique in that way. It’s really one of the only things in the worlds that brings people together no matter how far apart they are.

While Christmas cookie making is not the healthiest of the holiday traditions to uphold, the company shared in that time is invaluable. I’ll sacrifice the health of my body a little in order to connect with my family every day. Now, if I could just figure out those Christmas cards and decorations…

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The Family That Sweats Together Stays Together

Post written by Bridget Strub.

photo courtesy of Yoppy

More than a few weeks ago I wrote an article about being stuck in bad eating habits. Since we’re all still a little hung over from our Thanksgiving indulgences I figured today would be as good as any to give an update on my self proclaimed “stuck-ness.” I should preface this article by saying that I just downed a 44-ounce cup of Mountain Dew and an entire theatre size box of Tropical Typhoon flavored Mike an Ikes. Surprisingly enough, though, this could shape up to be a pretty positive report.

You should know something about me. I have a hard time making commitments to things, luckily not my relationship with Pete, but in virtually every other area in my life. I once had seven jobs in one year. I was only fired from one of them thank you very much. I’ve written and rewritten a five-year plan over ten times in the last five years. And my latest achievement? I’ve had five different gym memberships in the last four years – three of them being in the last year.

At the end of last school year I joined the gym at my Alma Mater St. John Fisher College. It was the best deal in town, it was right on my way to and from work, and they had TVs in front of all the cardio machines. There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t still be going there. But, in August the Bills took over campus and I was scared I’d run in to T.O., no, not really, but it was such a hassle to get there so I stopped going. Even when fall hit and the Bills were well into their pathetic season (minus their game this past Sunday) I continued to stay away. My excuses were plentiful, and every time I drove past Fisher and saw it stare me down on 490 the guilt was as heavy as my newly accumulated pounds.

At that point I joined the Iron Butterfly in Victor because I figured I should try working out in the morning before school so I didn’t have any excuse in the afternoon. Turns out that 5:30 am has a whole new batch of excuses to offer someone whose husband is still snoring contentedly in the warm bed. Most recently, about three weeks ago, I joined the JCC in Brighton thinking if my gym was closer to me I wouldn’t have as hard of a time waking up to go in the morning. That was a stupid assumption. It’s not easy to get up in the morning. In fact, I still hate it. There have been a few mornings that I have consciously decided to sleep in. But rather than give up for the day, I’ve made sure to go to the gym after work on those days. I’ve even been there three consecutive Saturdays when their doors open so that I can put in an hour and half or more of workout time. I am proud to say that in the twenty-one days I’ve been a member there, I’ve worked out eleven times. That’s because they have one thing that none of my other gyms ever had.

The JCC has a huge room filled with a wide variety of cardio machines. They have three weight rooms and more fitness classes than I could attend if I were a contestant on the Biggest Loser. They have a pool, a nice, clean locker room, and a program that provides new members with three private sessions with a personal trainer to help orient you to the facilities and you to meet with a personal trainer a few times to get oriented to the weights and you set up a plan that allows you to achieve your goals. Amazingly enough, all of those things are not what keep me going back. The only reason I have stuck to my commitment to the JCC is the fact that Pete has joined with me. He has been committed to waking up with me each morning and sweating it out with me. While we’re there we rarely work out together, but it’s been so nice to have someone there encouraging me along the way. It’s made all the difference in fact. On the days I can’t wake up, I go to the gym after work, because I know Pete will be waiting for me at home wondering whether I followed through with my commitment or not.

Our commitment to self-improvement has even carried over, somewhat, to our diet as well. Pete and I both love our sweets. In fact, they are a “usual” on our weekly grocery list. But this weekend Pete stopped and questioned our choice as we grabbed two half-gallon containers of Turkey Hill Ice Cream from the freezer. That pause alone is a huge improvement in our eating habits, but the fact that we actually put them back is a true testament to the difference working out together has made. I’ve noticed that I push myself harder, stick to my goals more closely and feel more encouraged than ever all because I know Pete is there.

It’s so important to have accountability in an area that you’re trying to improve in. Even if that accountability still lets you down 44 ounces of Mountain Dew and a box of Mike and Ikes after dinner. Hey, I’m not saying I’ve got it completely down just yet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be perfect, but I’ve felt the best I’ve felt in awhile in the last few weeks. The scale hasn’t gone down too drastically yet, but my mindset has shifted, my relationship with Pete has gotten stronger, and I’d say I’m well on my way past stuck and that is something I can stay committed to.

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A Note From Thanksgiving

Post written by Pete Strub.

photo courtesy of carbonnyc

Hi, I’m Thanksgiving and today is my day. I don’t usually get a lot of publicity outside of today, and that’s usually the way I like it, but there are some things going on with the other holidays that I don’t really appreciate. It’s time for me to step up and be recognized for what I am: the best holiday on the calendar. It didn’t used to be this way; there was a time when I was clearly no better than 3rd or 4th on the list, but times have changed.

Normally, I wouldn’t talk badly about others, it’s not what I’m about – usually I’m the thankful sort. But some of the other holidays have lost their way and they need to be called out. Take Christmas for instance. When I was first born on that wonderful fall evening in 1621, I looked up to Christmas as a role model. He was a holiday with such strong values. He was all about Jesus, family, and giving, and everywhere he went, love went with him. Truly, he was an inspiration and I wish you could have known him back then. Today? Well, he seems to be caught up in the material possessions a little too much. He wears thousand dollar suits everywhere he goes; he drives a Bentley; he wears gold watches; and instead of spending time with the rest of us, he just sends us pricey gifts as if that makes up for love. Not only that, but he has also monopolized a good share of the calendar. It used to be that he only had control of December, but over the past few years, he has reached into November, past Thanksgiving, and this year he even reached past Halloween. He now controls all of November and December – that’s 17% of the year! I am not one to complain, so I didn’t say anything when he started taking over my territory, but I’m not sure if Halloween will take it so well – I wouldn’t be surprised to see Santa’s sleigh get TP’d this year. Personally, I’m kind of worried for Christmas. When I talk to him now, he seems distant and sad. He only cares about things and I have even seen him spiking his eggnog at gatherings.

Christmas isn’t the only one who has lost his way, though. After Christmas started getting territorial, some of the other Holidays followed suit. St. Valentine has claimed everything in January and February, and Easter has claimed most of March and April. Materialism is spreading far and wide, too. St. Valentine has replaced true romance with fancy dinners and expensive gifts. Even Easter is getting in on the materialism. Every spring, she worries about finding the perfect dress and insists on pushing her pastel candy on everyone. It makes me sad. She and Christmas used to be quite the pair celebrating the birth and resurrection of our savior, but they barely even speak to each other now. It’s kind of like a couple who used to be really young and in love but kind of forgot each other and married their careers instead. Every time I look at them I feel empty.

There is good news, though: I have stayed true to myself. You may not have noticed because I’m not as flashy as Christmas, as sexy as St. Valentine, not as pretty as Easter, or as mysterious as Halloween, but I am the best holiday you have left. My values are simple – family and thankfulness. I represent the thankfulness that the pilgrims had when God provided them with food and friendly neighbors to help grow the food. Today you are probably gathering with your family to celebrate each other and all of your blessings. You won’t be exchanging expensive gifts, just sharing good food, and you haven’t been stressing about me for the last two months, you’re just appreciating me today. And today, on my day, I’m asking you just one thing: Don’t change me! I like myself just the way I am. Please don’t ever start exchanging presents on my day. Don’t get caught up in shopping for the meal (the food is just a trick to get your families together). Don’t start decorating for me months in advance. And please, don’t lose sight of my values. God has blessed you. Be thankful. Celebrate with your family.

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Adventures in Awful: CSI Miami

Post written by Pete Strub.

photo courtesy of mercuryrising9572000

I am so excited about this week’s Adventure in Awful. CSI Miami holds a special place in my heart. It is one of the most poorly written and acted shows on television, and I can’t get enough of it. It is half drama, half unintentional comedy. It’s kind of like eating Kraft Macaroni and Cheese: you know it’s not high quality, but man is it enjoyable. Most of the plots have more holes than the Bills’ defense (ah, making fun makes the losing hurt less). If the methods they use to catch killers were actually possible, there would be no crime in our world. On a weekly basis, they perform an impossible miracle of science.

Aside from the plots, there is also the wonderful portrayal of Miami. Before we even see a single actor or landscape shot, Bridget and I can recognize a CSI Miami clip by the unmistakable orange tint and the parade of over-made-up, botoxed rich women. Above all, however, the highlight of the show is watching the pure-cheese acting of David Caruso playing tough guy Horatio Caine. I love that he stands sideways in every single scene, never facing anybody. I love how he takes his sunglasses on or off to accentuate every dramatic moment. And I love his one-liners. Man do I love his one-liners. If the show didn’t bother Bridget so much, I would wander around our house standing sideways and throwing out one-liners like Horatio every night. It would never get old.

I honestly don’t even know if I have a point with this whole thing; I just knew I needed to tell you about CSI Miami. I guess the point would be that it’s good to have something cheesy in your life. It makes you smile; It reminds you that there is room in this world for laughter; it reminds you that there are people stupider than you out there. Before you leave this webpage, please watch this YouTube video. It is a wonderful montage of David Caruso one-liners. You will smile – guaranteed.

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Get Outta Town!

Post written by Bridget Strub.

photo courtesy of Joiseyshowaa

For the four years Pete and I have been married, we’ve made it a habit to go away for a night every three months or so. You might be wondering how we can afford weekly date nights and nights away every three months. This type of behavior doesn’t fit in to our normal spending behaviors. For a couple who slept on a ten year old mattress for the first four years of marriage, counts every dollar each month in a strict budget, and lives in a $60,000 home, you wouldn’t think we’d live extravagantly enough to sleep in a hotel every three months. The truth of the matter is, though, we can’t afford not to do these things. Our weekly date nights help keep us connected with each other from crazy week to crazy week. But, some of the most pivotal moments of our marriage have occurred while we were away from our regular setting and able to relax in an out of routine sort of way.

When we get away, we’re able to step back from the inevitable funk that accumulates in our everyday life and reassess where we’re at as individuals and as a couple. We’ve stuck to this pattern pretty much since our first day of marriage. I attribute the fact that our love still feels new and exciting to this tradition. If we hadn’t taken the time to do these things, I’m convinced our relationship would be at a very different place than it is today. When we’re able to shut out the rest of the world and look at each other as the people we fell in love with five years ago, the world seems to set itself right. We’re able to work out the little things that creep in where they shouldn’t. We can dig up the underlying junk that’s been lying hidden for a while. After all that, we’re able to just breathe a little and dream about where we’re going in the future.

If you’re married and haven’t taken the time to get away on a semi-regular basis, my advice to you is as simple as the Nike motto. Just do it. There are plenty of hotels, bed and breakfasts, or inns that offer a one night’s stay with a hot breakfast for little over a hundred dollars. We’ve become pretty partial to hotels like Wingate by Wyndam and Homewood Suites. They have an indoor pool and hot tub that help speed up the relaxation process, and the guessing game with room quality and cleanliness is taken out of the equation.

The one variable that we encounter with each stay is where we’ll eat dinner. We’re typically at the mercy of the location of our hotel and what we can find near it. This week, our hotel was in the middle of a field, kind of creepy, and right next to a Quaker Steak & Lube. I have a fundamental problem with Quaker Steak & Lube simply based on the fact that its name and logo is so closely associated to a car oil company. The thought of eating food from there kind of creeps me out, even if they do have some of the best wings around, or so I’ve heard. I thought we’d be stuck there, but we were miraculously saved by an incredible suggestion to try Coppertop Tavern in North Syracuse, NY.

I didn’t let myself get my hopes up as we drove through Syracuse in pursuit of our dinner. I’d been burned before by the seemingly unique restaurants, and was a little nervous this would be another experience like that. This experience was immensely different though. I immediately fell in love with it as we sat in the corner booth of the old-fashioned tavern and read through the menu. There were plenty of mouth-watering options ranging from hefty burgers, crispy pizza baked in a stone hearth, creative salads, and other tavern favorites. Our expectations were high as we ordered. We thought that if they could pull through with good food we would have the perfect restaurant experience. We were not disappointed.

Pete chose Chicken DaVinci, a huge pasta dish with two full chicken breasts smothered in pesto and mozzarella and a side of three servings of pasta. I decided on the Italian Chopped Salad, a mound of lettuce with all of my favorite salad toppings; artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, pepperoni kalamata olives, garbanzo beans, banana peppers, and tomato bruschetta that soaked everything with the perfect blend of seasoning and juice so that I didn’t even have to use the dressing that came on the side. In addition to all of that, we received a basket of warm garlic bread made in the stone hearth.

Our dinner was absolutely delicious. Flavors did the fox trot in my mouth as I crunched through my salad. We both had portions left over that we were able to eat for lunch the next day. That’s no surprise for me, but it says a lot that Pete couldn’t finish his meal. Our bill came to $30.45, tax and tip included. And that definitely set the tone for a great rest of our get away!

If you ever find yourself in North Syracuse, maybe on a getaway with your special someone, make sure you stop in to try the Coppertop Tavern, it’s well worth the drive!

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Adventures in Awful: Ditching People for Tools

Post written by Pete Strub.

photo courtesy of thisisbossi

I ditched you last Thursday. But you shouldn’t feel bad: you’re not alone. I ditched my friends on a cider-making date; I ditched friends on our football watching the following day; I ditched friends going to the movies. I ditched church; I ditched my diet (not that I normally eat well, but I survived the last 2 weeks on a straight Mountain Dew diet); I ditched things that I’d rather not report publicly; and I even ditched Bridget (but not in the “I’m leaving you” way, just in the “I’m not spending quality time with you” way). Clearly, you are in good company because God, Bridget, friends, and football are some of the most important things in my life. So do you feel better about being ditched yet? Probably not because being ditched stinks and I realize that, and it’s something I tend to do a little too frequently. Therefore, this week’s Adventure in Awful is my bad habit of ditching people.

Before we start, you need to know what causes these sprees of irresponsible and inconsiderate behavior. The first cause is that I tend to overestimate my ability to finish things quickly, especially house projects. The second cause is that once I start something, I have to finish it before I can move on with the rest of my life. Last February, for example, my wife and I decided we would remodel our bathroom. I estimated that we should be able to finish the project (which included a new tub with plumbing, a tile floor, removing wallpaper, painting, a new vanity, a new toilet, a new exhaust fan, new lighting, refinishing a door, new molding, and hanging new décor) over the course of February break – one week. Needless to say the project wasn’t finished until April and it hung over my head like a gray winter sky for the entire two months I was working on it. No matter what I was doing, all I could think about was finishing the bathroom project. As a result, I became quite irresponsible with relationships and responsibilities for those two months. You would think after this experience that I would have been better prepared to deal with this during my most recent remodeling project, our bedroom, but I must not have learned anything.

On October 24th, I decided that I was going to remodel our bedroom for Bridget’s birthday, which was November 3rd, a mere 10 days later. I figured that removing wallpaper, painting, new lighting, buying new bedding and curtains, and fixing the door would only take a couple of days, so I decided to make a bed while I was at it because how hard could that be? Let’s just say that if I was a contractor for a construction company who had to estimate times for project completion, I would drive the company into bankruptcy within a year, guaranteed. Anyway, that first day, October 24th should have been a clue that the project would not be so quick and easy because I spent the entire day shopping for the bedding, area rug, curtains, and paint. Who knew color coordination could be so hard?

Over the next week, I worked on removing wallpaper and cursing the idiot who invented that awful stuff. Before I knew it, I had already used seven of my ten days and had almost nothing accomplished. This is when my need to finish the project began to kick in. When I go into this mode, everything takes a back seat to whatever I am focusing on. I wrote ninety percent of my college essays in this mode, usually at three or four o’clock in the morning. That next weekend, Halloween weekend, I began ditching everything and everyone. I skipped church, skipped out on two different hang out times with friends that I had already agreed to, and said no to a chance to go to the movies on Monday. It was all downhill from there. At work I began operating at about fifty percent capacity. At home I ignored piles of laundry and dishes (normally things I wouldn’t let slide). I stopped praying and reading my Bible for a couple of days. I avoided my phone even more than I normally do, and when Wednesday night rolled around, I was polyurethaning the wood for the bed when I was supposed to be writing an article for you.

This past weekend, I pulled an all-nighter and finished up the project, even painting an extra room (ah, ambition) while I was at it. In the end, I was pretty happy with the results, but I also knew that I had a lot of fixing to do at work, with God, with friends, and with Bridget because of my complete focus on the project. I really wasn’t quite sure what to make of the whole thing. Is it good that I have the ability to focus and work hard at something for that long, or is it bad because I put the project before people and things in my life that are more important? Predictably, the answer is probably a little bit of both. Being able to focus and work hard on something is probably a good quality, but I realized that the way I ditch everything else in my life is probably a result of pride or self-reliance – my desire to accomplish things on my own apart from God or anyone else. Self-reliance and pride are dangerous and sneaky. They are destructive things that pretend to be good. They can help people accomplish great and remarkable things, but they have a high cost. For my part, I know I need to trust that, even when I’m working on a project, I need to keep doing the important things in my life, like building relationships, praying, and eating something other than Reeses and soda.

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Christmas Is Not Your Birthday

Post written by Aaron Bouwens.

photo courtesy of George Eastman House’s

Last year while at a conference at Ginghamsburg UMC in Ohio, I was introduced to the concept of Christmas is not your birthday. Instantly I fell in love and lead our congregation through the process of celebrating Jesus’ birthday. Since I have already seen commercials and other advertisements for this year, I thought it was time to get moving. What if we reduced the consumer within us all, while at the same time made it possible for others to simply live?

Gandhi is credited with saying we must live simply so that others might simply live. Have you ever noticed the abundance in which we live? Right now I have a friend from Uganda visiting in the States. When askes about his experience in Wegmans his conclusion is we have much in the United States. In that Wegmans there was more food stockpiled than most Ugandan villages will see in the next year, and three miles away there is another Wegmans. What if we began to live more simply, consuming less, so that others might benefit from our abundance? What might it look like to live simply so that others might simply life at Christmas time?

Step one is to reduce the amount we spend consuming the commercial Christmas. Less on presents, less on parties, just simply less. While some tell me lobster is really yummy, not a fan, do we really need it at the party? Do we need all the decorations? Do we need a tree? Simply spend less money on stuff that will pass.

Step two is to match what you spend in a missional gift. Dollar for dollar give to a missional organization what you have spent on all the Christmas stuff. It is not a time for us to get presents, rather it is time to give presents in the name of the birthday boy Jesus. This can be to a local shelter, food pantry, or missionaries. Lat year our church invested in a mission in Kenya educating and feeding hundreds of children daily. This year we will be raising the funds to send a shipping container to Uganda. In this container will be resources and supplies for rural, bush, pastors to further reveal the kingdom of God to the people of Africa.

Step three is actually more difficult than the first two. Don’t stop when the new year hits. Continue to live simply so that others might simply live. Give gifts to others in the name of Jesus all year. Form a lifestyle of generosity, where we celebrate the work of God all the time.

As you begin to look ahead to the Christmas seasons, I encourage everyone to consider how they are consuming. There are people all over the world who live annually on what we consume in a day. The last thing we need is more stuff this Christmas. Join me in remembering Christmas is not your birthday. If you are interested in joining in with us on the shipping container, send me an email and I will get you all the details.

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Domestication of Imagination

Post written by Aaron Bouwens.

photo courtesy of e-adormit-copi ii

I did not grow up in a Disney home. We lived in the land before cable TV, and only had the stations the old antenna could draw in. This meant most of our entertainment was outside, through the woods, fields and creeks surrounding our home. Hours were spent letting our imagination take us to places and situations far from where we were. A great number of war battles were waged, great explorations of unknown lands, even the occasional African safari. For the most part when we are young our imaginations run wild. A tragedy happens as many of us age, we put away imagination exchanging it for “the real life”. The end result is one of our greatest assets becomes domesticated.

The domestication of our imagination causes us to have dreams and play out scenarios about getting rich, or getting the big job, you know real life boring kinds of things. As the domestication continues we start seeing the world of myth and fantasy as a waste of time. Still within each of us there is a hunger for that myth and fantasy. We hunger to transport ourselves to other places and times where we live an adventure. In our technology driven world we call this going to the movies. We enjoy movies so much because they allow us to give expression to the imagination we domesticated. When a movie is done well we have a hard time remembering it is not real, why? It taps into our imagination.

In the concrete world of either/or thinking imagination is tamed or made to be civilized. This great tragedy is plaguing our lives. I wonderwhat would happen if we recaptured our imagination. Is it possible for our domesticated imaginations to be made barbarian once again? How would we go about funding our imagination once again? Read books that transport us beyond the known and defined. C.S. Lewis, J.R.R Tolkien, Charles Williams and Flannery O’Connor are just a few. There are thousands of writers who with excellence transport us to other dimensions. Go to the movies, rent movies. Simply invest time in allowing you mind to go to place not even on the maps.

What will happen when we allow imagination a place in our lives? We experience joy again. We experience wonder and awe. A part of us that we thought died with third grade is awaken and given a place to thrive. Our creativity is unleashed and live takes on new meaning. I want to end with a challenge. Go out and see or rent a movie today that funds your imagination. Allow yourself to be swept up into a place of awe and wonder. Let your imagination run wild.

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The Big City

Post written by Bridget Strub.

photo courtesy of Ellie

Saturday morning I woke up at 3:45 am…on purpose. I don’t like to wake up early, especially if I don’t have to, but Saturday was different. I was given the opportunity to be flown, for free, to New York City and attend a free day-long conference hosted by Columbia University’s Teacher’s College. For those of you who are even remotely familiar with me and my many neuroses, you know that I have a pretty intense passion for free stuff. I also have a mild obsession with professional development opportunities. So, when I was presented with the chance to combine my two loves, I was blinded to the possible effects that that much travel could have on my already tired system.

It’s amazing what an hour of turbulence can do to six ounces of orange juice sloshing around in your tummy. More than once I eyed the white bags tucked neatly into the pocket of the seat in front of me. Thankfully I didn’t have to use them, but as I arrived in NYC and peeled my white-gripped fingers from the arm rests, I was feeling a little less than myself. Being shoved into a stale taxi with no circulation for a half hour trip didn’t help either. It’s amazing that those big vehicles fit through the small spaces they drive through. I had to laugh as I noticed the guards people place on their bumpers to avoid the inevitable scratches that occur with the regular bumping shared between cars. Needless to say, with all the starting and stopping, neither my stomach, nor my head were all that excited to sit through a day’s worth of workshops.

I was shuffled around to different speakers from 9am-3pm. I heard a total of six people speak without a break, or lunch, and my already fuzzy head was as cloudy as the Los Angeles skyline by the end of the day. Not knowing the difference between 112th and 120th Streets, I decided not to stray from the group I came with. We wandered the blocks of New York City waiting for our five o’clock dinner reservation. Through the dreary rain I noticed one thing about the sidewalks of the city; they were saturated with restaurants, cafés, bistros, delicatessens, and bakeries. There weren’t any chain restaurants in site. Each eatery had its own special flair and distinct flavor. Even in the rain, awnings protected their patrons so they could dine in style. My mouth watered at all the potential experiences, and subsequent blog entries, I could have at all of those places. I even saw Tom’s Restaurant. At first glance, the baseline of the Seinfeld theme song jumped off the sign and danced through my head. I felt stupid as I freaked out about it to the people around me. They didn’t seem to appreciate the moment of nostalgia as much as I did, so I kept quiet about my excitement. Spoiler alert: the inside of Tom’s is not, in fact, the diner of Seinfeld’s. Call me naive, but I was a little shocked.

After battling the rain for awhile, we finally ducked into Campo Restaurant an hour before our dinner reservation for drinks and a dry place to sit. I enjoyed a glass of wine and great conversation with some of my colleagues, but realized that my fuzzy brain was feeling even fuzzier. As I contemplated taking a nap right at the bar, we were finally seated for dinner. They offered the usual grilled pizzas, pastas, salads and such, but they had gourmet ingredients and portions with gourmet prices. I decided on the margarita pizza, which happened to be the cheapest entrée on the menu (and also happened to cost as much as my glass of wine).

The service was exceptional. The pizza had the thinnest, crispiest crust with the perfect balance of cheese and sauce. The company and conversation was refreshing. After my last slice was swallowed I eased back into my chair and took in my environment. The restaurant had exposed brick, classy décor, and a great vibe. I began to feel jealous. I wished Campo and the other eateries we passed earlier in the day could get transplanted into Rochester. Park Avenue is our city’s one pocket of unique cafes and cluttered sidewalks. Each New York City block is a Park Ave. Their architecture is beautiful, and the buildings are incredibly unique. Everyone walked everywhere, and looked ridiculously stylish doing so. I was starting to feel pretty down about Rochester, but on my cab ride back to the airport I realized something.

If I want to get from the East side of Rochester to the West side, I can expect it taking fifteen, maybe twenty minutes tops. I don’t have to protect my bumper with another bumper to avoid the scrapes of overly rushed vehicles. If I want fresh produce, I can drive twenty minutes to pick corn, apples or blueberries for myself rather than having it imported into our city. I can wear my slippers, grungy sweatpants and tousled hair to walk my dog without worrying that a double-decker tourist bus will drive by with overly eager photographers snapping my picture as an example of “what not to wear.” And most importantly, my friends and family are not in NYC. While I enjoyed the company around me at dinner, I recognized that I didn’t, and hadn’t felt like myself all day. I wanted to share the moments of excitement, awe, and exhaustion with the people I love most; my friends and family. And they can’t be found anywhere else but in Rochester (and some other surrounding areas that don’t require a turbulent plane ride to get to). Yay for Rochester…I’m a fan!

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Innovation

Post written by Aaron Bouwens.

photo courtesy of kevindooley

I continue to be amazed at how much the world has changed since my earliest memories. The days before email and the internet are a part of my memory as well as the days before cell phones and texting. Innovation is a significant part of our day to day life even if we do not see it. There are people who are dedicated to finding new and different ways of going about the same things. A great challenge which exists with innovation is the journey is never done. Innovation must always be innovating to remain innovative.

There is a simple solution, stop innovating. As simple as that may seem, for some of us it is simply not possible. Our God given wiring is to constantly be seeking out new and different ways of doing things. To simply stop, would mean ignoring the voice with in us which prompts us to look anew at something that has always been. So, simply stopping is an option it does not leave much room to live out the God wiring given to those who are innovators.

Can we imagine if innovation would have stopped 200 years ago? A much more simple life would be ours. At the same time advances in medical science, ways of thinking about life and God, would all be the same as they were. Innovation has brought us much. But is there a limit? Are we able to reach a point when we no longer need to be innovators? The answer to that question depends on if you are an innovator or not. Those who are non-innovators always think it is time to stop. Innovators do not know there is even a brake pedal.

As you might guess I come from the innovator side. It seems to be things can always be different than they are. This however, is more than simply changing things, or looking for new and improved. When it comes to life, our journey with God, innovation is not merely so we can have a new and improved version of our relationship. Innovation is driven by the longing to pursue God. Everyone lives in pursuit of something, my bias says we are all searching for God just might not know it. The pursuit is more than religious activity it is the essence of our lives. As we grow our relationship with God grows. Before long the ways we relate to God no longer seem to work the same. Enter innovation. It does not always need to be rewritten, or the old completely done away with, yet there must be an evolution of our relationship.

There is no stopping point. We must constantly be looking at our relationship with God seeking to ensure we are finding the relationship we are seeking. This is what innovation really is. Consistently finding the ways which connect us to the ultimate relationship. God does not change, but we do and the ways we understand and connect with God change. Innovation allows us to see where the next step might be. We must remember there will always be a next step. Innovation needs to keep innovating, to remain innovative.

May you continue to meet God in new ways. May you continue to be innovative. May you never simply stop and settle, locking this moment as eternity. May we all keep searching for that which calls to us.

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