This post is dedicated to Stu Ogilvie, aged 69.
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Today I cried in a public restroom in typical Mary fashion.
Let me back up. Today was (and is!) a great day. Things are lookin' up. And yet there have been so many things that have been going wrong lately, so my eyes could restrain themselves no longer. This past Thursday, a dear man of Westminster's congregation, Stu Ogilvie, died when he slipped into a coma during a medical procedure. He was a mature Christian, a retired English teacher from the local high school, and one of my budding friends. I had asked him only the Sunday before to swap English-teaching horror stories and to help me better teach English in the Czech Republic, and he said he would. I look forward to hearing his horror stories in heaven!
This past week I've been more productive than usual: I gathered information about senior portraits, my field study, writing resumes, interviewing well, and even making connections in my classes. I've begun to use my free time better than I had before (working out is much more important than a Breaking Bad marathon!), and I've convinced Calvin and Ariana to take a Krav Maga self-defense class with me next quarter. I also met a few of my old friends while walking around aimlessly.
But today, after Calvin and I finished our workouts at the ARC, I noticed that my "Low Tire Pressure" light was spazzing out on my dashboard. Sure enough--there was a nail in one of the tires. Stupid UCI--why'd you gotta be Under Construction Indefinitely? The nail reminded me of the loss of Mr. Ogilvie, who was scheduled to greet those coming to morning worship this past Sunday, of the things I've destroyed, I've squandered, I've driven away. It reminded me that though I might drive perfectly, nails can make the sound of my own wheels drive me crazy.
Calvin's going to be driving his car until my tire is replaced (the walls were damaged when it blew out on the way to the garage), and hopefully that will happen this Saturday without a hitch. Tires are pretty expensive.
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Team Praha has been led consistently for the past three years by pastors who love to sing. Four years ago in 2010, Pastor Christopher Chelpka (he was only an intern then!) led the group in song both with the small children we were teaching and in our devotions. Three years ago, Pastor Mark Mueller sang U2's "40" to Erin Blake and me while we were having a particularly quiet day in the nursery. This past year was no different.
On the way to the eastern mountain range in which we hiked this year in the middling/peak week of Team Praha, Pastor Jesse Pirschel sang "Stubborn Love" by The Lumineers. This song is a hopeful song about a man's stubborn love towards his ugly beloved, who spits at her lover's stubborn love. The lover consoles the listener and his beloved to learn to love and not grow tired and indifferent. The train ride was an emotional roller coaster for me, and I regretted not sitting with the Czech boys and girls until Pastor Pirschel sang this song that gave me hope for my mission of the week. Similarly, I often feel hopeless and weary these days when it is unusually apparent how heavy my loads are.
----------------------
Today I cried in a public restroom in typical Mary fashion.
Let me back up. Today was (and is!) a great day. Things are lookin' up. And yet there have been so many things that have been going wrong lately, so my eyes could restrain themselves no longer. This past Thursday, a dear man of Westminster's congregation, Stu Ogilvie, died when he slipped into a coma during a medical procedure. He was a mature Christian, a retired English teacher from the local high school, and one of my budding friends. I had asked him only the Sunday before to swap English-teaching horror stories and to help me better teach English in the Czech Republic, and he said he would. I look forward to hearing his horror stories in heaven!
This past week I've been more productive than usual: I gathered information about senior portraits, my field study, writing resumes, interviewing well, and even making connections in my classes. I've begun to use my free time better than I had before (working out is much more important than a Breaking Bad marathon!), and I've convinced Calvin and Ariana to take a Krav Maga self-defense class with me next quarter. I also met a few of my old friends while walking around aimlessly.
But today, after Calvin and I finished our workouts at the ARC, I noticed that my "Low Tire Pressure" light was spazzing out on my dashboard. Sure enough--there was a nail in one of the tires. Stupid UCI--why'd you gotta be Under Construction Indefinitely? The nail reminded me of the loss of Mr. Ogilvie, who was scheduled to greet those coming to morning worship this past Sunday, of the things I've destroyed, I've squandered, I've driven away. It reminded me that though I might drive perfectly, nails can make the sound of my own wheels drive me crazy.
Calvin's going to be driving his car until my tire is replaced (the walls were damaged when it blew out on the way to the garage), and hopefully that will happen this Saturday without a hitch. Tires are pretty expensive.
-----------------
Team Praha has been led consistently for the past three years by pastors who love to sing. Four years ago in 2010, Pastor Christopher Chelpka (he was only an intern then!) led the group in song both with the small children we were teaching and in our devotions. Three years ago, Pastor Mark Mueller sang U2's "40" to Erin Blake and me while we were having a particularly quiet day in the nursery. This past year was no different.
On the way to the eastern mountain range in which we hiked this year in the middling/peak week of Team Praha, Pastor Jesse Pirschel sang "Stubborn Love" by The Lumineers. This song is a hopeful song about a man's stubborn love towards his ugly beloved, who spits at her lover's stubborn love. The lover consoles the listener and his beloved to learn to love and not grow tired and indifferent. The train ride was an emotional roller coaster for me, and I regretted not sitting with the Czech boys and girls until Pastor Pirschel sang this song that gave me hope for my mission of the week. Similarly, I often feel hopeless and weary these days when it is unusually apparent how heavy my loads are.
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