Tangible Delights
After work today, I headed to Piers Park, near my apartment. It's a plot of land with a playground, small ampitheater, a boathouse where one can take sailing lessons, and a long stretch of bricks and benches that resembles the pier it used to be, and those surrounding it. It is one of the token projects of East Boston's renewal. An ode to East Boston will have to wait for another day, as this article concerns only this evening's experience.
I walked over to the park from the subway station, passing joking neighbors, the little green house that I like to pretend is mine, and the old immigrants home before I enter the steel gates of the park. Immediately, the scent of the harbor greets me, and my smile widens. I thanked God for the gorgeous day, and continued in prayer as I walked through the park and down the pier. Finding a cozy table for two, I sat down and daydreamed a bit about a person that I wanted to share the table with.
My daydreaming drifted into admiring the view of the city and observing all that was going on around me. I watched a pigeon strut by and admired the irridescent area around its neck and throat, wondering, as I always do, what causes that sheen and coloration. I noticed an older gentleman taking his afternoon power walk around the park. On his second of the three laps I witnessed, I took in his clothing and was amused by the contrast between his preppy polo shirt and khaki shorts and the neon green tube socks that topped his white tennis shoes.
I watched the young families with children: siblings playing together, a father and son switching between soccer and assorted other games that had the boy shrieking with delight, shy little girls walking past with their mothers and glancing at me curiously, and so many more. I smiled and even laughed out loud as I watched these innocent children enjoying the sunny June evening. All of this made me think of my mother and the pleasure she gets from watching and interacting with young children. Apparently this is another way in which I am my mother's daughter.
The impulse led me to call my mother, and I spoke with both parents about the scene around me, my week, my upcoming plans, and what was going on in their world. As I wrapped up the conversation, I began walking back up the pier and out of the park. I briefly nosed over into the nearby marina and saw a sign for a restaurant that I thought I remembered someone recommending. Then I took the stairs up the cliff to my apartment building, where I opened up the windows in order to savor the fresh breeze and perfect weather for a little bit longer.
To quote a Frank Sinatra song: This is a lovely way to spend an evening/ Can't think of anything I'd rather do. That is how I spent the second evening off from my virtual life. I don't plan to abandon that life, but it was a sweet reminder of the pleasures to be found in my tangible life. I hereby resolve to take better advantage of the summertime, while the weather is fair and the sea's in the air. It's one of the main reasons I moved here, after all.
Labels: Boston, life, outdoors, summer, tangible, virtual
Further Adventures of Virginia's Foolish Willfulness
Dear Readers, I hope and pray that one day my stubbornness will exhibit itself as tenacity for God's glory and become a blessing to my brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, it mostly provides humorous anecdotes and cautionary tales, but I am a woman of faith. As we all know, faith is the evidence of things unseen... Anyway, my journey to the incredibly encouraging
2008 Christians for Biblical Equality International Conference in
Toronto, Ontario contained another example of my stubbornness.
As a little bit of background, while I don't seem to have difficulty spending money (especially on books, teas, and interesting foods), I can also be incredibly cheap. I almost choked on several occasions, when looking up airfare between Boston and Toronto. I was going to suck it up and buy the tickets after
procrastinating a little longer waiting for the price to go down, when one of my cheap friends, and later my father, recommended bus service. It turned out that I could cut my travel costs by more than half by flying to Buffalo and taking one of the inexpensive Northeastern bus routes to Toronto from there.
The night before I left, I stayed up quite late packing, tidying, and preparing to leave my home for 5 days. I wound up getting about 2 hours of sleep before I had to wake up and make final preparations to go to the airport. I slept a little on the flight, I slept a little on the bus, but I was still understandably tired by the end of my journey. Having planned my travel in cheap mode, I had printed out some information about taking
public transit in the direction of my hotel. After a 2+ hour delay in our bus's arrival (traffic), I finally arrived in downtown Toronto.
On my way toward the subway station with my suitcase and carry-on bag (including laptop), I noticed a long line of cabs, and was even approached by one of the drivers. I briefly considered it, but decided to stick to my original plan, perhaps still smarting from the cabs in Buffalo. (Side note: Seriously,
Buffalo Airport Taxi! $15 each way? To go a mile? With no toll roads or parking? And people say Boston is expensive!) I arrive in the subway station, and finally decide to buy 5 subway tokens, just in case I decide to pay an additional visit downtown before leaving.
The subway leg of the trip is fairly uneventful, beyond my paranoia for several stops that I had gotten on a train traveling in the wrong direction. The subway cars were clean and had well-planned seating, even if the décor was dated. I arrived at my bus transfer, and just as I arrived at the area where I was to choose my platform, I saw a bus drive up to the door that I thought I wanted. I rushed up and got on from the back, gratefully taking a seat. After what felt like a half hour, the bus stopped and I noticed that all of the other passengers have disembarked and we didn't appear to be at the airport (where I thought we were headed).
I asked the driver about our destination, to which he responded that it isn't headed anywhere near the airport, giving me directions to the airport bus. It was well after 9 pm, the sun had set some time before, and I was in a residential neighborhood of a metropolitan area I have never previously visited. Knowing that I had recently seen a bus pass ours, and that buses in Boston come less frequently after the sun sets, I walked in the direction indicated by the driver, dragging my suitcase behind me.
When I arrived at the transfer point described by the aforementioned driver, I noticed that the cross street was the one where my hotel was located. I couldn't see my hotel from there, so I called their front desk (international roaming charges!) to find out where they were from where I stood. When I informed the hotel employee that I was on foot, she warned that it would be a 15-20 minute walk. Disregarding my heavy luggage and degree of fatigue, I decided to simply walk the rest of the way to the hotel. After all, I live in
Boston: America's Walking City!
Did you know that time is on the metric system in Canada? What I expected to be a 15 or 20 minute journey stretched to be over a half hour (American time) along a hilly, busy road. Loud jets flew low over my head toward the airport. I passed several hotels and restaurants during my hike (Did I mention that I had eaten nothing more than an apple and a small pack of snack mix in over 9 hours?), but refused stop until I reached
my hotel. I was so happy when I saw their red lit sign on the building, although this turned out to be a bit of a Rocky Mountain experience: you keep going, but it doesn't seem to get any larger or closer.
I like to think that I would has asked the hotel to call me a cab if I had know how long it would take, but I now suspect that this may not have been the case. By the time I got off the wrong bus, I was feeling rather mulish. Initially I suspected that my safety was a result of the waves of irritation that were rolling off of me throughout my walk, psychicly growling at anyone who would dare to mess with me. I am now certain that God was watching over and protecting me, though undoubtedly shaking His holy head over me.
To save my loved ones any further gray (or white) hairs today, I arrived safely at the
hotel, checked in without incident, got a delicious meal from room service, and sunk into a cloud-like bed for the night. From that point forward, I was immersed in the conference: meeting fascinating and gifted Christians, listening to challenging and affirming lectures, and hearing the inspiring stories of men and women who have served God and prepared the way for me to use the gifts He gave me.
As I became more attuned to God's will and purposes, my travel story morphed from a series of unfortunate things that happened to me, to a series of poor choices, a bad attitude, and willfulness, stemming from some frustrations in my life at home. Having my passion for equality reignited and my hope renewed that God has plans to use my gifts, my vision has risen a little. I can see opportunities and possibilities, rather than a series of dead ends and reasons to be bitter.
I thank God for using the CBE staff, the speakers, and the wonderful men and women who attended the conference, as He lifted my eyes from myself to Him. I've felt so blessed by the testimonies and ministries that God has given to His people. He is definitely at work in the world, and he wants us all involved: how wonderful! He has given us each passions and talents, and He is even more concerned with using them than we are! (Thanks to
Jane Overstreet for that observation during the missions panel discussion!)
As we prepare to disperse from the mountain top, I continue to pray that God will guide me into the work He has planned for me, and that I would be tenacious in pursuing His will rather than stubbornly standing in His way.
Labels: CBE, Christianity, equality, faith, goals, magazine column, talents
Beauty Lessons from Maria von Trapp
Do you remember the scene in The Sound of Music when Julie Andrews, as Maria, prances toward the von Trapp home singing "I have con-fi-dence in me!" (or at least the parody in the Family Guy movie)? Fans of the story will recall that the song began as a defense mechanism against fear and a sense of inadequacy for the task that awaited her. While she is struck with nervousness occasionally throughout the story, Maria is renowned for her confidence and her dogged pursuit after what she believes to be right.
It's been said many times, but it bears repeating: confidence is your greatest asset. So much of the beauty and fashion industry centers around flaunting our assets, which is a way of broadcasting confidence. We only bring people's attention to what we know is good about ourselves. However, the ablity to broadcast confidence
without props is even more powerfully persuasive.
Now, when I talk about confidence, I differentiate it from arrogance. Arrogance is rooted in the fear of being found insufficient or a fraud. It is the child shouting "I'm (yawn) not tired!" at 11:38pm. Confidence knows that the success of others does not take away from it's own accomplishments. It is an assurance of one's own intrinsic value.
My younger brother is an excellent example. People have almost always been drawn to him. He made new friends daily as a child, and not much later calls from giggling girls started pouring in (and only stopped once redirected to a cell phone). He is certainly admirable for his many talents, his sense of humor, and his loving heart. He is attractive enough, but I'm convinced that his looks are not the biggest draw.
My brother knows who he is, what he likes, and what he wants to do. He believed that people would want to be his friends and, consequently, they did. Fashion decisions that initially seem odd actually work on him, because he thinks it is cool (and he really does have excellent taste in styling). Instead of wasting time bemoaning what he can't immediately change about himself, he makes the most of the good that's already there.
I think that's a lesson that both my brother and Maria can teach us. Make a list of the things that make you feel competent, excellent, and optimistic. Keep track of compliments, encouraging emails you receive, and what activities renew your confidence. Then revisit these memories and make time for these pasttimes. If you "simply remember [your] favorite things" about yourself, "then [you won't] feel so bad!"
If I Had a Magazine Column
Some people wonder about having a million dollars, I wonder about having a magazine column.
What would I say to the masses? How could I help them, entertain them, inform them? My mass emails to friends and family have been a great forum for me, but I think I'm ready to write to a broader audience. I may just be writing to a vacuum, but perhaps someone will stumble upon this blog and come away with something.
Enough with the vagueness! Onward, "to infinity and beyond!"
PS) If you have any topics that you would like to see addressed, please reply to this post!
