Accu-queasy
This morning I saw a commerical for Accu-chek, a glucose monitor that diabetics can use to monitor their blood sugar levels. One brief scene showed the Accu-chek in action, drawing a small sample of blood from a user's finger tip and displaying a quick reading. Great news for the Accu-chek user, but bad news for Kristy. I got completely queasy just from watching!
After putting my head down and breathing deep for a few seconds, the queasiness passed. What remained was a firm resolve to do everything in my power not to get diabetes. If the commerical for Accu-chek makes me nauseous, imagine what actually using an Accu-chek would do! I'd be passing out all over town and 8 ways to Tuesday.
So I'm going to dedicate a few solid work hours to researching ways of avoiding diabetes. And I will certainly keep you posted on my quest to not get diabetes. Wish me luck.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Ssshhhhh!
This weekend I went to see a documentary called "Into Great Silence," about Carthusian monks living in a monastery in France. Since the monks rarely speak, the movie is mostly without dialogue (hence the title). What you hear throughout most of the almost-3 hours of the movie are the sounds of the monks’ everyday life: chanting during Mass, the peals of the chapel bells marking time, water running, scissors snipping, food carts rattling down long stone hallways, wind blowing snow drifts and rustling leaves.
It’s a mini-retreat, really, letting you escape city noise and messiness for a brief respite into vicarious simplicity and solitude. Plus it’s visually appealing – the cinematography is a mix of grainy shots (that seem to want to tell you something with their imperfection), up-close-and-personal shots of the individual monks as they pray, eat, garden, and pray again, and pristine views of the surrounding mountain ranges and sunrises. It made me want to sit somewhere with nothing to do but watch snow melt and think about the God who made it.
The filmmaker had wanted to make the movie back in the late 1980’s, but the monastery told him that the timing wasn’t right; “maybe in 10 or 13 years.” Sixteen years later he received the call letting him know it was ok to come and film. I guess that’s monastery time for you – a bit different from how I operate, getting annoyed if someone makes me wait 10 or 13 minutes. It’s also a picture of God’s timing, too; we cry out for things n-o-w, and often He makes us wait. But He’s always right – the wait is worth it, and we’re all the more beautiful for it.
Retreating to the mountains of France to spend time with God is nice work if you can get it, but sometimes we just need to learn to see His beauty in the midst of our current noisiness. I learned this lesson, too, from the movie, as the guy sitting next to me was eating popcorn. Noisily. Very noisily. And constantly, for at least the first 30-45 minutes of the movie. Sometimes he varied his snacking patterns by loudly slurping his soda. I mean, really – who brings loud food into a movie called “Into Great Silence”? Nonetheless, it provided a spiritual exercise for me to try to put aside the inclination to choke him, to ask God for patience, and to try to appreciate the beauty of the scenes unfolding before me despite the racket coming from my neighbor’s mouth. :)
To sum up, go see the movie if it sounds appealing to you. I definitely enjoyed it. But if it doesn’t sound like your cup of tea – take heart! Only 24 days until Blades of Glory.
This weekend I went to see a documentary called "Into Great Silence," about Carthusian monks living in a monastery in France. Since the monks rarely speak, the movie is mostly without dialogue (hence the title). What you hear throughout most of the almost-3 hours of the movie are the sounds of the monks’ everyday life: chanting during Mass, the peals of the chapel bells marking time, water running, scissors snipping, food carts rattling down long stone hallways, wind blowing snow drifts and rustling leaves.
It’s a mini-retreat, really, letting you escape city noise and messiness for a brief respite into vicarious simplicity and solitude. Plus it’s visually appealing – the cinematography is a mix of grainy shots (that seem to want to tell you something with their imperfection), up-close-and-personal shots of the individual monks as they pray, eat, garden, and pray again, and pristine views of the surrounding mountain ranges and sunrises. It made me want to sit somewhere with nothing to do but watch snow melt and think about the God who made it.
The filmmaker had wanted to make the movie back in the late 1980’s, but the monastery told him that the timing wasn’t right; “maybe in 10 or 13 years.” Sixteen years later he received the call letting him know it was ok to come and film. I guess that’s monastery time for you – a bit different from how I operate, getting annoyed if someone makes me wait 10 or 13 minutes. It’s also a picture of God’s timing, too; we cry out for things n-o-w, and often He makes us wait. But He’s always right – the wait is worth it, and we’re all the more beautiful for it.
Retreating to the mountains of France to spend time with God is nice work if you can get it, but sometimes we just need to learn to see His beauty in the midst of our current noisiness. I learned this lesson, too, from the movie, as the guy sitting next to me was eating popcorn. Noisily. Very noisily. And constantly, for at least the first 30-45 minutes of the movie. Sometimes he varied his snacking patterns by loudly slurping his soda. I mean, really – who brings loud food into a movie called “Into Great Silence”? Nonetheless, it provided a spiritual exercise for me to try to put aside the inclination to choke him, to ask God for patience, and to try to appreciate the beauty of the scenes unfolding before me despite the racket coming from my neighbor’s mouth. :)
To sum up, go see the movie if it sounds appealing to you. I definitely enjoyed it. But if it doesn’t sound like your cup of tea – take heart! Only 24 days until Blades of Glory.
Filed under:
movies
Monday, March 05, 2007
Baby, It's Cold Outside (again)
“Snow, snow, snow, snow
It won't be long before we'll all be there with snow
I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snow”
So sung the cast of the classic movie “White Christmas” in 1954. I love snow, too, though I don’t know if I’d go so far as to bathe in the stuff. I mean, that would kinda hurt. In any case, I was pleased to look out the window just now and see the sky all fuzzy with flakes. After a premature threat of Spring this past weekend, I’m glad to know that Winter hasn’t left me just yet.
Northern Virginia, land of my youth, sees snow several times a year but usually not more than an inch or so at a time. Accumulation of more than 12 inches is deemed a blizzard, as in “Man, do you remember the Blizzard of ’96?” To which I answer, “Yes, I surely do.” The Blizzard of ’96 was indirectly responsible for me getting chased by an angry mob of neighborhood mothers who were furious over a falsely-advertised potluck party, but that is a story for another time.
Snowfall of any amount in NoVa tends to cause widespread panic. The local news before a predicted storm focuses on images of nervous people cleaning out the grocery stores of bread, milk, and toilet paper. Also, Northern Virginians do not know how to drive in snow. So we don’t. At the first word of snow, we begin to cancel school, work, PTA events, club meetings, and what-have-you in an effort to keep off the roads and out of harm’s way. Invariably, however, the predictions of the weathermen prove false and no snow ever arrives. We are then left sitting at home with our bread, milk, toilet paper, and a vague sense of disappointment.
All this to say that I am glad to be living farther north these days, where I see a bit more snow action. And glad to be living in the city, where there is no need to drive to get where I’m going and the local bodega – just two doors down – will take care of me should a bread/milk/toilet paper emergency arise. Still, part of me wishes I could be experiencing the snow in a more undefiled, quieter environment…say, the mountain monastery of Chartreuse? But that is a story for another time. Tune in tomorrow.
“Snow, snow, snow, snow
It won't be long before we'll all be there with snow
I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snow”
So sung the cast of the classic movie “White Christmas” in 1954. I love snow, too, though I don’t know if I’d go so far as to bathe in the stuff. I mean, that would kinda hurt. In any case, I was pleased to look out the window just now and see the sky all fuzzy with flakes. After a premature threat of Spring this past weekend, I’m glad to know that Winter hasn’t left me just yet.
Northern Virginia, land of my youth, sees snow several times a year but usually not more than an inch or so at a time. Accumulation of more than 12 inches is deemed a blizzard, as in “Man, do you remember the Blizzard of ’96?” To which I answer, “Yes, I surely do.” The Blizzard of ’96 was indirectly responsible for me getting chased by an angry mob of neighborhood mothers who were furious over a falsely-advertised potluck party, but that is a story for another time.
Snowfall of any amount in NoVa tends to cause widespread panic. The local news before a predicted storm focuses on images of nervous people cleaning out the grocery stores of bread, milk, and toilet paper. Also, Northern Virginians do not know how to drive in snow. So we don’t. At the first word of snow, we begin to cancel school, work, PTA events, club meetings, and what-have-you in an effort to keep off the roads and out of harm’s way. Invariably, however, the predictions of the weathermen prove false and no snow ever arrives. We are then left sitting at home with our bread, milk, toilet paper, and a vague sense of disappointment.
All this to say that I am glad to be living farther north these days, where I see a bit more snow action. And glad to be living in the city, where there is no need to drive to get where I’m going and the local bodega – just two doors down – will take care of me should a bread/milk/toilet paper emergency arise. Still, part of me wishes I could be experiencing the snow in a more undefiled, quieter environment…say, the mountain monastery of Chartreuse? But that is a story for another time. Tune in tomorrow.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Purim Means Lots
(...of cookies!)
The Jewish holiday of Purim is this weekend. I plan to celebrate by making hammentaschen – traditional Purim cookies. (You know me - any excuse to ritualize baking, right?) As I sit at work, not fully consumed by the task at hand – that is, erasing all pencil marks from scores of legal documents – I have plenty of time to think through the various meanings of the holiday. Commemorating the events told in the book (or technically, scroll) of Esther, Purim is a time for celebrating the Jewish people’s escape from total annihilation. The Book of Esther has all the makings of a great story – a king and queen(s), the bad guy you love to hate, the good guy you’re rooting for, a royal decree declaring doom, and eleventh-hour salvation that turns the tables on the main characters, giving power to the powerless. This is not to say exactly “All’s well that ends well.” There are some troubling aspects to the story, such as the slaughter and destruction that comes in the final chapters when the royal decree cannot be completely rescinded in time. I’m not sure what to make of this, except to re-learn that there is suffering in this world, and our actions can have far-reaching consequences. Perhaps my favorite theme of Esther’s story is that God puts us in places for a reason. God, by the way, would at first glance appear to be absent throughout the story of Esther: it is the only book of the Bible where God is not explicitly mentioned. However, His sovereign hand seems to clearly be behind the unfolding events, as suggested by Mordechai (the good guy) to Esther (the queen) when he asks her, “And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14)
I love this verse. I quote it to myself frequently. When Esther balks at Mordechai’s request to use her royal influence, he reminds her that perhaps God (implied, in my opinion) granted her the role as queen for the very purpose of using her influence at this exact moment in history. This verse leads me to contemplate how God might want to use me in my current position. What can I accomplish for Him here? Not exactly a “royal position” – me with my endless legal documents and a bottle of white-out - but God is always in control, whether we see His name in our story or not. As I think about Purim, I am reminded to be alert for situations where He is prompting me to act – because who knows but that I have come here for such a time as this?
The Jewish holiday of Purim is this weekend. I plan to celebrate by making hammentaschen – traditional Purim cookies. (You know me - any excuse to ritualize baking, right?) As I sit at work, not fully consumed by the task at hand – that is, erasing all pencil marks from scores of legal documents – I have plenty of time to think through the various meanings of the holiday. Commemorating the events told in the book (or technically, scroll) of Esther, Purim is a time for celebrating the Jewish people’s escape from total annihilation. The Book of Esther has all the makings of a great story – a king and queen(s), the bad guy you love to hate, the good guy you’re rooting for, a royal decree declaring doom, and eleventh-hour salvation that turns the tables on the main characters, giving power to the powerless. This is not to say exactly “All’s well that ends well.” There are some troubling aspects to the story, such as the slaughter and destruction that comes in the final chapters when the royal decree cannot be completely rescinded in time. I’m not sure what to make of this, except to re-learn that there is suffering in this world, and our actions can have far-reaching consequences. Perhaps my favorite theme of Esther’s story is that God puts us in places for a reason. God, by the way, would at first glance appear to be absent throughout the story of Esther: it is the only book of the Bible where God is not explicitly mentioned. However, His sovereign hand seems to clearly be behind the unfolding events, as suggested by Mordechai (the good guy) to Esther (the queen) when he asks her, “And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14)
I love this verse. I quote it to myself frequently. When Esther balks at Mordechai’s request to use her royal influence, he reminds her that perhaps God (implied, in my opinion) granted her the role as queen for the very purpose of using her influence at this exact moment in history. This verse leads me to contemplate how God might want to use me in my current position. What can I accomplish for Him here? Not exactly a “royal position” – me with my endless legal documents and a bottle of white-out - but God is always in control, whether we see His name in our story or not. As I think about Purim, I am reminded to be alert for situations where He is prompting me to act – because who knows but that I have come here for such a time as this?
Filed under:
holidays
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