September 30, 2012

The Already

This morning I woke up before my alarm. Just a shaft of sunlight was coming through the window, and I remembered I had pumpkin oatmeal waiting for me in the crock pot. Instead of rolling over I actually got out of bed with a sense of peaceful anticipation. In a very abnormal sort of way, I was excited to be awake.

I made a cuppa, dished out some oatmeal, and headed toward my front porch. Already smiling at my clumsy, hands-full door-opening process, I fairly giggled when I saw the morning which met me. Chilly, bright — a morning made for Erin Hill. The air was the definition of fresh, the kind you feel you must breathe deeply. I snuggled up in my adirondack chair and warmed my hands on my mug, listening to the early birds. As I looked up at the reddening leaves of my tree, lines which frequent my thoughts in such moments rushed to my mind: “The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil …”

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September 25, 2012

The Not Yet

Sometimes I wonder at how fundamentally alone we all are.

I have a caring family, wonderful friends, people who get me. And yet, at the end of the day, it’s just me in my head. Never mind the walls of calculated self-presentation I build — there is a chasm even those who see through all my crap can’t cross. Sometimes, despite a history of smiles and tears and shared experiences, I just can’t get you to see what I mean. We talk past each other. We misunderstand. And I wonder why.

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September 18, 2012

Familiar Paths

This is my spot. I come here when I need to write or think, or if I just want a good drive. It’s a nice park, but nothing special. Neither urban nor rural, quiet nor bustling. I wouldn’t have picked it for my spot, but it seems I had no choice. You see, I became a writer here.

I first stumbled into this park five years ago (nearly to the day, as I realized on the way here tonight). It was an evening much like this one, the cooling breeze of the bright, early fall playing with my hair. I came here frustrated with a creative writing assignment that just wasn’t flowing. Somehow I found the inspiration I needed, and I walked out with a rough draft of the piece that would be a creative turning point for me. It’s still, I think, the best thing I’ve ever written. I’d found my sweet spot.

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September 6, 2012

Character

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Flat on my back, I looked up and saw four fingers. The room was still swirling and a few stars still floated in front of my eyes. It was around midnight, and a trip to the bathroom had gone very wrong when I stepped on an ill-placed guitar (I won’t tell you who put it in the middle of the floor), wobbled around like a bad tight-rope walker for a second, fell head first into the door-frame, and bounced backward onto the floor. The bang was so loud that my comatose sister actually woke up. I counted her fingers again. “Four,” I said.

“Erin … there’s only two.”

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September 4, 2012

Author

I’m very excited today to present a guest post from my BFF—my bestie, if you will—Elisabeth. I won’t say much by way of introduction since I’ve already written a rather gushy post about her, which you can read here if you want to know her better (or if you need a good cry). What is not commonly known is that Elisabeth is an excellent writer. I loved this when I read it—I think you’ll find it as penetrating as I did.

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” (Genesis 16:13)

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August 30, 2012

Plot

Yesterday I wrote about some wrong assumptions I’d made about contemporary, seeker-sensitive megachurches. To follow-up, I thought I’d explain some of what I’ve fallen in love with during my time around Southland and Crossroads.

I love free coffee. I mean, I really love it. I know at first it may seem like a waste to spend thousands of dollars and hours on something that’s not “ministry-related,” but it’s actually one of my favorite parts of going to church on the weekends. For me, coffee is much more than a drink. It’s a pivotal part of breakfast with my family. Most of my great friendships were built around it. Coffee, I think, communicates two things: community and welcome. It says, “we want you here.” (And, consequently, “God wants you here.”) Hospitality is a grace many of us have lost sight of, and I love being part of a church that extravagantly invests in making people feel at home. It’s just a reflection of God’s unreserved love.

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August 29, 2012

Plot

I love the Church. I don’t know if anything so broken has ever been so beautiful. We get so much wrong, and always have. But, looking back through history, the most astonishing thing, I think, is how much we’ve gotten right. The people of God, the Body of Christ, pursuing him and bringing redemption to the world — it’s breathtaking. I’m honored to be part of this community that spans centuries, nations, subcultures, and opinions.

I can be arrogant at times, and I used to be very arrogant toward most of the Church. It wasn’t completely conscious, but I assumed if you didn’t fit into the small circle I did, you probably just didn’t love Jesus as much as me. I cringe even writing that, but I really treated other Christ-followers that way. Jesus broke my heart over that during college, but for a long while I had one prejudice left: I was anti-megachurch.

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August 19, 2012

Allusion

Well, I can’t think of a better way to end Blog Wars 2012 than with a guest post from one of the more insightful people I’m honored to call “friend.” Kelcie brings both intelligence and warmth to any conversation, and her thoughts here on the beauty and complexity of being human are no exception. I will also add my hearty recommendation that you read Marilynne Robinson — one of several artists who have been added to my list of “favorites” after Kelcie’s endorsement.

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August 18, 2012

Soliloquy

Will you come?
If, at 2 am, my eyes light up
Because sleep has flown, but the stars are bright
And beckon watchers,
Will you come?
When, at early light, the back road calls,
And we had no plans, but the time is right
For small adventures,
Will you come?
Now, at moment’s nudge, to run away
For an hour or so, will you come despite
Our fancied oughts?
Will you come?
Or, better still, oh, precious thought!
Will you take my hand, your own eyes bright,
And say, “let’s go”?

• • •

August 17, 2012

An Aside

Growing up is awesome. I love where I am in life, even though my looming 26th birthday puts me closer to 30 than feels possible. I guess I’m a bit of a late bloomer, because I feel like I’m still blooming. I really didn’t start coming into my own until college, and now, in my mid-twenties, I’m starting to feel more settled and relaxed in who I am.

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