Deanna Pappas has a very difficult decision to make this coming week; I don’t at all wish I were her right now. I’ll also go ahead and say that I sure do not envy the poor man she chooses. I like them both too much.
It’s kind of a win-win and a lose-lose all wrapped together in what is sure to be “the most dramatic (or is it ‘romantic’?) finale ever!”
Oh man, I can’t wait!
I know that I express my bias in this blog a lot-and I’m about to again: I truly have some of the best friends that anyone could ask for! I’m not quite sure what I did to deserve them! No, seriously.
Last weekend, a bunch of us drove down to Kerrville, which served as a launching point for us to float the Frio. It was a b-last! I’m not sure if we could have fit any more fun in a 36 hour period! As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words, so here you go:
Thanks to all who made the weekend o’ fun a huge success! You guys are the very best!
One of the down sides to attending such a school like Texas A&M are the enormous class sizes and the consequent impersonal interaction with professors.It’s to be expected in a class of 250 that a professor isn’t going to be chummy with anyone in the class, other than “that” overly-eager girl always on the front row. Even in my upper level classes when the class sizes dwindled to an intimate 30 there was a definite lack of relationship. Sure, my professors knew my name for the most part and where I tended to sit, but they really didn’t know me. And I didn’t know them. I might pass them in the hall the next semester completely unrecognized. I look back on that in light of the relationships I made with my professors in grad school and I see that in this system, we really miss out on a lot. Professors really have a lot to offer outside of academia.
I did have one professor who was an exception, in that I could go to her office today and she would still know who I was. She was my linguistics professor - an ABD from Georgetown, one of the best linguistics programs in the country. She quickly piqued my interest and I became completely intrigued by the field of linguistics.
She was different than any other professor I’ve ever had. She was shockingly honest, and truly believed in linguistics as a vehicle for social change. She had a unique perspective, uncommon among high ranking academics because she grew up in extreme poverty. Her mother was blind and her father was an alcoholic. Her potential was recognized by a teacher at an early age, but the principle of her school denied her entrance into the GT program because “gifted students do not come from families like that.” Miraculously, she herself broke the cycle of poverty in her family, went to college and then to Georgetown to get her Ph.D. She has a phenomenal story and incredible insight into the plight of the poor.
All of this to say, in the course of one of her classes, we were assigned a project to study how language shaped our views of a certain marginalized social group. My group (consisting of four other middle class white girls) chose to study children of the “working poor.” I learned a lot in this project-not just about these children, but about myself.
Our professor had our group over one night, and we had a lengthy discussion about our lives, who we were and how we got that way. During the course of this discussion, she shared with us a “social justice covenant” that she had written several years back. She wrote this as someone who knew personally the pangs of others’ judgments, the hypocrisy of “do gooders,” and value of someone’s character, regardless of socio-economic status. This document forced me to take a long, hard look at my own life, my own heart and my own intentions to “do good.”
Social Justice Covenant Challenge
Moral Humility: I understand that I may have inherited classist ideas through cultural transmission in the same way that I have inherited white privilege, an evil that I am likely to be completely blind to until someone (God or any of His emissaries) shows me what I cannot show myself.
Moral Humility: I will not assume that I know why another soul is poor, or that I know how they can fix the situation.
Moral Humility: I will not assume that fiscal irresponsibility, fiscal ignorance, or unwillingness to work hard are the causes of a person’s poverty.
Moral Humility: I will not recite unquestioningly the American mantra that education and hard work solve all social ills.
Moral Humility: I will not blame the poor for their poverty anymore than I would blame a person with autism for their incapacity, nor a cancer victim of their terminal disease (Jesus did not).
Moral Humility: I will acknowledge that my status in society is no evidence that I am more virtuous than my poor brothers and sisters—I will not contend that I work harder or smarter and therefore deserve my relative comfort to their relative desperation and dis-ease.
Identity: I will not assume that God’s will is for all poor people to become middle class people (which is not the same as saying that it is God’s will for people to be poor).
Identity: I will not behave as though I believe that poor people are failed versions of non-poor people (as Aristotle thought women were deformed versions of men).
Respect: I will endeavor to treat poor people with the same dignity and respect that I would afford any dignitary and most especially Christ Himself, who came to earth as a poor and illegitimate Jew and remained so until His resurrection.
Respect: I will not treat the choices, secrets and private lives of the poor as if they were more legitimately scrutinized by the public eye than I believe are my own (e.g., whether they brought lunch at McDonald’s).
Respect: I will not criticize the poor for making their needs known. On the contrary, I will criticize myself when needs I should have seen have to be brought to my attention by the needy.
Active Compassion:I will endeavor to discover who among those God designates “my neighbor” is in need.
Respect: I will endeavor to discover what that neighbor needs with the maximum secrecy and anonymity that I am able to achieve.
Equity: I will give sacrificially out of my abundance to the poor in maximum anonymity and in a manner that will protect the face needs and sense of dignity of the receiver.
Equity: I will endeavor and aspire to match the widow’s mite in my giving to God and others.
Equity: I will not pretend, like Ananias and Saphira that I am giving more sacrificially than I am.
Relationship: I will not merely “throw money” at the poor and hope their situation improves. Rather, I will give of my time and my heart as well as my material resources. I will covenant to pray for the poor regularly.
Relationship: I will develop a close lifetime relationship with at least one needy person or family and will endeavor maintain that relationship with the greatest degree of symmetry and equality between us as I possibly can.
Relationship: I will commit myself to understanding that the poor have something to give me, which no amount of money could ever buy and strive to earn the right to receive that gift.
I am so lacking. Lord, help me.
As a courtesy to Dr. Everts, I would ask that you not post or distribute her intellectual property (this covenant challenge) without giving her proper credit. Thanks! 
I know there has been a lot of talk today about fathers and so I don’t want to sound trite, but I really must say, I really love my dad.
When I think about it, the goodness of God completely overwhelms me to the point of tears. I mean, out of all the men in 1983 that I could have been born to, He gave me Kelly D. What an act of grace! He gave me a godly example, someone disciplined, compassionate, optimistic and fun-loving. My father epitomizes selflessness and I hardly can begin to know (or thank him) for the sacrifices he has made for me in his life. He has encouraged me, affirmed me, disciplined me and spoiled me rotten. He has been a rock in my life, someone I could always always count on and turn to. I have never ever once doubted his love, and I am so thankful for the security that has provided. Most importantly, he has painted a beautiful picture of my heavenly Father through his words, actions and life and taught my brother and I to fear the Lord. I know of no greater man. I absolutely adore him.
So happy father’s day to all you special dads out there! But, especially to mine. Happy Father’s day!
Last Friday I took advantage of the long weekend and headed to Paris (TX) to visit some of my favorites: JM, Tara, Kellan and Parker . In addition to enjoying their company, we watched a quirky but pleasant movie, went to a tractor show, and broke out the slip ‘n slide that JM bought Tara for her 21st birthday (right before he proposed to her). Here are some pictures:
It was far and away the absolute most best and wonderful weekend ever! Thanks, Davidsons!
Everyone remembers when Hurricane Katrina hit. But that’s not what this post is about. This post is about her little sister, Rita.
In the days following the tragedies of Katrina, we heard there was another hurricane coming, heading straight towards Houston. At the time, I was in College Station-a mere 70 miles from the city that would take the brunt of the storm. We had no idea what was going to happen, and to be honest, we were all scared. We had seen the utter destruction on the news and all of the sudden it seemed really personal. We all had friends and family in Houston and were concerned for their safety. We were also concerned for ours. In fact, I clearly remember filling up every pitcher, bathtub, even big cups–anything that would hold water and stocking up on batteries in case we lost water and electricity. A&M’s administration canceled school for the day and we prepared ourselves for the storm and for the influx of “refugees” coming in from Houston.
One of these refugees was especially special to me and we welcomed her with open arms. She stumbled into town in the middle of the night after her 8 hour trip from Houston (usually takes 2 hours max), weary and exhausted from the events of the day. As you can see, she had been through a lot.
As many of you recall, the storm took a turn north, and we woke up the morning it was supposed to hit to clear skies, a warm breeze and sunshine. Not really what we were expecting.
The next day we went to Checkers to get some ice, and my refugee made some new friends. They even rapped for us. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a video on my camera. The picture will have to suffice. As you can see, she cheered up a little bit.
I was extremely proud of my community during these crazy weeks. Churches and individuals all over the city were opening their doors to those affected by the storm, housing and feeding thousands of people. A&M cleared out Reed Arena and housed and cared for hundreds. It really was a brilliant example of people coming together and sacrificing in order to help others. It was a beautiful picture of the church that will remain ingrained in my mind.
It’s the kind of relationship that makes you cringe and saddens your heart. A “one sided” and asymmetrical relationship in which partner A, manipulative and Machiavellian, strings partner B along, offering nuggets of hope and satisfaction as a way to maintain power and control in a relationship. Just when they think they’ve had enough, frustrated and fed-up by maltreatment, partner A offers a nugget of hope and satisfaction, which eases the heart of partner B and convinces him or her that everything is alright and will get better. The partner B remains blind to the manipulation that is blaringly obvious to those on the outside; no matter how many heart-to-hearts and “come to Jesus” talks they sit though, they just don’t see they are being strung along.
I am in one such relationship and have been for several years now.
The difference with me is that know I’m being toyed with. I’m fully aware I’m being played like a card. I do believe it is well within my power to turn my back and stop this whole mess. But I choose not to. I’ve invested too much to quit now. Yes, J.J. Abrams has me right where he wants me.
To those of you concerned for my well-being, don’t be too worried. I’ve never even met J.J. He’s the producer of the hit show LOST.
I look back at our relationship and marvel at how it has progressed. It started off innocently enough. I was intrigued by a show I kept hearing about, and finally started watching it Wednesday nights with my friends. It was about these plane-wreck survivors making do and dealing with their spotty pasts on a deserted island somewhere in the Pacific. Then it started to get weird. Those of you who know me know my aversion to the science-fiction or fantasy genres. When it comes to entertainment, I am a realist. I don’t appreciate science-fiction or fantasy, animals that talk, people with supernatural powers and the like (oddly enough—I love Mary Poppins which is all of these things and more. What can I say, I’m complicated). In short, if it can’t happen in real life, I am not drawn to watch it.
However, the supernatural elements started gradually and so before I fully realized that I was watching a science-fiction show, I was hooked. Yes, J.J., you have a great power over me! To my credit, I’ve stayed with him through the hatch, electro-magnetic forces, random polar bears, lethal black smoke, time travel, unlucky numbers, JACOB!?, the others, the other others, supernatural healings, and visions of Walt, horses and Christian Shepherd to name a few. And there have been a few moments of satisfaction and semblances of a symmetrical relationship, i.e. when he killed off the random new characters introduced a few weeks prior (I felt like he heard my frustration and delivered), but for the most part, he has left my duly unsatisfied.
Just when I’ve had enough of the craziness and want to throw in the towel, he’ll give us a clue or a long-awaited answer to one of the plethora of questions I have. Gah!
And so the cycle continues. In two weeks, J.J. will half answer a few of our questions while presenting a host of new ones all the while leaving us in utter suspense by an out-of-control cliff-hanger finale. Yadda yadda yadda. We’ve been through this before. I still have no idea what is going on, what will happen, or honestly, what has already happened. We will all throw out theories trying to explain what has happened, and at this point, I think anything is plausible.
If I knew everything I know now a few years ago, would I still have joined the cult of Lost-followers? Would I have agreed to sign my Wednesday (and now Thursday) nights away to a show that has done nothing but frustrate me and leave me confused and unsatisfied? Yes, of course. Some things are just worth it.
Since wordpress has now made posting pictures easier, I am starting a new feature on my blog: random photo from my past of the week. Stay tuned for incriminating, embarrassing, ridiculous, but always fabulous photos from my (our) past.
Special bonus: If I know you read this blog, I’ll try my very hardest to include you in this new feature. Get excited.
First picture:
So my senior year some friends and I flew (standby–but that’s an entirely different story) to London to visit our friend, Katherine who was interning with Delloite. Among the things we wanted to do while we were there, right under the London Eye and Westminister Abbey, was to eat fish and chips. Real, authentic fish and chips, you know, like the British eat. After some searching we knew we would have no luck in the touristy or commercialized areas of town. We had to “go native” and go where the locals go. So we ventured to where no tourist had ever traveled before, especially for fish and chips, and got off at the randomest tube stop in the entire city: Elephant and Castle. After walking aimlessly for at least a kilometer, we finally stumbled upon a little to-go shop that sold fish and chips. We got some and had a picnic of sorts on the sidewalk in this random, remote and run-down neighborhood in London. It was delicious and memorable. Our little Elephant & Castle picnic.
If you’re ever in London, you should check it out.
I’m going to call it. I think Jason’s out tonight. I hate to say it, because I like the guy, but I’m not sure if even the Aggie Network and the Great State of Texas will be able to save him after last nights performance.
I guess we’ll find out in about 40 minutes.
Next week Sayesha will be out. It’s between the Davids.
My heart, like many of yours, is with the people of Myanmar right now. I’ve been reading article after article detailing the horrific circumstances plaguing the country during the aftermath of Cyclone Nargis. Loved ones are reduced to unceremoniously dumping their deceased into the river, simply because they don’t know what to do with the thousands of remaining bodies. The situation for the survivors is bleak. They wait in makeshift shelters while they watch their food and clean water supply slowly diminish. They have lost their loved ones, homes, belongings and life as they have known it. Their circumstances show little hope. I truly can not comprehend the measure of loss these people are experiencing.
While the world has been quick to respond, the people have yet to feel this relief due to their ow government’s restrictions and remote location. The government has been reluctant to accept humanitarian aid and Burma’s infrastructure does not support the mass and rapid transportation that would expedite the help they so desperately need right now.
I’m saying all of this simply as a reminder to pray for these people! Pray for the government, the humanitarian and relief workers and the Burmese Christians who are serving as witnesses right now. Pray for the families that have been separated, for the widows and orphans who who are now forging a new life. Please pray for this country–that God would provide hope and healing during this time of death and destruction.
Also, I encourage each of you to provide, hope, help and relief to a people who so desperately need it through a monetary donation to a humanitarian organization. These organizations depend on our partnership as they provide for the needs to those affected by this crisis. They simply can not do the work they do without our help.
Partners in Progress
World Vision
Thank you!
