Back to the Bat

I've been looking through old emails today because I changed my software and it uploaded all of the ones I've saved. They date back to like, 1998, which is pretty fun. Back in high school, I used to send out fairly regular updates, which I'm sure most of my readers deleted. But that's OK. They were fun to write, and now I have chronicles of my life to remember forever (or until a tragic accident with the hard drive). They were a lot like blog entries... I digress.

Anyway, looking back has been fun, remembering all of my craziness and depth and struggles. But, one theme is unavoidable. Batman.

I've written about why I love him so much before. If you know me long, you know, I just love Batman. It's inexplicable. I'd forgotten until I looked through my emails how much I used to identify things from my life. In high school, my best friend Twan was Robin and I, of course, was Batman. We usually bought each other action figures of our characters. I acquired a most awesome shirt which I still wear, along with various other Bat-belia.

In college, we called our room the batcave and made a creative phone message to identify ourselves as such. Naomi was Alfred, Kathrine was Robin, and I, of course, as always, was Batman. I think that all started when, one night, I wrapped myself up in a black blanket and climbed around the bunks bed and dressers, singing the theme song from the animated series. I used to be really awesome. I think Naomi and Katherine worried from that moment on.

I used to call my house the bat-cave. Whatever apartment we lived in was a new bat-cave. When I had a sweet black car (RIP Merkur XR4TI) I referred to it as my bat-mobile.

I'm going to start infiltrating our lifestyle with Batman titles and names. This house is officially the Bat Cave once again. (Don't let the pink clothes, pastel curtians, and cheerfully colored baby toys fool you!) I'll also be taking suggestions for hero avatars for my children. Everyone in this family needs to identify themselves as someone from a comic book. (In case you're wondering, Daniel is Superman).

BTW, i found this site while searching for images and thought it was amusing.

The Woj

so today, because I was wearing slippers without socks, my mind wandered back to high school and through some strange rabbit trails. I'm going to share them with you because I think they're funny.

You know the band Leonard Skinnerd? They named themselves after a teacher in their high school who was notorious for enforcing the "no long hair" policy in the 70's (note: I do not listen to Leonard SKinnerd and I am not a fan, except for their name). I think it's hilarious that they did that. I've always thought about what high school teacher I'd name a band after if I were in their position.

There was Bernhard, famous for yelling at us, "If you put your head down and fall asleep in my class, it's like saying 'Screw YOU Mrs. Bernhard! I have my own agenda!" I think that quote was directed at me, even though I actually wasn't asleep as she supposed. So the agenda came from that, and me and my friends started a list of things to put on our agenda, which included spreading sparkle-butt-syndrome, starting an Amish college with a Peaceful Amish farmer mascot, and various other ridiculously unrealistic things.

There was also Kriegal. She filled in for our english teacher sophomore year. She had us do trust falls in our speech class. Enough said. (Frizzy eighties hair, pink eye shadow, too relational, thought my friend Kim was a druggie.)

My favorite character out of high school, though, who would definitely be first choice for a band name (of course, behind "my own agenda") is The Woj. I mean, his name was actually Wojotowitz, (wa-toe-its), but for obvious reasons, we called him The Woj. And wouldn't that be a good band name? He was one of those emotional teachers who wanted everyone to talk about their feelings and tell stories about their lives in class. It was AP English, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to pass any test with the information I acquired (or rather, didn't) that year. (Granted, I did spend about half of it out studying for academic decathlon with the rest of my team). i was privileged enough to have him as the coach for Academic Decathlon that year. It was because I was in his class that he asked me on the team, anyway. It was fun. But he was weird. Not gonna lie. He was a diabetic smoker who I think was a little on the hypochondriac side as well. He hung out at a bar called Leonardo's down the road, and there was a rumor that he was gay. I never made a conclusion either way, and didn't care either (although he did have the lisp and he liked to hold his ssssses out a little longer than necessary).
I once spent a half hour in his hotel room practicing my speech for ac-dec. I think he smoked three packs of cigs in that time. Wojo always scratched the chalkboard by accident when he tried to write stuff, and he started most classes off with making us write in journals about things and discussing it in class. There were a few funny moments from class, but I won't mention them for time sake. If you're really excited to hear those stories, you could just email me or something.
My brother said he was really talented with theater things. He was in charge of all of the smart kids at school and assemblies and national honor society. He was also one of the counselors. He once got me into an art class without having taken the prerequisite because he had the power to, and he wanted me to not have biology homework so I could study for ac-dec more. Because he was cool like that.
He also wore sandals year-round, even though he had somewhat gross-looking toes. Which is what brought on this whole stream-of-conscious that you are now reading. Because it started with me wearing no socks in my loafers. Which he also did.

I don't know if he's still at my high school. I think he is, still coaching ac-dec too (and, for the record, the year I participated was the first time in 10 years that we didn't make it to nationals... But it wasn't my fault, promise). The thing is, I liked him. He was personable and sarcastic, and I think he actually knew how smart I was, which didn't happen too often. He seemed to know me pretty well, even though I never offered any information about myself and I wasn't the kind of kid the teachers sat around in the lounge talking about. So that's why I'd name my band "The Woj". Because, eccentricities aside, he was a pretty good teacher (unlike the aforementioned ones).

Hopefully no one does a google search for any of these names! I might get myself in trouble. :)

Joy and Sorrow

"Joy and sorrow are this ocean/and in their every ebb and flow/now the Lord a door has opened/that all hell could never close/here I'm tested and made worthy/tossed about/lifted up/in the reckless raging fury that they call the love of God" ~ Rich Mullins "The Love of God"

Thursday is Jayna's first birthday. Friday will be Grace's 2nd birthday. I'm not sure you call it a birthday, but I guess I will for the sake of no better word. I love that this is the case, and I hate it all at once. I'm glad the happy milestone comes before the sad one. In a way, it helps me remember the sad one more. It always brings forth such a slew of emotions. Unexpected ones.

The mind is magical almost, in how it lives in cycles and recalls things subconsciously. Before I even realized how close the anniversary of Grace's death was, I sat in the car one night mulling it over, remembering that day so vividly. Then I realized that her birthday was two weeks away. I missed her some, thinking about what life would be like right now if things had gone according to the plan (lower case P).

Then I thought about what kind of cake I needed to make for Jayna and how to celebrate her birthday. And I thanked God for the joy and sorrow that tangle together so hopelessly, that there is absolutely no way I can remove one from the other. Without Grace, there would be no Jayna. Without Jayna, there would be a resounding hollowness. I think that's why I relate with the way Rich described God's love. Reckless and raging fury. It's inescapable when you know Him. It burns in your heart and holds you when you cry. It reminds you of the good and the bad. It fills you with joy, even on cold days when the sun won't shine. It redeems and recaptures and drags you along through every moment, holding on tighter than you ever could.

How strange it is when the Lord chooses to redeem a tragedy, rolling over the sorrow with a new joy. How beautiful, and how mysterious. How wonderful.

The Evolution of Photos

Over Christmas break, my mom and my sister went through the giant tote full of old pictures and tried to sort them out. The first step was throwing away old pictures that they no longer cared about/duplicates/unnneeded ones. Then they made piles of whose were whose. I helped them one of the days, and had a really fun time looking at my past. I was a skinny little round-faced girl with stringy blond hair who wore tee-shirts that didn't fit and old blue jeans most of the time. We had a dog named Barney and an awesome goat named Princess.

The pictures from my teenage years are less than attractive. I had curly hair and big glasses (which, by the way, were just as stylish as anyone's). A lot of the early high school ones are with my friend Bethany (Who, I was told looked like my sister). Later high school ones are with Daniel.


This week I decided to update some of my frames around the house. I went through some a lot of photos to select the right ones (and, the never ending process still isn't complete). It's funny how the last five years have changed so much. First, we had fun pictures from our college/high school years hanging. There were a lot of pictures of friends and fun events.
Then, it turned into a lot of wedding photos from friends' weddings. Now, we're upgrading to baby photos.


Sometimes I wish I could just pick out a picture and do the Mary Poppins thing and just jump inside and resume life from there. i wish I could go back to dancing with my dog barney while I wait for the bus, or dressing up in stupid costumes with the neighbor kids, or marching band, or awesome college hang outs. It would be fun. But I think at some point, I'll look at the pictures from today and think the same thing. "Oh, remember when our kids were all little and we did this?" I hope that i cherish these times when I'm older. I also hope they go by soon. Maybe that's part of being an eternal being trapped in a finite body within time. Maybe that's why I can't wait for heaven.

One of my very favorite songs is called "Old Clothes" by randy Stonehill. I sing it to myself pretty often, especially when I travel down memory lane with keepsakes and pictures.


Toys from my childhood
old photographs
left in this dusty old suitcase
things we once cherished
are lost with the past
Seek out the treasure that always will last

So I'm packing up my old clothes
with my old and foolish ways
they just don't seem to fit me
anymore
I see the light of morning
with different eyes today
and I'm giving my tomorrows to the Lord

So many heroes
who never came through
too many roads going nowhere
Jesus was whispering
I still love you.
With a love that makes
all things new.

So I'm packing up my old clothes
with my old and foolish ways
they just don't seem to fit me
anymore
I see the light of Jesus
with different eyes today
and I'm giving my tomorrows to the Lord