What We Deserve

"But it isn't fair!"

A phrase we hear repeatedly. I myself have heard it countless times since I first began to understand speech. It is a phrase usually accompanied by a drawling whine, a stomp of the foot, a crinkled forehead. It may be followed by stormy tears or a prolonged pout.



Unfortunately, more often than not, the mouth I heard it issuing from was my own.

I had this vision of getting what I wanted, thinking that I only wanted what was just. It's rather painful to admit, but it's true. I didn't recognize how very, very wrong I was at the time. I don't even know if I completely recognize it yet.

But I am starting to understand how very, very, very little I could ever deserve. In fact, I don't actually deserve anything. At all.



The only way in which I could possibly say that a good belongs to me by right is through that wonderful, mysterious, and almost unutterable reality of grace. By nature, through the fall, my being is so utterly wretched and undeserving. I can do no good thing by nature. All good comes from God. All beauty, all goodness, all perfection, all sanctity comes from God.

This isn't to say that each creature isn't good in itself. It is only to say that each creature is not good through itself, but rather through another. In that way, we can say that there is both one good and many goods. God is good, but He causes goodness in other things. He is the source of their individual goodness. Mind blowing.

So no, it isn't fair. But I have learned to thank God for that. I thank Him for not giving me what I deserve, but so much more than I could possibly imagine or even want on my own.



The blessings I have received in friendships are no exception. As C.S. Lewis stated: "Friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others."

Things on the floor

It had been a long, awful, absolutely exhausting week at school. It had been filled with a sinus infection, class, math homework, choir practice, more choir practice, a trip to the urgent care, even more choir practice, and finally the performance of the Play of Herod. (Being in the college choir is a rewarding experience, but is proving to be a bit of a trial junior year.)

After the concert (during which I actually fell asleep while I was supposed to be merely pretending), one of the sophomore guys invited a few of us up to the guest trailers for a surprise party for his little sister who was visiting. I was incredibly drugged up and tired, but I thought I'd pop in for a couple of minutes to be friendly and hospitable and all of that sort of thing.

After being fed a piece of cake (and everyone was very insistent that I be given one and only one piece of cake), I placed the plate on the floor. Nathaniel picked it up to throw it away. Someone jokingly commented about the fact that his question "Are you done?" came across as much more of an authoritative "You are done." In his defense, he said, "Well, it was on the floor!" Peter, quick to come to his aid, insisted, "Yes, Bridget only puts things she's done with on the floor."

A little light bulb illuminated over Kim's head as she registered all of this. She looked at me and then at Jeff who was sitting near the foot of my chair. "Oooooh," she said, getting a mischievous look in her eye, "Is that why Jeff's on the floor?"

Cue absolute, rib-cracking laughter.

Grandma

I was sitting on the sofa in the front room, playing with my six year old cousin. My grandmother walked in and sat down on the rocking chair next to me. We had only just arrived a few hours earlier, so I expected her to start up the usual "catch-up" small talk. What really happened was entirely unexpected.

Grandma: "What is morse code?"

me, after a puzzled pause: "A series of dots and dashes." (cue my sister making beeping noises)

Grandma: "Oh. What is a code?"

me, suppressing a giggle: "A series of signs, established by convention, which signify something to the intellect."

Grandma: "Really? Is that all?"

She sounded disappointed. After about thirty seconds of thoughtfully clicking her tongue, she got up and went back to her crossword.

I love my family. :)

Boy Crazy

Yesterday, I proved the fickleness and changeability of women.

At about eleven o'clock, I was helping my sister look over photos from a wedding she recently shot. She has been looking at them for months now, so they've all sort of become a blur (not literally, of course: they are all quite well-focused). All I mean by that is that when she looks at them she doesn't see them. She did quite a nice job with them though... the things I was picking out were minor and just little details that my critical eye spotted. Looking at a picture of one of the groom's brothers, grinning broadly, dancing with his new sister-in-law, I declared something which should have remained in my head. It was silly and nonsensical and oh-so impulsive:

"I want to marry him."

Fast-forward to about three o'clock in the afternoon. I was sitting in the van with Mum in the vet parking lot. Then I catch a look at an incredibly handsome, kind-faced young man, assisting the vet inside. Whoa. Mum, not realizing that I have already caught sight of the guy, points him out to me, noting how wonderfully kind he is. Apparently, he has been the assistant during the last couple of appointments that Mum has had. He is, in her words, "a really great guy." Forget the young man from earlier, this is the guy I now need to marry.

Or is it? The man I spent a whole two hours watching last night was amazing. He has dark hair, beautiful eyes, a charming accent, and an incredible love for his mother and sisters (heart melting to see in any guy...). The downside? He's fictional. WHY must Edmund be a character from a book that was recently put onto screen? I love him.

The End.

Maybe...

I Love HOJAM

Last night the fam-damily packed up in the van and headed to St. James. Why? Because our beloved HOJAM boys were putting on an Advent concert to raise funds for their trip to Madrid next summer for WYD. It was absolutely beautiful. A few parts incited quiet giggles, but the overall solemnity of the readings made it a very prayerful and peaceful evening.

PLUS, I got to see my "brother." In honor of the rare occasion, we took a "family" photo. :)

My brother, the orange

We're eating dinner tonight, chatting comfortably about something pleasant. The tv was on in the family room, not because anyone was watching it, but because everyone was too lazy to go turn it off. Suddenly, Scott breaks into the conversation, urging us all to be quiet.

Scott: "I love this commercial!"

I turn around and see an orange, hanging from a tree, dripping with dew, gentle music playing in the background, etc.

me: "Um, okay. Why?"

Scott: "It always makes me want to be an orange... it's so... peaceful."

LOL

It. Is. Over.

This is something that I said rejoicingly every single day this week. Why? Because it was finals week this week.

Saturday was our music final. I didn't study for it. I looked over my notes once the night before and then started looking over Theology. It was probably the first and last time that I won't be worried about a final. It was easy. Yay!

Monday was the theology final. Tough to study for, hard to execute, but I think I did a decent job. It's just hard to talk about God without constantly worrying that you're being a material heretic.

Tuesday was the day from... well, not heaven, that's for sure. I struggled so much with math this semester. Here's hoping and praying that I didn't fail it. (If looked at reasonably, I don't think I did. When I get tired, I start panicking that I did)

Wednesday was a fun final: seminar! It's our only oral final that we take. Twenty minutes with the tutor in his office, talking about general themes in the semester. It's pretty relaxing and fun.

Thursday was the laboratory, or as it is now called, natural science final. For us juniors that meant Galileo, Descartes, and Newton. Yay for physics! It was actually pretty straight forward, just kinda detailed to study for. But I love my tutor and worship the ground he walks on.

Friday was the philosophy final! It was long, but awesome. I filled an entire blue book... first time since freshman year!

And then we were done. DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE. To top it off, I got my theology paper back from my very tough tutor: A-. I can live with that :)