theo|digital

This is the 7th night of the saga of the “why I am not actually crazy” story.

Prior to the current system of counting (nights), we were counting weeks. Three weeks, actually, of waking up in starts… having that feeling that someone is in your room.

Sometimes it was twice in one night. I’d wake up – sure it was shuffling I was hearing – roll over in sudden action and slam the light switch from my bed in order to see: nothing. Nobody in my room.

At one point, I was sure there were noises coming from my own bed, and I thought I felt someone touch my hair.

I’d never been crazy before. So this is how it is?

Until seven days ago. When I found the bag and saran wrap surrounding the chocolate chip cookie I had left on my desk being not so protective. There were round, torn holes in both, and mostly just crumbs where the cookie was supposed to be.

And that night, I saw it. As I slammed on the lights at 3:15am, his little white nose was just disappearing into a whole in the bricks near the ceiling. Minor freaking out. But mostly relief that it turns out my hallucinations weren’t the best evidence of my mental instability (not that I don’t have unrelated concerns).

Turns out Menards sells mouse traps. I bought four, at $0.78 for two. A lesson on springs and a little peanut butter later we were business. I’d love to be compassionate, but this little sucker ran through my hair. Justice demands death (also damages for pain and suffering).

But one would recall that we’re on our 7th day. Turns out the peanut butter is quite attractive to young white mice trying to have a nightlife in my basement. No problem there. But I’m a mouse-catching novice, and didn’t set my traps tightly enough. The next morning, all four traps were still set in pristine fashion, peanut butter licked cleaned.

2nd try: much more sensitively set traps.
- that night: awakened to BANG! Sprung trap, but no mouse the next morning. And yes, no peanut butter.

3rd try: re-set traps. less bait so mouse has to work harder.
- nope.

4th try: no bait. traps set along walls in optimal running areas.
- no.

5th try: added “milk jug trap” with peanut butter near the bottom (conceived by Monte). Mouse goes in, can’t climb out, right?
- awaken to claws-on-plastic-in-jug sound. excited. not for long. mouse escapes.

6th try: tonight I’m sitting in my bedroom at 1.14am, and I can hear the mouse running around in the adjacent dark. Seriously. Meanwhile, I’m re-baiting the traps with something new: dental floss. Some mouse-catching websites (yeah) advise tying floss as something that looks like it could contribute to a mouse nest. Traps are now reset with floss tied to them and a *tiny* amount of peanut butter on the floss.

1.20am – BANG, a trap has already sprung!! I walk around the corner and find my new baited traps still sitting ready. The trap that sprung is an old trap that I didn’t re-bait, but it’s in the mouse’s favorite hole. He’s toying with me. No mouse.

And now here we are.

Anger. Determination. Little shivers down my spine.

if they find me, remember me as a lover, not a fighter.

What is it about cooking and eating a meal together that bonds a group of people? That turns acquaintances to friends to family?

The author of Bowling Alone quotes statistics that lament, in summary, the lost of art of “inviting someone over for dinner;” urban individualism spawning web-ordered Chinese eaten in front of digital cable. It’s not just the natural grasp between hot food and community which appears to be lost. Both seemed to fall together.

It’s a sad contrast to an Acts community which “broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.”

It’s not just the Eating that makes a good meal. Yes – maybe my favorite memories of true fellowship in undergrad are sitting with a plate of mediocre pasta and one of my dear friends in the corner of the living room – talking about life. Asking deep questions. But the once-a-month Cooking-and-Cleaning gave me my first semester a tangible way to help, my next: a humbling way to serve, my next: a stepping stone to greater leadership.

What if it’s true that preparing and eating meals together is one of the best physical manifestations of the real church?

TIME Magazine ran a cover story this past week on gay teens in America (The Battle Over Gay Teens, 10 October 2005). It was a remarkably perspectived article: interviewing both GLBT advocates, Exodus Internationals’ Scott Davis, and those in-between.

Also this week, Evan Wolfson, the author of Why Marriage Matters: America, Equality, and Gay People’s Right to Marry, was on campus lecturing. I didn’t see him, but I am reading an autographed copy of his book, which was loaned to me by Karen Bush, campus minister of the rainbow-flag adorned United Church of Christ.

This is currently a fish-in-the-sand issue for conservative and liberal Christians both to find those in a room who are like-minded. For the younger generation of Christ followers, however, it can’t be the case. It’s not that 20s Christians don’t have opinions on things like gay marriage, they just don’t hold it at the same level of moral imperative as the older generation.

The church’s view on this in fifteen years will be fascinating. I have no idea where it’ll go. It certainly isn’t simple.

As promised. One of my favorite late night snacks I learned from Jesse Hart, one of my old roommates. He used to call it just “migas” – which I think just means eggs.

Take oil and butter and melt them in a saute pan. Tear two soft flour tortillas into small pieces and stir them in the hot oil until crispy. Stir in a light amount of salsa, and some whipped eggs (with added red and black pepper).

nice.

Recently I found myself in a room of spiritual friends and leaders, thinking together of how to define spiritual maturity.

In previous years, we’ve often used the ambiguous phrasing: who “gets” it. It’s purposely undefined, because every time we seem to start writing definitions of maturity, they become cold and robotic, or cumbersome and wordy. Or both.

Trying to define an intuitive concept.

Thinking about who “gets” it as a follower of Christ is not supposed to be a judgemental activity. It’s so much more a thoughtful inclusion: a mental and heart loop that says, “who do I want to connect with? Who is as resolved as I am to follow Jesus even on the days we both can’t find up?

So we finally came up with some sentences that help create a definition. Today I sat and refined them with my thoughts, and came up with the following:

——
Someone who “gets” it:
- describes a living relationship with God that would remain even if their community fell off the map
- in awe
- makes personal life choices under God: wants God’s way
- returns to the scriptures again and again to find God’s way
- believes that life is short and we only have one life to live; feels that Jesus’ Great Commission applies personally
- embraces personal weaknesses – knows that God shows real spiritual power in them
- emotionally understands their “lostness”; “forgiven much loves much”
- oriented towards others
- highly values “we” – community, hospitality, sharing lives and possessions
- derives sense of purpose from the bigger vision of the Kingdom of God
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