Fox in the night

Tonight, I left my organic chem lab after a long day of work and class, and so at about 9:45pm I found myself walking across a cold, nearly deserted downtown campus back to my car.

Plodding along down a path through the middle of campus, I saw something stirring on the little grass mound between paths, maybe 10-15 feet away from where I was about to be passing by. I watched for a minute, my brain trying to interpret what I was seeing-- a cardboard box or brown plastic grocery bag stirring in the wind? A dog?

Shortly the brain clicked, as a fox straightened up from where it was lolling about on the lawn and nonchalantly starting strolling over onto the path, headed back whence I had just come. I slowed to a stop, dumbfounded as the critter wandered by, not at all concerned about my presence.

A man was heading down the sidewalk approaching me, and I glanced over to see if I could catch his eye, certain he would be just as delighted as I (ok, well nearly, let's be at least remotely realistic here) at the unexpected sight of our wildlife friend, right there in town. But, no-- he was looking straight ahead, which meant he certainly must have seen the fox, who was now trotting casually along directly in front of the man's route, illuminated by lamp-light.

I continued watching the fox as the man approached and neared passing me. Gazing back, I said, "huh. interesting." ...because it seemed unfathomable that this individual clearly was not going to stop and say to me something akin to "HOLY COW! DID YOU SEE THAT FOX THAT IS OVER THERE, BEHIND YOU?! WOW!! *SO* COOL!!" so I felt that the miraculous occurrence at least needed some acknowledgment, tongue-tied as it may have left me.

"It's a fox," he told me.

"Yeah," I replied.

Apparently he only thought I thought it was interesting, because he thought I was not actually aware what the animal was. Apparently not everyone gets so overwhelmingly excited over getting to hang out, even if only for a few short moments, with a fox. (I was about to say "with a fox in the city," or "with a fox unexpectedly," but who are we kidding. Of course I would have been just as giddy and thrilled, had I encountered the fox on a focused, organized all-out fox-seeking adventure to some sort of specifically fox-occupied territory.)

As I walked on the rest of the way to the parking garage, grinning like an idiot, I thought of what a nice treat that was, for God to have arranged for me. Apparently HE gets me, a little better than the random man on campus did.

And I thought about Matthew 7:9-11 (not by verse, mind you, I had to look it up when I got home):

"Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" (NIV)

I mean, I know Jesus probably meant bigger things than encountering a fox on a late-evening downtown stroll-- like hope, and joy, and salvation, and whatnot-- but, still. I was pretty thrilled by this good gift, nonetheless. The best treat I managed to arrange for my cat of late was to tell him he could keep the little plastic measuring cup from the top of a bottle of Robitussin. And that's after he'd already found it, on his own, and batted at it on the floor a bit.

Yet God came up with something WAY, WAY cooler than that for me. It's really pretty humbling. Plastic medicine cup... or fox in the night. God totally wins!

Lessons on non-verbal communication... from a cat

Yesterday I came home from work, and after greeting me at the door, Potok went and stood in front of his dishes. And I realized that-- without making a noise, let alone speaking in anything remotely resembling English-- I nevertheless knew exactly what he was telling me: in this case, "mom, even though there is food in my dish, I don't like to eat out of the bottom of the dish, so I would like some more, please." (We'd even discussed that morning, that this would happen when I got home from work. I'd asked him to remind me.) As I crouched in front of the hall closet to refill his food container from the big bags, he followed and rubbed back and forth against my legs, clearly communicating "yes, yes, this is exactly what I wanted" and standing before his dishes and kissing my hand as I poured the food in told me "I am excited about this! I love this food! Thank you, thank you!"

If only we could all communicate so clearly, and yet so simply... without a doubt I was able understand what the cat needed, what he wanted, and how he felt about the scenario. How did we get so far from that, being able to simply communicate our needs-- without resentment or hedging or manipulation or changes in the balance of power? Babies do it. They cry: this tells us they are hungry, or wet, or sleepy, or want to be held and talked to. They even have different cries to tell us these things. Watching us tells us that they like us, and are interested in what we are doing. Their laughs are deep and genuine, their cries just as heartbroken and open.

So, I will try to take a lesson from cats and babies. More communicating, less "communication."

More than I could ever have wanted

So this evening, while at our absolutely wonderful new Wednesday night church service, we were singing the song "You alone," which has the lyrics:

You have given me more than
I could ever have wanted

and I just had one of those "whoa. yep."  moments. Because it's so true-- well, no, not exactly true at all, in one sense anyway-- because this life is so much better than what I would have wanted for myself. I mean, don't get me wrong-- this life still has a lot of troubles, and a lot of things I would want for it, or want out of it, and a lot of pain and frustration and uncertainty. But if I'd had my way in things? I would be missing so many of the wonderful blessings I have in my life today.

I realized I've been saying "yeah, God knows what's best for me," but in the sense of a kid whose parent took away the ice cream cone because they knew it wasn't good for you-- but as the pouty little kid, you still wanted it. But God did not give me the life I have now as some sort of a consolation prize for me not getting to plan it all out myself and always get my (usually not terribly wise) way. He took away the proverbial ice cream cone, not only because it wasn't good for me, but because he wanted to replace it for me, with something even better.

So tonight I got to go to church and see a bunch of people I love dearly, and worship and grow together. And last Sunday evening I got to share with other people at church about our India trip-- I mean, I got to go to India, in case I freaking forgot that, and got to have an incredible blessed experience there. And then I got home from church and finally listened to my voicemail and had this little precious girl singing "happy birthday" and telling me "love you, Aunt Corrie." And this all does not even touch the tip of the ice berg. Especially in relative terms, in sharp relief (pun somewhat intended) against the ice cream cone of the life I would've wanted.

As the song says... I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive. God is good, all the time.

3 years in Denver

As of a couple of weeks ago, I've been in Colorado for 3 years. I sorta can't believe that much time has passed, but on the other hand, it also seems like I've been here for ages.

And who knew? Who knew all the things that would happen to me since I've been here?

When I moved to Colorado...

• I didn't know where I'd be living (until about a week before I got here, that is).
• I didn't know I'd then end up having to move out to Lakewood (and then back to Denver again).
• I didn't know I'd wake up one morning to a cop in my bedroom with gun drawn. (Don't know that story? Remind me sometime.)
• I didn't know where I'd be working.
• I didn't know it would take me a solid 2 1/2 years to get a car again.
• I didn't know that I'd be heading back to school, and that by this point I'd have completed 2 years of busy evenings, working towards another degree.
• I didn't know I'd finally, and pretty randomly, find an amazing church full of wonderful people who love me... and within easy walking distance, no less!
• I didn't know that in three years, only one person would come to visit me (in fairness, one and a half. The half being someone who's come to visit numerous people, in town including me).
• I didn't know I'd end up with a cat who, in a previous life, never would speak to me, and now will not get off my lap.
• I didn't know that heading across the country would eventually lead to me heading to a country on the other side of the planet, and falling in love with it.
• Here's a BIG one: I didn't know I'd have 2 nieces and a nephew! It's so hard being far away from them, but I love that I still get to see them several times a year, and am excited to someday be closer to them again. 

There are a lot of other "didn't know"s, too, including some I can't even think of at the moment, because of course by now, I know them! (Like that last on the list... it's hard to remember a time before that was the case!) It's been a crazy ride so far, some ups, a bunch of downs. Here are a few pics to give a (massively condensed) look back at the past 3 years of this Colorado journey. (Ok, perhaps more than a few-- but you try to sum up 3 years in less than 25 photos!)

August 2007 - View from my bedroom in my first house in Denver

October 2007 - Hiking in El Dorado Canyon State Park

February 2008 - With Lizz up on Lookout Mountain

March 2008 - First (and so far only) skiing adventure

May 2008 - Fox cubs in my neighborhood in Lakewood

June 2008 - Hiking in Golden Gate Canyon State Park

August 2008 - Downtown crowds for the Democratic National Convention

October 2008 - Elk in Rocky Mountain National Park

September 2008 - First concert at Red Rocks

October 2008 - Chatfield corn maze with Lizz and Cristina

February 2009 - Wild Animal Sanctuary

March 2009 - Potok joins me in Colorado

May 2009 - The Dead, 6th row floor

May 2009 - Lizz and Colin's wedding

July 2009 - Rocky Mountain Music Festival

September 2009 - My 2nd time at the Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk

October 2009 - Skydiving!!!

December 2009 - Fall "Meals That Matter" group Christmas party

December 2009 - Pathways Christmas cocktail party

January 2010 - Casa Bonita

April 2010 - With Lynne at Kevin and Jessica's wedding

May 2010 - Rocky Mountain National Arsenal

May 2010 - Camping near Buena Vista

July 2010 - India (note that I've left out other not-in-CO happenings of these 3 years; but this was a direct result of me moving to CO, so it gets to make it in)

August 2010 (3 years to the day of my arrival in Denver) - I might be in Broncos country, but I'm still a Lions fan!

Are you angry? If the answer is no-- why not?

As a nation (or perhaps as modern society in general), we have a very short attention span. We easily get tired of hearing about the same top news story, and quickly get crisis fatigue-- whether it's a war, a natural disaster, an economic downturn, or something else that isn't happy and fun, we quickly become exhausted of seeing the same pictures yet again, hearing the same depressing outlook on the situation. This makes sense, in a way-- it's a coping mechanism to keep us from getting burned out on bad news.

But ignoring a crisis or hiding it after ten fluffy human interest stories on the 10 o'clock news doesn't make it go away. Worldwide, people (and the environment) are still dealing with the lasting after-effects of crises we've long since stopped thinking about.

So here it is, y'all: a massive environmental catastrophe. At some point in the last 2 months, the news reports stopped referring to the "oil spill," and instead aptly termed it the "Gulf oil disaster." We can blame BP or the British in general... and I do wholeheartedly believe that BP should go broke, if needed (and it likely would be needed) to do everything in their power to mitigate the impacts of this crisis and help clean up its after-effects. I read somewhere today an expert saying that it will take 40 years for the Gulf to recover, if it ever does. At the moment, I'm leaning toward the latter part of that prognosis: hopefully the ecosystem as a whole will eventually be rebuilt, but most likely not before some parts of it-- some habitats, some species already hovering on the brink of sustainability-- are irreparably damaged. I realized today that this disaster may impact the whole future course of my life: as someone going into ecology and conservation, I don't yet know what I'll be doing after grad school (that still being a number of years off), but there is suddenly a lot more than needs intensive ecological attention and conservation efforts.

But this envirinmental disaster was not a matter of if, but of when. The way we have been treating this planet like it was a never-ending resource put here simply for our use and abuse was (and is) bound to lead to some catastrophe or another. There are a million different places to put the blame: big corporations like BP, lax officials who did not create or enforce adequate regulations, marketers who have pushed a consumerist mentality upon us, and ourselves, who for the most part bought into the system whole-heartedly. We cannot act surprised that the course were are on led us to its predictable and inevitable result.

But we should be angry. I mean, really, really irate. Pissed off. Full of rage. However you want to put it. Direct your anger at any or all of the above options for blame, but just do not become complacent. Do not sit back and allow anyone, anywhere, to think that this is ok, or a normal result of business as usual. This planet is not "ours," in the sense that children are not "ours": it is something entrusted to us, and we are responsible for taking the best possible care of it, so that it will continue to be ok, thrive even, long after we are gone. We are not the owners, but the stewards, the caretakers. Even though we-- each and every one of us-- have had a role in its degradation, it will only continue until the 300 million people in this country-- shoot, no, this is all of our planet, the nearly 7 billion people in the world-- get really, really mad about what we have done to our home, and demand that it be treated differently from now on.

There are a million and one things I could say about the various aspects of this catastrophe-- the attempts to stop the gush of oil, the paltry promises by BP to clean up their mess, the almost instantaneous efforts by various individuals and corporations to vindicate themselves of blame, the ecological impacts now and far into the future, the economic impacts, the world response-- but I am just too mad. Instead, I will share some of the pictures and articles that have touched me the most deeply in recent days.

Because we cannot get crisis fatigue on this one-- it is not going away, and we must make sure that it goes away the right way, with the least harm still possible to the animals, the environment, and the people affected.

The Plight of the Sea Turtles
"'They've been around since the dinosaurs, and I feel we have a moral responsibility not to kill things that were on the earth long before we were.'"

A High-Risk Egg Race To Save The Sea Turtles
"'Thirty-five years from now, they will reach their sexual maturity and begin coming back to the beaches.' Only then might we find out whether the rescued turtles went back to the Gulf or not. Or if they even survived."

Is the Gulf Oil Spill Killing Cures for Cancer and Malaria?
"It’s like burning down part of a rainforest, Wright says: there’s always the possibility that scientists didn’t get the chance to discover a cure there, and that chance is lost forever."

BP's Atlantis: Oil Giant To Be Sued Over Safety Of Another Deepwater Rig
"Along with the federal government's failure to enforce environmental and worker safety regulations, this poses a serious threat to public safety and the environment, say the plaintiffs."

Is BP rejecting skimmers to save money on Gulf oil cleanup?
"'By sinking and dispersing the oil, BP can amortize the cost of the cleanup over the next 15 years or so, as tar balls continue to roll up on the beaches, rather than dealing with the issue now by removing the oil from the water with the proper equipment,' McCallister testified earlier this week before the U.S. Senate Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation."

Turtles to be protected from 'burn boxes'
"Texas A&M Gulf researcher Thomas Shirley confirmed the 'burn box' deaths in an interview with the Monitor, adding that hundreds of dead turtles and other sea life already found in and around the spill represent but 'a tiny fraction of what the actual damage is.'"

Gulf Oil Leaks Could Gush For Years
"'We don't have any idea how to stop this,' Simmons said of the Gulf leak. Some of the proposed strategies—such as temporarily plugging the leaking pipe with a jet of golf balls and other material—are a 'joke,' he added. 'We really are in unprecedented waters.'"

Animals Hurt By Gulf Oil Spill - Pictures

Mad yet? Good. Be mad. Tell everyone you know about this. (You'd be surprised... a lot of people really don't know. If you don't watch or read or listen to the news regularly, you'd be pretty out of the loop as to the extent and current status of this disaster.) And here, if you want to actually do something, however small, to help us as a planet (people, animals, environment) try to recover from all of this-- here are some ways to help:
Global Action Atlas/Gulf Oil Spill
(From this site you can contribute to organizations helping wildife, cleanup efforts, and humanitarian impacts of the oil "spill." There are countless other organizations working to help with the cleanup efforts and prevent the oil from further impacting the gulf ecosystems-- do your research and find one that's a good fit for you.)

Some musing on Father's Day

This weekend contains that annual (probably Hallmark-invented) holiday known as Father's Day. It is a time of year when, throughout my life, I have wondered why none of the items pictured on the Father's Day pages of countless ads in the month of June seemed at all like something I would get my dad. Truly, my life would be easier if my dad were into any of the apparently limited interests that retailers have assigned to fathers: golfing, beer, electronic gadgets with no apparent practical use, bartending, wearing cuff links, fishing, or grilling while wearing a manly apron.

Apparently I am not the only one with difficulty finding a suitable way to express my appreciation for my dad each year (mom always made it easy by asking for gardening stuff). I just Googled "father's day gift ideas" and was taken to a site where, among the traditional Father's Day gift items (for the hobbies listed above, along with various frames and plaques and other household items declaring "DAD" or bearing sentimental inscriptions about fulfilling the role of one) there were all sorts of items that one clearly does not go looking for, but orders as a last desperate attempt to find something that your dad will like. The World's Largest Gummy Bear (5 pounds and only 12,600 calories!) Chocolate-covered strawberries decorated to resemble various (albeit somewhat misshaped) sports balls. A gallon jug of Tabasco sauce. Pirate skull drinking glasses. A motorized tie rack. Finger drum kits. A USB drive shaped like a hot dog and bun. Bedside nightlight coasters. UV toothbrush sanitizers. (Now, if you really had the notion that one of these things would be exactly what your dad had always wanted, then I suppose you would be thrilled to find the perfect gift to show dad that you care. But for the rest of us... I think I'm going to pass on the gummy bear. Sorry, Dad.)

There are also a number of items that are not really gifts for dad, per se, but say "Thanks, Dad. You've had your Father's Day lunch, now get back to work." Nothing says "I love and appreciate you" like a fancy gutter-cleaning tool or tree-trimming pruning shears. But enough about the difficulty of expressing one's emotions through Father's Day gifts. That is really not what this post is all about.

This is about what Father's Day is supposed to be about: Dads. I'm lucky, I got a great one. As a kid, he'd read me story books at bedtime (or chapters from Encyclopedia Brown books as I got older). He'd let me sit on the back of the couch and manipulate his hair into dozens of tiny tuft pigtails with colorful barrettes. He even made valiant attempts to play Barbie dolls when I wanted someone to play with in a house of brothers. As a pre-teen, he let me paint his toenails (blue, and only one foot, of course. A man does have his limits). He's the one who introduced me to football (though I don't know that he really intended to). And now, he does his best to make up answers to all my grown-up questions about cars, money, etc., even if he doesn't actually know. The point is, he's there, and that's the important thing worth celebrating on Father's Day.

I include grandpas in Father's Day, too, since they don't get a day of their own, and the two I had, at least, rocked too. Growing up, I had friends and classmates who didn't even get a chance to know some of their grandparents-- I was blessed to spend most of my life (up to this point) knowing two more great, Godly men who I knew loved me, without a doubt. I lost my Grandpa Navis several years ago from Alzheimer's, and when it really hit me was when I graduated from college the following spring, because I knew he'd be proud. My Grandpa VanderBent passed away recently, and holidays and gatherings with the extended family back in Michigan will never be the same. Even though I miss both of them greatly, I thank God that I had the chance to know them and see the examples of how they lived their lives. So this Father's Day, I'm remembering and celebrating their influences in my life, too.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! Love, Corrie

Have you heard...?

For those of you who haven't heard yet, I'm going to India! I'll be going for 2 weeks this summer with a group from church.

Anyway, I've set up a block just for updates on that trip-- check out http://corrieinindia.blogspot.com/ (Though at the moment, there really isn't much there to tell, so maybe bookmark it for later!)

A wee ode to a spring day

Listen--
can you hear this day?
Not the sounds of those cars passing
Not the carefree chatter
of those pedestrians walking by.
No, the sounds of the day that still would be
even if you and I were not.
The sounds of sun-warmed snow as it drips
from icicles, eaves
from scattered clumps of autumn-left leaves.
The sounds of soft, sparkling, breeze-shaken snowflakes
gently pattering from branches to earth.
The sounds of wakening creatures, here--
chuckling pigeon, tiny songbird.
Sounds of new-sprung grass and bush
thirstily drinking of the melt and sun.
Listen--
can you hear this day?

How I arrived

Last Sunday, I found out why I came here. To Colorado, I mean.

I don’t mean why I thought I was coming here. At the time, in the summer of 2007, when I fairly impulsively gave in to a friend’s persuasion and uprooted my life with no job out here, no place to live until shortly before I arrived, and knowing only one person in the state, I would have given you one of several answers if asked why I was moving: just time for a change; time to get out of West Michigan; seemed like a good place to live. But the actual reason, the one I knew but wouldn’t have articulated to most people, was that I was running away, looking for a new start, a second chance, to escape from some situations that had ended up with a lot of hurt and mess.

I struggled for the first year and a half I lived here-- desperately lonely, depressed, not finding the peace or resolution or fresh start that I'd come seeking. I went to church a few times with a friend, but never connected anywhere, and then she stopped wanting to go anymore. So in the spring of 2009, I Googled “churches 80203” and Pathways—just a couple of blocks away, helpful since I didn’t own a car—was one of the ones that looked worth checking out.

The first time I attended was the evening service on Palm Sunday, and I pretty much instantly felt like I was home. Before long I was jumping in head first: I attended a DP ("Discovering Pathways") dinner, signed up for Meals That Matter and small groups, got baptized, actually wanted to tithe (which believes me, goes against every Dutch instinct I have). For the first time in my life I found myself really reluctant at the end of church services. I was actually getting something out of the messages, not wondering how long before they would be over. I felt like I would be perfectly content to never leave church or the people I began to know, to greet by name and with hugs as I passed them in the aisles. I finally felt like I was home.

Things still weren't perfect, though. I still struggled with certain situations in my life, praying to God for the peace and strength to step down the paths he clearly wanted me to take-- yet I still didn't get an answer. Slowly (oh, so slowly!) I started to realize that doing what God wants us to do does not always mean waiting to equip us with what we need to do it. Sometimes it means doing it anyway, even when we don’t have the strength to survive it, even when it is the last possible thing we want to do. I had to just do it, and rely on God to be enough, when I was sorely lacking. (Don't get me wrong, I'm still not entirely a fan of the fact that this is the way it is, but apparently it is this way, and there doesn't appear to be much I can do about it. Trust me, I've tried to find some loophole, but no.) Slowly and yes, often quite painfully, God is scraping away the scar tissue in my life. I have to be willing to go through the pain first—I couldn’t move straight to healing, as I’d wanted to. That’s just not how it works.

But slowly—just around the very edges of the wounds, almost imperceptibly—I am also beginning to heal. The love and prayers of my friends at church, the shared worship and communion on Sundays, the opportunities to serve in my church and my community, the messages that reach into my soul and grate away at the things I’d been holding onto too hard—all these things are slowly nudging me towards sanity, and love, and peace.

So that is why I moved to Denver. I didn’t know it at the time, didn’t have a clue as to the ways God would work in my life. I thought I was running away to heal on my own. I didn’t know that God was going to first allow me to be even more hurt, more desperate, more lonely than ever, before he would find me a refuge, a community that would look me in the face and tell it like it is, so that I could finally face my own demons and fight for the life God wants for me.

So last Sunday morning, as all of this—which had been growing for some time—finally came clearly into my mind, my heart sang. As I took communion I thought, he died so I could have this! Without the love of God to fight for, to fill these people around me so that they could show me his love through them, I would still be lost in the depths of my pain and hopelessness, forever. And with an incredulous laugh at God’s incredible love and unfathomable plans, I looked around in wonder at my life.

Ask me a year ago and I wouldn't recognize where I am now. When did I become a person who has worship tunes on their iPod, let alone plays it in her apartment where-- if they listened closely enough-- the neighbors could probably hear? (Ok, even now, I'm somewhat loathe to admit that. I do have a reputation to uphold, after all, no?) When did I become a person who spends their evenings hanging out with friends from church? Who gets up early on a Saturday to help do repairs in the sanctuary? Who actually says stuff like all that sappy drivel above? Yikes! I barely recognize myself. But I think I sorta like where I've landed. :)