Hello Again

For the past few months, I've met once a week with a small group of women to work through this heinie-kicking book that encouraged us to take risks for God. There's much, much more to tell about that journey, but for now, you should know that that group is the reason I am revisiting this blog. We learned that God asks us to take risks with the gifts He's given us. Writing and teaching are two areas that make me feel absolutely alive - I believe they are indeed gifts from God. I had never considered what it would look like to a risk with either gift. One friend in the group said, "Have you ever thought about writing a blog?"

As it turns out, I have a blog. This very one that you've stumbled upon or purposely sought out today. And, I'm going to write again. I am in a wonderful and difficult season of life now and I expect the posts will reflect that reality. I am letting go of an expectation of perfection or publish-worthy material, so be prepared for work that baffles and bores along with the more inspiring pieces.

If you've read this blog before, you may notice that it has a new title. Psalm 84 is a life passage of sorts. I believe that we are all sojourners, committed to pilgrimage. By God's grace, we make the valleys "a place of springs" and "go from strength to strength". My hope is that what I write here will give you courage to keep going. To commit to your own journey with God, knowing that this will surely mean taking crazy scary risks and, at the end, finding truth. Bless you, my travel buddies. Thanks for reading.

Date Night in Tipton

The latest materialization of the Midwest’s effect on my life is that I now enjoy bowling. Iowa’s winter was so much colder than I’m used to. It prompted a greater need to be creative about getting out of the house. So, Jeremie and I started bowling. It’s a warm, indoor, inexpensive activity that pairs well with friends and beer. What’s not to like?

On one dark, cold date night in early March, our new affinity brought us to the bowling alley in Tipton, IA. It was about a half hour outside Iowa City, in the middle of farmland (well, I should say more farmland – Iowa City is in the middle of farmland itself). We drove the extra distance because Jeremie’s classmate highly recommended the food at the alley’s bar.

We parked in the lot across from the “Take Pride in Your Ride” gas station, walked in, and sat at the bar. The bartender walked us through the menu, which was simple, but there were homemade sauce options that needed to be explained. We dined on sauce slathered burgers, fries, and deep-fried cheese curds. I’m not a fan of ranch dressing, but the bartender was right – the curds came alive when dipped in ranch. Lesson learned: bartenders know things. Don’t ask unnecessary questions when they recommend something.

After we finished eating, Jeremie expressed our interest in bowling. The bartender informed us that it was league night, so we were out of luck until 9:30pm. We’d come all that way, so we decided to hang out and watch the league bowlers. Jeremie got a pint of Busch Lite, the only beer on tap, and we found some seats near the lanes.

I’d never seen bowling like this. Let me paint the scene. There were eight cozy lanes. Above the lanes were colorful handwritten advertisements for Tipton businesses, my favorite of which was “Kramer’s Lawn Ornaments”. One wall was painted with “God Bless America” and listed how many strikes in a row would result in the team winning a free round of beers (separated into men’s and women’s categories). Wall-mounted sound speakers gently played “Eye of the Tiger” while men and women, some in matching shirts, some not, bowled and hand-wrote their scores on overhead projector screens. The players were predominantly males over the age of 50, but our favorite lane included a woman, a young man with Down’s Syndrome, and a one-armed guy. They were seriously kicking butt. On the rare occasion there was a pin left standing, they easily picked up the spare. It was incredible. We sipped Busch Lite and cheered people on. I smiled at the one-armed man’s success and then he messed up the next turn. Jeremie thought the incidents might be related, so I refrained from eye contact from then on. We decided to leave as soon as another favorite bowler got a strike. The words were barely out of our mouths before he got his next strike.

So long, Tipton! Thanks for a great date night!