spring.

8 Apr
I love spring.  But don’t tell fall.  
The sunshine, the melting snow, and the warmer temperatures of the last couple days have been refreshing and an excellent way to stock up on the missing vitamin D in the body.  Rumor has it there may be a thunderstorm this weekend.  Oh, to cuddle up with a mug of coffee, a quilt, and a book while it rains and thunders outside.  [Excuse me.  Let me rephrase that.  Oh, to cuddle up with a mug of coffee, a quilt, and my thesis resources and notecards as it rains and thunders outside.]
I have wonderful spring memories of growing up on the farm.  My brothers and I would slip on our mud boots (theirs were black; mine were red), our farm clothes, and disappear for the afternoon.  We’d explore the barns, the pastures, and build makeshift bridges across the creeks.  I don’t quite know how this kept us occupied for hours upon hours, but I do remember how awesome it was.  There is something about growing up on a farm, especially in the springtime, that is simply wonderful.
Your favorite thing to do in the season of spring?  A favorite spring memory?  Here are a few more of mine.
I remember visiting home one spring.  Cousins Sam and Molly came out to my house to hang out with me.  I wanted to fly my kite, and the day before would have been perfect.  Suddenly, as spring tends to do, the weather changed drastically the next day.  It was freezing and terribly windy.  [Though, really, it’s constantly windy at our house on top of a hill.]  We went about our kite-flying anyways.  We had little success and even more so, because of Jetta, my brother’s then puppy.  Jetta thought it was a grand time to chase our kite, grab it, and run about the yard, Sam chasing her the whole time.  The kite-flying didn’t last long that spring day.
Puddle jumping.  M. and I used to go puddle jumping.  These photos are from two different years, the years when babysitting for her consisted of walking up and down the sidewalk, up and down the sidewalk.  Oh for cute.

a request.

6 Apr
There has been a request.  A request for a post.  A post about music.
Here is some musical insight into Lindsay, as well as an embarrassing story in bad taste.
I’ll be the first to admit that my taste in music in my high school days was pretty horrid at times.  After a steady diet of Garth Brooks and Reba McIntire throughout my early years [who gave Reba lip-sync “concerts” in the tobacco strip house with her playschool microphone?  this girl.], I went pop for a time … but not necessarily to the good stuff.  I won’t tell you how much money I paid to see Ricky Martin in concert my 9th grade year.  [Okay.  I will.  $80.]  I was in love with Ricky Martin ever since he sang ‘Copa de la Vida’ at the Grammy’s in, oh, 1999ish?
I was in the midst of my Spanish classes and I loved his Spanish albums from that point on.  I listened to him bunches, and then saw the Livin’ la Vida Loca tour in Milwaukee.  [I will maintain that his early Spanish albums are better than the English ones that followed.  Does that help my case at all?] My dad was such a good sport, toting four high school girls to the Bradley Center to see Ricky Martin.  [He didn’t actually attend but dropped us off and picked us up following.]  I think we even took signs that we held up to the car windows – “Ricky Martin bound!” and the like.  [ugh.  embarrassed.  the things we do when we’re 15.]  When I was at that point in my life, I probably would tell you that the concert was awesome.  I remember there was confetti and free Armani perfume samples.  Currently, I can’t say that Ricky Martin is on my playlist any too often.
It’s on days like this – sun shining, flip-flops on, and sitting outside on the patio of the Stillwater Public Library overlooking the flooded St. Croix river – that I wish the radio in my car worked.  I think there is no better sign of spring than country music and the windows down.  Even if it’s still a bit too cold, I’ll put the window down and the heat on to turn the music up louder.  Country music is ultimately my roots and my default.  
That’s not to say I didn’t go through a huge Lady Gaga phase while on internship.  Matchbox Twenty is probably my favorite of all time.  Josh Groban and Michael Buble rank pretty high.  Taylor Swift goes on repeat quite a bit lately.  I think Darius Rucker and the Zac Brown Band know me too well as every song seems to apply to my life.  Keith Urban is dreamy.  And I would pay more than $80 to see Snow Patrol in concert.  LOVE them.  Unfortunate for me that they’re based across the ocean.  [Nearly half of my “25 most played songs” playlist on iTunes are Snow Patrol.]  
I’m not too eclectic and pretty mainstream when it comes to what’s on my ipod, but I’m always up for suggestions to make me more musically hip like you.  Who is your favorite right now?  What should I listen to so we can become better friends?

a blog is a funny thing.

4 Apr
Can we just take a minute to talk about blogs?
They’re interesting creatures.  An online journal, forum, soapbox; it could be described in lots of way.  For me, it’s how I process my days, how I share my life with those I don’t see everyday, and a creative outlet.  I’ve always loved to write.  I was that dorky kid who loved writing research papers in middle school with all the notecards.  [color-coordinated, of course.]  I had more than one pen-pal, and throughout middle and high school, I actually wrote a sometimes monthly, sometimes quarterly newsletter for the Dancing Bananas, my close group of friends.  [For real.  It was called Update! and – if I may say so myself – my friends loved it.  Unfortunately – but also conveniently for blackmail purposes – I have no issues of Update! to share on this current computer.  Pretty sure most are saved on a hard disc.]  Perhaps all signs in my past lead to me being a dedicated blogger.  I wouldn’t have posted 34 times in the month of March alone if I didn’t love writing this.
Recap: It’s how I process, how I share my life, and how I engage in my passion for writing.
Additionally, it has helped me make friends.
Seriously.
A blog is a funny thing.
If we meet in person, I’m a pretty shy and guarded person right off the bat.  An introvert who is aware she can say some pretty dumb and awkward things [especially if you don’t know me], I usually keep my mouth shut.  It’s been crazy how I have discovered that certain people read this blog and suddenly, friendships begin to form.  I can’t quite pin it down but something about sharing of myself here, on this blog, allows me more open up further in person and it’s a great conversation starter.  If you already know things about me and, knowing that, haven’t declared me too weird or off my rocker, then let’s be friends. It’s been awesome this year to gain those friendships, and so good for my soul.  
That being said, I’m still not always certain who reads this.  [A fun example: Tammy, my office neighbor in Dawson, had mentioned that her brother reads my blog.  I don’t think I’d ever really met him until this past Saturday when I was at the musical.  Tammy and her family sat next to me.  As her brother scooted past to his seat, he bumped my arm and said, “I read your blog.”  Here’s a shout out to Terry; thanks for reading!] I’m not always sure why people visit this funny thing called a blog.  I ramble about my life and am humbled that people read it.  And enjoy it?  If you say so.  
That being said, I ask in the most polite and kind-hearted manner – Who are you?
I share my life with you.  I keep the blog updated with the ins and outs of my world, but that’s a pretty one-sided deal.  If we’re going to be friends, it needs to go two ways.  I think it would be awesome if you commented on this post or sent me an email [lmstolen at gmail dot com].  Introduce yourself. Let me know what’s going on in your world and I promise to respond.  [If I know you well, see you nearly everyday, or you’re a family member, you’re exempt from this request.  I would, however, still appreciate a life update.  Or a joke.  Or the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done in your presence.  That could be a good post to come.]  Then I can better know who you are, we can hold hands, and skip into the sunset. 
I really think you should say hi.  Then we can be friends and do things like high-five each other.

[Speaking of blogs … I blogged here tonight too if you feel so inclined to take the energy to click the link and then have the energy to listen to my ramblings on coats.]

blessed to be a blessing.

3 Apr
*ahem*  My weekend story.
Once upon a Saturday morning, Lindsay drove south to a small country church for an interview.  [Not such a blessing: The iPhone car charger I bought the night before in anticipation of this long weekend traveling about Minnesota somehow blows a fuse in my car.  The radio, clock, and cigarette lighter worked for none of the ten hours I spent driving yesterday and today.  What worked overtime?  My brain.  And the voices in my head.  Not good.  This blog post?  Written mentally on the drive.  My one-page paper due tomorrow?  Not written on the drive.]  The interview went … well.  [Also well?  The fact that I discovered there is a Target AND a JoAnne Fabrics not ten minutes from where I would be living if I were to receive the call.  Score!]  I feel blessed to have reached this point and am so excited to begin doing ministry in a new place.  I’ll keep you posted!
From this small country church, I drove west and north to Dawson dearest.  [Four hours.  Did I mention no radio?]  There was a ticket and it had my name on it.  A seat was reserved for me to see the Dawson-Boyd High School production of Hairspray.  It was magnificent.  Hilarious.  [Enter any synonym for “awesome.”]  Those high schoolers and adults who participated both on stage and behind the scenes are blessed with incredible gifts.  Incredible.
I felt greatly blessed to return to Dawson and be greeted by so many friends.  I honestly cannot tell you how it ever happened.  I spent a year in this place and met some of the most wonderful people.  In that one year, they shared humor, confidence in me, hugs, and loads of love.  I love them to bits.  And miss them bunches. 
As I ran into friends in the rush that followed the end of the musical, I smiled so loudly.  I couldn’t stop as I saw people I didn’t expect to see and received/gave hug after hug.  I caught up briefly on Dawson lives, shared my own life update, and was the butt of [only a few] jokes.  The one that had me laughing the hardest?
     [discussing whether or not I’m going to worship at Grace the following day]
     Sam: You could go in disguise.
     Me: Hmm.  I didn’t bring any disguises.
     Mary:  You could not wear a cardigan.
     [hilarious.  and sadly true.  I had packed a cardigan for the next day.]
I was blessed by former coworkers who opened their home to me.  Again.  I was lucky to have a couch to sleep on in a house that feels like a home to me.  [I think that’s a compliment, Emily!  I hope you take it as such!]  After spending time there dog-sitting Abby, the mischievous lab who played many games with me this morning, and numerous late nights of dinner and wine, it feels completely comfortable and wonderful to return, if only for a short night.  
This morning I worshipped at Grace.  It was the first time I’d been back to the church and, actually, the first time I’d simply sat in the congregation and worshipped.  Kendall preached – after I had a red-faced introduction from the current intern as the returning intern – and it was all about blessing.  Paying attention to the blessings in our lives.  We have received blessings upon blessings, and with those, we bless back.  We bless with what God has given us; with what we have received, we bless others. 

This past weekend, I was so incredibly aware of blessings I have received.  [And then I came back and had to do homework and this group presentation meeting and became really crabby and I should probably apologize again and again to my group members.]  Many of the blessings I was again reminded of are faces, names, and arms that hug me again and again.  [Two examples of many: Custodian Keith.  He and his wife give me a hug when they first see me.  *mingle, mingle*  Keith and Gail are on their way out, and Keith wonders if he’ll see me in church the next day.  I told him I wasn’t quite sure, so he said he’d better give me another hug just in case.  He says, in reference to the staff at Grace, “We were a pretty tight group.”  Aww.  Yes, we were.  Second: A hug, quick conversation, and kiss on the hand from my five-year-old friend, C.]  I’m so incredibly blessed; here’s hoping I take those blessings and am a blessing to others.  Source: 24.media.tumblr.com via David on Pinterest 

In this new week, pay attention to the blessings in your life.  
What/who are they?  AND 
How are you a blessing to others?

the things I dream about.

31 Mar
Last week, I had this really wacky dream.  I was somehow cast to be the substitute on a hockey team.  [Note: I can’t skate even the tiniest bit.]  The game was in overtime [Is it even called overtime in hockey?  Hint at how little I know about this sport I play in my dreams.] and time is going in super slow motion.  As people skate about the rink, I think to myself, “Which goal is ours?  Did it switch?  I don’t remember …” as I search wildly for any kind of clues.  Suddenly – or as suddenly as things go in slow motion – the puck is in my possession.  *insert naughty word*  WHICH GOAL IS MY TEAM’S?  *insert naughty word*  I still don’t know so I take my best guess.  Naturally, I guessed wrong.  The team lost on my account.  I woke up feeling absolutely terrible and being reminded why I cannot bear to play competitive team sports; I fear I will let people down.  [Hello, Enneagram #2.]
While that is apparently what I dream of while wrapped in my warm quilts at night, not quite where I intend this blog post to dawdle.  [Unless you want to hear about my dream of yellow shoes made of jell-o.  That’s a classic.]  Here are the other things I dream of, while my eyes are still open –
A hammock between two trees.  Wherever I end up once my time is seminary is spent, may there be two trees close enough together to match the length of my Mexico hammock.  Please, God, please.  [I may need to invest in these to hang it more securely.  Right now, it’s always a guessing game of how quickly the hammock with drape to the-butt-touching-ground height with slippery rope.]
Time to get lost in a book.  [A friend posted this on facebook.  It is wonderfully written, and captures my childhood love affair with books; a love affair I hope to rekindle once not a full-time student.  If you’re a reader – or if you date one/are married to one, certainly click on over.]
That my thesis would write itself OR at least give me the time and energy to do so.
My future craft room.  Seriously.  

passion.

29 Mar
I’m a wordy person.  I associate a lot of meaning with words and am cautious that I use the right word in conversation and writing.  I love etymology and a good thesaurus.  If we’re talking about the written word, I love a good type too.  Fonts and typography get me excited.
The newest word I’m in love with?

passion |ˈpa sh ən|noun1 strong and barely controllable emotion : a man of impetuous passion. See note at emotion .• a state or outburst of such emotion : oratory in which he gradually works himself up into a passion.• an intense desire or enthusiasm for something : the Englishhave a passion for gardens.• a thing arousing enthusiasm : modern furniture is a particularpassion of Bill’s.

There is something about a strong and barely controllable emotion.  Something that makes me so excited I’ll risk lack of sleep to do it.  That thing that unleashes a vigor, a fervor, a mania.  (Thank you, thesaurus.)  Something that leads to eagerness and intense energy.
Passion is crucial.  
So important that a lack of it could kill you.  
Not in the literal sense but in real seriousness – what is life without passion?  
[You could probably say that Pinterest feeds many of my passions, and fed the formative push for this blog post by unveiling the following to me on a board I follow – ]
What about life makes you barely able control your excitement and enthusiasm?  
If you can’t even contain it [Please!  Tell me you can’t!], what do you do with it?  
How do you share it?  
What happens?  
Tell me!
If you’ll allow me to consider this a passion, here’s my example: Vacation Bible School.  VBS is like the perfect combination of all things I love and a week in the summer where my energy is high despite incredible lack of sleep and long hours of work.  Love it.  L-O-V-E love it.  
Crafts?  Check.  
Crazy games?  Check.  
Loving on kids?  Check.  
Teaching?  Check.  
Community?  Check.  
Watching kids discover the love of Jesus?  Check.
[I’m getting super giddy just thinking about it!]
Passion is on the brain for Pinterest reasons and for ministry reasons.  Many know my secret but if you don’t, here you go [even after I swore off revealing secrets on this blog as of, oh, yesterday] – I interview with a potential church this weekend.  Stress levels are high as I anticipate the questions and the nerves that I hope won’t show.  If it’s a good fit, it’s a good fit.  If not, other options will come.  But I wonder how I wear my passion; how will they see my passion for ministry?  I hope I can share who I am – who I’m created to be – and wear the enthusiasm I have for ministry in the church.  I’ll most certainly keep you posted.
[It’s still March and this is my 33rd blog post of the month.  Safe to say that writing/sharing/being in this media relationship with you via blog land is a passion of mine?  Perhaps.]

It’s Monday.

28 Mar
My 8am class doesn’t exactly make me too thrilled about the start of a new week.  Still, there are things that  excite me.  Happy Monday; let’s find the joy in this jolted end to the weekend.
An embroidery foot for my sewing machine added to an online cart.  My next creative dream is a circle quilt, quilted in the meandering style.  [Two new feats to tackle.]  I kinda just want to copy this quilt exactly – I love the colors and the gray binding.

I went to a roller derby on Saturday night.  It was ca-ray-zee.  Girls on roller skates fighting, jammers, pivots, and people in costumes.  It’s like these people asked themselves, “Hmm.  Where can I wear that Chewbaca suit I have in my closet?  Oh, the roller derby.  Of course.”  Duh.

I put a quilt in the mail to a friend and with perfect timing – I heard this morning that baby came early and both mom and baby are healthy and well.  Unfortunate that this new family lives in Seattle; hopefully a visit will happen this summer.

It’s my pal, Adam’s, birthday today and I’ll be attending birthday dinner tonight at his aunt-in-law’s home.  Rumor has it there will be ice cream cake.  I bought him pretzel m&ms.  His favorite.  [Added as of 10:30pm : Adam’s birthday dinner was a success.  Rumors were true.  I also discovered that he reads this blog.  And thus knew of his gift before I arrived.  Note to self: Quit revealing secrets on blog, as I know not who all reads this nonsense … ]

M. and I

26 Mar
I spent a lot of time with M. this past week.  She was on spring break and her family is busy in the midst of move preparation.  I went over to her house for two days and the third she came over to my “grown-up apartment.”  We had a lot of fun crafting, baking, and watching Ariel.

M. arrived and walked into my apartment for the first time.  She sized up the room, paused in the middle of the living area, and said convincingly, “This is nice.”  Thanks, M.  She took off her boots and made herself at home.  We sewed and stuffed a pillow [It was her idea and she clung to that pillow for the rest of the afternoon!], and I sewed together a few book signatures for her to take home and continue to create.  We baked cookies, and she cuddled up on my bed to watch Ariel [The Little Mermaid].  
It was just a lot of fun.  It’s been really cool to babysit for her over these last years and watch her grow since I’ve been in St.Paul.  I’ll miss her bunches when I’m off somewhere abouts in the southern portion of the state next year.

Visit me!

25 Mar
I’m blogging over at Steeples and Stilettos today.  Jump on over to that collaborative blog and all of your questions about this photo will be answered —

eHoly Harmony

24 Mar
If you’ve followed me along this far, you know that I graduate from seminary in May and have been assigned to serve my first call in the Southeastern Minnesota synod of Region 3.  As Margie, a resident at the care center where I completed Clinical Pastoral Education, always said in her rough, gravel tone, “Now what?”
Navigating the church and call world can be foreign to many people.  I’ll be the first to admit that it was extremely new and unclear to me until I was in seminary.  [Even now, I don’t know all the inner and outer workings of the process.]  I’m assigned.  [Like homework?]  I have a call.  [Call?  Like the person who holds up their ringing cell and say, “I’m going to take this call”?  Nope.  Not really.]  I serve and am strongly advised – barring any unforeseen tragedy – that I stay for at least three years.  The process is unlike most professions.  
I’ll translate.
I filled out my [dating] profile in early December.  This paperwork contained my likes and dislikes, and what I’m looking for in a church [partner].  I submitted this information to the greater church, ie the matchmakers.  [I wish I could add sound effects here.  Create your own; along the lines of foreboding or magical is your choice.  I suppose that depends if you trust the process or not.]
Likewise, churches – when they are [hopefully] emotionally stable and ready to move on from their last relationship [their last pastor and typically after a period of interim] – create their own [dating] profile.  In this paperwork, they provide their hopes and dreams for the future, and whether or not children are in the plans.  [Aging congregation or vital new families?  More baptisms or funerals?]
The matchmakers at the synod office see who is available and play around with the couples that they think will work together well.  They take into account age, gender, and whether or not one half of the couple is willing to relocate [typically the pastor].  Does the potential couple complement each other?  If the church cooks, will the pastor do the dishes?  Who is expected to be responsible for taking the garbage out?  How will the children be bathed – by water and the spirit?
Using their special formula and taking into account the 7×7 degrees of holy compatibility, the synod [matchmakers] couple pastors and churches together.  The courting begins.
In our day and age, the church makes the first move.  Usually by phone call, they ask the potential pastor for an interview [a date].  From here, the lines blur.  Both parties are extremely nervous about the first meeting and sweaty palms are shook.  Each learns more about the other, asking questions and using their gut to decide if this pastor/church “is the one.”  The Holy Spirit plays his role, as always, like the cupid always around the corner; leading, guiding, and shooting arrows working God’s will in the world.

Both parties must agree that a relationship is possible and dream that – dare I say? – there could be love in the future.  [Or, if not love, a promise to work with and for the best of the other.]  A second date may be requested before any decision can be made.  Meanwhile, each party does their best to show their prime side and foremost qualities to the other.  To seal the deal – if the courting has gone well thus far – a kiss contract is signed, vows given and rings exchanged.  
Just because the matchmakers have put this pair together doesn’t mean it always works out.  It’s important that honesty and faith are shared and shown, but if these don’t match up, one side or the other may offer a rejection.  [I’m uncertain if this hurts more or less than other guy rejection; here’s hoping it may not reach a case study comparison.]  But, all in all, the matchmakers typically do a pretty great job matching the couple.  Let the courting begin.  I’m ready for a relationship of commitment with a congregation of three hundred people and a large building.  Here we go.
[Here’s hoping I’m actually better at this kind of dating than the kind with boyfriends.  I’m terribly awkward on first dates and to move past that point is strange and unusual. I pray that’s not my fate in courting a congregation. I look forward to finding one to dream with and to accompany each other in knowing and sharing God’s love and grace. I know they’re out there, somewhere in southeastern Minnesota. Somewhere.] *cue cheesy music*

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →