Emmanuel

Funny how the Season that is most consciously tailored to draw our thoughts to the Savior of the world is possibly the least likely to allow us any time to spend with Him. This is no ones fault but our own, and I'm not pointing fingers - except at myself. I don't know if I get caught up in the busyness of the holidays and somehow think that Silent Nights and warm fuzzies are going to float me, like they are some limited-time-only substitute for digging into God's Word and hanging out with Jesus and talking with Him. But I do it almost every year. I run around, talking about Him, singing about Him, writing cute little phrases about Him in newsletters and cards - all the while ignoring Him. Sad.

I've been raised by Godly parents. I grew up in the Evangelical church. I've known the Christmas story for as long as I can remember, and have been an angel in too many Christmas programs to count. I've heard a hundred bazillion times about the irony of the King of Kings making his debut as a baby in a manger. And it never actually clicked in my brain until just a few days ago. I was making my regular Rapid-Hillville commute, just listening to Jars of Clay sing "Love came down at Christmas...", passing my favorite spot on Hwy 16, where you can see out over the Needles and Harney and so much of God's glory in the form of trees and stone and the thought occurred to me, (as if I'm the first person to get this, right?) "Wait a second...so the God that spoke this phenomenal landscape into existence is the same God that initiated His plan to save the human race in a barn in a crowded city in the middle of the night? How much sense does THAT make?" *ding! ding! ding!* Genius, Marci. Pure genius. And it only took you 25 year.

It is Christmas Eve. It is after midnight. It is snowing (a direct answer to fervent prayer.) And I have a two day old baby* to feed. Merry Christmas.

*Not my own baby. I thought I should clarify this for any newcomers, or people who were suddenly thinking, "Wow! It HAS been a while since I talked to Marc..."

Winter Cleaning

It is the end of the year and with it comes my ever-increasingly-compulsive urge to "clean out" my life. As if it were a closet. Which, in a quite accurate analogy, it sort of is. While shuffling through piles of "things" I don't need or use anymore, I ran across this fairly neglected blog you are now reading. I thought to myself, "Hmm. I started that silly web page journal my senior year of high school. Life has changed a bit since then. I've changed a bit since then. I don't think I really have the need to keep a random, mostly anonymous, and probably very, very, small group of readers posted on the ins and outs of my life anymore. Besides, anyone that cares need only ask, and I'm happy to tell them what I'm up to, and what God is up to these days." So I added "Write minimally sentimental farewell entry and do away with blog/website for good" to my to-do list.

A few days later I was reading something. A newspaper article. An webzine essay. The back of the cereal box. I don't actually remember what it was, just that it was very well written. I realized that not only have I all but quit "reading" (for anything but necessity) but I've quit writing as well. I spent a good part of my childhood thinking I would be a writer when I grew up, and now I almost never write at all. Which then led me to remember that the whole reason I went out and got myself my own little corner of the internet when I was seventeen was simply so that I could have a little outlet for more writing (okay...well, that, AND I really had a crush on this guy that set up web pages...so that came in handy too). The fact that the page served as a bit of a news feed for my shenanigans over the last seven or so years was merely a latent function. As for the many poorly written entries, I apologize to anyone upset by this. (I know we all have to put up with poor writing, day in and day out -especially if you frequent myspace- ...and I strongly believe we shouldn't do it more often than absolutely necessary...)

All that to say that I've decided to keep the blog for the time being. (I moved it from the "throw" pile to the "find someplace to put it, and throw it out next year if I haven't used it more by then" pile.) I plan to reintroduce my original intentions to practice improved writing skills. A little personal challenge of sorts. What this means for you, is: if you DO continue to check up on the humble little blog, on occasion, I hope to be a little breath of fresh time-killer-reading air on a forum too often filled with bad grammar (wince) and emotional rants about online relationships gone bad, and so many other kinds of nonsense.

Until next time,
Peace, Love, and left-over Turkey.

These are the good ol' days...

I am an incurably nostalgic person. I can look back on the vast majority of my life and think, "Wow. Those were some good times..." Every once in a while I read back to old entries on my old web page (still accesible at www.geocities.com/marciebens) just to see what I was thinking six years ago today...three years ago today. It is not just for the sake of looking back at chapters of my life that I have romanticized into being better than the present...it is mainly to see how faithful God has been. I like to read about the things that I was worrying about, fretting about, stressing over...and then realize that most of those things worked out just fine. And sometimes it is good to know that six years from now, or even six months from now, I will look back at most of the things that cause me worry today and realize that they were not worth loosing sleep over. God is good.

Tonight was our annual Young Life banquet. It was also my first official day on Young Life staff. Interesting. I am excited. That is no lie. I am truly very excited about what God is going to do in Hill City. But I am scared. I of course have all kinds of doubts and fears. I am nervous about "being in the ministry." What if I crash and burn? I have a lot of people watching. I have run over all the right answers concerning those fears a million times. I know they are not valid. But they do cross my mind now and again. I am learning a lot. I learning that the more I learn, the more I learn I need to learn. If I happen to cross your mind, feel free to pray for me. I'll take all of that stuff I can get :)

Hit the ground running...

My days as a professionally unemployed person officially came to an end last week. The month without the burden of a paycheck flew by all too quickly. Upon explaining to friends, family, co-workers, clinic patients and the checkout guy at the grocery store that I was quitting my clinic job in August and not starting my Young Life job until October, most replied, "And what are you going to do with a month off? You're going to be bored to tears!." Well, to all and any who lost sleep over the fear of my being under-occupied, you can flush the Snooze-aid.

In the last five weeks, I (in more or less chronological order):

• Sat on my front porch and drank tea and watched the rain fall until all hours of the night
• Began training for the Rushmore marathon
• Wrecked a mountain bike in North Dakota/sprained my ankle/gave up training for the Rushmore marathon
• Had my wisdom teeth removed
• Went to Denver on a bus with 40 teenagers to see a Rockies game and hang out at Elich's
• Innertubed down the Niobrara River
• Moved out of my apartment
• Lived nomad-style out of a suitcase (4 hotels, 3 houses, a cabin, a retirement center and a church)
• Bought a mountain bike
• Waded in Rapid Creek
• Watched the fountains at the Belagio at midnight
• Swam in the ocean
• Met Mickey Mouse
• Hiked, hiked, and hiked some more
• Read a few good books
• Spent some much needed time just sitting in coffee shops and brushing up on my long-neglected love of writing
• Spent too much money at Borders
• Fulfilled my life-long dream of being a Barista
• Substitute taught at the high school
• Met at least 100 new, wonderful people

It's been loads of fun, but I am becoming anxious to get going with all this new stuff in my life right now. I'm pretty sure I haven't experienced this much change at one time since...ever. It's a little nuts. I have that sort of terrified/excited/adrenaline-rush feeling you get just before you try something crazy, like flying Kamakazi (sp?) style down a single track on a bike. (Which, in the past, didn't work out so well for me...which is where my analogy sort of breaks down...but, um, anyway...) It's going to be great. I often think, "Whoohoo! I have no idea what I'm doing!!!" But whatever happens, it's going to be good, right? I mean, it's not necessary all going to be fun, but it's all going to be good, in the long run. (Which is my philosophy about travel...which is an entirely different journal entry...) I prayer regularly (and selfishly) that God would fill my life with adventure. He hasn't let me down yet.

Vitamin D is underrated...

In my last post, I promised to return on the next rainy day I had to spend in a coffee shop. I am in a coffee shop, but it is not raining. On the contrary...it is well on it's way to being a 90 degree day. And while I tend to favor rainy days, I must say that it has been one of the most beautiful, sunny, warm spring weekends ever created. This is mostly due to that fact that we didn't get a late freeze to kill all the lilacs and apple blossoms this year...so every breath you take is laced with their fragrance right now. Simply wonderful. Anyhow. To catch you up, as promised....

The job: In October I will go on part-time YoungLife mission staff in Hill City. This essentially means that I will be doing pretty much what I have already been doing for the last five years, only now I will be getting paid for it, and I'll have more time to do it. I'm not sure this is fair, actually. It seems like I'm getting a heck of deal. I mean, I was pretty much happy doing it for free. My only gripe was that my job just seemed to be getting in the way, in terms of time to commit to hanging out with kids. But that has been remedied. I guess the pay is just a bonus. What this also means, is that I get to move to Hill City. And spend the other half of my time working at Granite Sports. So pretty much, all I need is a giant dog, a bicycle, and tree house and I'll be the happiest girl you know.

It is far to lovely outside to sit here by the window any longer. I must get out there in the sunshine. So I'll fill you in on the trip some other time. I'm out.

Hola, Mi Amigas!

Hey kids! This is for the few faithful that are left out there. Those two or three people that still check my blog, periodically, even though I only post 3 times a year anymore. I just dropped in tonight to say that I have plenty to catch you up on some rainy day when I'm sitting in a coffee shop with a public use computer. Since the last time I was here I have traveled the world (or at least a small part of it) and gotten a job that actually does have something to do with my expensive college degree. You know I'd much rather just sit in a coffee shop and tell you about it than type about it, so feel free to give me a call if you find yourself in the vicinity on a rainy afternoon. I know a good coffee shop or two...

Just a note...

GOOD: They tore down the BurgerKing on Mt. Rushmore Rd. and are building a Sonic Drive-In in it's place.

BAD: They moved two old houses on Mt. Rushmore Rd. and are building yet another Starbucks in their place.

and I AM actually still alive...

Here I am. I have neither dropped off the face of the earth, moved to a monastic island in the Mediterranean, or joined the witness protection agency, though my absence might have had you worrying. I'm sorry. But no, I have had none of the above excitement in my life. On the contrary. I am alive and well and...a little bit bored. I am also going to be late getting back from my lunch hour if I don't leave this coffee shop very soon. Lunch hours these days are few and far between, and the time must be used with utmost discernment. So I used this one to put your hearts at ease. I know so many of you have been losing sleep over my lack of...postage. Anyhow, I must get going. Adios.

Only in South Dakota...

While driving to work at 8:00 this morning, I passed my governor. He was standing by himself on the sidewalk in the gap, holding a cup of coffee and waving at all the people driving to work. There's something to be said for living in not-so-metropolitan places.

My Grandpa died on Friday night. My grandpa that I had lunch with on Thursdays. My grandpa that never missed a single one of my concerts. My grandpa that taught me how to play harmonica, and then let me play with him in church. I've been blessed. I've never lost someone very close to me before. But now, I wonder if I heard too many lectures in college about the grief process. I have this usually undesireable ability to disconnect myself from my emotions and view them objectively. This can make it tough to get past the "how I'm supposed to feel" and actually deal with the "how I feel." It' strange really. It's strange to lose someone so suddenly, as I'm sure most of you can attest too. Hmmm. Well, that's about all I have to say about that right now. More later, as usual.

Like rollerskating in the china shop...

Hi. I'm back. At the library. They have added a coffee shop. Right in the middle of the library. Inside this coffee shop is a sign that reads, "Feel free to enjoy your beverages throughout the library." I find this a little perplexing since I grew up in a world where having food and beverages inside the library, especially within spitting distance of the books or computers, was a sin that would at least send you straight to the same zip code as Hell, if not the precise coordinates. But since then, some genious figured out that they could make a buck - heck! thousands of bucks! - if they compromised their committment to careful preservation of their books and documents and just let people sip java while they browse. Don't get me wrong. I like coffee. I like libraries. I like to drink coffee in the library. I just see it as an interesting development.

In other coffee shop news (as coffee shops and their dynamics, social demographics, etc. positively are my favorite topic of discussion) the loathesome Starbucks recently announced that they plan on doubling their number of stores worldwide next year, bringing their empire to a measley total of some 40,000 stores. They must be stopped. With that, my lunch hour is drawing to a close and I must get back to work. More about my feelings on Starbucks later. Or, simply refer to Natalie's recent blog rant on the corporate big boys. We share similar sentiments.

I'm out. Happy weekend.

Monday Monday.

I have approximately 38 seconds here at the computer in the public library to post this. Having no computer at home, I decided I would stop down here after work and "quickly" print off (the highschool activities schedules for the other YoungLife leaders. (Sharon and I have been given the lofty, prestigous, and coveted positions of "Co-Contact Work Coordinators") Quickly. Right. It should not be so hard to copy from a website and paste to a word document. But my brain is very small, you see, when it comes to things of such technological difficulty. And, as is often the case, it has taken me much longer than planned. I had also imagined that after leaving the library, I might get a chance to stop home and grab some dinner before high-tailing it to YoungLife club. Dinner. Right. Also, not going to go as planned. I will survive. I am very excited about club. Last week was our first club of the semester and it went just swimmingly, (seriously...is there really a better adjective than that? I think not...) so I pray tonight is just as fun. Wow. I've seriously exceeded my 38 seconds. I really need to get a move on. It was nice to write for a bit though. Peace.

Pleased as Punch

It is with great joy that I announce to you all: I'm moving. Finally. Not just thinking about it. Not just talking about it. Not just hanging imaginary roman shades on the imaginary kitchen window in my head. No, kids, I actually HAVE THE KEYS to the front door of my own appartment. (Truth: the kitchen window is now a reality, but the roman shades remain a figment of the imagination for the time being.) I know. Hard to believe. Even more shocking is the fact that I signed a six month lease - which sets a new record for comittment in my life. Scary. But exciting. Granted, it's only a four and a half minute drive from where I currently live, but it's still considered moving, nonetheless. This has been a very, very, very long anticipated event as well as an answer to prayer...so I'm pretty stoked. I have my own mailbox. My own fridge. My own bathroom. And best of all - get this - a murphy bed. That's right. And YOU thought those only existed in old movies! But you were wrong, my friend. I have one. And I'd be more than happy to have you over to my new place so I can demonstrate the ease with which one can fold a perfectly unmade bed right up into the wall, leaving no trace of a perfectly unmade bed. What more could a person ask for, really? A dishwasher? Oh, well, I have one of those too! And if you think I'm happy about this situation, you should see my hundreds of books. They're beside themselves with excitement, as they get to come out of their boxes, following three years of musty darkness while they waited patiently in storage. My dishes are pretty thrilled as well. So, that's my news. The other detail in the story is that fact that I will no longer have computer access at my residence. This could be both good and bad for you, my beloved readers. The benefit of this situation is that there will be no more post-midnight writing here in my journal...which means better, more well-rested writing. The bad news is that there will probably be less writing over all...which you may not even notice, since I've only been posting something up here about once every other week. Anyhow. That's all I've got for now. You kids have a good night.

This is my little sister, Sarah Jill. She just turned thirteen yesterday. As I'm sure is the case in most sister-sister relationships, especially those spanning an eleven year gap, she thinks I'm pretty cool. She likes to hang out with me, likes to steal all my clothes, likes to make jewelry with me and style her hair like mine. It would seem that she wants to be like me, to a certain degree. But what she doesn't know is how much I wish I could be like her. She is a far more confident and secure person than I was at her age. She is comfortable with the shape of her body. She doesn't care what her peers think of her. She's quirky and hilarious and has a completely ridiculous obsession with ducttape (She can make pert near anything you can imagine out of ducttape.) and red cars and Geico commercials. She has dozens of best friends, all who love her goofy sense of humor. She's simply beautiful. I adore her. I really hope that someday I can grow up to be just like her.

It's that time of year. Everyone's going back to school, if they aren't there already. Everyone, it seems, except for me. This is the first September in eighteen years that I am not going back to school. For most recent graduates this situation is cause for much rejoicing and gladness of heart, as they watch their less fortunate school-bound friends ceremoniously draw their summer to an end and painfully readjust back to class'n'homework mode. I, however, am not most people. No, for me this detatchment from academia has been a catalyst for an identity crisis in my life. I loved being a student. I loved most everything about it, with the exception of, well, work and such. I'm not really a fan of reading textbooks unless I've chosen them, or writing papers unless I've determined the guidlines. But really, for the most part, I loved being a student. Perhaps the reason I fear the end of that role is because whatever it is that comes next seems sort of...generic. I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before I slide gracefully into a niche, right? I will soon find the joy in being a "young professional", or whatever it is they call people who have just graduated from college. But for right now, when so many lucky ducks are headed across campus, crunching leaves and trying to figure out how to pay for text books, I'm going to wallow in a bit of envy.

Nine years ago I had a crush on a boy I had never spoken to, because he was beautiful and had blonde hair and played the guitar. His name was Chris. Eight years ago I gossiped about a girl I had never spoken to, because she was beautiful and had dark brown hair (I always wanted dark brown hair) and all the boys liked her. Her name was Sharon. Three years ago they met at a friends wedding. Today I was a bridesmaid in theirs. Not only are they one hot couple who is crazy in love with Jesus Christ, their relationship is a testimony to the goodness of God and his faithfulness to orchestrate billions of little details to fulfill his plans for our lives, in his perfect timing. (By the way, the wedding was lovely.) P.S. Sharon's the beautiful one on the left with brown hair. I'm the one covered in...shaving crool whip...er...stuff.

The Great Camping Fiasco

I love camping. I really, really love to camp. So when I asked Adrienne if she wanted to go camping the weekend she'd be home, I had idealistic mental images of a tent in the woods, kayaks in the water, and campfires in...campfire spots. Like most of my camping experiences. Well, Adrienne came home, and we did go camping last week. It just didn't look exactly how I had pictured. There were a series of mishaps and unfortunate circumstances that contributed to the crushing of my camping ideals. The first was the fact that when I got online to reserve our camping spots the morning before, every spot at Sheridan Lake and any surrounding National Forrest campground was already reserved. Hmmm. No problem...plan B...we'd just "find some place in the hills when we get out there." Second problem: the kayaks I rented at an affordable rate turned out to be 12 foot ocean kayaks, not 6 foot river kayaks. We had two of them. I have one compact car. Despite my most valiant efforts, my father convinced me in his logical engineering way that there was no possible way I could put two 12 foot kayaks on top of my itty-bitty hatch-back. So we were forced to borrow my brothers monster truck (Ford F150.) By the time we actually got the whole kayak transportation problem solved, it was rather late in the day, and Adrienne and I were starving. This was just fine, because we had planned on eating dinner at the Alpine Inn, which, in my humble opinion happens to be the best dinner in the hills. Unfortunately, the 1/2 hour wait for a table turned into a 2 hour wait for a table when they accidently missed our names on the list, and we didn't get out of the place until 10:30. By this time it was very dark, and the only place we could find to camp was a lovely AAA approved family campground near Hill City. Nice, but not really my idea of "roughing it." They only had one spot left. We didn't ask to see the spot until after we'd paid for it. (We were tired. Give us a break.) Refer to exhibit C. We were practically camping in a parking lot. It was 112 degrees during the day and 78 at night, so the campfire seemed somewhat impractical. The rest of the weekend continued in pretty much this same manner. Etc. Etc. Etc. A smidge less than ideal. Nonetheless, Adrienne and I had a delightful time. The whole thing turned out to be pretty hilarious in it's not-going-as-planned nature. And, we invented a new kind of water sport. We haven't named it yet. The general idea is that you paddle your kayak out to the middle of the lake, sit there until a speed boat whizzes by, and then "ride the wake." I don't think I'd call it an "extreme" sport, but we haven't perfected it yet. I'll let my know when we do. So, that was the "camping" (only to be spoken of with the use of air quotes) weekend. I'm actually leaving again in 5 minutes for another "camping" adventure, this time in a friend's cabin, with my huge family and lots of board games, and no fire (because there is a fire ban right now). And no 12 foot kayaks.

Exhibit C: The worst camping spot ever (red square)

Exhibit B: My 8 Foot Car

Exhibit A: 12 Foot Kayak