boston commoner.

welcome home

About a month ago, I had the priviledge of attending my first outdoor baptism service. An international student and long-time attendee of the Sunday evening evangelistic Bible studies, Mandy (Jia Man) had recently been attending the Sunday morning worship services, as well. One Sunday after the worship service, we were all cluttered in the hallway, as usual, pretending to leave. Our group is always pretending to leave. We’re hopelessly unskilled in the art of exodus. We’re always finding other excuses to stay, initiating new conversations, sitting down again after we’ve stood up to go…twice… (more…)

Okay, just some quick alerts and apologies with which to start off the month:

1) ALERT: Her name is Sherry Dubois. Maybe you know her? She’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, particularly gifted in the area of foreign languages, administrations in general, and making me crack up ALL THE TIME :o) In the side-splitting sense, of course. I know her as Olga des Waldes, ex-german-class buddy extraordinaire, but she wears many hats — ‘Blogger’ being the latest addition to her cap collection. Check out her thoughts here. I think you might need to register to post a comment, but it only takes a second; I promise you, Olga will NOT let you down! She doesn’t know the meaning of the word entaeuscht.

2)APOLOGY: I was offline all weekend and utterly appalled at the number of spam comments that wormed their way into my blog while I was gone. I updated my “spam words” list and hopefully that will take care of the immediate problem. I’m aware that any of you who posted previously probably received those ads in your inboxes, and I’m mortified. Thankfully, this particular spam wasn’t vulgar, just ittitating; in either case, I do want you to know that I’m working on making this blog as spam-proof as possible. I hope this episode doesn’t dicourage your commenting in the future!

That’s it for now! Enjoy your Erste November!

The Yankees have Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” to play when they win a home game. Boston has a song about dirty water. Somehow it’s fitting; somehow, we wouldn’t–couldn’t–have it any other way.

They did it. They DID IT!

It was a great commute today. I imagine everyone was just a little nicer, a little less pushy on the crowded city streets; people looked you in the eye and nodded ‘good morning’ to you on the sidewalk; even the sun seemed to shine a little brighter this morning, pushing out the recent gloom and streaming over the green side of Fenway Park–and the Sox’ logo–facing the turnpike.

This doesn’t happen everyday. Not in Boston, and not even in the history of baseball. To come back after a 3-game losing streak in the American League Championship Series, not just to WIN that series, but to go on and SWEEP the World Series and OWN the team with the best overall-wins record in the regular season that year? AND, for that winning team to be the Red Sox, who haven’t won a World Series since 1918? When people say they’ve been waiting their whole lives for this, most of them actually mean it. I don’t even know what to say about it, accept that, as one radio announcer pointed out, it’s indeed a “great day to be alive and to live in the city of Boston.”

I know, it’s just a game. And there are more important things. But these are simple joys we can be thankful for… So, Yankees? Cardinals? Deepest thanks from the heart of Boston!

‘Cause I “love that dirty water… Boston, you’re my home.”

Well, I managed to snag a few pictures of my new apartment this weekend. They’re sub-quality, admittedly, but at least you can get an idea of where I’m at ;o) Now, if I can only entice a few of you to visit…

My living room before moving in: My living room after:

My little kitchen before moving in: My kitchen after:

I visited the International Baptist Church of Boston for the first time back in March of this year. It was a dry, fridgid day in the city; what should normally have been a short, pleasant walk from the subway station to the old brick school building in which the church held its Sunday worship service seemed more like a long and painful death in an arctic wind-tunnel. I walked in the wrong direction that Sunday. Twice. So the walk took a little longer than it ought have, anyway. By the time I made it in, I was once again cursing skirts and hoes and heels and long hair, my own of which was now wrapped in some massive, gravity-defying web of snarls around my head, thanks to the wind. But I made it indoors, brushed the tangles out before anyone could see them, cursed static electricity instead, and then tried to look pleasant as I made my way into the “main hall” (a small inner foyer where people meet between Sunday School and the regular service for food and fellowship).

I’m usually a little shy when initiating myself into a pre-established group of people for the first time. I usually prefer to stand at a distance for the first few meetings and observe, to get an idea of what people are like before I’m thrown into conversation with them, to have time to mentally prepare. But I’m finding that the more I get involved in ministries of various sorts, the less possible it is to opt to stand on the sidelines or disappear into the crowd until I’m comfortable enough to step out on my own terms. And I was quick to find out that the group at IBCB was small, but uncompromisingly friendly. I was immediately spotted by Pastor Bill, and then introduced to his wife, Deb, who refused to let me off the hook until I agreed to join them and another member at their home for lunch that day. Deb is the kind of person who is gifted in hospitality, and manages to make invitations without being pushy. She is utterly sincere and real. I immediately liked her, so she didn’t have to press hard. (more…)