A new phase...

John & I are ENGAGED! So happy!!!

My New Niece, Nora!

I am very excited about my new niece, Nora Elizabeth Daugherty, who arrived on August 10th, weighing in at 7 lbs, 2oz. Isn't she wonderful? :)

Colin is having to get used to being a BIG brother!

Summer in Pictures

The afore-mentioned triathlon. FYI, mountain lakes are cold in early June. Brrrrr...

The best small group ever. This time in DC.

My parents camped in Rocky Mtn NP for a week. We love Colorado!

The new deck. I love it!

Back on the proverbial horse

Sorry for the multi-month absence. After multiple complaints (okay, it seems only one person noticed), I am back on-line. Its been so long I don't know where to start. The summer has been a good one. I've taken a few trips, competed in my annual triathlon, sworn once again that I hate swimming and will never sign up for a triathlon again, broken my ribs, healed from my broken ribs, got back on the horse, so to speak (that would be the mountain bike, in my case), and built a deck. Pictures of most of the above to follow.

For now, let's just say that I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I believe and why I believe it, and this quote from my church bulletin on Sunday really spoke to me:

"You rack your brain to solve the mystery of the Savior, but you would do better to examine the puzzle of your own heart. You should be wondering why you are so impenetrable: why your intentions, which are always so noble, are followed by so few good deeds; why, despite your pious impulses, your life is so lacking in genuine devotion; why, when it comes to really getting things done, you turn out to be so feeble, so lame. You are always sighing, it is true, but to what effect?"

C.F. Blumhardt

"Small" Group

I was back in Berkeley last weekend for Jenn & Jason's wedding, and had a great time catching up with old friends, marveling at all that has happened in each of our lives since I left California.

The small group I was a part of in Berkeley started almost exactly 4 years ago. We met in the "Open Door" small group at FPC Berkeley and navigated our way from shallow acquaintance to deep friendship over the course of several years. As friends moved away, we invited others to join. Now, 4 years later, only 2 of the "original" members are still a part of the group, but it continues to be a place where friendships form, burdens are shared, and the gospel is discussed.

The above picture is my favorite one from the weekend. It is a picture of almost all the members of our small group - past and present - over the last 4 years. Some of us hardly know each other, yet we are all connected in a way. My "west coast family" continues to grow! :)

Injustice and our great Hope in a world full of Need

My apologies for the long absence. It seems that life can easily become so busy that I forget to stop and record it - each memory becoming a blur that slowly fades away. So here I am, stopping, recording, and just savoring.

I have been thinking a lot lately about justice, and the ridiculousness of my life as an affluent white person in the sheltered town of Boulder. I have been reading Gary Haugen's book "The Good News about Injustice". Gary founded the International Justice Mission after spending years trying to find hope amid despair while working as a lawyer for the US Dept of Justice. He traveled to Rwanda in 1994 to act as director of the UN Genocide investigation. His book talks about the difference that people have been able to make in a world full of oppression and injustice. His desire in writing this book is that we would be motivated to make a difference rather than standing back and becoming overwhelmed by the pain we see around us.

Oppression and injustice has largely for me been an intellectual issue. I can't honestly say I've been oppressed or deprived of anything significant in my short life. My interactions with the truly poor have been limited to short term mission trips to Mexico and strolls through downtown San Francisco and Chicago, where the homeless seem to outnumber the wealthy. In the moment, my heart tugs with the desire to help, but later on, in the comfort of my own home, I seem to forget the needs of those less fortunate than myself.

Something changed a month or so ago. I co-lead a small group at a church in downtown Boulder that exists for the purpose of providing community and fellowship to those who are thirsting for such things. One of our regular attenders is homeless. He is a wonderful man with a big heart and a love for the Lord. He just happens to not have a job. Or a home. And his truck is broken. And he needs our help.

All of a sudden, the intellectual questions don't matter. The gospel call to share with your neighbor all that you have suddenly seems more poignant. And as I watch members of my small group brainstorm and come up with solutions to some of his current needs, I begin to wonder, am I REALLY willing to sacrifice for my neighbor? Why have I not already helped this new friend? And so, the gospel and all its difficult truths, comes alive for me. And I am challenged in a huge way. I am being called to love people who don't look just like me. And that's not as easy as I thought it might be. But, yet, I believe it is why we are here. I believe it is part of the Plan.

And so I work to do my part. And it is small. It seems insignificant. But maybe, just maybe, it doesn't seem so small and insignificant to those on the receiving end. And maybe I can learn a lesson from my small group members - maybe I can learn to be more generous with my time, my resources, and my opportunities. And maybe Gary Haugen is right. Maybe the difference really is made one person at a time.

Big Snow!

Merry Christmas/Happy New Year! I decided to stay in Colorado for Christmas this year, and it's a good thing I did. A blizzard crippled the entire state last week - closing the Denver airport for 43 hours and forcing me to travel 'round town on my ol' cross country skis. My office closed for 2 1/2 days due to weather, so I was forced to sleep in, play in the snow, and bake Christmas cookies. It was quite the life! Christmas Eve was spent up in Estes Park enjoying a wonderful dinner with friends from church. On Christmas day, I managed to head up to the mountains for a morning of downhill skiing before jetting back to Boulder for Christmas dinner with friends.

I am looking forward to skiing with my family next week up in Breckenridge. Looks like we'll have plenty of snow!!!

Sweet Medicine

Meet Nik. We've been dating for almost 3 months now, which is nothing short of a record-breaking achievement for Miss Committment-Phobe, over here. But he's smart, he's cute, and he makes me laugh. And he's teaching me things about myself and about relationships that I never knew before. So I'm keeping him around. The following is a few of my lessons learned:

I am stubborn. (ok, I already knew this, but it's easier to deny when you're single)
Life is, in fact, more fun hand-in-hand with the top down (except in the winter).
There is very little that is worth fighting about, but there is a lot that is worth fighting for.
Sometimes it's okay to act like a girl (especially when throwing a football or wearing a red dress)

So there you have it. Happy Holidays!

Trendy new hat: $7

Movie star sunglasses: $9

Skirt: $5

A day spent with Julie cruising Venice Beach: Priceless

Coffee, California-style

With the much-heralded opening of the 29th St. Mall here in Boulder, comes the lesser known, but no less anticipated (for me, anyway) opening of Boulder's first Peet's Coffee. I stopped by this morning to grab my own (FREE!) cup of caffeinated goodness, remembering fondly all those times in California when I enjoyed Berkeley's finest.

Since Brett D is getting shout-outs in blogs left and right these days, I'm going to give him my own shout-out for being the one to instill in me a love of this non-pretentious coffee chain. If you're looking for an decaf, non-fat, hold-the-whip, pumpkin spice ecstasy, you are at the wrong place. Just looking for plain old coffee and tea? Peet's is the one.

Ahhh.

Where'd the O2 Go2?

It's 7am on Friday morning. I've been up since 4. Shivering, I'm standing in the brisk mountain air at the starting line of a relay race, in which myself and 9 teammates will attempt to run 170 miles from Idaho Springs to Glenwood Springs. (http://coloradorelay.com) Over the course of the next 27.5 hrs, we'll be running in shifts across three mountain passes and over the continental divide.

I'll be running three legs of the race - the first a short 2-mile stretch through Georgetown. I am the fourth runner on Friday morning, and start my leg in a light drizzle, glad for the chance to run so that I will stop shivering! What should have been the easiest leg of my race turned out to be a mental challenge - the air is thin up here! My lungs burned as I ran up the gradual incline to the start of the road up to Guanella pass.

The rest of the day on Friday is a blur of driving from one exchange point to another, enjoying a hearty breakfast during one of our longer breaks, and trying to catch a catnap in the cramped quarters of our makeshift traveling home - a Chevy Tahoe. My second leg was a 6-mile run along the bike path that connects Breckenridge to Frisco. Instead of letting up, the rain was coming down harder all the time. Dusk rapidly turned into darkness as my teammate finished her leg and handed me the baton. I set off into the night, with my headlamp casting a small circle of light in the darkness. I turned up my Ipod and sped up as the trail veered away from the highway into the forest. Running through the pitch-black mountains in the rain was incredible. I felt like I could run forever (thank you, endorphins!) - the altitude was no longer a problem and, not wanting to keep my teammates waiting in the rain and cold for too long, my legs propelled me forward.

After my next teammate finished her leg, we scarfed down a pizza and drove to a hotel in Frisco, where our 5 teammates in Van 2 had been resting while we ran our legs. We managed to crash into bed around 10:30, only to be called at 1am by our teammates, telling us to wake up and get ready for our next round of legs. Exhausted, we dragged ourselves back to the car and met up with Van 2 at the next exchange point.

My third leg started at 4:30 am on Saturday morning - an 8-mile gradual downhill run into Eagle, CO. I thought I'd be really hurting by the last leg, but I was actually feeling good. What an opportunity to see Colorado in a way most people never will - on foot at all hours of the day and night, in all kinds of weather! What began as a beautiful moonlight run turned into a shivering sprint for the finish as the clouds rolled in and the rain poured down once again. I had brought several changes of running clothes and two pair of shoes, and by the end of my last leg, everything was soaking wet!

My teammates and I in Van 1 finished our legs by 7am, and we drove on to Glenwood Springs to wait for Van 2. At 10:40 am on Saturday morning, our last runner came around the corner and we all joined in to cross the finish line as a team.

I'm not sure exactly what it is about these adventure races that so appeals to me. Maybe it is the desire to see just how far I can push my body, or maybe it is the comraderie that inevitably comes with working together to accomplish something that we could never do on our own. Or perhaps I just want to have interesting stories to tell my grandchildren someday. Whatever it is, I can be sure of this: despite all the aches and pains, and the multiple cups of coffee I've needed to stay awake post-race, I am already looking forward to next year's run.

Summer in Pictures

I have been meaning to post some pics from all my various travels this summer. So here's a "best of," for July/August:

Small Group Reunion in Boston over July 4th

Spending a week on the shore of Lake Michigan sailing, swimming, and spending time with the family. Colin was always busy exploring the new scenery.

Mountain biking in Winter Park

Jen's wedding in St. Louis. The U of I gang together again!

I managed to see a few friends during a quick work trip to California.

The Bittersweets came into town as part of their national tour.

My parents came in town for a whirlwind weekend of hiking and honey-do lists

Whew - It has been a great summer, but I am ready for some down time!

Look who's talking

Life continues to slip through my fingers this summer, affording me only infrequent glimpses of those elusive calm and peaceful summer days. Instead, life this summer has been filled with several hurried weekend trips to weddings, reunions, and visits with family. When I AM in town, I am enjoying entertaining guests in my new townhome and eating produce from my garden. There’s nothing better than the taste of fresh veggies I’ve grown with my own hands, in MY OWN dirt.

Meals shared in the company of old and new friends continue to be the highlight of my summer, which causes me to reflect on one of life’s simple pleasures. I have been thinking a lot lately about the art of conversation, about both how much and how little that word can mean.

I have friends whom I have known for years, yet who really don’t know me. Our conversation takes the form of witty banter, full of amusement but lacking in real depth. I have other friends whom I believe are almost incapable of “small talk,” always asking the probing questions and wanting to know how I am doing, really. Every conversation with those friends is like a breath of fresh air – breathing life into an area of my thoughts and fears that I keep hidden from most of the world. Those types of conversation aren’t just filling space, they are meaningful, and often healing. They help us to realize we’re not alone in our fears and our struggles, nor are we alone in our triumphs and joys.

Yet I find that, as refreshing as meaningful conversation is, it occurs much too infrequently for my liking. It seems as though that type of conversation requires space, something we are sorely lacking in our busy lives. It requires that we stop what we’re doing, and focus only on the person we’re with.

So this month I’m trying to focus on creating space – allowing time for good conversation with people that maybe I don’t know all that well, but would like to get to know better. I think it is something that everyone appreciates, but few people are good at initiating. So here’s to trying…

Kurt & Sarah's take on "American Gothic" using a parking meter in place of the classic pitchfork.




















Kurt, I think I just won the "coolest picture of the weekend" competition. :) You may as well not even try.

Big Times in Bean Town

I guess if I were to put stock in the old adage, "home is where the heart is," then it would be correct to say I spent last weekend at home - sleeping in an unfamiliar bed in an apartment I'd never seen before, in a city I barely knew. The city was Boston. The unfamiliar apartment belonged to a friend from California, and the bed belonged to one of his two roommates who were conveniently absent for the 4-day invasion of my old Berkeley small group.

In the first of what I hope to be a long tradition of small group reunions, six of the original ten of us (along with two significant others and a myriad of random friends) spent the holiday weekend exploring the city, chilling on the Boston Commons, watching world cup soccer, getting 2nd breakfast at Dunkin' Donuts, jogging along the Charles River (to work off second breakfast), fighting for the single shower in Kyle's small downtown apartment, and just generally enjoying each other's presence.

I talked in a recent blog entry about good friendships being those that make you feel more like yourself, and I think it bears repeating. It is SO IMPORTANT for us to know and be known by people. Some might argue that it is a sigh of weakness to allow others to define who you are, but I am proud to think that this group of friends impacted my life deeply enough to make a lasting impression on who I am.

Ironically, on my plane ride to Boston, I was reading a commentary entitled "The Demise of Friendship." In the article, Ellen Goodman recounts a recent study which revealed that 25% of Americans have no one to talk to about the things that are really important to them. She goes on to state that "social isolation is as big a risk factor for premature death as smoking."

Reading the article made me feel lucky and sad at the same time. Lucky, because, though I sometimes feel lonely, "social isolation" is hardly a phenomonen in my busy life. I know I am surrounded, both in Boulder and by friends far and wide, by people who care about me. I know that, in today's "wired" world, that is no small thing. But the article also made me sad for those whose loneliness penetrates more deeply, for those who truly don't have anyone to call when the going gets rough. If one of the beautiful things about friendships is their ability to help define who you are, no wonder social isolation has such devastating ramifications.

Its enough to make me want to head out to a local coffee shop and strike up a conversation with a total stranger. If I can't have my old small group back again (I can't understand why they haven't all packed up their bags and followed me out to Boulder), then I might as well work on fighting social isolation locally, one person at a time. After all, each of us seems to be wandering around this world hoping we're not really alone. Seems like we might as well be doing it together.

Old Friends

This whole month has been a wonderful trip down memory lane. Two good friends from California visited me over the past few weekends, and just this week an old college friend stayed with me on her way through town. I hadn't seen her in 6 years.

While I continue to feel more and more settled here in Boulder, I am amazed at how much more at peace I feel when surrounded by these old friends. Whether we're hiking through the snowy Rocky Mtns, waking up at 4am for a triathlon, enjoying waffles on my back porch, or just lounging on the couch talking, there is something more complete about my life when I spend it with someone who really knows me. Its as though their very presence makes me more "me" than I am without them. I wonder if they feel the same way, and I wonder what it is that makes that happen. Is it just shared experiences? Is it a similar way of thinking? Similar interests? Or a serendipitous combination of all of the above? I suppose that is a small glimpse of what marriage is like. I could be into that.

In a few minutes, I'm heading to the airport to visit my old Berkeley small group in Boston for the fourth of July. Yay! More fun friend time.

I Tri'ed

After a slow start of nearly hyperventilating as arms/legs/knees/elbows were thashing everywhere during the wave start of the swim, I calmed down and really enjoyed the challenge of completing my first Olympic distance triathlon. The bike was my favorite part, as I knew it would be. I wish I could adequately describe the feeling of cruising down a country road at 20 mph, the feel of the wind and the sun, and the line of riders to my front and back. Nothing propels me forward quite like the thought of getting passed by another rider.

Speaking of getting passed, I continue to be amazed at the level of fitness people achieve here in Colorado. While I was happy with my times on each leg, I was certainly on the slow side overall. Which means, I have to train harder next year!

Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who gave to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Thanks to all of you, I raised $2,000 for the society. You guys are the best!

Competition

I have been training for a triathlon for 3 months now, and these days its seems like I'm always pushing myself. I'm not running fast enough, swimming far enough. Strangers pass me on bike rides, and that's not okay, because I want to be the fastest...the best. I feel like I should always be pushing myself alittle harder, sweating just alittle more.

I threw all that competition out the window this morning as I took part in one of the world's biggest races - the Bolder Boulder. I donned some mardis gras beads, a feather boa, and took to the streets with my friends (Super Girl, an 80's rock star, and a Hawaiian girl) and approximately 40,000 other runners.

Some runners take this race seriously. They train for it and give it their all - trying to beat last year's time, or at least the person next to them. But the 4 of us weren't out to beat anyone. We came in costume, laughed at ourselves, and just enjoyed being outside and running through the streets of Boulder.

It's the best training run I've had in three months worth of running.

Another tribute to family

I lost my grandmother to cancer this past weekend. Just a few weeks before, I recall sharing with a friend how lucky I was to have all four grandparents still living. Now, more than ever, I realize what a gift that truly was.

The night before her wake, we were looking through all Grandma's old photo albums to find pictures of her with various family members to post on a board at the funeral home. In one of her albums, I came across a printed out copy of my Thanksgiving blog entry (http://b-did.blogspot.com/2005/11/thanksgiving.html). Re-reading that entry, tears running down my face, I was reminded anew of how blessed I have been by my family. While I wish we could hold on to our loved ones forever, I am thankful for the 28 years I had with my grandmother. I'm thankful for the chance I had to say goodbye to her. I am thankful that she left this world surrounded by family, knowing that she was loved, and that she will be dearly missed.

I was reminded again this week by how little all the material things in life matter: the clothes, the car, the furniture, even the house that Grandpa built when they were first married. She can't take any of that with her. But the relationships she built - the lives she touched and the people she served - those things will last. So maybe next time I am deciding between spending an extra hour at work versus spending an hour with a friend, or between spending money on a new skirt versus donating that money to someone who needs it, I will choose what really matters. I think Grandma would approve.

Post painting pictures

Several of you have been asking to see pictures of my new place. I haven't taken any pictures since I moved the furniture in, but here are pics of the new RED kitchen, the living/dining room, and (my favorite) the backyard. It is so wonderful to have a place of my own! Despite not being all the way unpacked, I've been having friends over for dinner out on the patio and afternoon barbecues. Its amazing how filling my townhome with PEOPLE is what really makes it feel like home.

I OWN A HOME!

At approximately 5pm last night, I sold my soul to Coldwell Bank. And in return, they gave me the keys to my new townhome. WOO HOO!

I didn't realize how stressed out I would be about the whole ordeal - they say only 1% of closings ever have any real trouble, but I was pretty convinced that my mildly schizophrenic seller would find some way to mess it up. Thankfully, everything went smoothly!

My first order of business last night, after making yet another run to Home Depot (this time for PAINT!), was to take my bikes, camping gear, and skiis over to my new garage. Let me say that again: my new garage. Ahhh, I've finally entered adulthood. :)

General rambling & a Moab plug

Despite the fact that I have no particular inspiration, I thought I better update the blog, as it has been almost a month since my last brain dump. Life here in Boulder is moving along at a slightly uncomfortable pace, and I continue to wonder where the happy medium is. Where does the time go??

I close on my townhouse in a week, and am trying to wrap my mind around all the work that moving into my first "home" entails. I have grand plans already to tear down a wall, paint my kitchen red (compliments of Deb's interior decorating eye), and paint the living room. Despite the fact that I greatly dislike shopping, in the last week I have already been to Home Depot once and Bed Bath & Beyond twice. And that is only the beginning. Woe is me. :)

In other news, I spent an awesome weekend at the beginning of March road biking in Moab. For those of you who are mountain biking elitists and are put off by the idea of touring Moab on skinny tires, I have no time for you. Moab is an amazing place to road bike - the roads are in good shape, the traffic in March is nonexistent, and the views are wonderful. And I had no bumps or bruises at the end of the weekend. Take that, slickrock!

The Age of Communication??

I was sitting here tonight writing in my journal, when it occurred to me: I spend quite a bit more time journaling (and 'blogging' for that matter) than I did a few years ago, when I was still in college, for instance. I don't think it is because I am any less busy. I continue to move at a pace that typically only allows for 15 minute stops at home between work and whatever evening activity beckons. And I don't think it is a sense of loneliness - I spend most of my day with people. But I do think it has something to do with a lack of proximity of my really close friends - the ones that I would be processing my thoughts and feelings with, instead of with pen and paper.

In grad school, I remember hanging out for hours at Cafe Kopi with two of my best friends. It was our favorite coffee shop, and no matter how much was going on in our lives, we carved out time to sit around those wooden tables to talk, laugh, and share life. My best friends currently live between 1,000 and 2,000 miles away, and that makes coffee at Cafe Kopi quite a challenge.

In college, it seemed that hanging out with friends was not something you had to schedule in advance. These days, I find myself trying for weeks to meet up with a friend for dinner or an after work walk. And that seems sad. I wonder why we can't be more available. And I wonder if this is a sign of the life stage I am in now, or if it has something to do with the digital age - the "age of communication." How ironic, that in the age of communication, I am spending more time typing on my computer, and less time with a cup of coffee at Cafe Kopi.

They finally accepted the offer on my townhouse. I move in April! 

My future living room 

Colorado is beautiful but COLD atop Mount Quandary at 14,262 feet! 

The still small voice

We talked about silence in small group tonight. Once again, I am amazed at God's timing. If I could describe my life in three words at the moment, it would be, "out of control." Somehow I managed to go from not having any friends here in Boulder, to being over-involved in my community, in approximately 3.5 seconds flat. Or at least it feels that way. I remember sitting on my balcony on a warm Saturday afternoon this past fall, reading a book and watching the world pass by, wondering why I used to think the weekends went by too fast. I had all the time in the world.

These days, it feels like my waking hours spent at home consist of 30 minute intervals where I'm changing clothes, grabbing dinner, and heading out the door to my next activity. I'm trying to buy a townhouse (if only the seller would SIGN THE CONTRACT), leading small groups on Tues and Thurs nights, training for a triathlon with Team in Training, and trying to keep up with my friends as we trek through the snowy mountains.

And I'm having a blast. But I can't help but wonder if I'm not missing out on something. In my attempt to fill the void of loneliness this past fall, I think I have tipped the scales a bit too far in the other direction. And I wonder what my week would look like if I took a bit more time to myself. If I sought out some intentional solitude. If I spent some time (gasp) in silence.

I intentionally didn't turn on the radio as I drove home from church tonight. And I didn't turn it on when I got home, either. I turned off my cell phone. I read a book. And even though I know I should get some sleep, I can't help but want to sit on this couch alittle longer and soak up this delicious silence. God may have created us to be relational beings, but I also believe that he created stillness, and that he speaks to us in that "still small voice of calm." I just wish I spent more time listening.

Community - it just feels right

The pastor at the church start-up I've been going to asked me to share a bit about my transition to Colorado at church tonight. I wrote up what turned out to be a short essay on the importance of community, and thought I might as well share it. Enjoy!

During college, I spent 6 months studying abroad in Australia. I learned a lot that semester – not only about the world outside of the States, but also about myself and the things that are important to me. I spent a week traveling through the center of Australia during spring break. I remember standing out at Ayer’s Rock one evening, watching the sunset paint the rock a brilliant red. The evening was quiet and calm, the surroundings were beautiful, but I distinctly felt like something was missing. More than anything in the world, I was wishing I could share that moment with someone else.

One of my mottos, which grew from experiences similar to that one, is “experiences are the key to life, and people are the key to experiences.” God created us to be relational people. I believe that we not only serve God more completely in community, but that we can also SEE God more completely in community. Victor Hugo said, “To love another person is to see the face of God.” God reveals himself not only through the Bible, but through our interactions with each other.

So you can imagine that when I moved to Colorado this past summer from the Bay area, I was longing for community in a big way. What drew me to the Boulder Project was the concept of intentional community that they were creating. I felt like their desire to bring people together in all different types of settings is a great model for how God intends us to live.

I had a pretty tough time transitioning into Boulder this fall. I missed the life that I left behind, and I longed to understand God’s plan for me here. To tell the truth, I spent most of my time questioning that God even had a plan. I just didn’t feel like myself when I wasn’t surrounded by the people I loved.

This move has taken me outside my comfort zone in a lot of ways. It often takes leaving a place to gain some perspective on what you left. I realized finding community means not only getting to know people, but being known by people. It was being known that I missed so much.

But moving here has also allowed me to witness some amazing things. I have been impressed by those who have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome – inviting me to social gatherings and out for coffee – despite the fact that they barely know me. I don’t know that I really did that when I was living in Berkeley, but I quickly realized how important it is that people did that for me here.

It is abundantly clear to me that God is present even when I feel completely alone. I have no doubt that his love for me is quite independent of whether or not I am “in community.” But I do believe that I am more myself as part of this community than I am without it. The Boulder Project doesn’t necessarily define who I am, but it certainly does affect who I am. And I believe that as a community, we can affect Boulder in a more profound way than we ever could by ourselves.

I spent part of this past week back in California for work. Several people asked me how I was liking Colorado, and I found myself, for the first time, enthusiastically saying, “I really love it there.” That response has nothing to do with the beautiful mountain views and the great hiking. It has everything to do with finally feeling like I am part of a community.

Cupid's Arrows

I went to Hallmark last week looking for a birthday card and was assaulted by a store covered head to toe in red. This can only mean one of two things, either the store was the unfortunate scene of a brutal massacre, or Valentine's Day is rapidly approaching. Frankly, I'm not crazy about either scenario. To help prepare myself for the season, I thought I would take a trip down memory lane and remember some past V-day experiences.

1996: I was a senior in high school, and had met the man of my dreams at a college orientation weekend only days before. Dreamy guy drove an hour and a half to show up at my door with 13 roses. Instead of being flattered to receive MORE than a dozen roses, I reminded him that 13 was an unlucky number.

1997: Despite my less-than-poetic reaction to his gift the year before, Boyfriend #1 was still around, and I'm sure we did something cheesy and romantic to celebrate the day. I was cheesy and romantic back then.

1998: This marks the beginning of commitment-phobe Becky (Or as a friend liked to call it, "Bec 2000"). After breaking up with Boyfriend #1 soon after New Year's, I was testing the waters with Boyfriend #2: a fellow civil engineer. We celebrated V-day with a weekend trip to St. Louis. The new relationship went into a tailspin when he presented me with a CD that he hoped would make me "remember him while I studied abroad in Australia in the fall." AHHH! Flag on the play. We didn't last through the next week.

1999: A rose arrived at my door from "man of my dreams" No. 2 - my Australian soul mate. The 10,000 or so miles between us proved to be a significant obstacle to dating, but we've been close friends ever since.

2000-2003: I spent the next 4 years in and out of short relationships, but predominantly single. Valentine's Day meant dinner with girlfriends followed by watching cheesy movies like "Sleepless in Seattle."

2004: After running into an old college crush at an Illinois football game in Pasadena, we decided to try a long distance San Fran/LA relationship. Sitting in the Oakland airport waiting for my V-day flight down to LAX, I realized that I really would rather hang out with my friends than spend a romantic weekend with college crush boy. Two months later, I pulled the plug.

2005: I have no recollection of what I did for Valentine's day last year. How sad is that?

There you have it. Given the above, I think the required course of action is clear. We should just pull Valentine's day right off the calendar. Based on my experience, Cupid doesn't have very good aim.

Welcome Home

There's nothing like the turning of a year to make you aware of how quickly and unceasingly time marches on. I have spent well over half this month on the road, between family ski vacations, trips back to CA for work, and whirlwind multi-city tours of wastewater treatment plants (sounds glamourous, I know). I took down my Christmas decorations only days ago, and am amazed that it is almost February.

Given my homesickness for California at the end of last year, spending a week back in the Bay area at the beginning of this month was a real treat and a huge blessing. It was great to see everyone again, to spend time with my old roommie and with my old small group. It was good to be back, but something was different this time. It wasn't home anymore. And I don't mean that in a sad, left out sort of way. It was simply a matter of fact.

As my plane was taxiing to the gate back in Denver at the end of the week, the flight attendant began to wish those continuing on a safe flight. And then she said, "and if Denver is home for you, Welcome Home." I sat there on that plane, looking out the window to the mountains in the distance, and I began to cry. But they weren't tears of sadness - they were tears of joy. Denver IS home. I was glad to be back and I felt a real sense of peace, for the first time in months.

This past fall I spent a lot of time looking over my shoulder, mourning the loss of the comfortable familiarity of California. I was still walking through the motions here in CO, but it wasn't my focus. My focus was on my grief. I think I've finally turned around, and life here suddenly seems alive and full of potential.