Sorta' Hitting My Stride?

I apologize for the absence in posts lately... My life of late has been consisting largely of reading, thinking about reading, planning to read, and thinking about the things that I read.

Theology grad school is mostly reading and thinking - WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT?!

To catch y'all up on some recent things in my life:

Missouri is HOT. Like, did someone tell Missouri that it should try to takeover the title of "Sunshine State"? Because it has been giving it's all.

(for serious, y'all...)

I've been trying out this "jogging" thing. Some days are better than others. 

But, the parks here are gorgeous, and it makes it a little easier to get out there and transport myself around at a slightly quicker pace than speed walking. 

I'm just saying, Forrest Park has some pretty things to look at while propelling myself at speeds I usually only go when idling in my car. But it is good thinking time, and it allows me to do penance to my body after my woeful neglect of it these past few years (and my dentist told me I should keep an eye on my blood pressure). But only when it isn't a gazillion degrees. . . 

Other news, I got to go to my first Cardinals game with the Saint Louisan Sims (catchy right?) plus Aunt Patty, it was great, but Yadi should never try to stretch a double...

(blurry, but still gloriously American)

And then the most terrific thing happened last night!

After a pleasant Sunday of reading, I decided to reward myself with a walk around Forrest Park, which is right next to my house AND where they were having "LouFest" a two day concert with some really great bands. Well, while I was content, listening to the Alabama Shakes and sitting on a bench outside of the festival, this guy drives up in a golf cart. I think he's going to tell me to stop loitering and move on. What I did not expect was for this guy to hold up a bag of festival passes and ask if I wanted one! I was on that like a grad student on coffee, and happily went in to see Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros followed by The Killers! It was great AND it was free! So while I might be sad to miss the Gentlemen of the Road Stopover with Mumford and Sons in Saint Augustine next weekend, my frustration has been very well curbed.

(Free is my favorite price)

(I highly recommend seeing them if you are in St. Augustine next weekend)

So, other than saying I'm just blessed and highly favored, or just plain lucky, I'd say I'm beginning to get used to this St. Louis - Grad School - thing, a little bit. I'm trying at least!

*note bene - For those of you who have never heard of these bands I have mentioned, behold: YouTube!

- The Alabama Shakes - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnZqpuTGd7I 

- Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (I'm sure you've heard this one on a commercial or something)- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHEOF_rcND8 

The Killers - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsHC8Hwnh30&list=TLmIRXJmO6Ppo

... And Then I Decided That Maybe I Would Not Get A Part Time Job

Here are SOME of my books for this semester. 

I'm taking three courses this semester. 

- Theological Methods - Only 5 books

- Survey of Early Christian History - 8 books

- Christology - 10 books 

This is sort of how my internal monologue went:

"I'm really looking forward to getting back into academia...

Oh DANG! Look at all this reading!

...What did I get myself into?"

Nonetheless, I am excited for my new academic chapter. I am going to be a busy guy, and if I'm not, I have either improved my time management immensely (it could happen!), or I am neglecting something. 

I will not let that latter thing happen.

I had Department of Theology orientation this past Friday. While there, getting excited and intimidated, one of the professors said something terrifying, "If you don't feel like quitting about once a month, you are doing it wrong." 

Time to put on my big boy pants...

FIVE (5) Things You Might Not Notice About Saint Louis If You Were Just Visiting

1) There are few if any turn lanes.
- This means that if you come to a lighted intersection and need to make a left turn, everyone in the left lane is going to hate you. Imagine you are cruising at 45mph and you have nothing but green lights ahead of you. Traffic is heavy, but moving. You are in the left lane. BRAKE LIGHTS! Everyone stops in your lane despite the healthy flow in the other three lanes traveling your direction.

Now imagine you are the driver desiring to turn left, but cannot as the oncoming traffic is too heavy. You are on somewhat of a major highway. They cars are mounting behind you. Your brow begins to sweat... You get the picture.

2) The lanes are ridiculously narrow.
- Today the car in front of me was stopped (making a left turn) when an oncoming car, I kid you not, knocked the cigarette out of the man's hand. The car before me was not "in" the other lane; the lane he was in, just happened to be exactly wide enough for his compact car. (The man whose hand was struck appeared to be fine, but no one can know for sure)

3) The neighborhoods are beyond stereotypical.

Q: What area of town do you think "The Hill" might be?
A: It is the most Italian neighborhood you ever saw.

And what are their street signs all laden with? Italian flags with the words "The Hill" printed in the middle!

(great food, btw)

What's "The Grove" like?

It is the gay district. With their flamboyant lighted signs, and the name that reminds you of the place FRUIT grows.
What the heck is that?!

(sidenote: why are typically homosexual areas called "districts" and Italian areas called "neighborhoods"? just wondering)

(I'm sure the drinks are cheap and if I could handle the Castro, I'm sure I could have a good time)

These are just two examples; and I'm by no means saying we have to be super politically correct, but this place is insanely prejudiced and NOBODY notices.

4) Schlafly Beer is insanely good. Micro-brews... everybody loves them, but I mean it y'all, this brewery makes some very tasty beers. They just released their pumpkin ale and it's the best i've ever had; can't wait to see what they do with Oktoberfest. Sadly, it's not sold in Florida, so... hopefully I'll be able to bring some next time I am coming down and hopefully you will all become benefactors of Rob's Graduate Education ... beer and coffee and book fund (no particular order).

5) Jazz is very good AND there is a radio station completely devoted to it. Southern Illinois University puts out 88.7 WSIE. You think you want to change the station at first because it seems like its just going to be elevator music. But then, you are suddenly at your destination and in a more relaxed mood then when you set out on your journey. I'm telling you people, jazz is good.


... More to come...

(I've been informed that "The Grove" might also be named for Tower Grove Park, but still...)

Life Begins in the Garden

Some of you might know, others of you may not, I have a very different, but very crazy awesome living situation here in Saint Louis. I am very fortunate to live in the apartment above this carriage house (see picture in previous post) that was built in 1901. The carriage house is seated right behind a giant 3 story house (plus basement!) that was also built in 1901. The conditions of my housing are thus: I am to provide 40 hours of house and yard work to the big house each month in exchange for rent.

Let it digest...

AWESOME, right???

This has its ups and downs, as it means I am often times a maid for the very kind couple that lives in the antique, but beautiful home out front of my own. BUT, it has a very nice upswing: it means that I am also their gardener.

What?

I love the earth. I love green things. I love nature and creation and all that stuff.

By no means does that make me a granola or magically make one of my thumbs green. What it means is that I have been given a gift. I never anticipated that moving to a metropolitan area would for me be a return to the land, but it has been! How I have longed for a yard to mow, weeds to pull, and plants to prune, without knowing. I get to do a job for someone else, which is much easier than doing a job for one's self (I think), and dig in the dirt!

It is an experience that harkens to both my Franciscan theology and my Benedictine mind.
That is to say, the optimistic view of creation that is held by the Order of the Friars Minor, founded by St. Francis of Assisi, is co-mingled in my heart with the call from the Order of St. Benedict, which calls for a life of work and prayer, the work being a lived metaphor for the tilling, and labor it takes to become a new creation, of course, with Christ being the real one working and you allowing him to change your heart. It was, for them, also a means of sustenance.

And as I have worked this land, I have found so much joy, working in the Lord's creation, co-working, as it were. And as I work, I see many things that harken to scripture, and many things that harken to my life.

The obvious, as I prune the tomato plants...

("I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing." - John 15:5) 

So I begin to cut the dead stuff away and I'm sort of meditating and praying and thinking when I begin to realize something.

First, me cutting the dead and dying things away is a really good thing for the plant; simply, because it doesn't weigh the vine down, it doesn't suck up nutrients from the plant, so the other good branches can get the goods to make good fruit, etc. But I also realize that this dead stuff that I am cutting away is really good FOR the plant. You see, here at this estate (it's not an estate, but I'm a big fan of Magnum P.I., so I'm going to refer to it as an estate) we have one of the coolest compost piles I have seen in a while. There is a hedge that creates a barrel sort of shape in the corner of the yard. There is a small hole at the bottom of one side, where the richest soil you'll ever see sort of drains out.

It looks sort of like this. So that I can put things like this...

... that come from this guy (who is great by the way)...

... and this...

... to make super awesome plant nutrients that will help grow beautiful flowers and tomatoes and whatnot!

So as I am pruning, and shoveling, and weeding, I'm having this realization:

All the stuff that is in the past, all the stuff that has fallen away, that might have been bad or just isn't around any more; that stuff is not really gone. It has become the rich soil that is nourishing me. Of course first, it has to be cut off, or at least removed and refined, or processed.

That's what I think these past couple of weeks here in St. Louis, alone, in this killer apartment have been, a time to reflect, process, and be enriched by the soil that has come from my past. Not to be weighed down by branches that are just going to steal my energy. By no means am I suggesting that I am cutting off all of my friends and family from Florida, but I have to call it how it is and take the sunshine and rain from here to nourish the soil that I already have. I cannot rely on any "food" spiritual or emotional from the far off lands.

Now that the extended, and perhaps over drawn, metaphor is done, check out these awesome roses and other cool plants that I take care of!

It is a pretty sweet gig. 

aaaand, I'll try to figure out how to make these shorter. 

MOVING IS THE WORST

Friends and Family,

I write to you after being in St. Louis for a week and a half. Here is the biggest piece of news I can share: MOVING IS THE WORST.

Leaving my beloved St. Augustine was of the utmost difficulty. The best analogy I can think of for what St. Augustine is for me, and many Flagler College graduates is Neverland. It is the place where I could act with total autonomy as an adult, but still remain youthful, just like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, breathing salt air and adventuring wherever I pleased. St. Augustine, FL will forever be a home that can not be duplicated. The community and times spent, the friendships and my completion of adolescence in that place tattoo it on my heart forever. One day, I hope to return.

(I mean, come on... right?)

So, to catch you up, 2 weeks ago today, I had left my beloved town, journeyed to Jacksonville and commenced the packing of a moving truck - a twelve foot penske - with my father. My parents were more than generous in assisting me with my 1,000 mile move. They are phenomenal human beings and truly display their love for me in real and tangible ways.

So why the moving truck, you might ask? "Rob, you lived in a tiny closet for the last year, you surely don't have THAT much stuff!" Well, yes and no. My parents, the ones that are super generous with their time, were also super generous with their used furniture. That's right, free leather couches and full sized bed, dish set, and other neat stuff! How do you get that 1,000 miles?

Penske.

This meant that I was also able to bring some of the free or relatively cheap furniture that I had gotten throughout college - a free pedestal desk, a ten dollar book case, a ten dollar dresser, free book case, free filing cabinet, free ikea drawer set, and other junk, like "The Kramer," and of course, books and clothes.

So we left Jacksonville, Florida on Saturday morning. We drove to Huntsville, Alabama where my aunt and uncle live and rock life there. They cooked us a bomber dinner and gave us some very much appreciated beer. 9 hours with a box truck that barely goes 70mph, plus the tired and anxious traveling parents with their adult son... Yes beer was appreciated. 

We left the next morning, Sunday, determined to get to St. Louis. Mom, Dad, me, Penske, and red car - ready and rearing. But you know what we didn't anticipate? Nashville traffic. You know what else? Kentucky and Illinois road work. It was Sunday! And these glorious states decided to leave perfectly good lanes closed for road work for miles and miles and miles on Sunday! Our six hour drive turned into nine and we arrived in St. Louis ready to fight anyone or anything in or out of the vehicles. We were hungry. We were tired. and then we found the worst service restaurant we could have chosen. I mean, I think we saw our server exactly three times and she was slower than honey in the winter. But, the beer was cold and of a non-corporate, not available in Florida variety! 

(Even if it was served in an anheuser glass...) 

Monday morning, we were up early, ready to go see this apartment that I had found through some luck, prayer, and persistence. We decided to go to the Cathedral Basilica before breakfast to thank God that we did not kill each other or any of the terrible drivers we encountered, to ask for continual grace and patience as we went to unload the truck. Ironically, it was the Festival of St. Martha, patron of hospitality! Keep reading and you'll see why it was ironic. 

I call my landlord to inform him that we would arrive in the later part of the morning. He says that'll be great, but as an FYI, the previous tenant has a few books that are still in the apartment and he will be moving them today as well. 

"A few books?" I think, "That's no big deal."

WRONG.

We arrive to the address around 11:00am to find the apartment virtually unpacked and filthy. There were dust bunnies bigger than actual bunnies! There were at least three layers of dirt on everything! If you ever saw my old college house back in St. Augustine, The Fortress, when it was at its absolute worst, imagine it 4 times worse. (for those that don't know, that's awful).

I was very very frustrated. Pissed is a good word for it. 

I thought Dad was going to have an aneurism. 

After trying to appropriately express our frustration, I decided it would be best to give the previous tenant some space, he seemed nice enough, just unfortunately not ready for our presence AT ALL. 

We went to SLU, handled some stressful registration and billing issues, and got lunch. I got to show my parents some of the campus and that was good. Then we went shopping for cleaning supplies. We could not have been prepared for what we were up against. The ultimate cleaning project. A hundred or so dollars later in scrubbing materials, we thought we were ready. But we were certainly all pissed enough for war. 

(My crustaceous stove top. It was worse.

It got better)

It took almost two days before we were ready to begin unpacking. We took our frustration and turned it into determination. This is why I say my parents are saints. The only stake they had in this was me, but they sacrificed time, money, energy, peace... and countless other things to "vacation" with their son by scrubbing filth. I love them.  They are great. 

So then we were ready: 

(Day 3: Unload)

We did our best not to hate one another and to communicate well. And we got it done. 

(It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times)

We got it all upstairs. A feat in and of itself. It tried all of our patience, every grain of virtue and goodness, but we got it done. 

I must say again, my parents are saints. The scrubbing. The time. Readers, if you are still with me, you don't know how bad it was! 

(She'll hate me for posting this. But she's great. Papa was still cleaning. He's great, too)

But, now... now it is authentically mine. I mean I am still a renter for sure, but I can honestly say that I have a home. A home that, with the help of my parents, was earned, was garnered and attained. It is now my home. I have a reading chair. I have a kitchen, a bed, a bar, an office, a breakfast nook. And it belongs to me. I have a home. I don't have roommates. I don't have anyone's mess or stuff or junk but my own. 

Neverland is gone. It is weird. But it is so. I'm a Floridian. I'm a St. Augustinian. Do not get me wrong. But now I am a sojourner. And I have a home. I live in the tension. And though it is new and frightening, I love it. 

Carriage House Est. 1901

Under Rob's Occupancy since August 2013

The Mercy Seat

So these nutty Jesuits have invited me to join them to study theology at St. Louis University this fall. It was an invitation that this Franciscan could not resist. I am taken aback by this for many reasons.

The first of which is this: Theology is the crown jewel of academia. It is the  deepest type of communication, in which the prophets were well versed. The title, theologian, which claims one is a student of The Lord, and participant in his kingdom, again, presumes much.

I am overly humbled to profess this as my future profession, whether chosen or appointed.

 With my vast, but short life experiences, my liberal arts education, and my shallow faith, I know nothing of the sciences, and little of virtue. You can ask those who know my sins as well as my faith. I am not great at the practicing of my preaching, and am doubly great at the "do as I say, not as I do" line of teaching.

For this reason, I have hidden this last year among the orphans, speaking little of religion in the public sphere, but hoping often to find it among the poor, oppressed, and diseased. Praying fervently for patience and perseverance, and then not at all, overwhelmed by the stress of parenting 6 disordered teenagers; I either only prayed or only did not, seeking refuge in anything that was a distraction. I have discovered much about myself (being bitten by an HIV/hepatitis positive youth will give you a great amount of perspective). But I discovered truly, how much I do not know about myself. 

What I was given this last year is simple. I was given the gift of reality. Reality is a funny thing. It is the only thing I think that I know until I know it more. You could parallel this with Truth (one of the things Jesus called himself... Ooooh)

All of this is to say, the reality I grasp now, is the need of mercy, the need of grace. The reality I am at terms with is that I did not get here because of myself - there was a lot of help from friends and family many others known and unknown, and there was the help of Christ. What I am getting at it this: I am not able to do anything that is permanent, anything that is satisfying, anything that is actually real, apart from cooperating with the Lord. We are called to be co-creators, as we are called to be co-heirs.

So, terrified, I must go to the Mercy Seat, the chamber of confession. It is there that the gift of penance and freedom are given. Freedom to become the what I was made for. I'm a bit scared, I'm a bit excited. I'm moving to Missouri, of which I know little to get a master's degree, for which I am surely unqualified.

Pray for me.