Update

Things I am into right now:

Wallyball
CS Lewis
Discipleship
Texas Hold'Em
Scrubs (hee hee)
The Office

Things I plan to be into in the near future:

Home repair
Ayn Rand (Atlas Shrugged)
Lost (Feb 7, Baby!)
Writing - always, always in the elusive void that is the near future

You can quote me on that.

A note about quotation marks:

You may have noticed that my last post used what I like to think of as a plethora of quotation marks.

If one is trying to emphasize a particular word for ironic or comic effect, they will often put quotes around it. This is a way to indicate that writer realizes that the word is not being used in its accepted sense.

An example: The "discussion" about the benefits of icecream over coffee had escalated to fisticuffs. (I love the word fisticuffs. It's so prissy.)

These ironic quotes can also be called scare, sneer, shock, or distance quotes (my favorite is sneer).

Here was my issue:

When you are not quoting a sentence but only a word, why must the period go inside the quotation marks?
The period goes "here."
It does not go "here".
I didn't like it. It didn't make sense.

Now I could picture a conversation in my future, when some little doe-eyed worshipper like a daughter or a nephew or a youth group kid will approach me with this self-same question.

I felt ill-equipped.

"I'm sorry daughter/nephew/teen scholar, I do not know the answer to your question. I think that you should give up the English language and all her foibles altogether and focus more on mathematics and Mandarin."

Okay, to make a long story short (too late), I looked it up and experienced a change of heart.

As they relate to American English, periods and commas always, always, always go inside the quotation marks. This dates back to the typesetting days and has something to do with quotes being the most fragile part of the typesetting process and having to set them a certain way so they wouldn't get bent...etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

The British have long abandoned this antiquated tradition for something a little more "logical".

But we have not.

So really, I think it all boils down to patriotism.

I think that as long as we resist putting vinegar on our french fries, driving on the left, and drinking lukewarm water we must not waiver in our determination to keep the commas and periods on the inside!

"The End."

Disclaimer: This post has nothing to do with exclamation or question marks. Those are a different beast altogether.

I think I've found my calling.

I have never been what a reasonable person would call "athletic." I have always hated that horrible ragged feeling in my chest after doing what my junior high basketball coach impishly called "sprints." I'm not a beautiful blusher. My cheeks flame red and blood pounds in my temples after way too little exertion. I can't seem to remember to keep my eye on the ball (a cardinal rule, I've been told) and my depth perception is "poor."

But I do know one thing.

I heart wallyball.
Wallyball is played four-on-four in a raquetball court. You can play off the walls. It is very hot and not very well ventilated.

I lurch and heave around the court. At times I swing my arms wildly. At times I cower and dodge the very object I am sworn to protect. But occasionally (very occasionally) I am in the right place at the right time with the right amount of warning. I hit the ball. Sometimes I score points. It's fun.

I play with a bunch of gracious people.

A message to my younger self:

Dear Jess,

Don't try to hang on to Christmas too long.


It's not a pretty sight.



Love,
Future Jess

PS - If you're ever tempted to cut a hole in your kitchen ceiling, you might want to take a moment think through all the ramifications.

...you Guata go!

As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"
Romans 10:15b

Hmmm. Perhaps misapplied in this instance.

My trip to Guatemala was short. Way, way too short. I know nothing about the country. I didn't get to learn all the girls' names at the orphanage. I never got to have a sit-down talk with the American missionaries. I didn't cry. I didn't get frustrated with my team. It was SO short. Like a breath.


But it was still worth it. We spent the majority of our time visiting an orphanage that was started several years ago by American missionaries. The home has 25 girls right now and has some crazy-growth plans. The plan is to finish another house in February for 30 more girls and a home for boys this summer. There certainly is no shortage of children that need a home. We were also able to run a Vacation Bible School (so fun!) and visit two other orphanages and a hospital.


I was so encouraged by this trip. There is something to be said for being surrounded for a time by like-minded people with a like-minded purpose.


I want to go back.

It's been a year already??

It hangs over my head all year long - the ominous portent of doom. It is the ultimate test of my love for youth ministry. It is the death of my weekend and the birth of many slightly embarrassing stories.

It is the Annual Chapel by the Sea Youth Group lock-in.

My favorite.

And it has come upon me so quickly and now is breathing down my neck from two hours away.

Why, why, why do teens love staying up all night and breathing each other's air? Why do they find it a thrill to accidentally fall asleep and wake up with a magic-marker moustache? What is it about Sponge Bob Square Pants that we all find so terribly amusing?

I don't have the answers, although I've been researching them for three years now. Maybe I will come home tomorrow more enlightened.

But I can say this - they look forward to it all year. They love it and I love them. So I guess I love it, too.

And I am looking forward to laying down some smooth tracks during karaoke.

Psych.

Sorry for being lame. I know that the five of you have been checking my blog every morning - collective breath held in anticipation - saying "Perhaps today. Perhaps today is the day that she shall blog."

Well, it's not today.

I have so much that I want to show you and tell you about. But I am sapped and I am tired. So bear with me a little longer and then you will get pictures and prose that will sting your eyes and melt your heart.

I guarantee it.

When you Guata go...

Hello readers! I am on my way to Guatemala!

Have I told you that I'm going to Guatemala? Well I am. Tonight.

I'll be down there with a team of about 20 people for about 10 days. For the majority of that time, we'll be staying and serving at a girls' orphanage in Monjas. Activities should include teaching English and Bible classes, construction, VBS, doing hair, playing with stickers, a lot of soccer, and singing.

Almost the entire team is comprised of return-trippers. They've been before and are itching to get back. Some of the guys have been down five or six times. As a newbie, I'm excited to see what has them so excited.

If you are a friend of the praying variety, I'd appreciate your prayers for this trip. I don't know what will be accomplished in the lives of the Guatemalans or the lives of our American team, but I know that it will be exactly what the Lord has planned.

Please pray especially for the song that I'm going to try to teach the girls down there - the books of the Bible.

In Spanish.

With a dance.

I know that my pronunciation is going to be whack, but I hope they think I'm funny and not a doofus. Or at least a funny doofus.

Praise God for the global church and the power of the Gospel!!

Adios.

Winter Solstice - and not a moment too soon.

John Donne called the winter solstice "the year's midnight." So now we wait for the dawn.
It's been snowing in Anchorage for the past few days - our first real winter storm. The snow is airy and abundant and slick - the kind that falls into your car when you open the door and fluffs over the tops of your boots as you scuff across the cul-de-sac. My brothers have shoveled me out three times in a spirit that a friend of mine termed "competitively helpful." Hey, I'll take it.
Daylight and snow are increasing. Snow machines and skiis and sled dogs are being primed all over the city.

Life is good in AK.

A difference of opinion.

The Bud and I both went on vacation this fall. I'll let you draw your own conclusions as to who went where.

And I hear it kills 99.9% of all germs, too.

Listerine is my new favorite.


Tonight I had a revelation. I realized (after several weeks of increased Listerine usage) that I do NOT have to pour the mouthwash into the little cap before partaking. I realized that I could drink DIRECTLY FROM THE BOTTLE. That's right.

Who knows how much is four ounces? I do, that's who.

Who am I sharing this fine bottle of Listerine with? That's right, the germs that are annihilated are mine and mine alone.

It saves a whole step in the morning AND I get to feel like a rebel.

Just don't tell my mom.

*******
Hmm. Addendum. Now that I think about it, I don't think that four ounces is really the serving size. I mean, that's a lot of Listerine. Unfortunately, when I tried to look at the directions again they had stuck together (one of those blasted peel away labels). If anyone has a bottle at home and would care to clue me in to appropriate serving size, my mouth and I would be greatly appreciative.

Cannot Post.

Reading.

More later.

Vocabulary kills.

Let’s face it. Christianity has been around for a while. So it only stands to reason that over the millennia certain ideas and thought structures would be codified into a wonderful little system we like to call…vernacular.

A friend of mine recently asked me if I was “born again.”

“Well, yes,” I said, a little awkwardly.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Twenty-three years into my faith, one would think that I would have an appropriate response. But how do you answer that simple, important question without unleashing a steady stream of incomprehensible jargon? Depravity? Redeemed? Saved? Grace? Repentance? Sanctification? Holiness? Glory?

Christian Vocabulary.

It is easy for me because I have grown up in it. I’ve gone to schools where my homework was to understand the meaning behind these words. But I find myself ill-equipped when I face a person who has genuine questions about the fundamentals of my faith. My mother tongue is Christianese and I get timid when I have to speak in Layman’s about things of the faith.

The message does not have to be complicated. Christ certainly seemed to pull it off. John and Paul and Luke were able to relate to their audiences, to spell out the meaning of redemption and the price of grace. But now we have this lingo that we have worked so hard to establish, so the meaning should be clear, right?

I am constantly tempted to hide behind the smoke-screen of jargon. I convince myself that having sufficient knowledge of words means I have sufficient knowledge of the truth.

But if I cannot explain to my friend what it means to be born again, then why am I even here?

Some pictures of Beth's neice

Being an aunt is the best (especially when it comes to delivery). Here are some pictures of Beth's neice (also of my neice).

Jill is apparently comfortable with her newfound freedom.
Jess and Jill
Callie Jane and Jill Lorraine

She's Here!

I am happy to announce that Jill Lorraine Gates has made her way into the scene. JR, Rachel, Callie, and Jill are all doing fine.

8 lbs. 7 oz. (holy cow!)

Pictures to come (I'm still at the hospital!)

I thought I'd never make it.

Oh the heights that have been attained!

Living in twilight

Sunrise: 10:00 am
Sunset: 3:45 pm

5 hours and 45 minutes of daylight.

Come quickly, winter solstice! I'm ready to be on the upswing of this bell curve.

You are not alone.

The Way to Go Kevin! craze is sweeping the nation.

Or at least, some of my friends occasionally say it to me.

Here are some other famous phrases that involve the name of a person that nobody really remembers:

1. Bob's your uncle
2. Kiss me quick and call me Kate
3. Rob Peter to pay Paul (is that one actually 3?)
4. Simon says
5. Charlie horse
6. Where in the Sam Hill have you been?
(alternative: what in the Sam Hill are you doing?)
7. The "john"
8. Heavens to Betsy!

Society obviously accepts the first-name catchphrase.

So don't be afraid!

And when people look at you funny just say, "Yeah. You haven't heard that? Geez Louise!"

Confession time.

You may have noticed, dear readers, that the posts of the past week have been a little heavy on the images and a little shy on prose.

“Jessi!” you may well have protested, “We thought that you wanted to be a writer. That you were going to use this corner of the world wide web to hone your craft and entertain the masses with your turn of phrase and cheeky humor! Yet all we see are photo captions, the poor man’s post. Shame.”

Well I have a good excuse which I will share with you now.

I must first admit to you all that occasionally I am irresistibly drawn to that fickle mistress, the “Next Blog” button. Usually I find myself in the world of Linux How-to, or the high times of Cindy Sorority at Party U. Normally I glance at the page and I move on to something more interesting, like cleaning the bathroom or shoveling the driveway.

But a few weeks ago I came across a good one and now I’ve been too busy to write because I’m reading about the life of Katrina S., a stranger who lives in Idaho. She is funny and heartfelt and an excellent blogger who makes purse shopping entertaining and scrapbooking non-distasteful. So during the midnight hours when I used to compose my posts, I have been clicking through the months of her life, starting in September 2005. I wish that she lived next door to me.

I left her a comment to that effect (I believe the words “best friends” may have been used), but she hasn’t responded. Perhaps my reputation has preceded me.

The great thing is that if she evades me here, we shall meet in the here-after. That’s right, folks, she’s a sister (in Christ, that is).

There's no getting around it, Katrina S., you can’t run away forever.

So here’s a shout out to cool people who are Christians and random blog addicitions.

Way to go, Kevin!

The Annual Gates Family Tree Trek

Here's a few pics of the tree trek.

Waiting at Mom and Dad's. We never get out on time.

Ty and The Bud

Suiting up.

The Papa Tree. Yes, that's what Christmas trees look like up here.

JR and Callie found a tree.

Me too. Laura and I have an impeccable sense of winter fashion.

Zach cut my tree down for me.

Annual ornament earrings.

Annual ornament juggling.

Ahh, finished product.

In context.

I love the tree trek.

It is becoming imperative that I learn flickr.