Hello and greetings from Vancouver! After a few days of actual stereotypical Canadian weather, with snow and everything (!), we are back to the much more regular grey drizzle, so it seems a good day to hole up with a spot of tea and play catch-up in updates, since I didn’t actually get around to describing this semester in my last update. 

Things have been off to a pretty decent start so far. As I might have mentioned, I’m in four courses this term, just as last; on the whole, my professors are quite engaging and I’ve been learning a lot. Of particular note are Sarah Williams, professor of Church history, who combines a self-deprecating wit with amazing insight and enthusiasm for her topic (of course, she’s English, so the accent helps), and Rikk Watts, our Australian Pentecostal professor of New Testament studies; I never thought that I’d be able to appreciate Biblical criticism, but he get’s excited enough that it’s contagious. My living situation is still great. We have bonded even more as a house since last semester, and it’s really fun to see the various ways that actual community has started taking place. It is a very musical house, so there have been spontaneous sing-alongs that break out around the piano as well as impromptu dance parties in the kitchen. 

We had the opportunity in particular to bond at winter retreat, which took place from January 12-14th at Hemlock ski resort. While Friday evening and Sunday morning were reserved for group activities, most of Saturday was open for independent recreational activities, which most people took to mean skiing or snowboarding. However, since my one skiing experience resulted in me getting run over by a snowboarder, and my one snowboarding experience resulted in me dislocating my shoulder, I decided that God just did not want me sliding down hills at high velocities with wood attached to my feet. So, instead, several of our housemates decided to go snowshoeing.

Unfortunately, I did not really have much in the way of winter gear. I have the requisite heavy coats, boots, gloves, etc, but I left these in Salem, as I have very limited closet space and did not anticipate a great need for them. As such, I had only my regular khaki pants with spandex underneath and an underarmour top and windbreaker to protect me from the elements; however, I thought we were just going through a brief jaunt, so I wasn’t overly concerned. This was a mistake. As a former boy scout, I have been informed that “Cotton kills” for every camping trip I went on since I was about 12, so I definitely should have known better. What I thought would be a quiet jaunt around peaceful woodland trails wound up being an epic quest that reminded me of Lord of the Rings, forging paths up steep hills and through thick strands of trees, and on multiple occasions, sliding back down said hills and having to start the ascent over again. By the time we hit our rest point, I was thoroughly soaked and borderline hypothermic. Fortunately, there were hot tubs when we got back; I don’t think I have ever appreciated hot water so much. Moral of the story: 1, COTTON DOES KILL! and 2, The Snow Demons have it in for me; avoid the snow. [The attached pictures are mementos of this adventure]. 

On a more serious and reflective note, this resonated with a theme that has been getting hit a lot this semester: humility. As anyone who has tried to run with me (or, Jake, played Risk with me) probably knows, I have this strongly competitive streak that comes out whenever doing group activities. I’m not sure why this is; maybe the fact I was always the slow kid in elementary school. But no matter what, I do not want to be the weakest link; I want to be strong, independent, the one who can help, not the one who needs help. This semester has had a series of small things that seem to be teaching me that that’s not reality. Besides the snowshoeing adventure, at the beginning of this semester, I resolved to overcome my chronic tardiness by carefully planning out an agenda. However, I’ve discovered that, first of all, I seem incapable no matter what the circumstances of meeting my idealistic expectations, and second, that even if I manage to show up to the right place on time, I am so tired that I am unable to accomplish whatever it was that I was supposed to. It’s a bit scary feeling being loose in a world that, no matter what efforts I take, I feel too scatterbrained to effectively deal with. Still, I guess that that’s why there’s grace; and, of course, all you practical people who help keep my head on straight.