[ we are one, tonight! ]

Donald Miller's newest release, To Own a Dragon, is so good. I haven't finished it, but as expected, Miller hasn't disappointed yet. The memoir details Miller's life without a father, and is co-authored by reknown photographer John MacMurray, whose work has been published in National Geographic and the Sierra Club. Miller recaps quite a bit of the dialogue he had with MacMurray during his four years with his family, and makes a few really compelling arguments for God as Father. (To Own a Dragon isn't specifically written to a Christian audience. In fact, I'd say the target demo is, well, men who have grown up without fathers. It's poignant for all those who read it, but I can only imagine how moving it would be for those whose lives parallel Miller's.)

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Sara & I saw The Break-Up this afternoon. If you are planning on seeing it, check the reviews before you go to the theater. For all the hype it has received (mostly because of Aniston & Vaughn's off-screen romance, I think), we were disappointed. HOWEVER, this was exciting: they showed the preview for Snakes on a Plane, which has already developed a cult-esque following and apparently is guaranteed to be a unique summer hit. I believe it. (Sara and I were the only ones laughing at the preview. The whole five other people in the theater were annoyed with our random amusement, I think.)

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Every Saturday, either John or Dad mows the lawn. It takes three or four hours because our house is built into a hill and is on an acre so of land. So, today was "Mow The Lawn" Saturday. Later this evening, I was telling Dad that the yard looked nice, and asked him how many years it had been since he decided to move his "mowing radius" forward (I didn't say that, actually; I'm just trying to be witty like Donald Miller). Basically, I wanted to know how long it had been since he started allowing nature to run its course in the grassy area next to the creek near our backyard.

I noticed tonight that the weeds which had initially taken over the unmowed grass are now accompanied by a few nice-looking trees -- trees that we didn't plant. Apparently, this is called "ecological succession." I decided to do a little research on this ecological succession business, and well, I don't really understand much of the lingo on most of the Web sites, but I do know this: it is such a cool thing! I mean, the trees that have grown next to the creek are going to be huge and strong someday. Maybe the next family who lives in our home will have kids who spend their summers building a treehouse in one of them. Who knows?

This past year, and especially this past semester, I've thought a lot about process. There is beauty in process, especially when we are able to let down our guard and, well, let God be at the root of the continual transformation He desires for our lives. I like thinking and dialoguing about the process of faith, probably because our journey with Christ is so incredibly 'larger than ourselves' that it comes down to letting go daily.

There are areas of my life that I am still attempting to manage on my own. I think we all have these, really. One big prayer that I have for those I know and for my own life is that we'd be able to move our 'radius' forward a bit and allow God to do some serious landscaping of His own. (I love Paul's heart-cry in Philippians 3: citizenship in heaven through Jesus' death and resurrection, pressing on toward the goal now, looking forward toward serious transformation.)

Keep seeking Him.

-Jessie

Oh! Even Thoreau wrote about this ecological succession thing. Interesting.