Not Glowing in the Darkness

At 18, I moved into the infamous Wright Quad. I toted as much matter as I calculated could squeeze into my cookie cutter dormitory. It was perfect. So college, so festive. Lofted beds, free-standing wardrobes, and desks with attached bulletin boards crowded between cinderblock walls bathed in white, ready to tough out another year without air conditioning, another set of baby college students, and another shade removed from remembering the carpet's original color.

In our attempts to make our box of campus space look homier, my roommate and I tacked up posters, made out beds (for the first of the three total times that would happen) with colorful bedding we had tie-dyed ourselves, and strung lights left over from Christmases to brighten the dark corners of the room.

As a top priority of decor, we found a tall new friend and recruited him to help us in covering our ceiling in all one hundred of the glow-in-the-dark stars I had purchased. Those stars brought us such joy! We showed them off proudly to all of our room's visitors in those first weeks.

When you are a little Christian like me, they warn you about big secular schools like IU. Parents, churches, friends, friends' parents, they all tell you how very dark it will be.

Of course, they are quite right. And here we are, us Christians, stuck trying to figure out what to do with all of this unsupervised darkness. We have options. Some join the dark side. Statistically, we are reminded every Sunday of our senior year of high school, that will be most of us. 75-90%, depending on the pessimism and sources of those whom you ask.

Then there are those, and I fear they are too numerous, who function like the stars stuck to my ceiling my freshman year of college. They glow brightly in the darkness, at least at first. They are different than the dark. They even have properties of light. But, over time, the light dims until a ray of light - maybe CRU on Thursday evening, church on Sunday morning, an occasion phone call from an old Christian friend, or even a summer back at home - recharges the glow. This cycle is predictable. Worse, it is totally dependent on the situation. Worst, no matter how brightly that glow-in-the-dark star glows, no matter how much it sticks out in the dark, all it allows you to see is itself. Perhaps it is comforting and perhaps it is fun, or even inspiring to look at, but when night comes and you need to read or to find your way out of the rooms or the woods or the night, you won't grab a glow-in-the-dark star, or even a pack of them. They are only a weak regurgitation. They make no dent in darkness.

I want to be more like a flashlight . Receiving light directly from the Light Himself, I want to shine the darkness out of business. If God is always Light, and I am placed in Christ, I can always shine. I don't need to wait for a pep talk. Darkness simply cannot exist where light makes an appearance. That is the goal: I want to shine so that people just see Jesus, the destroyer of the dark.

Light is a crucial component of God's kingdom. Revelation tells us that in our eternal home, night never falls, and that God Himself will illuminate everything. That is a clean, inexhaustible energy. I don't want to glow in the dark. I want to inexhaustibly, regardless of circumstance, just plain shine.

Thursday Happened

The day after the grand light show extravaganza of the century (a white light on a canyon wall, read all about it in my last post), we decided we had just not spent enough time in the car, which truly was a poor decision. We went to the Four Corners National Monument first. At first, this location was a bit intimidating to me, as I read a sign about the illegality of dispersing body parts upon entrance. What kinds of people come here? What dangers await us? Upon reading further, the sign explained that the Native American culture of the area found cremation to be extremely disrespectful, and I felt a lot better about the whole situation.

After being in four states simultaneously, we went to Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado. Though we faced a bit of rejection, we were accepted for our second choice, the tour of Balcony House. This park is unique in that it has the remains of cliff dwelling communities. 

As previous experience has taught me, a tour guide can totally make or break (ok, mostly make) a vacation (see http://jennareallyspeaking.blogspot.com/2012/06/el-museo-de-eternidad.html). We were greeted by a park ranger and our tour guide. This young lady's most prominent feature was her unceasing smile. Well, almost unceasing. One time, after telling a joke, she stopped and I just did not know what to do. Other than that, whether tour guide was telling about the food of the cliff dwellers, summoning of ancestors, or, believe it or not, the smashing of heads with stones, Laura's eerily perfect pearly whites glared at me. In addition to all of these smiles, we faced an uncomfortable pause at the end of each phrase, as if there was a hidden question we needed to answer, or a deep piece of knowledge upon which we needed to ruminate.

This tour was much more academic than anticipated. We explored ancient living spaces through a progressive lens of Maslov's Hierarchy with a call to action in leaving a legacy at the end. Very well put together.

On the way back to Moab, as the sun set, we witnessed the most incredible storm. The sun loomed as a small but brilliant explosion of orange at the horizon that I thought for a moment was fire. The lightening kept coming, ripping across the sky every few seconds, but strangely elusive of photographic attempts.

'Twas a lovely day.

Love,

Jenna

Marmot

As a child, my deepest, most pressing desire was to go to Indonesia, my father's homeland. Finally, when I was 14, I got to visit that beautiful country. For the trip, Dad bought us Pinkstonlets Marmot brand backpacks that were, to speak his language "way cool!" 

These backpacks are true beauties: neutral colors and a kind of long and skinny that could hold a small flock of geese. They have an impressive array of pockets, including one that is padded and perfect for that rad digital camera or hip iPod nano (keep in mind that these were given to us in 2007, when surely words like hip and rad were utilized, as they should be).

In the years to follow, I have traveled the world with that pack on my back. I have been to over a dozen countries, and I'm fairly certain that this Marmot backpack has accompanied me to all of them, plus many more local destinations. From visiting friends in China to a mission trip in Haiti to exploring in Europe to summer project in Ecuador to college in Bloomington, my companion has been ever faithful.

However, the selfish beast I am, it was really always all about me and never about the backpack. The other day at Capital Reef National Park, Mother dearest noticed that a pamphlet declared marmots among the wildlife found in the park! Marmot, like the brand printed proudly across our backpacks. And not just any marmots, but yellow-bellied marmots! This raised questions I had never really pondered. What is a marmot? What kinds of animals would they name after belly coloration? "I thought it was like an elephant," marveled Dad. "Is it...a bird?" I inquired. "It's like a prairie dog," stated Mom.

What. A prairie dog. I've been traipsing across the globe proudly bearing the mark of the prairie dog? My luggage boasts of relation or aspiration to a rodent that 0.03% of the population could take seriously, given that they had received extensive training? You know what they say. It is what is is. Que será, será. And all those cliche phrases about accepting the nature of your pack.

Well, now you know. Now you can judge me, or anyone else proudly carrying the name of the great woodchuck-like beast.

Slightly embarrassed but all the better for the education, 

Jenna

A Darn Good Day

On the way to the hotel in Torre, we saw the entire town. Except Jack; he blinked. Dad saw a police car on the side of the road, and so he pulled over to ask for directions. Unfortunately, the policeman was a literal dummy. I want to know who has the time and resources and willpower to set that up. It's probably the same guy who must have intentionally brought white paint and driven out to the county border to change WAYNE COUNTY to an almost convincing DWAYNE COUNTY. Five dollars his name is Dwayne. An additional five dollars that we would be friends.

We dined at the restaurant right across the parking lot from our room that claimed no affiliation with or connection to our hotel, though it was literally connected. A high school dude, overheard to be named Brock, was our waiter and a true gem. Very pleasant and built like a football player, but unable to play since his school is so very small, this guy was the only person I've ever met who could pull off the one little braid in the back that my cousin used to call "the jedi braid." Seriously, I was so impressed. When we awoke in the morning in our room with an excellent view of rocks and cows, we ate again at the separate but not restaurant. Waiter boy was either there again or had never left. We had very hearty breakfasts and then started to pack up the car.

Mom sent Joely and I to get ice. We scoffed at the fact that we, two fully capable women, were sent to do what was clearly a one man job. Little did we know what danger lurked right outside the door. Our room opened up to the parking lot, and the ice machine rumbled just a few doors down. Joely boldly grabbed the bucket and headed to the ice. I, on the other hand, decided to hop from the sidewalk to the little concrete car parking marker thing (you know exactly what I'm talking about) and hop from parking thing to parking thing. Alas, I missed the first parking thing and totally wiped out. Sitting on the ground in the parking lot because I was laughing to hard to get up, I heard Brock peek out the restaurant door and holler at us to be careful. Here is where, in the style of old school Avril Lavigne, I write a song entitled "w8r boi." 

Once recovered and still laughing, we rolled down the road to Capital Reef National Park. Much to the disappointment of Jack, we watched an 18 minute video about the history of the park. Dad told us to give "the signal" if we wanted to leave the video early, but though Jack gave every signal he could think of from the first moment the video started, we watched all 18 minutes. As you can imagine, I found it utterly fascinating, as I do most things in life.

We decided to do a longer hike, but Jack and Dad were only able to join us at the beginning, since Jack still wasn't feeling 100%. It was very hot with almost no shade. Compared to the other parks, it was eerily empty. We passed only 2 people in two hours. There were tons of rocks to climb on, and I'm sure it would have been a favorite had the whole family been able to enjoy it. Interesting facts about Chimney Rock Trail: you only see Chimney Rock for the first 20ish minutes and you can see Chimney Rock even better from the road. Still, we had a nice hike and saw many, many lovely rocks before leaving the park.

Now, we are in Moab. I know all kinds of things about Moab after our lights and sounds boat tour, but I figure if you wanted to know them, you'd probably use Wikipedia, you technology wizards, you. Really, my main goal is to keep my brother away from the women, because besides Ruth, who is about as exceptional as any exception ever has been, my time studying the Bible suggests that Moabitesses lead God's chosen ones astray, and we can't have that.

Our tour was just swell. Ranked in the top 100 tours in the good ole U.S.ofA., this tour featured dutch oven cooked supper and then a boat tour lead by Preston, a retired man who reminded us many times that his jokes "don't get better; they only get worse." A personal favorite was the narrative that "our cook uses a special method to cook the baked beans, putting only 239 beans in each pot. You know why? Because one more would make it too farty." He, like the other staff, wore a cowboy hat and boots, and said "darn good" at every possible opportunity.

I had never experienced a light show. Now, this wasn't a laser light show. Preston did, however, sport a laser pointer, such as one may use in a classroom. For the first part of the tour, Preston talked about the area, the sights to sees, the impressive line up of movies and commercials filmed in the town, and pointed out shapes on the canyon walls with the laser pointer. It was thoroughly enjoyable.

For the more official part of the program, a truck on the highway along the river pointed a light at the canyon walls as it moved with us. We listened to a contradictory and slightly confusing history of the area as we, unrelatedly, studied the canyon walls. Occasionally, we were a bit lost. For example, on the topic of mountain men, with no explanation, the recording claimed "And the wearing of one's own hair came only at the cost of eternal vigilance." Please let me know if you've decoded this cryptic message.

My favorite part was by far the stars. The first time they turned off all of the lights to allow us to look at the heavens, the glaring light of a construction zone stared us all straight in the corneas. As we lifted our hands to block the beam of straight sunpower, the construction people waved back at us. I like them. 

Now it is late. Blogging has kept me up for what I'm sure is not the last time.

Fondly,

Jenna

The Pinkstons Don't Really Take on Bryce Canyon at All

As predicted in my previous blog post, that final evening in Zion, we went on another hike. Starting out at 5:28p.m. (really though, I often remember exact times and I'm sorry if that weirds you out, but I was asked to keep a record of our vacation goings-on, so you're going to have to be tough), we figured that we should experience some cool of the evening goodness. Plot twist: it was probably the hottest hike we'd been on up to that point. 

After the hike, in a similar fashion to after every hike I ever hike ever, I deeply desired a smoothie, and this time, I even got my family on board, so we had SMOOTHIES FOR DINNER. I love smoothies for dinner. Or for lunch, or breakfast, or snacky-poos, or just for funsies. Mine was mango and it was giant and it actually tasted just like almost ripe mangoes and it was perfect and I'm so sorry I can't share but I ate it all. 

The next morning, I awoke after a great night of sleep to learn that I was in the minority for having had such. Jack had vomited way more than anyone ever should have to and was unable to keep down food for the rest of the morning. It seems the invincible super boy of excess energy was taken down by a brutal bug of sorts. We should have known something was wrong when the last evening sported no rainbow for us. Our fate had changed, and not in the romantic, Brave the Disney movie, Irish-accented "If you had the chance to change yer fate, would ya?" kind of way.

That morning, the Pinkston girls enjoyed one last Zion-y hike, and it was one of our favorites. Canyon Overlook had mountain sheep to observe, lovely views to take in, and paths to accidentally lose track of and then find again. 

You also may want to note that at this point, all Pinkstons are wearing coordinating outfits, drawing from the blue and orange color families, in hopes, however feeble, that a snapshot could emerge that would free us from an awful, forced, pale photoshoot in Fishers at the end of November in a scramble to let all of the family friends we've ever had see us at the ugliest time of the year.

Moving right along, we drove through the park and for a couple of hours to Bryce Canyon National Park. The town on the edge of the park was smaller and less cute than the one outside of Zion. It sported a unified Western theme. As Jack wasn't feeling the best, we drove through and saw the sights of Bryce, but didn't venture on any hikes. We did, however, drag the sickling out of the car for a couple of optimistic snapshots.

We then drove the rest of the way to Torre, Utah, right outside of Canyon Reef National Park where we would spend the night, which is where you'll find us in our next post.

Love,

Jenna

The Pinkstons Take on Zion National Park

Yesterday morning, we headed out to Zion National Park. Though we received mixed messages about the moderate/strenuousness of our first hike, we attacked "Hidden Canyon" trail full force. Jack, particularly, was forceful, attempting to follow to path while spending as little time actually on it as possible. The majority of our hike was beautifully shaded. The most frightening of areas was less frightening than anticipated, which was totally fine by me. When we reached the top, we were still uncertain about where exactly the canyon was, so I suppose it was very well hidden. Venturing past the end of the trail, past the sign saying that scrambling would be required, we made it to a small stone arch. 'Twas a fun mini adventure.

Now, I realize that Utah may not be at the very tip top of everyone's "Too See" list. In fact, a lot of people I know have opted to go to Europe this summer, as silly as that may sound. I used to be a bit jealous, but now, upon seeing how many Europeans are hiking around Zion National Park, I pity all you travelors in Europe. It must be terribly lonely there with all of the natives hiking in national parks in the Southwest of the United States. 

In addition to Hidden Canyon, we "hiked" Weeping Rock. It took an approximate 15-20 minutes round trip, I think the rock was weeping because it wasn't as cool as so many of the other rocks. It needs a confidence boost, but I wasn't going to be the one to stick around and provide it. I had other things to see.

We went to hike to the Lower, Middle, and Upper Emerald pools. These could have been more aptly named the Lower, Middle, and Upper Brown Ponds. However, that would have been less enticing. If you haven't recently, Google Zion National Park. Now imagine all of the pictures in person, but all of the water as chocolate milk colored. That's what I've experienced. It is really lovely. Lots of sandstone and rainbows two nights in a row!

Today, heeding warnings of potential flash floods and opting not to hike in the river, we decided to hike to the iconic Angel's Landing. This hike was to be 4 hours, and we were uncertain as to if we would continue to the peak or hike to the highest spot that was not terrifying. Many of the landmarks in the park are named with reference to the Mormon faith. This peak appeared to its namer as a place that angels would land in the presence of another landmark named the Great White Throne. I think that this logic is ridiculous. If you could fly, why would you land somewhere where you had to hike for a couple of hours to get down? Unless, of course, the angels were just landing briefly and didn't want to stop anywhere for food or anything, which sounds highly unlikely to me. 

We decided, with much wavering, to not do the final part of the climb. We chose life. On a grosser note, Joely embarrassed the whole family and all of nature with the biggest, slowest, middle-of-the-pathest snot rocket ever to bless Zion National Park.

After the long hike, we lunched at a cafe that specialized in BBQ and crepes. It is in the beginning stages of inspiring my up and coming burger and donut shop. Now, Jack is bursting with weird amount of energy and wanting to run on a treadmill before another hike. 

Love and sweat,
Jenna

Rainbows and Baby Animals and Other Cute Occurrences

Howdy folks. I know it's been awhile, but I've come crawling back, as I always do. My parents have requested that I document our family vacation.

This morning, we departed from Indy and landed in Las Vegas. Along the way, I re-realized my calling, as I do most times I fly, to write for Sky Mall magazine. Really, it is great. I believe I could do an awesome job of getting genuinely excited about sketchy products that no one needs but everyone secretly wants. I would also have a lot of fun with naming things in entire sentences.

Once in Vegas, we, along with everyone in the city besides the two people who had an early lunch and the one gal who decided brunch was enough to hold her over until dinner, dined at In-N-Out Burgers. It was well worth the crowd, the wait, and the looking up of the Bible verses on the bottom of the food wrappings. Afterwards, we drove through the city a bit. It was very festive, but as it was not cute, it is not the focus of this post.

After a bit of a road trip, a near run in with the Walmart Distribution Center, a terrifying glimpse into an ostrich farm, and one too many ancient tunes, we arrived in Springdale, Utah. I don't know about you and your experiences, but this is my first time in Utah, and, especially considering the rocky road here, I am shocked by the sheer adorableness that has confronted us. 

After checking into our precious hotel, it started drizzling outside. This drizzle produced, just to the left of where I am now sitting, a lovely, full, brilliant rainbow bending gracefully over a mountain. The drizzle swiftly ceased and we walked off in search of new horizons, a reason to stretch our legs, and dinner. Before long, we crossed paths with two babychild deer. They were even cuter than the rainbow. These critters are at the stage of life when their ears are double the size of the rest of them. It truly is darling on them, but I sincerely hope that this same stage of development has never befallen you. We snapped a few photographs and watched them eat. I know not if this is a rule amongst all deer or simply the one I observed, but this youngster chews like a camel. A tiny, adorable, spotted, humpless camel.

We walked on and everything is adorable. The ridiculousness of it all hit me when I observed that even the Shell gas station is adorable. There is hiking gear for sale everywhere and there are ice cream and candy shops, probably the kind that like to be spelled with a s-h-o-p-p-e, if you ask me. The outdoor gear, the prevalence of art, and the presence of veggie specials even at the most carnivorous appearing restaurant, add a hint of hippie to the atmosphere. 

My sister is teaching me to do the camp thing where you create a rhythm with cups, so look forward to my shining career in a collegiate a cappella group soon. (That was a pop culture reference to the movie Pitch Perfect, for all of you who needed a hint.) 

Tomorrow we will take on Zion National Park, and I will probably have more adventuresome tales to tell you. Until then, rest well, live in the cuteness, and hope we don't melt out here.

XOXO,

Jenna