Leigh Kramer

Ally McBeal, River, and the Nostalgia of Friendship

The song River brings to mind Robert Downey Jr. and my college friends. Every Monday night we'd gather to watch our favorite shows. Conveniently, junior year we met up in the house where I and 3 others of our gang lived.

Robert Downey Jr. joined the cast of Ally McBeal during season 4. It was a risky decision at the time, as he was fresh from a stint in rehab- or was it jail? We were enthralled by the character he played. It didn't take long for a romantic storyline to begin between him and Ally. Every once in awhile, if we were lucky, he'd break into song. Much swooning occurred in Rock Island, IL those days.

Such was the case of the Christmas episode that year.

 

Any other Ally McBeal fans out there? I'm sharing about how the show helped form some of my most important friendships and what the song River means to me over at A Deeper Family. Head on over to read the rest.

Surprise Parties 101

I like to think of my surprise party planning skills as one of my love languages. Over the years, I've amassed quite a few tips and tricks. I'll go head to head with anyone else who claims to have bragworthy surprise party planning skills. 

Back in 2005, my two roommates and I were only a few months into apartment living. Our 3 bedroom loft apartment was the perfect setting for any gathering. Jen and Donna happened to have birthdays were within a week of each other.

I decided a double surprise was in order.

 

My talented friend Kelly at Love Well has been running an amazing series on birthday parties and asked me to give pointers on how to throw a successful surprise party. Twist my arm! Head on over to read the rest. And if you've thrown or received an awesome surprise party, I'd love to hear about it.

Youth Group Friends and What Was

Youth group met Wednesday night. We'd usually get there early so we could hang out and talk- we always needed more time to hang out and talk. After we'd worshiped and took notes on the youth pastor's lesson, we'd hang out and talk ever more at the church or head over to the Taco Bell down the street.

Friday nights often found us at the Trib. A few of the guys worked at the local office putting together the Sunday paper. Sometimes I'd help out, other times we'd sing along to Tupac and Alanis until their work was through.

Most weekends we'd head to a theater or the basement at someone's house or maybe a coffee shop. A lot of dating went on within our group (myself excluded, at least during high school) but we still spent most of our free time together.

Sundays were for church. First, Sunday School and then the service. Sometimes we'd gather for lunch, especially in the summer. If we went to the evening service, we were sure to pile into a booth at Baker Square afterward for mozzarella sticks and chicken strips.

Those of us who went to the same high school would congregate at the same bench after 7th period until dispersing to activities or home. Becca and I liked to con whomever into giving us a ride home so we could have a reprieve from the bus.

Then there were the winter retreats, outreach events like murder mystery dinners and month-long volleyball tournaments, the DC/LA '97 conference. We wore WWJD bracelets with pride. We gathered in small groups and offered prayer requests and asked for accountability.

At the center of all the talking and the activity was our bond. I'd never had friends like these. I thought our group would be friends forever. We'd defy the odds. 

And then senior year happened. A few of the guys started making different choices and a ripple effect began. Our group collectively judged the drinking we heard about or assumed. We thought their new girlfriends were leading them astray. Did we know about shenanigans or did we simply not like the fact that we didn't know who these girls were? We murmured concern and upped our prayers. These were good guys, we knew, and they just needed to turn back to God.

And yet, I wasn't sure they'd turned away from Him. They still came to youth group, still were a part of the ministry team, still hung out with the rest of us. Sure, the nights they weren't with us were worrisome but I no longer remember what was fact and what was rumor.

My on-fire faith wasn't skin deep but it also wasn't prepared for the reality of life. I didn't know how to handle the ups and downs. I still preferred black-and-white answers to mystery and shades of gray. I needed to have the right answers because I hadn't yet learned the beauty of "I don't know." I didn't know an outside the box faith was possible or that it would save my faith in the end.

As these guy friends edged back a bit, I was starting to ask uncomfortable questions. Not out loud, at least not at first. I wanted to know why we had all these rules and what difference God actually made.

I still went to youth group, still participated on the ministry team, still hung out with all of my friends. Most of all, I listened to those guy friends and whatever initial judgment I felt slipped right out the door.

We were figuring it out. We were teenagers wanting the elusive freedom of adulthood. Not even a year later, I stopped going to church and bent some of those "real Christians don't" rules.

That first Thanksgiving break freshman year, our gang reconvened at Brandon's house and it was like we'd never been apart. We fell into our roles. We caught up for hours and the guys played pranks. I cannot confirm or deny any girl-led antics.

I really believed we'd make it past the inevitable drifting everyone said occurred freshman year of college. I kept listening and asking questions and we loved each other through it all. We did make it another year and then I suppose the differences started to matter too much. We weren't in high school anymore and our gang was no longer a group. I blinked and it all changed. Some of us are still close but I feel the ache of what was.

I look at some of my old friends and wonder why I still believe and they don't. Wonder if their faith exists in other terms. They had such potential. We all did.

 

Linking up with the When We Were On Fire synchroblog celebrating the release of Addie Zierman's phenomenal book. Definitely a favorite read of 2013. You can read my review here.

A Cousin Walks in to a Coffee Shop

It doesn't seem remarkable on the surface but my cousin and I went out for coffee while I was in town a couple of weekends ago. No big deal, right? People meet for coffee all the time.

Except we'd never done that before.

A few days before I returned to my hometown for our annual family reunion, I received a voicemail from Adam stating he had good news and bad news. When I called him back, he said he wouldn't be at the reunion because he'd planned a bike trip with 20 friends and it was that same Sunday. After I made fun of him for not remembering that the reunion falls on the same weekend every year, I told him I'd miss him and I'd see him at Christmas.

He didn't like the thought of going that long without seeing each other. But what other option did we have?

 

Over at A Deeper Family today, sharing about one of my favorite cousins. Head on over to read the rest.

Legend of the Gate 5 Gang

Brooke and I started it all with our decision to get the Ozzie Plan. We'd always meet up at Gate 5. Since she lived and worked in the city, she was always waiting for me to stroll in from the Green Line. We'd dig out tickets from purses and get in the much shorter Gate 5 lines. This particular gate seemed like the best kept secret of Comiskey, even though it was adjacent to parking lots and closest to the Red and Green Lines.

It was the clear meeting place for any game thereafter, whether I went with Brooke or a handful of other Sox fan friends.

I don't remember who officially declared us to be the Gate Five Gang but it stuck. Brooke, Mark, Jill, Todd, and me. We were super fans. Nay, we were the Best White Sox Fans Ever.

We even made t-shirts to prove it.

We've gone to many a game in varying combinations but the whole gang has probably only attended one or two games together.  Which makes it all the more funny to call ourselves a gang.

Whatevs. We make up our own rules on the Southside.

(They no longer blog but it's worth reading Mark and Todd's different takes on a game we all went to in 2006, featuring the return of Frank Thomas, a rogue squirrel, and an unexpected win.)

Brooke, Jill, and Todd have all since married and started their families. It's a little more complicated for us to all be free to attend a game. Especially since I moved out of state. But I dream of a day when we'll all reunite at The Cell and cheer on our team.

With the presence of our collective fandom, the White Sox can't help but win.

The Gate 5 Gang has been on my mind with the start of another season.

Spring Training imbues baseball fans with hope. We are all optimists at the start. We look at the team and the trades, the strengths and the weaknesses. We look at player performance and figure out gaps but it's all hypothesis at this point. No matter what, we think, "this could be the year."

So it is with the White Sox. Paul Konerko is the only vestige from the 2005 World Champion team. I need to spend time familiarizing myself with the new names on the roster. I may not be able to watch many games from here in Nashville but there's nothing like baseball season.

Baseball brings people together. We are united in our victories and losses. We prepare for the worst but hope for the best. We keep coming back year after year after year.

Because this could be The Year, after all.

This is what I love about baseball and life. The sense of possibility. This could be my team's year. It could also be my year. My year of possibility.

I need to do my part. I often know what I need to do. It's my turn to step up to the plate. The rest might be out of my control but I'll never know if I hang back and procrastinate or distract myself with other stuff.

The Gate 5 Gang teases me about my relentless optimism when it comes to the White Sox. I have an unfailing belief in my team. And yet I so often struggle to apply this sunny disposition to my own prospects.

No longer.

This is my year. This is my chance. I'm taking the first step. I'm taking another leap of faith.

No matter the outcome, it will all work for good.

Why wouldn't it?

Are you excited about baseball season? Are you as optimistic about your prospects as you are for others?