Christmas Daze

December has come in a rush of Christmas cards, travel tickets, and too much chocolate. I never thought that could happen, but I assure you, it is possible. It’s been a small affair this year. We stayed in Virginia, and welcomed my three sisters and a plus one for the holiday season. In the new year, classes will start up, and I’ll be making progress toward my degree again. I’ve been working at a restaurant and will experience my first New Year’s Eve rush tomorrow evening. My hope is that the New Year brings more hours of joy in your life. I challenge you to take your priorities before the Lord and to tell people how much they matter to you. It’s a new year, but life is still a journey. Always aim to make it better.

Why I decided to stop feeling like a failure

As I approached the age of 16, I was one of those rarities who was not looking forward to driving. I wasn’t scared. I just didn’t want to drive. I was convinced that I would never need a license because I was going to live the metropolitan dream: riding buses, walking to the grocery store, taking the metro, and getting a cab when I really needed to get somewhere. As a result, I didn’t agree to pursue my license until my senior year of high school and my 18^th year on the planet.

Having waited so long to get my license, I never really found myself in a position to buy a car. We moved after I graduate. I was always trying to go overseas, and my on campus job barely supported on campus costs. I worked in upstate New York every summer. Timing was never right, so now I find myself at age 22 without a car.

This might not seem like a big deal, but some days it really feels like it is. When I want to go somewhere, I have to ask my parents for the keys, which they graciously give me every time. If I ever go in for an interview, I’m always afraid they’ll ask about reliable transportation and I’ll have to admit I usually drive a gold minivan. It just doesn’t feel “grown up.” Who wants to hire a dependent?

It would be easy for me to feel like a failure at this point in my life. I am 22 years old with no steady job or college degree. Having lived in my current community only two months, I still live anonymously. I recently left a job out West to live with my parents back East. And let’s top it off with: I have never had a serious relationship. Feel free to agree with me when I say, things look a bit bleak.

Counter to popular belief, failure is most often defined by circumstance instead of a single action.  People might fail a test, but if you’re twenty something and living in your parents basement playing video games all day, most social circles would label you a failure. I used to feel like that was my path and that I might as well run out onto the beach on a stormy night and yell up into the sky, “I’ve failed! I’ve failed! I’ve failed!” A bit melodramatic perhaps, but that’s what packing up a life every three months does to a person.

Now let me assure you that I have no intention of living out a death wish to be struck by lightning. Instead of gloomily staring at myself in the mirror for hours wondering why I haven’t risen to some sort of greatness, I intend to be patient.  Well, how does that make sense?

I’ve come to realize that in the bigger scheme of things I can look back at my life and realize that I have no regrets. All of the decisions I have made to this point have been purposeful, prayerful, deliberative, and intentional. I have not failed. I have learned.

I don’t have a job, but I wouldn’t give up my time of soul searching for anything. While I pined for the city, I fell in love with a small town. While I lived in the mountains, I learned to stand up for myself and make hard decisions. I don’t have a car, but that hasn’t stopped me from making connections in almost every part of this country. The friends I have all over the country tie my life together, and my community is bigger than a single zip code. And as far as relationships, the time I’ve had to grow has built me into a stronger woman that won’t settle for just anybody, if I even need to settle.

Instead of seeing the perceived failures in my life, I can see the foundation that has been built under me and the construction following me as I go. It’s a process to become something. Though it often hurts, pain should never stop perseverance.

So while I patiently and proactively live out the coming months, I will continue to hear a stoic chant in the background: “Something is coming. “

Moving Forward, Slowly

Since I last wrote, I have left Axis and moved across the country to Virginia. It was a good time to transition to the next phase of life, and I'll be starting school again in the spring, hopefully. For now, I'm looking for some answers and a wise way to spend my time.

Time brings many thoughts. I can't put most of them to paper yet, so here's to the puzzle on my mind that I haven't been able to find words to express. (The important part is around the six minute mark.)

 

Maybe I'll be able to put up some more words soon.

Say It in the Kitchen

Someday I’ll stand barefoot in my own kitchen, and I will love every minute of it. I’ll dance around whisking brownie mix or stand by the counter and knead dough with flour on my chin. Music will be wafting through the air, intermingling with whatever I’ve just thrust into the oven. Somehow, I’ll always end up wearing black on the days I use the most flour, but I will eventually master cracking an egg with one hand. My fridge will be cluttered, but my eyes will be bright as I welcome imperfect people to an imperfect home. It is where we will grow.

Some kitchens have a fresh-out-of-the-box feeling. All the cupboards look the same, and it takes a couple of tries to find the coffee mugs. Others have a lived-in, things-on-the-counter-and-coffee-rings-on-the-table feel to them. I prefer the latter myself because you get a glimpse behind the curtain. When people are free to live out their imperfections and processes, they can grow. In some homes, people gravitate to the back porch or the living room, but I’ve always found solace in the kitchen.

Growing up, our kitchen was always busy. My mother baked, cooked, mixed, kneaded… you name it, she did it. Her sense of hospitality is unparalleled, and I hope I’m that welcoming some day. Some years, we had swarms of international students laughing at jell-o eggs or putting too many toppings in their burritos. Other years, we had four girls making Christmas cookies, inadvertently smearing frosting everywhere. Our kitchen was a gathering place.

A couple of weeks ago, my team was speaking in Canada, and –you guessed it– I was in a kitchen, at our host home to be precise, with the woman of the house. We had just finished the event that day and were operating on our umpteenth wind. Coffee hadn’t quite entered the equation, but I recall a Boston Crème donut somewhere along the way.

Exhaustion was overtaking us, but words have a mind of their own. Sometimes when you’re running on empty and questions crowd out the answers, you just need to stand in the kitchen for a while.

We began reflecting over the past couple of days and soon found ourselves knee-deep in soul-talk. The minutes danced by as conversation twisted through interests to cares to hopes to dreams. My soul was fed, and the hands that prepared the meal welcomed my hurting heart.

The wisdom and nurturing in those late hours is seldom forgotten, and I still wonder how those nuggets of truth last overnight.

I understand that not everyone enjoys the transparency of standing in a kitchen before the woman of the house. If it is her domain, you are walking in with an open invitation for questions. Maybe that is why it feels so freeing. After the meal, when the suds are drifting and everyone is looking for the ice cream scoop, the kitchen is welcoming and unsuspecting. The food has been eaten and the expectations are gone. People can simply be.

How often can we simply be anymore? We are fast-paced creatures, always straining for the moments ahead. Maybe we ought to spend more time in the kitchen and less inside our own heads.

Appreciate Change, and Go Hug Your Momma

It hit me when I was standing in a living room filled with half-filled boxes, and our cat was weaving his way through his last hours as a house pet. My grandma was filling boxes and cleaning the scant layer of dust hovering above the three years spent making that house a home. Our memories of that place were being folded into the rest of our lives and moving several states away to a new beachside apartment.

As my indestructible mother and dedicated grandmothers packed and cleaned, I wished for long afternoons of lemonade, chocolate chip cookies, and conversation. Living far away, I missed out on living life with them, but the times we have had together still build into my life.

In that living room, it was as if my life was placed in my hands, wrapped formally in several layers of white tissue paper, and held together with a blue silk ribbon. All of a sudden, the ties to a childhood of hiding behind my parents were cut. It was all up to me.

At my age, my mother, both of my grandmothers, and my great grandmother were married. They were learning to keep house and build a marriage. My empty ring finger doesn’t intimidate me but an empty life does.

An empty life is like a mirror that only ever reflects one face. People define a place, and though I haven’t picked a place, I have picked people. My people are scattered across county, country, and continent. But the risk is that they run a mile wide and an inch deep. The value is in the investment, and I’m ready to empty my pockets.

From Europe with Love

When I hear the rain, I can’t help but think in a British accent and wonder what it might be like to watch the water slide down a café window in a classic metropolitan downtown somewhere in Europe. 

Photo from Flickr

During those wet afternoons, I wonder what my mother is doing, how my grandmother lived when she was my age, and if I will ever be a wife. The melancholy brings out the questions that live in a coffee shop atmosphere: questions about another life. I never want to live wishing for another life. But it’s so easy for a dreamer to be trapped in a dream.

A dream is an alternate reality that is desired above the current circumstance. It’s driving a Ford and wishing for a Ferrari. It’s living at home and wishing for independence in a bustling city. It’s drinking tap water and wishing for Pellegrino. A dream is a wasting today for the promise of tomorrow.

Today I was in San Francisco. As we drove by row houses, I created a life for myself. I was living in the brick house with the long balcony full of fauna. My fridge was stocked with food from the local farmer’s market, and my furniture was second-hand, trendy from the thrift store on Magnolia Lane. My identity took root in my wardrobe, and I was what they call fashionable. The people in my life were always there for me, and we threw parties and went out together.  There was nothing inherently wrong about that life, but none of it was true. Instead, I was a passenger in my life, absently considering pushing the eject button.

We dream because we doubt the goodness of today. We don’t see the value in the people we are with, the job we are doing, or the book we ought to be reading. We are blinded with visions of another story. What is happening in our story while we want a different one? I am so tired of pressing my nose up against the glass of my life. I don’t want to live in a dream.

What purpose is there when the only vision we have is for ourselves? Where is our focus? What are we really living for?

Georgia on my Mind

We spent last week in Georgia, speaking to a Christian high school of about 250. For a first presentation it wasn’t bad, but I found it difficult to communicate. There are so many ideas that have to be shown rather than told. It was unrealistically discouraging that the students didn’t hang on every word and beg to know more. Putting myself in their shoes, I would have only remembered the flashy music slides, too. 

However, the community was exceptional. Since Axis had already spoken at the school, the administrators and teachers were extremely welcoming and encouraging. I felt very at home.

The one problem I kept coming back to was the very community I so enjoyed. There was no problem with the people; the problem was that I felt that I could not have enough of an impact as a transient speaker. Don’t get me wrong, speakers can have an incredible impact on an audience in a short amount of time. Messages can be delivered at just the right moment to change a person’s life forever. Tidbits of information or inspiration stick like coffee stains in your favorite mug, adding color to your life in a way nothing else could. There can be impact.

I just felt like the best way I could impact anyone would be through settling down and doing life with them. Settling down is a foreign concept to me, but the best moments seem to be at the very end of my stay someplace, and that’s the closest I’ve come to settling. 

But what would it mean to settle in one place? I believe in the power of sustainability, but that requires… commitment. GASP! Committing? To live somewhere? For an undetermined amount of time? Is it possible?

People do it all the time, or so I hear. It’s as common as s’mores at a camp out, and yet I can’t help but wonder if I’ve ever really been camping. One can camp without really camping, much like someone can settle without actually settling.

To settle in a place is one thing, but the most important factor is the people. Committing to a person or people is not a simple task. I cannot pick where my home is. I can’t pick a place wherein I can pull into town and know where the post office is. I can’t pick a place where I am known by name and habit. I can’t pick a place to be welcome for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter without invitation but assumption. A home is a place to belong and be known, but I fear that only comes with time and giving up a part of yourself.

Am I willing to give up a part of myself to have a home, a community, a role? Am I willing to give up the comfort and anonymity of constant travel and relocation?

Listening to the Heart

I’ve started following this great feed called Humans of New York. The photographer takes photos of passing pedestrians and asks them questions. I have always been fascinated by stories, as most people are, and this woman struck me the most thus far.

She said, “I realized that by trying to anticipate their mind, I was ignoring their heart.” How often do we listen with a desire to respond? Our first mistake is thinking we can fix things with our answers instead of our compassion. Most people just want to be heard, and in order to truly hear, we must know how to listen to people express their hearts.  

The heart is a fragile thing, but it contains so much of who we are. I would define the ‘heart’ as the expression of core emotions, hopes, and knowledge. It is the picture of who we are, and we act on it. As we tell each other stories and relay experiences, we insert pieces of ourselves. Depending on the person, we choose how much of ourselves to share. After all, not everyone is privileged to the same version of ourselves. What we choose to share says a lot about our relationships.

When my heart is breaking, I will go to people who will listen and encourage me, and I hope others see me as someone who will do the same. In that, one of the greatest challenges is knowing how to sit in silence. Silence can be heavy and carry all of our doubts into the air, or it can be warm and wrap us in a comforting emptiness.

These past couple of weeks have been full of listening moments. Life has been throwing challenges like skipping stones across my path while my friends have similarly felt the ripples. These are the times to be in constant encouragement and compassion. (Kleenex and chocolates are helpful too.)

As I finish my last week of training and begin traveling next week, my intention is to listen to the hearts of students I meet. My goal is to be the person I wish had been there for me, and that involves a lot of listening on my part. The freedom to express fears, sadness, doubts, excitements, goals, and dreams is invaluable, and I want to give it.

As I listen to others, I pour my heart out to the one who created it. The Lord is at work through any time in my life, and my prayer is that you see it too.

Leave the pastries, take the orange juice

Sometimes I feel like I live in a giant Sam’s Club, and I’m just walking the aisles sampling the pizza bites and fruit snacks. I’m guided by whim and fancy until I reach the perfect deal. No such thing exists, ladies and gentlemen. I bring a grocery list for a reason: focus. We must keep our eyes on our shopping list and proceed post-haste until we reach the checkout line.

Now, that is not to say that I am focused on the eternal checkout line, but rather I choose to acknowledge that sometimes as we pursue a goal we have to make decisions about the short-term deal in hopes of the long-term benefit.   

As a woman, one of the biggest hurdles is the emotional reaction to a beautiful bag of pastries or the explosive prices of a gallon of orange juice. I could leave without the orange juice, but if I bought the pastries, I would definitely be cheating myself.

Life is bigger than orange juice or pastries, and sometimes we need to remember the bigger picture. Personal preference has to take a backseat to our purpose on the planet. I’ve talked about Deuteronomy 6:5, and that truly is the best I can come up with at this point.

Purpose takes many forms, but there has to be a distinct orientation toward the finish line. I have often been guilty of trying to find the one purpose that will tie my entire life into a nice bow. Realistically, we only see a couple steps ahead at a time. For a planner, this is a nightmare.

Good thing God is bigger than the boogieman.

Like I said before, emotional reactions can often allow us to cheat ourselves of something better (though I must admit, pastries sound pretty good right about now). It’s all about sacrificing the comfort of now for the benefit of the future. As a twenty-something, this is hardly appealing, but I didn’t make the rules.

In Philippians, Paul says he has learned to be content in any circumstance, being filled by things beyond the physical (4:11-13). Sometimes the bravest thing to do is to give up that which you want most for the promise of something better later.

To the Peanut Gallery in Your Head

This one is for the ladies. 

Summer is in full swing, but seasons can't stop feelings or ideas from creeping into our minds. When we are either over-stressed and looking for an escape or bored out of our minds, any avenue for entertainment will usually play into the woman’s desire to be loved and seen.

We watch a movie wherein the heroine conquers the industry, the man, or the mountain. We read books inspiring us to greatness beyond the present or lulling us into a sense of comfort because of shared pain. But as we delve into these processed forms of security we lower our defenses asking to be loved by something.

The lower our defenses, the more likely we are to actually hear from unexpected voices. In his book The Crowd, the Critic, and the Muse, Michael Gungor argues that creators have to choose between the voices and influences of the crowd, critic, or muse. The same argument applies to any human being. External voices of influence push us in various directions, urging us to make decisions based on feelings, experiences, and standards that belong to someone else – another’s voice. As voices come in, our ability to think for ourselves goes out.

The strongest voice, in my experience, has been that of the critic. The “voice is so powerful,” Gungor argues, “because it resonates with the voices of our deepest fears…telling us that we are not good enough. The critics confirm our repressed and terrified suspicions that we don’t measure up, that we are unsafe and unloved.”

Where do we hear these voices? They come from the rebellious heroine in our favorite movie who pushes reason aside to be with the one who holds her identity in the palm of his hand. They come from the song about being free to be yourself because no one should tell you what to do, but now you don’t know what you want. They come from the girl sitting next to you in Chemistry who always gets the better grade and makes you feel inferior. They come from you as you walk through the mall thinking “your life would be better if”.

What a lie.

While we let these voices in, hoping they will make us feel better, an entire life is being lived. A screen has become our playground as our fingers dance about the keys instead of through the trickling stream in the park down the street. We have convinced ourselves that growing up means leaving innocence for arrogance.

Our freedom is at stake, but the freedom I’m talking about comes from inside. Instead of intentionally setting aside time to listen to the right voice, we listen to the loudest. Self-deception has wound itself so thick into the minds of hurting women that we rely on the accumulated fog as a constant.

So this week, let’s question the constant: what voices are you hearing and what are they saying?

Week one: Cantaloupe and Salmon Jerky

This past week has been “like drinking from a fire hydrant,” to put it mildly. Theology and technology have been colliding in ways I never considered. I’m sure it will be a while before all this is comfortable, but the questions raised in my mind are leaps and bounds beyond necessary. The phrase “It’s about time!” comes to mind.

As we are introduced to the content of Axis, I’ve resolved to know my stuff. I’m here, so I should be devoted to learning and understanding. If I give it any less than my full attention, would I really be fulfilling my role here and obeying Deuteronomy 6:5? I don’t think so. So, while my questions might aggravate some of our fearless leaders, I’m hoping they forgive me.

Here, I will tackle three of the bigger issues consuming my thoughts: the nature of technology, the use of social media, and the idea of loving something.

To start, one leader posed the question- is technology inherently good or evil? I had always thought of advancements as neutral. Having no souls, how could a hammer or a cell phone make cognitive choices to obey, submit, or follow something? It can’t. Technology does help us perform tasks faster, more efficiently, and in greater quantity, but is that really part of cultivating the garden? Gen 2:15 says, “Then the Lord took [Adam] and put him into the garden of Eden to cultivate it and to keep it” (NASB). The words cultivate and keep mean to work and to guard. In that context, perhaps technology is an example of working toward progress, but must we always do that? I don't have the answer.

The next concept is social media (defined as Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and Google+). I’ve never really been a digital guru, but I can’t quite justify leaving it unexplored. My thoughts have most recently been that we should just leave the screens behind and use entirely traditional forms of communication: writing, talking, print, etc. But that idea is completely reliant upon the assumption that those media are the ultimate methods. In reality, print wasn’t really ‘normal’ until after Gutenberg around 1440, and literacy in America has only been ‘normal’ since around 1890.

A great quote from one of the guys in the office really challenged my thinking: “It’s cheap, but it’s where [students] live.” I need to adjust my thinking to adjust to culture. It’s not about what I like, it’s about meeting people “where they’re at.” I’m still not a huge fan of social media, but I’m opening up to it.  

Finally, I’ve been asking myself what I love. At Axis they say that you are what you love and that your loves show who you are. So what do I love? Being in the Word, building real and lasting relationships, traveling, adventure, learning, cooking, tea, music, and making a home (ironic, huh?). I don’t consider myself possessing an exceptional talent or calling. I’m just trying to use the gifts I recognize to be most useable to God. It’s a slow process, but I’m learning.

It would be easy to say you love something, but when confronted, would you really spend your precious time on it?

People say they love Jesus all the time, but do they really spend time with Him? Do they read His love letter or actually realize the full impact of the Gospel? It is not just good news, it’s great news! Since the beginning of time, He has been reaching out to us, trying to bridge the gap of our imperfections to build a relationship. Who else would be willing to continually forgive us for breaking His heart? I’m not implying that Jesus is us just because He loves us, He is so much more. It’s just important to be fully aware of what we actually love.

This past week has brought many challenges, but I am confident the Lord has brought me here to learn how to really answer these kinds of questions.

But this week has been more than learning. Because of the holiday, we were only in the office three of the five work days. I spent the other two days near Copper Mountain, about two hours from Colorado Springs. A fellow intern works up there and offered to show us around.

My first time on a ski lift at Copper Mountain!
Photo by Luke

After spending a day walking around a yoga festival and hiking around a mountain, we attended a fourth of July party at a local pastor's house. We met some great people and had the chance to practice our three days of Axis content.
That evening we were graciously hosted (very last minute!) by a new friend. He offered us three comfortable beds and made us feel at home. We were sad to leave the next morning, and as we toured a nearby town, we were determined to find a gift that would lightly express our deep gratitude for his hospitality. Seeing a local food cart featuring fruit and jerky, we acquired an unconventional thank you- cantaloupe and salmon jerky. Which, due to the nature of my fantastic new friends led to the following joke:

Q: Why can't the two melons get married tonight?

A: Because they cantaloupe!

I know. I know. My friends are awesome.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. As the Lord works in me, He is reaching out to do the same in you. May you have the eyes, heart, and humility to see Him work in your life.

Arrival, a day late and a friend richer

Hello dear friends,

This next year will take me across the country once again but this time to Colorado. I will be interning at Axis until next May, traveling and presenting a worldview curriculum that will hopefully get audiences thinking about how they see the world. But let me catch you up to speed.

Last year, I lived and studied in Sebring, Florida at Great Commission Bible Institute (GCBI). My life was changed by the saturation in the Word of God, through the teaching of Randy Smith, and the adoption into an incredible community of believers. There are no words to describe this past year, but maybe when nostalgia overcomes me I shall try. It is very hard to think that it's over, but I am confident in the Lord's plan for this next season.

Photo by Hallie Barta

After graduating from GCBI in May, some fellow students and I traveled to Israel for a couple weeks to walk where Jesus walked. The experience was significantly impacting, especially the church of St. Peter in Gallicantu, Jericho, and Yad Vashem. Long days of scholastic sightseeing, bus rides, and endless bottles of water created memories and spiritual connections that will last a lifetime.

May was a long month, involving both graduation and a trip overseas, but in the midst of that, I was accepted to intern at Axis for a year. After submitting the application document and videos, I was waiting to hear as my trip to Israel loomed closer. Two days before leaving, I received the email I'd been hoping for. In the midst of figuring out what I would be doing after GCBI, several options had appeared, and the decision process was tough. In the end, the decision was made.

So, I bought a ticket to fly out to Colorado.

After arriving at the airport two hours before my flight, I checked my bags and flew through security. Arriving at my gate, I found a place to sit and wait. Shortly thereafter, we were informed of a gate change and several delays due to weather, resulting in boarding the flight 3 hours late with a disgruntled cast of passengers.

The Lord always knows who sits next to me on the airplane. Before boarding, I had looked around trying to guess who it might be this time. As usual, I had not seen my seatmate before finding my seat. He graciously lifted my densely packed carry-on into the overhead compartment, and we settled into our seats. We exchanged reasons for the flight and then moved on to deeper issues of theology. Conversation easily flowed for the next three hours as we waited to (hopefully) takeoff. He was a professor at a seminary in Charlotte and incredibly knowledgeable on issues of the heart. We became friends.

Once on the plane, we eventually taxied out to the runway only to return to the gate two hours later because of weather and low fuel. (Personally, I'm glad we didn't try to fly on fumes. Just me.) Back in the terminal, we waited for information before hearing that we would de-board, wait for another crew and then another steward staff, and finally that the flight was cancelled. Around 8 PM, all passengers from the flight ventured off toward the re-booking center. Irate passengers stormed the Delta representatives demanding refunds and all sorts of extravagant compensations, when the only fault lie in the weather.

After getting my flight schedule for the next day, my incredible parents drove to the airport to pick me up and invited my new friend to stay the night. What a treat! He and my father have loads in common, and the two professors shared stories into the wee hours. I repacked my bags and caught some Zs. The next day, we made it to Denver after a delay and another flight change. Praise the Lord I've seen the Rockies!

Upon arrival, I shuttled over to Colorado Springs, and here I am, one night of sleep under my belt. I've unpacked, met some people, and purchased the beginnings of my summer food stash. The lady interns are staying in a lovely accommodation not too far from our office, and we'll soon all be together. We hail from all parts of the US, but there is a reason we are all being brought together for this season. Tomorrow training begins, and our first appointments will be in mid-August.

Through this past couple days, I have learned that the Lord has bigger plans than I can imagine. The smallest acts of obedience can impact others in huge ways, so I better be obedient! This next year's journey begins on a load of lessons, and I'm sure there are more to come.

I would appreciate any and all prayers as the Lord molds me over this next year and the rest of my life. Let me know if you have any questions or prayer requests, and we'll get through it all together.