What is a polyglot, you ask?
The real definition is "a person having a speaking, reading, or writing knowledge of several languages; a mixture or confusion of languages". Although I speak English fluently, elementary "denglish" (German-English), and a smattering of Greek, Italian, and Amharic words, I hardly qualify for the literal interpretation.
Thankfully, what matters more in language than strict definition is its essence and malleability. Enter Polyglot.
I speak many "languages", and have apparently devoted my life to learning as many of them as possible. When I was a child, like so many, I knew I would be a Christian singer. I was in all kinds of choirs all through school, but pretty well gave up music on entering college. I went for what I was solidly good at, and that was English. Having a mother who taught me to read and write at home and being an avid reader and decent writer, I decided that would be the best route. I studied Shakespeare and poetry and classic literature, dissecting and analyzing the writers' intent and writing some fairly solid essays from various literary angles. I thought I would be an English teacher, but changed my mind.
Five years later, following major life events, I went back to school again, this time to learn everything I could about singing and music so that I would have no excuses before God for burying my talent. I learned piano, took voice lessons, learned sightsinging and ear training, music theory, sang in The Messiah, developed and honed my skill in songwriting, and started beginning guitar lessons. I even learned how to conduct a choir. I immediately went to Nashville after graduation to become the singer/songwriter I had studied to be. While I did get to perform a gig there with my original songs, the music scene there just wasn't me. I left and moved to Austin. I had loved Austin from visiting, and felt that all I needed was its more eclectic music scene to become the singer I should be.
Although I came here for music, I immediately started working with fashion at Nordstrom. I faithfully read my textbooks of Vogue and Harper's Bazaar, required reading for all fashion experts. I have been learning the fashion in all of the departments, and can pretty well wardrobe a client with creativity and expertise, whether they're Jack Sprat or his wife. My future ambition is to design a fair-trade couture gown line that incorporates indigenous designs and motifs from the women of other countries like India and Ethiopia. How that will materialize I don't know, but the idea is germinating nonetheless.
Aside from career ambitions, I have been a bridal consultant, and know everything there is to know about veils, trains, and bustles. I have been an assistant buyer for a bridal salon, outfitted men in tuxedos, carefully worded wedding invitations, and mediated between mothers, daughters, and bridesmaids.
I have read Bobbi Brown and Kevyn Aucoin and know how to paint a decent face. I can create classic makeup looks or rather "out there" fantasy designs. I even studied theatre makeup and can make an adolescent look old or turn a dame into a gent.
I have tutored a Mexican lady in English reading and writing, and tended to lonely cats and dogs in a shelter.
I have studied interior design in school and can make any space look its best, be it a living room or a window display. My current apartment reflects this, although limited by budget.
And don't forget, I have studied ballroom dancing, and know all the basics--Waltz, tango, foxtrot, two-step, cha-cha, rhumba, swing, and even Jewish folk dancing and belly dancing. I love dancing, and although I've rarely gotten beyond advanced beginner, I hope to someday dance with the President and foreign dignitaries.
I have been a barista on and off for years and can make a cup of java that will satisfy your heart's desire.
I have traveled all over the world, from Ethiopia to Switzerland to Italy to Alaska. There are still so many, many places I want to explore and experience on this little earth before I go to heaven.
I can make soap. I can emboss cards. I can cook dishes that send you back for seconds or thirds. I can rock-climb and belay. I can climb a mountain, just God and me.
It seems that every time I have an idea of what I am or who I am to become, it morphs. I am neither this nor that, but am also this and that, a "mixture of languages". I am trying to see that my life is not linear, but a great big ball of "all things working together for good to those who love Him...called according to His purpose". I have yet to see how it all comes together, but trust that God will mold what He's got--a polyglot.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
You and I
You're not alone--I will hold your hand.
You're not orphaned--I will come to you.
You're not a drifter--I will steer you.
You're not sinking--I will grasp you in My gaze.
You're not who you think you are--You are My child.
You can run long and hard--You will never outrun My love for you.
You remember your shame--You are being rebuilt, designed for My purpose.
You see a dead end--You are at the Beginning...
You're not orphaned--I will come to you.
You're not a drifter--I will steer you.
You're not sinking--I will grasp you in My gaze.
You're not who you think you are--You are My child.
You can run long and hard--You will never outrun My love for you.
You remember your shame--You are being rebuilt, designed for My purpose.
You see a dead end--You are at the Beginning...
Thursday, November 25, 2010
To Dance Like David
I have been burning to write this post for several days now. It's been stirring in my mind and spirit and I've been mulling it over in my thoughts till I like it, so I'll share it with you. I promise you it will make sense in the end. It goes like this...
I have been puzzling like crazy over God's message to me the past year to "Be Still". I do not know if it means to cease movement, to wait on Him, or simply refrain from worry. Then I got a picture in prayer that I love.
First off, you must know that I love to dance--ballroom dancing, that is. I've only ever gotten to learn the basic steps, but this past summer I was able to take lessons again for a month. Three were with a private instructor, and then I took several group classes where you rotate partners. Mind you, in my pride I thought I had a leg up on my lessons (pardon the pun) because I had danced a little before. My instructor Mike quickly dispelled that myth in the first lesson, when he told me I moved well, but was not following his lead! I honestly thought that I was, but apparently he felt the pull away from him as I was anticipating his movements before he even did them. In our lessons, it even became a joke as I would sometimes guess what he was going to do just because he had done it before. Then he would laugh and correct me, and tell me my problem was that I was too smart! He told me I needed to stop thinking so much, and just respond to his movement...
At this point I do want to say something smart and throw in another concept I learned in literature class that is called kinesthetic movement. In essence, it is "the sense that detects bodily position, weight, or movement of the muscles, tendons, and joints".
Rewind five years ago and I am in Florence, Italy gazing intently at Michelangelo's statue of David. I learned everything about it while I was there, and even bought a little book on it. Theretofore I had only seen cheap kitschy magnets of David in paper doll clothes, or as a refrigerator magnet, or staring pensively out of a history book. The fascinating thing about the statue in real life is that it changes expression as you move around it. David's brows actually curl and contract and he gazes with a piercing, determined stare in his eyes. Art scholars say that based on the physical position David is in and the way his weight is balanced, he could not have maintained this position in real life indefinitely, as he would have fallen over. Rather, Michelangelo actually crafted David's position to be poised at the exact moment before he releases the shot in his sling that kills Goliath! The statue of David is full of kinesthetic movement-- tendons tightened, muscles flexed in marble the precise moment before the release!
Returning to the ballroom, one learns in dancing that following the lead is a tenuous art. In dance position prior to movement, the woman's weight is balanced on her left side, while her right foot is slightly raised, poised to step when the man does. While the woman is technically "still", she is full of kinesthetic movement, body balanced and positioned in such a way that she can literally take off!
As I danced longer, I began to sense the way my instructor was moving, and because I was in a fluid position, could respond to his subtle pull or step or graceful turn as if we moved in unison. While I thought over these things in prayer this week, the light started dawning-- Perhaps "being still" does not imply lethargy, but kinesthetic energy, being poised for movement! Perhaps being still before the Lord is positioning my life and myself in such a way that I can respond to His lead. Right now I can't anticipate His lead, although I am a good guesser with a vivid imagination. I simply do not know what happens next. I cannot lunge ahead or pull God along, as that would defeat the purpose of the dance. I only want to respond to His gentle pressures, His suggested direction that gracefully carries me away...
I pray as well that I would be like David, knowing that God will not leave me in this poised position forever, else I would topple. Although sometimes every fiber of my being yearns for what is next, I know He knows when to say "Now!" , as being released, my sling finds its mark. As Keith Green sang, "I want to be found ready". Even so, Lord Jesus, come and lead.
I have been puzzling like crazy over God's message to me the past year to "Be Still". I do not know if it means to cease movement, to wait on Him, or simply refrain from worry. Then I got a picture in prayer that I love.
First off, you must know that I love to dance--ballroom dancing, that is. I've only ever gotten to learn the basic steps, but this past summer I was able to take lessons again for a month. Three were with a private instructor, and then I took several group classes where you rotate partners. Mind you, in my pride I thought I had a leg up on my lessons (pardon the pun) because I had danced a little before. My instructor Mike quickly dispelled that myth in the first lesson, when he told me I moved well, but was not following his lead! I honestly thought that I was, but apparently he felt the pull away from him as I was anticipating his movements before he even did them. In our lessons, it even became a joke as I would sometimes guess what he was going to do just because he had done it before. Then he would laugh and correct me, and tell me my problem was that I was too smart! He told me I needed to stop thinking so much, and just respond to his movement...
At this point I do want to say something smart and throw in another concept I learned in literature class that is called kinesthetic movement. In essence, it is "the sense that detects bodily position, weight, or movement of the muscles, tendons, and joints".
Rewind five years ago and I am in Florence, Italy gazing intently at Michelangelo's statue of David. I learned everything about it while I was there, and even bought a little book on it. Theretofore I had only seen cheap kitschy magnets of David in paper doll clothes, or as a refrigerator magnet, or staring pensively out of a history book. The fascinating thing about the statue in real life is that it changes expression as you move around it. David's brows actually curl and contract and he gazes with a piercing, determined stare in his eyes. Art scholars say that based on the physical position David is in and the way his weight is balanced, he could not have maintained this position in real life indefinitely, as he would have fallen over. Rather, Michelangelo actually crafted David's position to be poised at the exact moment before he releases the shot in his sling that kills Goliath! The statue of David is full of kinesthetic movement-- tendons tightened, muscles flexed in marble the precise moment before the release!
Returning to the ballroom, one learns in dancing that following the lead is a tenuous art. In dance position prior to movement, the woman's weight is balanced on her left side, while her right foot is slightly raised, poised to step when the man does. While the woman is technically "still", she is full of kinesthetic movement, body balanced and positioned in such a way that she can literally take off!
As I danced longer, I began to sense the way my instructor was moving, and because I was in a fluid position, could respond to his subtle pull or step or graceful turn as if we moved in unison. While I thought over these things in prayer this week, the light started dawning-- Perhaps "being still" does not imply lethargy, but kinesthetic energy, being poised for movement! Perhaps being still before the Lord is positioning my life and myself in such a way that I can respond to His lead. Right now I can't anticipate His lead, although I am a good guesser with a vivid imagination. I simply do not know what happens next. I cannot lunge ahead or pull God along, as that would defeat the purpose of the dance. I only want to respond to His gentle pressures, His suggested direction that gracefully carries me away...
I pray as well that I would be like David, knowing that God will not leave me in this poised position forever, else I would topple. Although sometimes every fiber of my being yearns for what is next, I know He knows when to say "Now!" , as being released, my sling finds its mark. As Keith Green sang, "I want to be found ready". Even so, Lord Jesus, come and lead.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
God of Parking Spaces
Hello People,
I was considering what to write about for my two-week check-in, and this came to me while I was doing my Bible study about God being Lord of the Little Things (sounds like a B-rated fantasy movie!)
Anyway, a question was on what are some things you pray about that you think are really miniscule or insignificant, and I answered "parking spaces". I mean, come on, who here hasn't prayed for one to open up whilst waiting for the oblivious hoodie-headed teen with earbuds to notice your presence and back up his jalopy so you can squeeze in between two SUV's?
On pondering when and why I pray for parking spaces, I had this flood of observations. Sometimes when I pray, I get to park right by the door! I exclaim, "Thanks, God!" and am happy at His quick and perfect provision. My usual m.o., however, is that I have to park in what is affectionately named "The Pit" at work. To demonstrate our superior customer service we must park the farthest distance from the building as possible, especially during sales. We then have to hike up a steep driveway dodging oncoming traffic in both directions with the wind blowing our hairdos to bits. When we finally reach the back door, we have to scrunch down to type in a code in a little box where the number positions always change and the l.e.d. lighting is practically invisible in blaring sunlight. But I digress...
At other times I've been shown where not to park, often by well-meaning honks when I inevitably drive down the wrong-angled lane in those one-way diagonal lanes, at which I gamely back out and wave, like they've done me a favor.
Speaking of helpers, there have been times downtown when I've prayed for a parking space and only a parallel parking spot opens up. Gulp. I mean, I passed my driving test, but I'd rather walk three extra blocks than try and wedge my car in sideways. There was one miraculous time I prayed for a space and actually had a man wave to me and direct me to a parallel space, which I then unfortunately tried to angle into for the next five minutes while this fellow and onlookers stared at me with the "crazy woman driver" gaze in their eyes. A gentleman from out of nowhere rapped on my driver's window, and in a thick Indian accent asked me if I would like him to park the car for me! I breathed, "Yes", with relief, and he knackily angled in my tiny four-door, smiled sardonically, and left. The first man then demanded that I tip him for directing me to my shame. The nerve! Still, I had a parking space.
There are other times when I pray for a space and have to stalk people to their cars. Yes, literally. My car, which I've affectionately named "Kitten", is practically silent to the naked ear. At least, this is my theory when I creep along behind ambling pedestrians down an entire row of parked cars and wait...When they finally do back out, they glance at me in surprise, as if seeing my car for the first time. Still, persistence pays off, and I have a parking space.
The most desperate prayer I pray in parking lots is, "Lord, Where's My Car?!!" For a while I had an autostart that would toot a cute little horn ditty for me and I would follow the sound like a homing beacon. Most embarrassing when the car was directly behind me. For the majority of my driving life, however, I have not had that luxury. While I stride purposely down each lane so as not to look like a vulnerable female, I silently send up stress flares of Help, Lord! Where??" Eventually I find my car, or stumble upon it through Divine Providence. Really.
What I've discovered amidst all this parking lot prayer is that God is always there. He rewards those who diligently seek Him, and loves that I come to Him about little things like parking spaces. He always rewards me with a space. God always provides. Like life, sometimes I get what I want or need right away. At other times, I have to sacrifice and walk the extra mile, enduring hardship for the sake of Christ. Often, the Lord will warn me away from something I think I want, either by that internal gut feeling of the Spirit, or by using the realities of confrontation to correct me. At other times I simply have to rely on the help of the Body of Christ to move me into what He's given me. While I pray to Him, He reminds me through reliance on other people that I'm still not an island. He's good that way.
I've discovered that God rewards my tenacity. Sometimes He requires me to "keep asking, seeking, and knocking". When I completely lose my way, He is the God of the Desperate. He calms my heart and guides me with His eyes.
I've discovered a lot, but what can I say? God is God. He is "above all, in all, and through all". And He will work everything together for my good.
I was considering what to write about for my two-week check-in, and this came to me while I was doing my Bible study about God being Lord of the Little Things (sounds like a B-rated fantasy movie!)
Anyway, a question was on what are some things you pray about that you think are really miniscule or insignificant, and I answered "parking spaces". I mean, come on, who here hasn't prayed for one to open up whilst waiting for the oblivious hoodie-headed teen with earbuds to notice your presence and back up his jalopy so you can squeeze in between two SUV's?
On pondering when and why I pray for parking spaces, I had this flood of observations. Sometimes when I pray, I get to park right by the door! I exclaim, "Thanks, God!" and am happy at His quick and perfect provision. My usual m.o., however, is that I have to park in what is affectionately named "The Pit" at work. To demonstrate our superior customer service we must park the farthest distance from the building as possible, especially during sales. We then have to hike up a steep driveway dodging oncoming traffic in both directions with the wind blowing our hairdos to bits. When we finally reach the back door, we have to scrunch down to type in a code in a little box where the number positions always change and the l.e.d. lighting is practically invisible in blaring sunlight. But I digress...
At other times I've been shown where not to park, often by well-meaning honks when I inevitably drive down the wrong-angled lane in those one-way diagonal lanes, at which I gamely back out and wave, like they've done me a favor.
Speaking of helpers, there have been times downtown when I've prayed for a parking space and only a parallel parking spot opens up. Gulp. I mean, I passed my driving test, but I'd rather walk three extra blocks than try and wedge my car in sideways. There was one miraculous time I prayed for a space and actually had a man wave to me and direct me to a parallel space, which I then unfortunately tried to angle into for the next five minutes while this fellow and onlookers stared at me with the "crazy woman driver" gaze in their eyes. A gentleman from out of nowhere rapped on my driver's window, and in a thick Indian accent asked me if I would like him to park the car for me! I breathed, "Yes", with relief, and he knackily angled in my tiny four-door, smiled sardonically, and left. The first man then demanded that I tip him for directing me to my shame. The nerve! Still, I had a parking space.
There are other times when I pray for a space and have to stalk people to their cars. Yes, literally. My car, which I've affectionately named "Kitten", is practically silent to the naked ear. At least, this is my theory when I creep along behind ambling pedestrians down an entire row of parked cars and wait...When they finally do back out, they glance at me in surprise, as if seeing my car for the first time. Still, persistence pays off, and I have a parking space.
The most desperate prayer I pray in parking lots is, "Lord, Where's My Car?!!" For a while I had an autostart that would toot a cute little horn ditty for me and I would follow the sound like a homing beacon. Most embarrassing when the car was directly behind me. For the majority of my driving life, however, I have not had that luxury. While I stride purposely down each lane so as not to look like a vulnerable female, I silently send up stress flares of Help, Lord! Where??" Eventually I find my car, or stumble upon it through Divine Providence. Really.
What I've discovered amidst all this parking lot prayer is that God is always there. He rewards those who diligently seek Him, and loves that I come to Him about little things like parking spaces. He always rewards me with a space. God always provides. Like life, sometimes I get what I want or need right away. At other times, I have to sacrifice and walk the extra mile, enduring hardship for the sake of Christ. Often, the Lord will warn me away from something I think I want, either by that internal gut feeling of the Spirit, or by using the realities of confrontation to correct me. At other times I simply have to rely on the help of the Body of Christ to move me into what He's given me. While I pray to Him, He reminds me through reliance on other people that I'm still not an island. He's good that way.
I've discovered that God rewards my tenacity. Sometimes He requires me to "keep asking, seeking, and knocking". When I completely lose my way, He is the God of the Desperate. He calms my heart and guides me with His eyes.
I've discovered a lot, but what can I say? God is God. He is "above all, in all, and through all". And He will work everything together for my good.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Living in the Inbetween
If you are wondering what my blog title means, you're probably not alone. The word "interstice" means:
"a space that intervenes between things"; "a short space of time between events".
In this season of my life I am inbetween major doings, and on the surface am simply working a job and going to church. However, I know and hope that I am in a short period of transition between one good thing and the next. Heretofore it was school in Greenville. Tomorrow it may be the world!
Be that as it may, I must still live life in the middle. I hope that this blog will be a space to make sense of my thoughts and that my posts will be the stitches that hold them all together. When I reach the Next Big Thing, this blog will either end or change. In the end, I want to look back and see a season of growth between points A and B in what I thought was just a gap.
If you care to live in this space with me, I'd be grateful for a friend. Just drop me a line every once in a while to let me know you're there...
"a space that intervenes between things"; "a short space of time between events".
In this season of my life I am inbetween major doings, and on the surface am simply working a job and going to church. However, I know and hope that I am in a short period of transition between one good thing and the next. Heretofore it was school in Greenville. Tomorrow it may be the world!
Be that as it may, I must still live life in the middle. I hope that this blog will be a space to make sense of my thoughts and that my posts will be the stitches that hold them all together. When I reach the Next Big Thing, this blog will either end or change. In the end, I want to look back and see a season of growth between points A and B in what I thought was just a gap.
If you care to live in this space with me, I'd be grateful for a friend. Just drop me a line every once in a while to let me know you're there...
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