Hello,
This may not be a very structured post. I'm letting you all know that I will be creating my India blog here shortly and will let you know with an email or Facebook invitation.
I can't believe I'm leaving in five days as of tomorrow! It still seems completely surreal. My parents got me a beautiful new luggage set for Christmas that is hardcase black with a lace screenprint design on it that is distinct and sophisticated. It'll make it easy to find coming off of baggage claim.
I got to spend some concerted Auntie time with my nephews this Christmas. It was fun letting my motherly instincts kick in (I learned from the best)without having to have the job permanently!
I'd really like your prayer this week. I've got so much to do yet for lesson planning, getting details, doing insurance, etc. that I feel overwhelmed. I do have my parents, two international travelers, to help me. Please pray for my teaching to come together, as that is where I need the most confidence/grace. Also, there's still so much I don't know yet about the country, social graces there, etc.
I'll be back in good form soon enough. For now, it's growing pains...
Monday, December 26, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Emergence and Life
Oh Friends,
My heart feels full tonight. I think it feels like joy. I've had some sadnesses the last couple weeks, but things feel very hopeful and exciting right now, like water bubbling in a calm pool.
I want to share with you a few things I gained from Emergence, the four-day intensive conference I went to last week. First off, let me say, it was intense; 13-hour days don't lie. For me, lack of sleep vied with the need for water and food. Sometimes we'd go till almost four o'clock before lunchtime, and we weren't allowed to have water in the training room. Now, if you've been around me, you know my motto is "Have water, will travel". I had to step out a multitude of times just to drink the precious liquid. Combine these basic Maslow needs with emotionally vulnerable, often raw, soul-searching conversations and interactions and you've got the picture.
Now, having said all that, it was totally worth it. We were all there for a different reason, and mine, after mulling it over, was to develop greater authenticity in relationships and in my own personhood. Day one when we shared what we were there for a trainer asked me to do something on the spot that was authentic for me. I said, "I just can't call up authenticity! I can't do it on cue!" Of course, then I got to talking about India and my excitement over the color, life and possibilities for fashion/textile networking for my fair trade line there and he said, "I think you're being authentic! Class, did you sense authenticity here?" They all said yes.
What I learned over four days was that being authentic is not putting on my "authenticity" hat or "performing" authentically. It is who I am. I am authentic, therefore I will act authentically. I learned that the great, hairy mountain I thought I had to scale to reach an authentic state is really as simple as standing up and taking a step to the right--It is really just a subtle little switch in my thinking, a little thought where I tell myself it's ok to "go there". "Going there" could be blurting out an affectionate thought to my friend, doing a little dance when I get the urge, or could be as powerful as speaking with my whole voice with lots of air and diaphragm support or strongly asserting my opinions with emotion. It will be singing the song in my head, allowing the tears to be there, laughing my real laughs when something tickles my brain, and being downright silly at times.
I did a lot of repenting over this weekend, folks. I repented for withholding myself in my relationships and in life and for not valuing the people in my life. I repented of taking the people I love for granted and for only being partially present when with them. I said to the Lord, "Never again". This walled-off, self-protected self who cuts off the flow of her own life to herself and others will never again be me. When it comes to being authentic I am now willing to risk my time, my happiness, my relationships, and my life. So, help me, God. And please, hold me to it, friends. I need you. What's more, I value you.
I also learned about the nature of love. I learned that because God is love and I am in God, I have His love in me. I have the capacity to love anyone, so help me God. My love is not a thin channel of feeling and goodwill that I must muster up, but rather it is the state I am already in. I am in love. I am in a circle of love that encompasses everyone I come into contact with and as I consciously do the little things and the large actions of love I no longer have to worry if I have enough of love. I am simply loving out of who I am--a loving,authentic person :)
I ask for your prayers and support as I live out the life in me that has been there all along.
Love,
Jessica
My heart feels full tonight. I think it feels like joy. I've had some sadnesses the last couple weeks, but things feel very hopeful and exciting right now, like water bubbling in a calm pool.
I want to share with you a few things I gained from Emergence, the four-day intensive conference I went to last week. First off, let me say, it was intense; 13-hour days don't lie. For me, lack of sleep vied with the need for water and food. Sometimes we'd go till almost four o'clock before lunchtime, and we weren't allowed to have water in the training room. Now, if you've been around me, you know my motto is "Have water, will travel". I had to step out a multitude of times just to drink the precious liquid. Combine these basic Maslow needs with emotionally vulnerable, often raw, soul-searching conversations and interactions and you've got the picture.
Now, having said all that, it was totally worth it. We were all there for a different reason, and mine, after mulling it over, was to develop greater authenticity in relationships and in my own personhood. Day one when we shared what we were there for a trainer asked me to do something on the spot that was authentic for me. I said, "I just can't call up authenticity! I can't do it on cue!" Of course, then I got to talking about India and my excitement over the color, life and possibilities for fashion/textile networking for my fair trade line there and he said, "I think you're being authentic! Class, did you sense authenticity here?" They all said yes.
What I learned over four days was that being authentic is not putting on my "authenticity" hat or "performing" authentically. It is who I am. I am authentic, therefore I will act authentically. I learned that the great, hairy mountain I thought I had to scale to reach an authentic state is really as simple as standing up and taking a step to the right--It is really just a subtle little switch in my thinking, a little thought where I tell myself it's ok to "go there". "Going there" could be blurting out an affectionate thought to my friend, doing a little dance when I get the urge, or could be as powerful as speaking with my whole voice with lots of air and diaphragm support or strongly asserting my opinions with emotion. It will be singing the song in my head, allowing the tears to be there, laughing my real laughs when something tickles my brain, and being downright silly at times.
I did a lot of repenting over this weekend, folks. I repented for withholding myself in my relationships and in life and for not valuing the people in my life. I repented of taking the people I love for granted and for only being partially present when with them. I said to the Lord, "Never again". This walled-off, self-protected self who cuts off the flow of her own life to herself and others will never again be me. When it comes to being authentic I am now willing to risk my time, my happiness, my relationships, and my life. So, help me, God. And please, hold me to it, friends. I need you. What's more, I value you.
I also learned about the nature of love. I learned that because God is love and I am in God, I have His love in me. I have the capacity to love anyone, so help me God. My love is not a thin channel of feeling and goodwill that I must muster up, but rather it is the state I am already in. I am in love. I am in a circle of love that encompasses everyone I come into contact with and as I consciously do the little things and the large actions of love I no longer have to worry if I have enough of love. I am simply loving out of who I am--a loving,authentic person :)
I ask for your prayers and support as I live out the life in me that has been there all along.
Love,
Jessica
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Out With The Old...
Hello All,
This is a bittersweet moment for me--I'm typing on the floor in my nearly-empty apartment eating off a paper plate as I prepare to load my last carload of stuff and clean the floors and microwave.
I've loved this place--every bit of it. I love the light that dances off my vaulted ceiling, I love the red dining nook, I love my tangerine tree and my al fresco washer and dryer, and I love well...everything about it, even with its quirks. It's been a beautiful, blessed home to me and I'm so thankful for it.
Here's the rundown for the next month:
Tomorrow I attend a 4-day Emergence conference that is like emotional and relational boot camp for your soul. The days run from 10am-11pm Thurs-Sunday, except that Sunday at 9pm we have a "graduation", of a kind. I really need your prayers for these next four days, friends, as I will be undergoing some kind of heart and soul transformation. If you want more info about Emergence, go to www.generativesolutions.com, I believe.
Following that, as I'm staying with my friends the Lehrs, I will continue my part-time temp job and record a cd with them every day after work, as we've all been working on original music.
Following that, I go live with my parents in Harker Heights for the last few weeks before I go. My prayer send-off at my church here is on the 18th, which I'll drive back into Austin for. If all goes well, I'll leave country January 1st!
I could really use prayer for a couple things to happen: Namely, that my apartment would rent PRONTO as I'm paying on it for the next two months until it does. Secondly, that my visa would process and arrive PRONTO as it's two weeks overdue and my school will not book my airline tickets until they have a copy of it faxed to their hot little hands.
That's all for now. I'm sure I'll have much to tell in the next few weeks ahead.
Love you all.
This is a bittersweet moment for me--I'm typing on the floor in my nearly-empty apartment eating off a paper plate as I prepare to load my last carload of stuff and clean the floors and microwave.
I've loved this place--every bit of it. I love the light that dances off my vaulted ceiling, I love the red dining nook, I love my tangerine tree and my al fresco washer and dryer, and I love well...everything about it, even with its quirks. It's been a beautiful, blessed home to me and I'm so thankful for it.
Here's the rundown for the next month:
Tomorrow I attend a 4-day Emergence conference that is like emotional and relational boot camp for your soul. The days run from 10am-11pm Thurs-Sunday, except that Sunday at 9pm we have a "graduation", of a kind. I really need your prayers for these next four days, friends, as I will be undergoing some kind of heart and soul transformation. If you want more info about Emergence, go to www.generativesolutions.com, I believe.
Following that, as I'm staying with my friends the Lehrs, I will continue my part-time temp job and record a cd with them every day after work, as we've all been working on original music.
Following that, I go live with my parents in Harker Heights for the last few weeks before I go. My prayer send-off at my church here is on the 18th, which I'll drive back into Austin for. If all goes well, I'll leave country January 1st!
I could really use prayer for a couple things to happen: Namely, that my apartment would rent PRONTO as I'm paying on it for the next two months until it does. Secondly, that my visa would process and arrive PRONTO as it's two weeks overdue and my school will not book my airline tickets until they have a copy of it faxed to their hot little hands.
That's all for now. I'm sure I'll have much to tell in the next few weeks ahead.
Love you all.
Friday, November 11, 2011
"On the Road to Beautiful"
Oh my gosh,
It's been too long since I wrote.
I've been pondering so much in my preparations for India that it's hard this time to settle on any one thing to write--
I've just heard a jet plane go by overhead and that sound always gives me a little thrill of adventure and I immediately hear the song "I'm Leavin' on a Jet Plane" in my head. The last time I truly got to sing that song about a new adventure was when I was leaving for Italy in 2005. It's been that long.
I am excited about India and yet the truth that I am leaving is still sinking in by degrees. It's like getting into a very hot bath--first you dip your toe in, jerk it out, then step in to your ankles, then slowly lower your way into the water, part by part finally feeling the bliss of the heat. I'm doing all this preparatory work and still have such an active life going on here that it may not be till I get on the jet plane that I really feel I'm in it ankle-deep and maybe not till I'm in-country that I'll feel I've settled into the bath, so to speak. One thing is for certain--a bath is better enjoyed when you're in it than when you're only dipping in a toe and contemplating. I will make every effort to embrace the new culture and settle into it even if it's a little shocking to the senses at first. Soon I think it will feel wonderful.
I've been getting close again to the Father this week reading "The Shack" which is such an invitation for personal relationship with the persons of the Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Coupled with my preparations for India it's reminded me of a favorite Charlie Hall song, "On the Road to Beautiful". I'd like to give you the lyrics so that you can get a sense of where I've been and where I'm at. Although I'm not in the place of desperation right now that the song speaks of, I have been and am now coming through to this new and beautiful place.
On the Road to Beautiful
I crumble at Your kiss and grace
I'm a weakling in the dust
Teach me how to cling to You
With all my life and all my love
Father come to me, hold me up 'cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can't reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
And on the road to beautiful
My seasons always change
But my life is spent on loving You
To know You in Your power and pain
Father come to me, hold me up 'cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can't reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
You're my portion in this life
You're my strength now in my fight
And to You I pledge my heart
In the pain and in the dark I'll love You
I'll love You, I'll love You
I'll love You...
Father come to me, hold me up 'cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can't reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
And my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
I love You
I love You
I love You
It's been too long since I wrote.
I've been pondering so much in my preparations for India that it's hard this time to settle on any one thing to write--
I've just heard a jet plane go by overhead and that sound always gives me a little thrill of adventure and I immediately hear the song "I'm Leavin' on a Jet Plane" in my head. The last time I truly got to sing that song about a new adventure was when I was leaving for Italy in 2005. It's been that long.
I am excited about India and yet the truth that I am leaving is still sinking in by degrees. It's like getting into a very hot bath--first you dip your toe in, jerk it out, then step in to your ankles, then slowly lower your way into the water, part by part finally feeling the bliss of the heat. I'm doing all this preparatory work and still have such an active life going on here that it may not be till I get on the jet plane that I really feel I'm in it ankle-deep and maybe not till I'm in-country that I'll feel I've settled into the bath, so to speak. One thing is for certain--a bath is better enjoyed when you're in it than when you're only dipping in a toe and contemplating. I will make every effort to embrace the new culture and settle into it even if it's a little shocking to the senses at first. Soon I think it will feel wonderful.
I've been getting close again to the Father this week reading "The Shack" which is such an invitation for personal relationship with the persons of the Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Coupled with my preparations for India it's reminded me of a favorite Charlie Hall song, "On the Road to Beautiful". I'd like to give you the lyrics so that you can get a sense of where I've been and where I'm at. Although I'm not in the place of desperation right now that the song speaks of, I have been and am now coming through to this new and beautiful place.
On the Road to Beautiful
I crumble at Your kiss and grace
I'm a weakling in the dust
Teach me how to cling to You
With all my life and all my love
Father come to me, hold me up 'cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can't reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
And on the road to beautiful
My seasons always change
But my life is spent on loving You
To know You in Your power and pain
Father come to me, hold me up 'cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can't reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
You're my portion in this life
You're my strength now in my fight
And to You I pledge my heart
In the pain and in the dark I'll love You
I'll love You, I'll love You
I'll love You...
Father come to me, hold me up 'cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can't reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
And my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven's own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing
I love You
I love You
I love You
Monday, October 17, 2011
"Une Belle Melange"
...French for "a beautiful mess".
I watched this movie some time ago in which there was a restaurant whose cooking assistants had burnt what was going to be beautiful baked apples wrapped in puffed pastry. The frantic head chef called his retired chef friend in a panic to do something about the terrible fix he was in since he had nothing to serve his banquet-full of guests for dessert! So, what did this seasoned chef do but order everyone to peel off the charred black crusts surrounding the apples, which were still moist and aromatic. He quickly made batches of caramelized nuts, chopped up the cooked apples, alternated the apples with the delicious nuts and layers of creme fraiche, and topped it off with nutmeg and chocolate shavings. Voila! "Une Belle Melange" was born!
So, ma' frien's, what does this mean for me? I looked up "melange". Its other meanings range from the benign "medley" to the more violent "melange zone"--"an area of intense folding, faulting, and metamorphic activity between two converging plates." Sacre bleu! If life could be described merging all these definitions, this is what mine is.
I have a few days left at my current temp job and will need another one through the month of November. I am making music with a husband/wife couple of musicians every week. We are planning a fundraising dinner show in mid-November that will be so enjoyable, incorporating jazz, original songs, and innovative instrumentals. We're also planning to record a cd during the second week in December when we're all available and I'm not working. I have to post my apartment and all my furniture on Craig's List in the next few days and be my own salesperson to dispense with it all except for a bench my grandfather made. I have to have a sale and get rid of all my excess stuff after deciding whether each item will benefit me 20 years from now or whether I should ditch it. I'm attending a four-day conference in early December. I'm taking an online course for 11th and 12th-grade curriculum running through November and December, and I'm plowing through a reading list of literature that spans the centuries in further preparation. Oh, and I'm working on my work visa for India. Have I covered it all? Oh!--I'm skyping Bangalore at seven in the morning on weekends to coordinate curriculum and lesson planning with the staff I've yet to meet as they're 10.5 hours ahead of us and halfway around the world.
Alongside all this, even as I make new contacts in India I'm being intentional in my friendships here. After all, what is life without those to share it with, whether long-distance or right in front of you?
And so it goes...
I am very tempted in my weakness to develop a severe case of myopia and view the present as tectonic upheaval, a clash of converging realities with a million things happening at once and my life's "plate" careening toward the not-too-distant future. But that would make my life fit for a drama queen, and I desire not to use such hyperbole.
The funny thing about the current melange is that when I pull my nose out of it and take a step back it's still pretty tasty. I'm doing so many things I enjoy with good people and also looking forward to the time ahead. I do have to get my hands dirty and dig into the mix to create some layers that make sense out of seemingly random ingredients, but it's fun! I feel like God,the Iron Chef, has stepped in and said, "Burnt apples? I meant for this to have a hint of smokiness. It pairs better with the creme. Oh, and while you're at it, please listen up and I'll show you how to turn this mess into something beautiful."
Aah--
Une belle melange.
I watched this movie some time ago in which there was a restaurant whose cooking assistants had burnt what was going to be beautiful baked apples wrapped in puffed pastry. The frantic head chef called his retired chef friend in a panic to do something about the terrible fix he was in since he had nothing to serve his banquet-full of guests for dessert! So, what did this seasoned chef do but order everyone to peel off the charred black crusts surrounding the apples, which were still moist and aromatic. He quickly made batches of caramelized nuts, chopped up the cooked apples, alternated the apples with the delicious nuts and layers of creme fraiche, and topped it off with nutmeg and chocolate shavings. Voila! "Une Belle Melange" was born!
So, ma' frien's, what does this mean for me? I looked up "melange". Its other meanings range from the benign "medley" to the more violent "melange zone"--"an area of intense folding, faulting, and metamorphic activity between two converging plates." Sacre bleu! If life could be described merging all these definitions, this is what mine is.
I have a few days left at my current temp job and will need another one through the month of November. I am making music with a husband/wife couple of musicians every week. We are planning a fundraising dinner show in mid-November that will be so enjoyable, incorporating jazz, original songs, and innovative instrumentals. We're also planning to record a cd during the second week in December when we're all available and I'm not working. I have to post my apartment and all my furniture on Craig's List in the next few days and be my own salesperson to dispense with it all except for a bench my grandfather made. I have to have a sale and get rid of all my excess stuff after deciding whether each item will benefit me 20 years from now or whether I should ditch it. I'm attending a four-day conference in early December. I'm taking an online course for 11th and 12th-grade curriculum running through November and December, and I'm plowing through a reading list of literature that spans the centuries in further preparation. Oh, and I'm working on my work visa for India. Have I covered it all? Oh!--I'm skyping Bangalore at seven in the morning on weekends to coordinate curriculum and lesson planning with the staff I've yet to meet as they're 10.5 hours ahead of us and halfway around the world.
Alongside all this, even as I make new contacts in India I'm being intentional in my friendships here. After all, what is life without those to share it with, whether long-distance or right in front of you?
And so it goes...
I am very tempted in my weakness to develop a severe case of myopia and view the present as tectonic upheaval, a clash of converging realities with a million things happening at once and my life's "plate" careening toward the not-too-distant future. But that would make my life fit for a drama queen, and I desire not to use such hyperbole.
The funny thing about the current melange is that when I pull my nose out of it and take a step back it's still pretty tasty. I'm doing so many things I enjoy with good people and also looking forward to the time ahead. I do have to get my hands dirty and dig into the mix to create some layers that make sense out of seemingly random ingredients, but it's fun! I feel like God,the Iron Chef, has stepped in and said, "Burnt apples? I meant for this to have a hint of smokiness. It pairs better with the creme. Oh, and while you're at it, please listen up and I'll show you how to turn this mess into something beautiful."
Aah--
Une belle melange.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Separation Anxiety
Hello, All.
I'm experiencing quite a duality in my thoughts these days:
If you have kids or know what developmental stages they go through then you know about "separation anxiety". This is when Mom and Dad have to leave the kid for the first time and the child thinks their world is falling apart. When I was about 12 or 13 years old I had the privilege of babysitting a little girl the first time her parents left her with someone else. She screamed bloody murder at the top of her lungs for two point five solid hours till I was driven to distraction. Needless to say, when her parents got home, I let them know with a plastered smile and glazed eyes that their little girl had "had a hard time and been crying," or some other such minimalistic statement to convey to them the stupidity of leaving their little girl for the first time with anyone other than a doting grandmother who was mercifully deaf.
The past two weeks I have been that little girl in the moments just prior to her parent's night out--I sense something's coming that's completely other than what I've known and I've been internally freaking. I've been worrying about loneliness, more than anything. I've been worried that when I go to Bangalore I will be alone. Completely alone. The Father has assured me every time I talk to Him about it that He will be with me. He has no other answer for me than that. I know it is enough, but it sure takes my courage to trust Him with that. He's also asked, "Do you trust Me?" Yes, I do. Like the child, though, I haven't yet learned "object permanence" when it comes to God and His solid ways. I know He is always there, and that He will be enough. This should be the end of the story, but I'm human. With quivering lip I imagine my worst fear that it will be just "me and God" and that I might as well be on a desert island as surrounded by the sea of people in Bangalore that I will not know. I'm worried that to them I will look like a pretty albino :)
I know that what I am going to is good and that underneath all my fears is a settled peace. It will be fine. It will be good. But oh, I will miss my friends and people here--people that know me and are getting to know me; people to whom I am familiar. I will miss having a known place.
But then I am reminded of the scripture in John that says "Let not your heart be troubled...I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am you may be also." (John 14:1-3)
These are comforting words: "Let not your heart be troubled." Ok. So in many moments I waver between the "rest of faith" and a child facing separation anxiety from everything she knows. I have to trust God that this "place" in India He's preparing for me is a good one, and that He will provide me friends and a support network and Christian fellowship. They will not replace the ones I have now, but they will be good ones.
So, if you hear me "screaming", as it were, these next few months, pat me on the back, reassure me and hand me a warm glass of soy milk. And do pray for me--Pray that God has made a way in advance that "where He is there I may also be."
Thanks:)
I'm experiencing quite a duality in my thoughts these days:
If you have kids or know what developmental stages they go through then you know about "separation anxiety". This is when Mom and Dad have to leave the kid for the first time and the child thinks their world is falling apart. When I was about 12 or 13 years old I had the privilege of babysitting a little girl the first time her parents left her with someone else. She screamed bloody murder at the top of her lungs for two point five solid hours till I was driven to distraction. Needless to say, when her parents got home, I let them know with a plastered smile and glazed eyes that their little girl had "had a hard time and been crying," or some other such minimalistic statement to convey to them the stupidity of leaving their little girl for the first time with anyone other than a doting grandmother who was mercifully deaf.
The past two weeks I have been that little girl in the moments just prior to her parent's night out--I sense something's coming that's completely other than what I've known and I've been internally freaking. I've been worrying about loneliness, more than anything. I've been worried that when I go to Bangalore I will be alone. Completely alone. The Father has assured me every time I talk to Him about it that He will be with me. He has no other answer for me than that. I know it is enough, but it sure takes my courage to trust Him with that. He's also asked, "Do you trust Me?" Yes, I do. Like the child, though, I haven't yet learned "object permanence" when it comes to God and His solid ways. I know He is always there, and that He will be enough. This should be the end of the story, but I'm human. With quivering lip I imagine my worst fear that it will be just "me and God" and that I might as well be on a desert island as surrounded by the sea of people in Bangalore that I will not know. I'm worried that to them I will look like a pretty albino :)
I know that what I am going to is good and that underneath all my fears is a settled peace. It will be fine. It will be good. But oh, I will miss my friends and people here--people that know me and are getting to know me; people to whom I am familiar. I will miss having a known place.
But then I am reminded of the scripture in John that says "Let not your heart be troubled...I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am you may be also." (John 14:1-3)
These are comforting words: "Let not your heart be troubled." Ok. So in many moments I waver between the "rest of faith" and a child facing separation anxiety from everything she knows. I have to trust God that this "place" in India He's preparing for me is a good one, and that He will provide me friends and a support network and Christian fellowship. They will not replace the ones I have now, but they will be good ones.
So, if you hear me "screaming", as it were, these next few months, pat me on the back, reassure me and hand me a warm glass of soy milk. And do pray for me--Pray that God has made a way in advance that "where He is there I may also be."
Thanks:)
Friday, September 16, 2011
An Interstitial Look at the Exciting Near Future
Hello All,
Well, here's some BIG NEWS from me:
I am moving to Bangalore, India to teach English Literature in an international school to college-prep level high school students from about 20 different countries! "When?", you may ask. I'll be leaving right after New Year's Day. Nothing like changing countries to ring in the new year!
I feel almost weird writing this down. I mean, for the entire time I've been blogging I've been looking forward to and imagining what's next. Now I know what it's going to be, although I will still be in my interstitial season for another few months before I go.
I've had a growing fascination with India for the last few years, especially the fashion, which I think is gorgeous. I also think the people are beautiful and the food is really good, too. I am looking forward to the life and color this culture has to offer.
The school I'll be teaching at gets great reviews, and seems really solid. The benefits are just what I've needed to make this feasible, too. They cover airfare, housing,and insurance. My salary is tax-free for the first two years--Woot!, and the cost of living is quite low. This will be great for me financially, as it will enable me to pay down on my school loans significantly.
I can't say that I'm dying to be an English teacher, but I feel positive about it, and this is a really good opportunity. I think I may find it more fulfilling than I think. And who knows what else may come about from being in India?
I guess this leap of faith I'm planning to take is kind of like sky-diving was for me--there was the moment of hesitation when my hands reflexively clung to the plane before I let go and trusted the guy strapped to my back to fly us to safety and launch the 'chute in time. That whole experience was surreal but oddly familiar, as I'd actually dreamed about doing it before I did it. Then I did it, and it was actually quite peaceful--puzzlingly so.
This is the way I feel about the India position right now--there's still parts of me that are mentally "clinging to the plane", but the thing is, I can totally see myself doing this. So I will. I think when I fulfill a dream it seems surreal in waking simply because it has been in my dream world for so long that it's just so natural to me already, but it's switching worlds from dream to reality. That's the surreality of it.
I still have several months left here during which God will provide and lots of preparations will be made, so I'd appreciate your continued prayers and support for the here-and-now. I'm going to keep this blog going in "interstitial" mode, because that's what I'm still in. When I get to India, then I'll come up with something else.
Jessica,
Signing off from The Meantime
Well, here's some BIG NEWS from me:
I am moving to Bangalore, India to teach English Literature in an international school to college-prep level high school students from about 20 different countries! "When?", you may ask. I'll be leaving right after New Year's Day. Nothing like changing countries to ring in the new year!
I feel almost weird writing this down. I mean, for the entire time I've been blogging I've been looking forward to and imagining what's next. Now I know what it's going to be, although I will still be in my interstitial season for another few months before I go.
I've had a growing fascination with India for the last few years, especially the fashion, which I think is gorgeous. I also think the people are beautiful and the food is really good, too. I am looking forward to the life and color this culture has to offer.
The school I'll be teaching at gets great reviews, and seems really solid. The benefits are just what I've needed to make this feasible, too. They cover airfare, housing,and insurance. My salary is tax-free for the first two years--Woot!, and the cost of living is quite low. This will be great for me financially, as it will enable me to pay down on my school loans significantly.
I can't say that I'm dying to be an English teacher, but I feel positive about it, and this is a really good opportunity. I think I may find it more fulfilling than I think. And who knows what else may come about from being in India?
I guess this leap of faith I'm planning to take is kind of like sky-diving was for me--there was the moment of hesitation when my hands reflexively clung to the plane before I let go and trusted the guy strapped to my back to fly us to safety and launch the 'chute in time. That whole experience was surreal but oddly familiar, as I'd actually dreamed about doing it before I did it. Then I did it, and it was actually quite peaceful--puzzlingly so.
This is the way I feel about the India position right now--there's still parts of me that are mentally "clinging to the plane", but the thing is, I can totally see myself doing this. So I will. I think when I fulfill a dream it seems surreal in waking simply because it has been in my dream world for so long that it's just so natural to me already, but it's switching worlds from dream to reality. That's the surreality of it.
I still have several months left here during which God will provide and lots of preparations will be made, so I'd appreciate your continued prayers and support for the here-and-now. I'm going to keep this blog going in "interstitial" mode, because that's what I'm still in. When I get to India, then I'll come up with something else.
Jessica,
Signing off from The Meantime
Thursday, September 1, 2011
September's View
It's September first.
I've always loved the glorious month of September for its latent warmth and halcyon days before fall sets in. It reminds me of new clothes, wistful thoughts of summertime, and all the nervous anticipation a new school year brings. For me it is the official start of the year. Everything new begins in September--school, Bible studies, fellowship groups, the September Issue of Vogue ushering in fall fashion, and a renewed spirit to step up to the proverbial plate and do well.
I feel a wind of change in the air, at least in my own thoughts. Although the past 8 months have been fraught with changes, I feel sure that the next several changes will be good ones. For one thing, I've seen God provide so many times over the past several months when I felt like all hope was lost that I know He'll do it again. He is faithful. I don't know whether I'll begin work overseas right away or not. There may be beautiful opportunities right where I am in Austin.
Last week I was able to attend a meeting of the Austin Fair Trade Town. These are volunteers from the community who are involved in fair trade either through business or advocacy. They are attempting right now to get a resolution passed through the city legislature declaring Austin to be a "Fair Trade Town". Basically, this means the City of Austin will declare that it supports fair trade business through the purchase of fair trade goods, education, and advocacy. Once the town is officially "fair trade," the Austin Fair Trade Town group can really begin gathering steam by putting on wacky Austin events like handing out fair trade chocolate on the streets (this was suggested at the last meeting, but we all started laughing when we thought of the summer heat); Other ideas include conducting presentations on fair trade in the school system, or hosting a fair trade bazaar.
For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of fair trade business, the simple idea of it is this: Ordinarily, without fair trade much of the manufacturing and production of goods, clothing, and food is done through large corporations who do not pay their workers an ethical, living wage (think sweat-shop labor). Fair trade business is conducted by sourcing local workers and paying them a wage that allows them to live out of poverty. Businesses that claim fair trade status aim to be wholly transparent in their business practices from concept to production to distribution. When enough workers in a town or village are employed in a fair trade capacity it raises the health, economics and standards of the entire community. Fair trade business extends beyond economics as it often employs women in impoverished communities who would otherwise have to provide for themselves and their family through any means they could find, including prostitution. Fair trade is often linked in food and textile production to organic farming, which eliminates traditional slash-and-burn farming methods and practices sustainable agriculture that cultivates the land properly for generations to come. With fertile land, decent wages, and the opportunity to rise above their current situation, an entire community becomes healthy. When more communities become healthy, eventually an entire country can become healthy and finally, an entire continent.
My global passion is to bring beauty to the lives of women and in so doing, to show them the beauty of God. How this translates into my business passion is to create a fair trade fashion line incorporating ethnic textile motifs from different countries around the world into western design. I would create elegant dresses with simple lines that rely heavily on the textiles to tell a story about the garment itself and its orgigins. I want to employ the women of each country's communities to help create the textiles and the garments. I want them to know that their cultural influence matters and that they matter to God. I want those that wear their garments to understand that in valuing something beautiful they are valuing beauty with purpose--a beauty that heals women and communities.
I will never forget something I saw when one of the missionaries at my church in Greenville, Illinois came back from India. He showed a video depicting he and several others passing out the most stunningly beautiful brightly-colored saris to women in a leper village. At the bottom of the caste system, these women were outcasts in their society. The missionaries led worship and around them sat these women with beaming faces of joy in their clean, bright garments. In effect, I want to "clothe" such women with dignity, beauty, health and the joy of knowing God loves them.
It is amazing how one small thing such as a video clip I witnessed in the right place at the right time could begin to form my thinking around something entirely other than what I originally intended for my life's work. In the bright days ahead, may we be on the watch for such sparks of divine inspiration that come our way and may we allow them to craft us wholly new.
I've always loved the glorious month of September for its latent warmth and halcyon days before fall sets in. It reminds me of new clothes, wistful thoughts of summertime, and all the nervous anticipation a new school year brings. For me it is the official start of the year. Everything new begins in September--school, Bible studies, fellowship groups, the September Issue of Vogue ushering in fall fashion, and a renewed spirit to step up to the proverbial plate and do well.
I feel a wind of change in the air, at least in my own thoughts. Although the past 8 months have been fraught with changes, I feel sure that the next several changes will be good ones. For one thing, I've seen God provide so many times over the past several months when I felt like all hope was lost that I know He'll do it again. He is faithful. I don't know whether I'll begin work overseas right away or not. There may be beautiful opportunities right where I am in Austin.
Last week I was able to attend a meeting of the Austin Fair Trade Town. These are volunteers from the community who are involved in fair trade either through business or advocacy. They are attempting right now to get a resolution passed through the city legislature declaring Austin to be a "Fair Trade Town". Basically, this means the City of Austin will declare that it supports fair trade business through the purchase of fair trade goods, education, and advocacy. Once the town is officially "fair trade," the Austin Fair Trade Town group can really begin gathering steam by putting on wacky Austin events like handing out fair trade chocolate on the streets (this was suggested at the last meeting, but we all started laughing when we thought of the summer heat); Other ideas include conducting presentations on fair trade in the school system, or hosting a fair trade bazaar.
For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of fair trade business, the simple idea of it is this: Ordinarily, without fair trade much of the manufacturing and production of goods, clothing, and food is done through large corporations who do not pay their workers an ethical, living wage (think sweat-shop labor). Fair trade business is conducted by sourcing local workers and paying them a wage that allows them to live out of poverty. Businesses that claim fair trade status aim to be wholly transparent in their business practices from concept to production to distribution. When enough workers in a town or village are employed in a fair trade capacity it raises the health, economics and standards of the entire community. Fair trade business extends beyond economics as it often employs women in impoverished communities who would otherwise have to provide for themselves and their family through any means they could find, including prostitution. Fair trade is often linked in food and textile production to organic farming, which eliminates traditional slash-and-burn farming methods and practices sustainable agriculture that cultivates the land properly for generations to come. With fertile land, decent wages, and the opportunity to rise above their current situation, an entire community becomes healthy. When more communities become healthy, eventually an entire country can become healthy and finally, an entire continent.
My global passion is to bring beauty to the lives of women and in so doing, to show them the beauty of God. How this translates into my business passion is to create a fair trade fashion line incorporating ethnic textile motifs from different countries around the world into western design. I would create elegant dresses with simple lines that rely heavily on the textiles to tell a story about the garment itself and its orgigins. I want to employ the women of each country's communities to help create the textiles and the garments. I want them to know that their cultural influence matters and that they matter to God. I want those that wear their garments to understand that in valuing something beautiful they are valuing beauty with purpose--a beauty that heals women and communities.
I will never forget something I saw when one of the missionaries at my church in Greenville, Illinois came back from India. He showed a video depicting he and several others passing out the most stunningly beautiful brightly-colored saris to women in a leper village. At the bottom of the caste system, these women were outcasts in their society. The missionaries led worship and around them sat these women with beaming faces of joy in their clean, bright garments. In effect, I want to "clothe" such women with dignity, beauty, health and the joy of knowing God loves them.
It is amazing how one small thing such as a video clip I witnessed in the right place at the right time could begin to form my thinking around something entirely other than what I originally intended for my life's work. In the bright days ahead, may we be on the watch for such sparks of divine inspiration that come our way and may we allow them to craft us wholly new.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
How to Walk Tall in Duck Shoes
Oh, fashion!
It's mastery is not for the faint of heart. At its best it requires a sense of style, a good eye for coordination, color and beauty, and a willingness to try new things and improvise. At its worst it is a dictatorial killjoy spit out in monthly mags to the masses, upholding the great tradition of commercialism.
But fashion is, on the whole, neutral. It's what we do with it and what it says about us that matters. There are many who ordinarily attempt to follow the fashions and succeed, but who often have one quirk, one idiosyncracy in their style that stands out in the crowd. It is these very things that bear mentioning and on examination reveal much about the wearer themselves.
During World War II in Great Britain everything was rationed, from pats of butter to clothing and shoes. Now, shoes, for example, were not what they are today. For women they consisted of either massively high stacked heels with little padding and zero comfort or flats with wooden or rubber lasts, zero padding and thin leather sides. With ration coupons and government regulations limiting the number of shoe pairs per family to around 3 per year, women could narry afford to be particular. They had to make due with the pair they had till they wore out and got holes in the sole, or often had to take whatever shoe size was closest to theirs in the store because there were hardly any to be had. As a result, the British woman had continually painful feet.
However, nothing completely quelled the spirit of the British in WWII, not even bad shoes. The women always wore a full face of makeup and cheery red lipstick that came to be known as their "red badge of courage". Their lipstick represented their bravery, their fighting spirit. Their rouged pout highlighted the British adage, "Keep a stiff upper lip". The ostentatious spunk and beauty of a prized pair of red lips defied their poor shoes and their Nazi foes together. As a fashion statement, it can be argued that the juxtaposition of bad shoes with red lips won the war!
On the subject of shoes and fashion, I am further reminded of the character "Kramer" in the late 90's show "Seinfeld". An independent free spirit, Kramer lives by his own set of rules, often resulting in hilarious outcomes. In one episode he gets the bright idea to save time by installing a garbage disposal in his shower. He proceeds to peel and cut his vegetables while bathing and sends the scraps down the chute! The episode I am thinking of though, is when Kramer wore z-coils.
For those of you unfamiliar with the show, Kramer already stands out as a tall, ungainly man in 1960's-esque clothing with a thick hatch of curly fuzz that springs up off the top of his head into the ether. He decides, after seeing an infomercial, to try a special kind of athletic shoe called z-coils. You might have heard of them. They resemble a male nurse's black shoe on top and on the sole they are supported by thick platform rubber in the front and a huge, sproingy rubber coil on the heel that puts more than a little bounce in your step! In the afternoon Kramer has to get some dental work done, leaving his mouth numb and prompting him to drool a little. Afterwards, still in his z-coils, he sproings slack-jawed and drooling down the streets of New York City to hail a cab. A businessman reaches a cab the same moment Kramer does, and after a bit of akwardness, Kramer slurs out, "Naaah, YOU takesh ith," and sproings lurchily down the sidewalk. The businessman's stoic face, after taking a hard look at Kramer's gait, softens into mellow lines, and he calls Kramer back to share the cab with him. He has assumed Kramer is a half-wit and is determined to be kind to him, if only for the sake of his "disability"! The businessman asks him only simple questions which Kramer slurs out replies to, and they part ways amiably.
The moral of this sitcom story? Carry off whatever fashion addition you try with panache--Never be afraid to try something new (or feel self-conscious after dental work)--It just might get you a cab ride!
So that brings me to myself. I have always considered myself mostly fashion-conscious, though I tend to gravitate to the classics instead of trendier things. As for shoes, I love to look at them. When I was a girl I had a collection of little shoe figurines from historical times to the present lining a shelf (I think I still have those somewhere.) I've worked in a bridal salon and at Nordstrom, which boasts a shoe haven worthy of any woman's eye.
The problem is, I can't wear the grand, stiletto styles, the platform espadrilles, or the narrow wedges worthy of Carrie Bradshaw. They kill my back and knees and the two bunions I genetically inherited from my wonderful father. Not to mention, I have the feet of a duck. Yup. They are flat, wide at the front, and taper to near-points at the ankles. The only thing differentiating them from their feathered friends' in the animal kingdom is the absence of webbing. Every shoe salesman's nightmare.
So, what's a fashion-loving girl to do? I improvise. When I worked for fashion-conscious Nordstrom, I looked the part from the ankles up. I wore great slacks and tops, cute dresses, and made sure I had on the requisite 3 statement pieces to make an ensemble. On my feet, however, I wore Danskos--thick black clogs with tons of support--a real hit with nurses in the hospital. My coworker told me it looked like I was wearing bricks. Still, I could last longer in those bricks than a 10-hour day. While the girls in heels complained after a few hours, I was still racing around the floor gathering jewelry and Spanx for my customers with ease.
My other favorite pair of comfort shoes for my days off are my Keene walking sandals, which I've affectionately named my "Duck shoes". I mean, they are the shape of my foot to the extreme! They begin with a bulbous, rubber-toed front spreading completely flat and wide with slats for air, then narrowing to a strap at the exposed ankle. They are bright baby blue, like "Jesus" sandals on speed. When I wear them with shorts, they protrude from my skinny ankles like Bobo the Clown's. The thing is, when I wear them I feel a real connection with the ground. Garish as they are, I feel so stable and solid in them that my gait becomes straighter, and I unconsciously look ahead more, shoulders back and torso raised. There is no longer any need for me to look at the ground because my feet know the way.
So what do my shoes say about me? Do they say I've somehow missed my fashion cues? Or rather, like the British, that I choose to rise above my feet; like Kramer, that I will try something that promises comfort any day even if it makes me look like a, well, duck. Or maybe, that I've simply learned how to walk tall.
It's mastery is not for the faint of heart. At its best it requires a sense of style, a good eye for coordination, color and beauty, and a willingness to try new things and improvise. At its worst it is a dictatorial killjoy spit out in monthly mags to the masses, upholding the great tradition of commercialism.
But fashion is, on the whole, neutral. It's what we do with it and what it says about us that matters. There are many who ordinarily attempt to follow the fashions and succeed, but who often have one quirk, one idiosyncracy in their style that stands out in the crowd. It is these very things that bear mentioning and on examination reveal much about the wearer themselves.
During World War II in Great Britain everything was rationed, from pats of butter to clothing and shoes. Now, shoes, for example, were not what they are today. For women they consisted of either massively high stacked heels with little padding and zero comfort or flats with wooden or rubber lasts, zero padding and thin leather sides. With ration coupons and government regulations limiting the number of shoe pairs per family to around 3 per year, women could narry afford to be particular. They had to make due with the pair they had till they wore out and got holes in the sole, or often had to take whatever shoe size was closest to theirs in the store because there were hardly any to be had. As a result, the British woman had continually painful feet.
However, nothing completely quelled the spirit of the British in WWII, not even bad shoes. The women always wore a full face of makeup and cheery red lipstick that came to be known as their "red badge of courage". Their lipstick represented their bravery, their fighting spirit. Their rouged pout highlighted the British adage, "Keep a stiff upper lip". The ostentatious spunk and beauty of a prized pair of red lips defied their poor shoes and their Nazi foes together. As a fashion statement, it can be argued that the juxtaposition of bad shoes with red lips won the war!
On the subject of shoes and fashion, I am further reminded of the character "Kramer" in the late 90's show "Seinfeld". An independent free spirit, Kramer lives by his own set of rules, often resulting in hilarious outcomes. In one episode he gets the bright idea to save time by installing a garbage disposal in his shower. He proceeds to peel and cut his vegetables while bathing and sends the scraps down the chute! The episode I am thinking of though, is when Kramer wore z-coils.
For those of you unfamiliar with the show, Kramer already stands out as a tall, ungainly man in 1960's-esque clothing with a thick hatch of curly fuzz that springs up off the top of his head into the ether. He decides, after seeing an infomercial, to try a special kind of athletic shoe called z-coils. You might have heard of them. They resemble a male nurse's black shoe on top and on the sole they are supported by thick platform rubber in the front and a huge, sproingy rubber coil on the heel that puts more than a little bounce in your step! In the afternoon Kramer has to get some dental work done, leaving his mouth numb and prompting him to drool a little. Afterwards, still in his z-coils, he sproings slack-jawed and drooling down the streets of New York City to hail a cab. A businessman reaches a cab the same moment Kramer does, and after a bit of akwardness, Kramer slurs out, "Naaah, YOU takesh ith," and sproings lurchily down the sidewalk. The businessman's stoic face, after taking a hard look at Kramer's gait, softens into mellow lines, and he calls Kramer back to share the cab with him. He has assumed Kramer is a half-wit and is determined to be kind to him, if only for the sake of his "disability"! The businessman asks him only simple questions which Kramer slurs out replies to, and they part ways amiably.
The moral of this sitcom story? Carry off whatever fashion addition you try with panache--Never be afraid to try something new (or feel self-conscious after dental work)--It just might get you a cab ride!
So that brings me to myself. I have always considered myself mostly fashion-conscious, though I tend to gravitate to the classics instead of trendier things. As for shoes, I love to look at them. When I was a girl I had a collection of little shoe figurines from historical times to the present lining a shelf (I think I still have those somewhere.) I've worked in a bridal salon and at Nordstrom, which boasts a shoe haven worthy of any woman's eye.
The problem is, I can't wear the grand, stiletto styles, the platform espadrilles, or the narrow wedges worthy of Carrie Bradshaw. They kill my back and knees and the two bunions I genetically inherited from my wonderful father. Not to mention, I have the feet of a duck. Yup. They are flat, wide at the front, and taper to near-points at the ankles. The only thing differentiating them from their feathered friends' in the animal kingdom is the absence of webbing. Every shoe salesman's nightmare.
So, what's a fashion-loving girl to do? I improvise. When I worked for fashion-conscious Nordstrom, I looked the part from the ankles up. I wore great slacks and tops, cute dresses, and made sure I had on the requisite 3 statement pieces to make an ensemble. On my feet, however, I wore Danskos--thick black clogs with tons of support--a real hit with nurses in the hospital. My coworker told me it looked like I was wearing bricks. Still, I could last longer in those bricks than a 10-hour day. While the girls in heels complained after a few hours, I was still racing around the floor gathering jewelry and Spanx for my customers with ease.
My other favorite pair of comfort shoes for my days off are my Keene walking sandals, which I've affectionately named my "Duck shoes". I mean, they are the shape of my foot to the extreme! They begin with a bulbous, rubber-toed front spreading completely flat and wide with slats for air, then narrowing to a strap at the exposed ankle. They are bright baby blue, like "Jesus" sandals on speed. When I wear them with shorts, they protrude from my skinny ankles like Bobo the Clown's. The thing is, when I wear them I feel a real connection with the ground. Garish as they are, I feel so stable and solid in them that my gait becomes straighter, and I unconsciously look ahead more, shoulders back and torso raised. There is no longer any need for me to look at the ground because my feet know the way.
So what do my shoes say about me? Do they say I've somehow missed my fashion cues? Or rather, like the British, that I choose to rise above my feet; like Kramer, that I will try something that promises comfort any day even if it makes me look like a, well, duck. Or maybe, that I've simply learned how to walk tall.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Heartache
Oohh, oooohh.
I have heartache. It hurts and I feel very heavy inside.
I went home for the weekend and my gracious, giving parents discussed with me the possibility of moving back to Harker Heights, TX to live with them. Although I have several possibilities for employment/life's work swirling around me right now, nothing has materialized yet. God graciously provided through a close, loving relative to help me financially this month while I am temping and paying off my ESL certification course, but beyond that, I don't know what's going to happen. I am not making enough money to get ahead right now or even to get overseas. It seems that for the things I want to do it costs money to make money.
My parents have discussed with me the possibility of living with them for a year to save money and pay down my student loans while working. It is practical and makes good sense but is far from what I want to do. While I am in the U.S., I love living in Austin. It is a beautiful, fun, easy-going city with plenty to do. I have a good church and am building strong friendships there and networking right now for music, which is beginning to take off again. The city is artistically-geared, and on top of that, it feels like my home base.
It's funny how your perspective changes in a couple years. When I first came to Texas for a summer between college years, I lived in Harker Heights and loved it. The surrounding area is beautiful with rolling hills, farms, and a huge, glamorous sky. I felt free just being in Texas. I still do, whether I'm there or here in Austin, it's just different. A state may be home in general, but there are certain areas that better fit who you are as a person. That is Austin for me. Yes, it's imperfect, but delightful in its imperfections. Kind of like a good relationship.
Harker Heights/Killeen hosts Ft. Hood, the largest military base in the free world. As a result, the surrounding area has a community that centers around the military. I grew up military, my grandfather was military, and I am proud of it. However, the military and its culture offer nothing compatible for me right now. It's that simple.
I feel exhausted after months of job research, pondering what I want to do, networking, having spotty employment, and the general excitement/let down that follows each opportunity that either doesn't pan out or simmers down to a series of ellipses...I just want something to happen--ANY good thing that will prove to me that all these months of transition and preparation are for more than character development.
Yes, I AM learning how to trust God. It's just difficult! I am daily trying to learn the balance between being still before God and trusting Him and doing everything in my power to "ask, seek, and knock". I just want a door to open, whether it's door A, B, or C. There better just be something good behind it. I've decided to decide on something, at least by month's end.
That's basically all. I feel a little like I imagine the disciples to have felt after Jesus died and they were in mourning but also waiting for this promised Holy Spirit He told them about. They get an amazing boost of faith when they see Him resurrect, and then it is back to the waiting and the tarrying...That's where I'm at.
I'd appreciate your prayers, friends.
Jessica
I have heartache. It hurts and I feel very heavy inside.
I went home for the weekend and my gracious, giving parents discussed with me the possibility of moving back to Harker Heights, TX to live with them. Although I have several possibilities for employment/life's work swirling around me right now, nothing has materialized yet. God graciously provided through a close, loving relative to help me financially this month while I am temping and paying off my ESL certification course, but beyond that, I don't know what's going to happen. I am not making enough money to get ahead right now or even to get overseas. It seems that for the things I want to do it costs money to make money.
My parents have discussed with me the possibility of living with them for a year to save money and pay down my student loans while working. It is practical and makes good sense but is far from what I want to do. While I am in the U.S., I love living in Austin. It is a beautiful, fun, easy-going city with plenty to do. I have a good church and am building strong friendships there and networking right now for music, which is beginning to take off again. The city is artistically-geared, and on top of that, it feels like my home base.
It's funny how your perspective changes in a couple years. When I first came to Texas for a summer between college years, I lived in Harker Heights and loved it. The surrounding area is beautiful with rolling hills, farms, and a huge, glamorous sky. I felt free just being in Texas. I still do, whether I'm there or here in Austin, it's just different. A state may be home in general, but there are certain areas that better fit who you are as a person. That is Austin for me. Yes, it's imperfect, but delightful in its imperfections. Kind of like a good relationship.
Harker Heights/Killeen hosts Ft. Hood, the largest military base in the free world. As a result, the surrounding area has a community that centers around the military. I grew up military, my grandfather was military, and I am proud of it. However, the military and its culture offer nothing compatible for me right now. It's that simple.
I feel exhausted after months of job research, pondering what I want to do, networking, having spotty employment, and the general excitement/let down that follows each opportunity that either doesn't pan out or simmers down to a series of ellipses...I just want something to happen--ANY good thing that will prove to me that all these months of transition and preparation are for more than character development.
Yes, I AM learning how to trust God. It's just difficult! I am daily trying to learn the balance between being still before God and trusting Him and doing everything in my power to "ask, seek, and knock". I just want a door to open, whether it's door A, B, or C. There better just be something good behind it. I've decided to decide on something, at least by month's end.
That's basically all. I feel a little like I imagine the disciples to have felt after Jesus died and they were in mourning but also waiting for this promised Holy Spirit He told them about. They get an amazing boost of faith when they see Him resurrect, and then it is back to the waiting and the tarrying...That's where I'm at.
I'd appreciate your prayers, friends.
Jessica
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Hey, Is This a Setup?
I'm reading this great book right now called "Pink Boots and a Machete". It's the memoir of a lady who started out as an NFL cheerleader and went on to become a National Geographic explorer and naturalist with a focus on primates. She wears pink lip gloss into the jungle and has several times barely escaped with her life (not because of the lip gloss). I'm finding it fascinating to see how she started in an immigrant family as a tomboy hoarding bugs to a school reporter to a ballerina to an actress to becoming a combination of several of these things as the host of a Nat Geo show. It's so encouraging to me to read about someone who has had a myriad of interests, pursued each of them to their fullest, and made good on all of them, becoming something she never dreamed of.
Her story reminds me of a talk I took notes on a few years ago, one of the few I frequently look back on. The guy was speaking about faith. He said that often the beginning of faith is plain curiosity leading to expectancy and finally, to wonder. He used the story of the beggar at the gate Beautiful in the book of Acts. When Peter and John and the beggar were all there, they all used what they had and had faith, believing God in the moment. Peter and John knew their authority, and the beggar knew he had nothing to lose. Bam! Peter pulled him up and he began to walk. The beggar tried to praise them, but Peter and John immediately deflected the praise and gave the glory to God. The man summed up his thoughts on faith with this question: What if your life just happens to be a setup for something far beyond your imagination?
What if...What IF? What if these scriptures are really true?: that "all things Do work together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28); that He CAN do "exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask, think, or even imagine, according to His power that is at work within us" (Ephesians 3:20). What if??!!
Then I've been set up from the get go before I even knew God. Then all the seemingly random, disconnected things that I've wholeheartedly pursued in my life thus far will come together for His mighty purpose. Then I'm about to birth a baby that doesn't look anything like what I thought it would. But I know who its Father is...
Her story reminds me of a talk I took notes on a few years ago, one of the few I frequently look back on. The guy was speaking about faith. He said that often the beginning of faith is plain curiosity leading to expectancy and finally, to wonder. He used the story of the beggar at the gate Beautiful in the book of Acts. When Peter and John and the beggar were all there, they all used what they had and had faith, believing God in the moment. Peter and John knew their authority, and the beggar knew he had nothing to lose. Bam! Peter pulled him up and he began to walk. The beggar tried to praise them, but Peter and John immediately deflected the praise and gave the glory to God. The man summed up his thoughts on faith with this question: What if your life just happens to be a setup for something far beyond your imagination?
What if...What IF? What if these scriptures are really true?: that "all things Do work together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28); that He CAN do "exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask, think, or even imagine, according to His power that is at work within us" (Ephesians 3:20). What if??!!
Then I've been set up from the get go before I even knew God. Then all the seemingly random, disconnected things that I've wholeheartedly pursued in my life thus far will come together for His mighty purpose. Then I'm about to birth a baby that doesn't look anything like what I thought it would. But I know who its Father is...
Friday, July 1, 2011
Why We Wait
...because toast takes time to brown. There's nothing better than the smell of hot bread.
...because if you pull the plants up early all you'll get are roots.
...because it builds anticipation.
...because we are mortal creatures living in a world of time.
...because if you let the pipes warm up you'll get hot water.
...because you can only shoot so far.
...because it takes 9 months for a baby.
...because we have day and night.
...because it gives us a moment to breathe.
...because it builds a tender, aching patience.
...because we love while waiting for our call to be returned.
...because waiting increases the opportunity for hope.
...because we have something to wait FOR!
...because of the butterfly effect.
...because God is good.
...because we must.
...because.
...because if you pull the plants up early all you'll get are roots.
...because it builds anticipation.
...because we are mortal creatures living in a world of time.
...because if you let the pipes warm up you'll get hot water.
...because you can only shoot so far.
...because it takes 9 months for a baby.
...because we have day and night.
...because it gives us a moment to breathe.
...because it builds a tender, aching patience.
...because we love while waiting for our call to be returned.
...because waiting increases the opportunity for hope.
...because we have something to wait FOR!
...because of the butterfly effect.
...because God is good.
...because we must.
...because.
Monday, June 20, 2011
"There Might Be Cake"
I confess, there's nothing I like better to eat than a piece of dense, beautifully-made, moist cake. I will go to restaurants and stores just to buy a piece of cake. Occasionally a whole small cake, but I'm trying to be good. I tend to relate very much to a sketch by Jerry Seinfeld. He said nothing could induce him to go to boring meetings, awkward get-togethers, and distant cousins' housewarmings like the phrase "there might be cake." That changed everything.
Here's the crux of it--however small, it's all about having something to look forward to. I'm always looking forward to the next thing, whether it's meeting up with a friend, worshipping, or the ultimate hope of heaven. I am goal-oriented, and it helps me do what I'm supposed to if there's a reward on the other end, even if it's cake. I suspect it might be this way for a lot of people. At school, it's earning a degree that sends you crawling toward the light at the end of the tunnel. In childbirth, it's knowing there's going to be a baby at the end of all the pain that makes the whole ordeal worthwhile. In work, it's earning a paycheck or a great promotion that keeps most of us motivated and encouraged.
It's not not just a human thing, though. On His way to the cross, Jesus, "for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, and scorning its shame... sat down at the right hand of the throne of God" (Hebrews 12:2). Apparently even Jesus needed a reward. You know what I think His motivation might have been? He'd already been in heaven being with the Father in the beginning, and certainly had that reward to look forward to. But I think His real joy was us--knowing that we'd come to know God through Him and become part of His family. Because of that, he could endure the present suffering and scorn from the ones that betrayed and crucified Him knowing how big His family would become in the ages to come.
If there is nothing else to be excited for, I often get excited thinking about heaven. I look forward to eternity in perfect bliss and everything as it should be. Back in the days of slavery here in the U.S., the hope of heaven was one of the number one themes for negro spirituals. With little on this earth to cling to, they looked to their eternal freedom and reward. Meanwhile, here on earth, some days heaven seems a long way off. That's where I've learned the past few years that God is my "exceeding great reward" (Genesis 15:1). Every day, the number one thing I have to look forward to is my relationship with my Father God. Even if all else fails, He is still there, urging me by His Spirit to spend time with Him. God, my Great Reward.
That brings me to today. Right now I am temping for an awesome company called Whole Foods as receptionist in their global headquarters. I don't know if I'll be here permanently or just on a temporary basis. I'm still studying for my English as a Second Language certification, which is going great. At some point in the future I want to go overseas to teach, possibly to Istanbul. At this point, every day is more like a box of chocolates than a piece of cake (you never know what you're gonna get)! But one thing I do know--I will always gain a reward, because my Father is always with me.
Here's the crux of it--however small, it's all about having something to look forward to. I'm always looking forward to the next thing, whether it's meeting up with a friend, worshipping, or the ultimate hope of heaven. I am goal-oriented, and it helps me do what I'm supposed to if there's a reward on the other end, even if it's cake. I suspect it might be this way for a lot of people. At school, it's earning a degree that sends you crawling toward the light at the end of the tunnel. In childbirth, it's knowing there's going to be a baby at the end of all the pain that makes the whole ordeal worthwhile. In work, it's earning a paycheck or a great promotion that keeps most of us motivated and encouraged.
It's not not just a human thing, though. On His way to the cross, Jesus, "for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, and scorning its shame... sat down at the right hand of the throne of God" (Hebrews 12:2). Apparently even Jesus needed a reward. You know what I think His motivation might have been? He'd already been in heaven being with the Father in the beginning, and certainly had that reward to look forward to. But I think His real joy was us--knowing that we'd come to know God through Him and become part of His family. Because of that, he could endure the present suffering and scorn from the ones that betrayed and crucified Him knowing how big His family would become in the ages to come.
If there is nothing else to be excited for, I often get excited thinking about heaven. I look forward to eternity in perfect bliss and everything as it should be. Back in the days of slavery here in the U.S., the hope of heaven was one of the number one themes for negro spirituals. With little on this earth to cling to, they looked to their eternal freedom and reward. Meanwhile, here on earth, some days heaven seems a long way off. That's where I've learned the past few years that God is my "exceeding great reward" (Genesis 15:1). Every day, the number one thing I have to look forward to is my relationship with my Father God. Even if all else fails, He is still there, urging me by His Spirit to spend time with Him. God, my Great Reward.
That brings me to today. Right now I am temping for an awesome company called Whole Foods as receptionist in their global headquarters. I don't know if I'll be here permanently or just on a temporary basis. I'm still studying for my English as a Second Language certification, which is going great. At some point in the future I want to go overseas to teach, possibly to Istanbul. At this point, every day is more like a box of chocolates than a piece of cake (you never know what you're gonna get)! But one thing I do know--I will always gain a reward, because my Father is always with me.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
For Beauty's Sake
I am always on the lookout for true beauty. It usually catches me by surprise at the oddest moments, prompting me to say, "that's the most beautiful thing I've seen all day". Today, in my white and green neighborhood, stood a large multicolored glazed flowerpot done in an ethnic style. It was all by itself, and evoked another brighter culture than this one. It did not even need a plant to do it justice. It just was. Later, as I was driving down a very ugly stretch on South Congress, there was a couple walking. The lady had on a long, strawberry flared skirt, a sleeveless purple shirt tucked into it, a large, wide-brimmed straw hat, and massive Jackie O glasses on. The man with her was not dressed extraordinarily, just had jeans and a plaid shirt on. What struck me was the way they were conversing with each other so animatedly and grinning. Though every bit of the woman's bright clothing was completely out of style (except the retro glasses) and the man wore nothing special, it was their vibrant connectedness that got me and their fearlessness to be happy in front of everyone. Because of this I could not only forgive the outdated styles, but rejoice in them for their color and reflection of the couple themselves. Truly beautiful.
Beauty isn't just in sight alone, though. I am right now enjoying the enveloping beauty of a very uniquely-scented candle my sister-in-law bought me. Its scent is "cilantro mint", a combination I'd never sniffed in my life. As one person said who smelled it, "you could get drunk off of that". It's true. This heady, permeating scent and the steady burning flame have been keeping me company all evening. Such warmth in beauty.
As for daily beauty, I am forever being reminded of it within my own apartment. My two ceiling lights refract the light with patterns like a diamond caught in sun. When everything is just so and I can sit and gaze at the bright and tawny colors against my cream walls, I feel as though I inhabit the inside of a Tiffany egg. There is such an urge inside to become one with the beauty I see, to truly inhabit it. Living inside my home's beauty is a close earthly equivalent.
Whenever I am caught by beauty I am reminded that what I am seeing is indeed a glimpse of what heaven is going to be like. When I am there I won't just see glimpses and windows--I'll live in it always, for God is there, surrounded by rainbows and inextinguishable light. When I gaze around, every bit will be beauty, and even when I close my eyes the wholesome light of heaven will permeate my lids.
Here on earth I still believe beauty changes things. "I want to add to the beauty", as Sara Groves sings, and through my life give the world a glimpse of the beauty and glory of God. Lord, give me an unafraid heart to express and create beauty in all its myriad ways for Your name's sake. Amen.
Beauty isn't just in sight alone, though. I am right now enjoying the enveloping beauty of a very uniquely-scented candle my sister-in-law bought me. Its scent is "cilantro mint", a combination I'd never sniffed in my life. As one person said who smelled it, "you could get drunk off of that". It's true. This heady, permeating scent and the steady burning flame have been keeping me company all evening. Such warmth in beauty.
As for daily beauty, I am forever being reminded of it within my own apartment. My two ceiling lights refract the light with patterns like a diamond caught in sun. When everything is just so and I can sit and gaze at the bright and tawny colors against my cream walls, I feel as though I inhabit the inside of a Tiffany egg. There is such an urge inside to become one with the beauty I see, to truly inhabit it. Living inside my home's beauty is a close earthly equivalent.
Whenever I am caught by beauty I am reminded that what I am seeing is indeed a glimpse of what heaven is going to be like. When I am there I won't just see glimpses and windows--I'll live in it always, for God is there, surrounded by rainbows and inextinguishable light. When I gaze around, every bit will be beauty, and even when I close my eyes the wholesome light of heaven will permeate my lids.
Here on earth I still believe beauty changes things. "I want to add to the beauty", as Sara Groves sings, and through my life give the world a glimpse of the beauty and glory of God. Lord, give me an unafraid heart to express and create beauty in all its myriad ways for Your name's sake. Amen.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Faith Started Walking...
Yes, that's my blog title. Basically from scripture. I've been doing a study on faith this week, and part of it has me looking at Hebrews 11, otherwise known as the "faith chapter". I've been praying for direction more and more, and this scripture went 3D on me--It's about Abraham, who was told to leave his country and go to the land God would show him. It says, "By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to the place which he would receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going." 11:8 Not knowing where he was going!
It is encouraging to me that one of the biggest patriarchs of the faith just loaded up his donkey and took off walking with his family across the desert trusting God for direction. In the past week I've looked at five different countries to possibly teach in, including Morocco, Hungary, Czech Republic, Turkey, and Croatia. I you-tube studied them, watching travel show clips to get a feel for the land and the people to help me narrow it down. On one end, Morocco was crowded and stinky and a little scary, and on the other the only thing to do in Dubrovnik, Croatia was to walk the city wall...again and again. Feeling I would go stir crazy at either end of the spectrum, I looked at the other three. Budapest, Hungary, although cool, looked and felt too big. Although I have immediate family in Istanbul, Turkey, I've pretty well concluded that an Arabic culture is just not me.
So that leaves Prague, Czech Republic. It's the oldest European city with all its medieval architecture still standing, as it wasn't bombed in any of the wars. It's also pretty modern, with a capitalist economy no longer under communism, which means they are now free to consume Starbucks with impunity. It's a compact city that has a free metro system and reportedly the best beer in the world. It's also got a huge classical music scene as well as other types of music. Oh, and there is hiking nearby. Other than that, I know nothing about Prague except that it's purportedly cool and beautiful.
So I'm starting to walk. I was connected to a contact in Prague over the weekend, from whom I've asked for info as they are connected to the teaching scene. I don't know what, if anything, will come of it, but at least for now I'm narrowed down to a city and country.
On the home front, I'm still temping. I've spent the past two weeks recovering via physical therapy and medicine from a back sprain I incurred my last day at my last temp job. Praise God for workman's comp. I need something this week in order to support myself past the first week in June. Oddly enough, this time around, I don't feel desperate or panicked. God is good. I know it's going to be ok. He's provided for me every time, and will provide for me again. True, you've caught me on a good day when my faith feels strong, but hey--I'm going to trust that I'm movin' on up in the faith.
Right now I'm "warmed and fed" from the love of my family this weekend. My little nephew is so talkative and cute and gets so excited to see me he squeals, "Hi, Auntie Jessica!" every time there's been an absence of more than ten minutes. We had fun this morning--He was watching me put on makeup and started emptying the contents of my makeup bag one by one. He grabbed my concealer, which had the cap off, and just as I was stuttering, "No-no-no-no-noo!", he made a big squirt and got it all over himself, his shirt, a toothpaste bottle, and the counter. Oh well, what are you gonna do? I also went shopping with my mom and sister-in-law, saw all the Texas relatives, and generally had a good, loving time.
Unlike Abraham, I don't feel like I'm being told to go anywhere. I feel more like I'm being asked where I want to be. So, it's a little hard for me to classify my research and getting ESL certified as obedience, but maybe just walking is the obedience I need. I'm going to step and see what's up the next switchback, however many turns it takes me.
It is encouraging to me that one of the biggest patriarchs of the faith just loaded up his donkey and took off walking with his family across the desert trusting God for direction. In the past week I've looked at five different countries to possibly teach in, including Morocco, Hungary, Czech Republic, Turkey, and Croatia. I you-tube studied them, watching travel show clips to get a feel for the land and the people to help me narrow it down. On one end, Morocco was crowded and stinky and a little scary, and on the other the only thing to do in Dubrovnik, Croatia was to walk the city wall...again and again. Feeling I would go stir crazy at either end of the spectrum, I looked at the other three. Budapest, Hungary, although cool, looked and felt too big. Although I have immediate family in Istanbul, Turkey, I've pretty well concluded that an Arabic culture is just not me.
So that leaves Prague, Czech Republic. It's the oldest European city with all its medieval architecture still standing, as it wasn't bombed in any of the wars. It's also pretty modern, with a capitalist economy no longer under communism, which means they are now free to consume Starbucks with impunity. It's a compact city that has a free metro system and reportedly the best beer in the world. It's also got a huge classical music scene as well as other types of music. Oh, and there is hiking nearby. Other than that, I know nothing about Prague except that it's purportedly cool and beautiful.
So I'm starting to walk. I was connected to a contact in Prague over the weekend, from whom I've asked for info as they are connected to the teaching scene. I don't know what, if anything, will come of it, but at least for now I'm narrowed down to a city and country.
On the home front, I'm still temping. I've spent the past two weeks recovering via physical therapy and medicine from a back sprain I incurred my last day at my last temp job. Praise God for workman's comp. I need something this week in order to support myself past the first week in June. Oddly enough, this time around, I don't feel desperate or panicked. God is good. I know it's going to be ok. He's provided for me every time, and will provide for me again. True, you've caught me on a good day when my faith feels strong, but hey--I'm going to trust that I'm movin' on up in the faith.
Right now I'm "warmed and fed" from the love of my family this weekend. My little nephew is so talkative and cute and gets so excited to see me he squeals, "Hi, Auntie Jessica!" every time there's been an absence of more than ten minutes. We had fun this morning--He was watching me put on makeup and started emptying the contents of my makeup bag one by one. He grabbed my concealer, which had the cap off, and just as I was stuttering, "No-no-no-no-noo!", he made a big squirt and got it all over himself, his shirt, a toothpaste bottle, and the counter. Oh well, what are you gonna do? I also went shopping with my mom and sister-in-law, saw all the Texas relatives, and generally had a good, loving time.
Unlike Abraham, I don't feel like I'm being told to go anywhere. I feel more like I'm being asked where I want to be. So, it's a little hard for me to classify my research and getting ESL certified as obedience, but maybe just walking is the obedience I need. I'm going to step and see what's up the next switchback, however many turns it takes me.
Friday, May 13, 2011
"Why Do You Seek the Living Among the Dead?"
"...He is not here; He is risen."
The angels spoke these words to Mary and the other women at Jesus' empty tomb. A late Easter message, but this verse is ringing through my head right now as I contemplate my work and purpose.
Let me start by saying, this is a tough job market right now, and I in no way want to suggest any job you, I, or our neighbors are doing is on the whole meaningless or empty. We all have families, loans and responsibilities that keep us at work, even if our job is less than ideal. I, for now, am thankful for my current temp job and its keeping me in Austin, a town I love like a new found friend, that much longer.
A month-and-a-half out from ending my previous job, I've had ample time to think, process, and search. I've held a lot of jobs in my past work lives, usually in fields or industries I enjoy frequenting, some with better success than others. After gaining two degrees, I've come to the place where I again ask, "Now what?" So I've explored overseas philanthropic companies, publishing, writing and editing positions, civil service jobs, and even a stint with the IRS! I've put my profile into nearly every reputable job database possible, with sometimes good results, but often with duds ranging from "Mall Cop" to "Funeral Director". And so it goes...
Being a goal-oriented person, my smorgasbord searches have been demoralizing, to say the least. I've ranged to the outer radius of my skills and abilities and skirted the edge of anything I'd consider meaningful work.
While searching, my epiphanies have come sporadically and been more like gradual dawnings than Oprah "Aha Moments". I attended a free voice lesson/life assessment session back in late March. In it, I became completely honest about what it is I really want to do. All bets and training aside, I want to travel the world and experience other cultures. It's not so much that I want to be a "this" or a "that", but rather know now the kinds of things I want to be able to do in my lifetime. In my free lesson, then and there, I took the courageous step of moving beyond the probable to the possible.
I knew I could continue working retail or become an efficient receptionist and die a slow, withering death, my world ending "with a whimper". What I really want to do is to create a fair-trade fashion line that incorporates indigenous design into couture gowns marketed in the western world. But how to get there? I know the answer is not to go back to school a third time, this time for clothing design. I do not want to become one of those perpetual adult students "always learning, but never coming to a knowledge of the truth". I also cannot begin to find living, breathing life's work searching endlessly through U.S. jobs in the hopes of finding a purpose among the grave clothes of past jobs. As the angels said, that tomb is empty. I cannot seek the living among the dead. I've realized the time for action is Now, with the skills I have.
To this end I've been reading a book called "Smart Women Take Risks". It advises analyzing your options from a "best bet" approach. As my mother has reminded me, I'm to look for the tool already in my hand and run with it (without poking an eye out)! Putting together my love of travel and adventure with the marketable skills I have, I've decided to do what I never thought I wanted before--to teach English as a second language overseas.
Even in this decision my head and heart have been at war. I initially bypassed going to a country I was excited about exploring or at least interested in and became focused on living inexpensively in the Orient and paying down my loans. Although trying on the grave clothes of expediency and pragmatism, I insisted there was no stench, even as I began to get the familiar feeling of a twisted groan from deep within my abdomen telling me that something was amiss. On the way home from work last week, the light began to dawn on me--I'd been in this place before! On deciding where to live after graduating with my last degree in music, I opted for Nashville as the practical, established locale for making music. My heart, however, was in Austin. At the end of one miserable summer in Nashville, I moved to Austin, where I wanted to be. Remembering this previous experience, I decided not to repeat my history, this time on a global scale. I finally admitted to the Lord and to myself that I did not want to go to the East.
While my gut was relieved, self-doubt began creeping in like gangrene--What if I wasn't to do this venture at all? Before losing one toe to the grave, I prayed and sought some more and decided that teaching ESL (English as a Second Language) was still right--I simply needed to pick another country--any country.
So once again the world is my pearl (forget the slimy oyster). I'll take the first practical steps and find a good recruiting agency, get ESL certified, and look...
Even now as I am tempted to abandon my decisions in favor of "the temple of my familiar", I remember what Jesus did. In leaving heaven and coming to earth as a newborn baby He did the riskiest thing of all. He entrusted Himself to a hostile world and willingly went to His death on a cross so that we could live because of His sacrifice. The boldest move, the most calculated risk of all--He did not hesitate. If Jesus could risk everything and come out alive and glorified, then I need not fear or second-guess. If I am in His hand, then, succeed or fail, I will rise with Him.
The angels spoke these words to Mary and the other women at Jesus' empty tomb. A late Easter message, but this verse is ringing through my head right now as I contemplate my work and purpose.
Let me start by saying, this is a tough job market right now, and I in no way want to suggest any job you, I, or our neighbors are doing is on the whole meaningless or empty. We all have families, loans and responsibilities that keep us at work, even if our job is less than ideal. I, for now, am thankful for my current temp job and its keeping me in Austin, a town I love like a new found friend, that much longer.
A month-and-a-half out from ending my previous job, I've had ample time to think, process, and search. I've held a lot of jobs in my past work lives, usually in fields or industries I enjoy frequenting, some with better success than others. After gaining two degrees, I've come to the place where I again ask, "Now what?" So I've explored overseas philanthropic companies, publishing, writing and editing positions, civil service jobs, and even a stint with the IRS! I've put my profile into nearly every reputable job database possible, with sometimes good results, but often with duds ranging from "Mall Cop" to "Funeral Director". And so it goes...
Being a goal-oriented person, my smorgasbord searches have been demoralizing, to say the least. I've ranged to the outer radius of my skills and abilities and skirted the edge of anything I'd consider meaningful work.
While searching, my epiphanies have come sporadically and been more like gradual dawnings than Oprah "Aha Moments". I attended a free voice lesson/life assessment session back in late March. In it, I became completely honest about what it is I really want to do. All bets and training aside, I want to travel the world and experience other cultures. It's not so much that I want to be a "this" or a "that", but rather know now the kinds of things I want to be able to do in my lifetime. In my free lesson, then and there, I took the courageous step of moving beyond the probable to the possible.
I knew I could continue working retail or become an efficient receptionist and die a slow, withering death, my world ending "with a whimper". What I really want to do is to create a fair-trade fashion line that incorporates indigenous design into couture gowns marketed in the western world. But how to get there? I know the answer is not to go back to school a third time, this time for clothing design. I do not want to become one of those perpetual adult students "always learning, but never coming to a knowledge of the truth". I also cannot begin to find living, breathing life's work searching endlessly through U.S. jobs in the hopes of finding a purpose among the grave clothes of past jobs. As the angels said, that tomb is empty. I cannot seek the living among the dead. I've realized the time for action is Now, with the skills I have.
To this end I've been reading a book called "Smart Women Take Risks". It advises analyzing your options from a "best bet" approach. As my mother has reminded me, I'm to look for the tool already in my hand and run with it (without poking an eye out)! Putting together my love of travel and adventure with the marketable skills I have, I've decided to do what I never thought I wanted before--to teach English as a second language overseas.
Even in this decision my head and heart have been at war. I initially bypassed going to a country I was excited about exploring or at least interested in and became focused on living inexpensively in the Orient and paying down my loans. Although trying on the grave clothes of expediency and pragmatism, I insisted there was no stench, even as I began to get the familiar feeling of a twisted groan from deep within my abdomen telling me that something was amiss. On the way home from work last week, the light began to dawn on me--I'd been in this place before! On deciding where to live after graduating with my last degree in music, I opted for Nashville as the practical, established locale for making music. My heart, however, was in Austin. At the end of one miserable summer in Nashville, I moved to Austin, where I wanted to be. Remembering this previous experience, I decided not to repeat my history, this time on a global scale. I finally admitted to the Lord and to myself that I did not want to go to the East.
While my gut was relieved, self-doubt began creeping in like gangrene--What if I wasn't to do this venture at all? Before losing one toe to the grave, I prayed and sought some more and decided that teaching ESL (English as a Second Language) was still right--I simply needed to pick another country--any country.
So once again the world is my pearl (forget the slimy oyster). I'll take the first practical steps and find a good recruiting agency, get ESL certified, and look...
Even now as I am tempted to abandon my decisions in favor of "the temple of my familiar", I remember what Jesus did. In leaving heaven and coming to earth as a newborn baby He did the riskiest thing of all. He entrusted Himself to a hostile world and willingly went to His death on a cross so that we could live because of His sacrifice. The boldest move, the most calculated risk of all--He did not hesitate. If Jesus could risk everything and come out alive and glorified, then I need not fear or second-guess. If I am in His hand, then, succeed or fail, I will rise with Him.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Through "What If" to "Why Not?"
I've been in a quandary for quite some time--the past few days especially. I have a choice ahead of me to take a lengthy leap that I've already decided to do but have been questioning. The reason I question it is because I'm not sure if it's what I really want, or if it's some half-cocked idea I've cooked up in my off time. Basically, a lot of self-doubt.
As a Christian, we're told to "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths." I believe this, but the thing is, I'm not hearing any ringing bells from the Lord as to what to do next. He's flat-out asked me what I want. Whaah?? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? And what if what I want isn't the right thing? I've been known to be dead wrong before on things that really mattered.
Aside from all this, there's another side of me that says of this Leap, "Why not? Take a chance. Who cares if it's the perfect thing as long as you're moving forward. It's a calculated risk, and one you're willing to take." Sound words, and this part of me wants to throw away all the mental confusion and just do it. Nike's slogan is applicable in so many cases.
So, here are my thoughts as I breathe through this decision tonight:
I went for a walk tonight, and saw so many things--
A cat: Cats don't plan everything hours, days, or even years ahead. A coil, a spring, a pounce on prey-- all the planning a cat needs. And they are usually well-equipped to handle whatever life hands them, whether it's Fancy Feast or Alley Surprise. They are naturally curious and follow wherever their curiosity draws them. Sometimes this means they have to bolt away from mean kiddies or scary noises, but sometimes it means they get a tasty tidbit or the perfect spot in the sun. I've watched a cat climb trees and I tell you, it's all ad lib. One leg stretches, the head bobs, a hind leg strains, and claw-and-nail they make it up that tree. I've also seen them make their way back down with the effortless grace of a Cirque-de-Soleil trapeze artist. If cats have nine lives, it's because they've really lived them.
As I walked I caught a glimpse through an open window of a t.v. airing Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding. There he stood in his predictable uniform, and there she waited in perfunctory white. And I thought, "I am disinclined to watch this right now. I do not want to watch yet another couple do the I-do's in the ordinary way, whether the whole world is watching or not. I would rather take my walk with the wind."
Walking back, I had to cross a median that had a red line for the fire department and a white space for the rest of us. I could have gone around it, but I had to step on the red line--and cross it. It was so red and juicy and tempting and there. Would it have made a difference if I hadn't? Maybe not, but it would have made a difference to me.
In my thoughts to the future, I'm remembering those old "choose-your-own-adventure" books I read as a kid. You could make a different move every few pages and thrust your character forward to further adventures or sentence them to death at the hands of Doom. The thing is, if your character died a couple of times by your choices, you could simply start the story over and avoid that page the next time. To get the most enjoyment from the book you had to keep reading, rereading and turning pages. You couldn't stop at one story or you'd shortchange yourself.
I guess all of these things lead me to the leap. It's not the leap I originally intended or even ultimately where I want to be, but if I don't turn the page I'll never know what happens next...
In closing, I want to lay down the poem my mother has put as the tag line at the end of her emails:
I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.
— Dawna Markova
I pray I have the courage to follow this creed.
As a Christian, we're told to "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths." I believe this, but the thing is, I'm not hearing any ringing bells from the Lord as to what to do next. He's flat-out asked me what I want. Whaah?? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? And what if what I want isn't the right thing? I've been known to be dead wrong before on things that really mattered.
Aside from all this, there's another side of me that says of this Leap, "Why not? Take a chance. Who cares if it's the perfect thing as long as you're moving forward. It's a calculated risk, and one you're willing to take." Sound words, and this part of me wants to throw away all the mental confusion and just do it. Nike's slogan is applicable in so many cases.
So, here are my thoughts as I breathe through this decision tonight:
I went for a walk tonight, and saw so many things--
A cat: Cats don't plan everything hours, days, or even years ahead. A coil, a spring, a pounce on prey-- all the planning a cat needs. And they are usually well-equipped to handle whatever life hands them, whether it's Fancy Feast or Alley Surprise. They are naturally curious and follow wherever their curiosity draws them. Sometimes this means they have to bolt away from mean kiddies or scary noises, but sometimes it means they get a tasty tidbit or the perfect spot in the sun. I've watched a cat climb trees and I tell you, it's all ad lib. One leg stretches, the head bobs, a hind leg strains, and claw-and-nail they make it up that tree. I've also seen them make their way back down with the effortless grace of a Cirque-de-Soleil trapeze artist. If cats have nine lives, it's because they've really lived them.
As I walked I caught a glimpse through an open window of a t.v. airing Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding. There he stood in his predictable uniform, and there she waited in perfunctory white. And I thought, "I am disinclined to watch this right now. I do not want to watch yet another couple do the I-do's in the ordinary way, whether the whole world is watching or not. I would rather take my walk with the wind."
Walking back, I had to cross a median that had a red line for the fire department and a white space for the rest of us. I could have gone around it, but I had to step on the red line--and cross it. It was so red and juicy and tempting and there. Would it have made a difference if I hadn't? Maybe not, but it would have made a difference to me.
In my thoughts to the future, I'm remembering those old "choose-your-own-adventure" books I read as a kid. You could make a different move every few pages and thrust your character forward to further adventures or sentence them to death at the hands of Doom. The thing is, if your character died a couple of times by your choices, you could simply start the story over and avoid that page the next time. To get the most enjoyment from the book you had to keep reading, rereading and turning pages. You couldn't stop at one story or you'd shortchange yourself.
I guess all of these things lead me to the leap. It's not the leap I originally intended or even ultimately where I want to be, but if I don't turn the page I'll never know what happens next...
In closing, I want to lay down the poem my mother has put as the tag line at the end of her emails:
I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.
— Dawna Markova
I pray I have the courage to follow this creed.
Monday, April 18, 2011
"Such Stuff as Dreams are Made Of"
I am a dreamer. Both literally and figuratively. I dream full epic movies in color with all five senses involved. Really-- Every night is a new adventure.
I dreamed the sensation of skydiving and looking down at the little patchworks of farmland, and when I did the real jump, it wasn't that far off. Same sensation of floating, same surreal feeling of peace.
Not all dreams are so idyllic. Two nights ago I dreamed I got in with some hooligans, one of whom stole the removable light off a cop car and stuck it on his so that, in his words, we could do whatever we wanted without having to answer for it. Funny thing, the real cops came back and things got ugly as they and the guy got into a WWF-style fight with crowbars, poles, and broken glass! Somehow, I ended up being the one who got arrested, and was sentenced to a month in the slammer! I was taken to police headquarters and told to report to "Mario", my detention officer. Thing is, I couldn't find him, and, being the responsible person I am, kept wandering the halls looking for nametags that read "Mario". Finally some guy told me he was upstairs and said to take the cargo elevator. As I stepped into the cavernous metal box that started moving upward, the realization of what I was about to go through hit me, and I started crying and calling out for Jesus--and my alarm went off! Saved by the bell--literally! He always hears my prayers.
Some dreams I want to never end, like the one when I and my partner-in-crime were screaming along the desert on camelback to save a foreign maiden from scimitar-wielding invaders from the east. The colors were so intense and bright, and everything was sepia under the sun and glaze. I still recall the feeling of doing something heroic and being a part of something grand and sweeping, like Lawrence of Arabia, except less boring.
Jim Carrey apparently dreamed he would be famous and then went about the business of doing it. He actually wrote himself a personal check for $10 million for "acting services rendered" and kept it with him wherever he went as a motivator. Now he makes twice that for his services.
My dream is not about money. Sure, it would be nice to be rich. I'm not denying that. My dream is to bring beauty into the lives of people in desperation. This world is so often all about survival, whether you're in a mud hut trying not to die from a mosquito bite or climbing the corporate ladder and trying not to kill your soul. I want people to know there's more of life to be rendered than that. I want them to know the beauty of a song or a colorful garment or a dragonfly's wing or a perfect day, and in so doing let it lift their eyes to the beauty of a peerless God.
So often my night dreams are ever so much more intense than my days, and sometimes, shouldn't it be the other way around? I want to wake up ready for the adventure of living instead of looking forward to the surrender of slumber to quaff my adventure quota. I want to live as fearless and as dependent on God as in my best dreams and worst nightmares.
God, Show me how to live! This is my prayer, in Jesus' Name.
I dreamed the sensation of skydiving and looking down at the little patchworks of farmland, and when I did the real jump, it wasn't that far off. Same sensation of floating, same surreal feeling of peace.
Not all dreams are so idyllic. Two nights ago I dreamed I got in with some hooligans, one of whom stole the removable light off a cop car and stuck it on his so that, in his words, we could do whatever we wanted without having to answer for it. Funny thing, the real cops came back and things got ugly as they and the guy got into a WWF-style fight with crowbars, poles, and broken glass! Somehow, I ended up being the one who got arrested, and was sentenced to a month in the slammer! I was taken to police headquarters and told to report to "Mario", my detention officer. Thing is, I couldn't find him, and, being the responsible person I am, kept wandering the halls looking for nametags that read "Mario". Finally some guy told me he was upstairs and said to take the cargo elevator. As I stepped into the cavernous metal box that started moving upward, the realization of what I was about to go through hit me, and I started crying and calling out for Jesus--and my alarm went off! Saved by the bell--literally! He always hears my prayers.
Some dreams I want to never end, like the one when I and my partner-in-crime were screaming along the desert on camelback to save a foreign maiden from scimitar-wielding invaders from the east. The colors were so intense and bright, and everything was sepia under the sun and glaze. I still recall the feeling of doing something heroic and being a part of something grand and sweeping, like Lawrence of Arabia, except less boring.
Jim Carrey apparently dreamed he would be famous and then went about the business of doing it. He actually wrote himself a personal check for $10 million for "acting services rendered" and kept it with him wherever he went as a motivator. Now he makes twice that for his services.
My dream is not about money. Sure, it would be nice to be rich. I'm not denying that. My dream is to bring beauty into the lives of people in desperation. This world is so often all about survival, whether you're in a mud hut trying not to die from a mosquito bite or climbing the corporate ladder and trying not to kill your soul. I want people to know there's more of life to be rendered than that. I want them to know the beauty of a song or a colorful garment or a dragonfly's wing or a perfect day, and in so doing let it lift their eyes to the beauty of a peerless God.
So often my night dreams are ever so much more intense than my days, and sometimes, shouldn't it be the other way around? I want to wake up ready for the adventure of living instead of looking forward to the surrender of slumber to quaff my adventure quota. I want to live as fearless and as dependent on God as in my best dreams and worst nightmares.
God, Show me how to live! This is my prayer, in Jesus' Name.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
The Zen of Keys and Other Things
I have a wonderful little Honda Civic--
It's been through three bumpers, one large accident, and a freshly-tarred Alaska-Canadian highway. I got it brand new, my first new car. It's silver-gray, affectionately named "Kitten" because of the soft purr of its engine and its tendency to stalk people for parking spaces unawares. It's not that old, really. A 2003, it's only got 75,000 miles on it because for one summer it sat in a garage in the middle of Illinois cornfields and for three years I drove it within the tiny 4+ mile radius of Greenville, my college town.
As faithful as it is, it does have its quirks. I used an auto-start on it for years and got so used to it that I never used the manual locks. When my auto-start key fob broke, I decided not to replace it and went old-school with the doors again. Problem is, like the brain, if you don't use it you lose it. The lock on my driver's door is now half-shot from lack of use or corrosion, one of the two. My brother, Kitten's designated mechanic, took apart the door and the entire locking assembly to get to the heart of the matter. Apparently nothing showed amiss there, and I now know that my brother can take apart car doors and wiring and put it back together again.
So my driver's door lock works sporatically or sometimes, not at all. I've experienced the rare embarrassment of having to climb in from the passenger's side over my purse and books and gearshift and awkwardly crash into the seat like a gangly teenager. Most times, however, Kitten's locks can be coaxed. As my brother explained it, I have to face the key a certain way, and carefully insert it through the squooshy gears until I feel it turn. Most of the time, however, I'm in a hurry and jam it in with frustration on my way to work or someplace. Of course, this does nothing, and the lock won't turn.
So I have learned a sort-of ritual or key mantra, if you will. It goes like this: Breathe in deeply and exhale with pleasure. Recite calmly, "I have all the time in the world", and smile. Gently ootze the key in through the gears, and turn. It never fails.
Life is something like Kitten, my secret-loving Honda. So often I see it as utilitarian, just something to get through in my impatience to get to the next big thing. I forget to notice how it's marked by occasional reminders of grace. Like the crack on Kitten's latest bumper from the semi tire I ran over in the dark at highway speed, I have to pause and remember all the hard things I've been held together through. Like my driver's door key, I must intentionally slow down or I'll find myself on the road to nowhere. Like that lock, I remind myself to just breathe, and the key will turn; Just surrender, and life will purr along at Kitten's pace to the perfect parking place where you feel right at home.
It's been through three bumpers, one large accident, and a freshly-tarred Alaska-Canadian highway. I got it brand new, my first new car. It's silver-gray, affectionately named "Kitten" because of the soft purr of its engine and its tendency to stalk people for parking spaces unawares. It's not that old, really. A 2003, it's only got 75,000 miles on it because for one summer it sat in a garage in the middle of Illinois cornfields and for three years I drove it within the tiny 4+ mile radius of Greenville, my college town.
As faithful as it is, it does have its quirks. I used an auto-start on it for years and got so used to it that I never used the manual locks. When my auto-start key fob broke, I decided not to replace it and went old-school with the doors again. Problem is, like the brain, if you don't use it you lose it. The lock on my driver's door is now half-shot from lack of use or corrosion, one of the two. My brother, Kitten's designated mechanic, took apart the door and the entire locking assembly to get to the heart of the matter. Apparently nothing showed amiss there, and I now know that my brother can take apart car doors and wiring and put it back together again.
So my driver's door lock works sporatically or sometimes, not at all. I've experienced the rare embarrassment of having to climb in from the passenger's side over my purse and books and gearshift and awkwardly crash into the seat like a gangly teenager. Most times, however, Kitten's locks can be coaxed. As my brother explained it, I have to face the key a certain way, and carefully insert it through the squooshy gears until I feel it turn. Most of the time, however, I'm in a hurry and jam it in with frustration on my way to work or someplace. Of course, this does nothing, and the lock won't turn.
So I have learned a sort-of ritual or key mantra, if you will. It goes like this: Breathe in deeply and exhale with pleasure. Recite calmly, "I have all the time in the world", and smile. Gently ootze the key in through the gears, and turn. It never fails.
Life is something like Kitten, my secret-loving Honda. So often I see it as utilitarian, just something to get through in my impatience to get to the next big thing. I forget to notice how it's marked by occasional reminders of grace. Like the crack on Kitten's latest bumper from the semi tire I ran over in the dark at highway speed, I have to pause and remember all the hard things I've been held together through. Like my driver's door key, I must intentionally slow down or I'll find myself on the road to nowhere. Like that lock, I remind myself to just breathe, and the key will turn; Just surrender, and life will purr along at Kitten's pace to the perfect parking place where you feel right at home.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Silence
is golden. And I am bathed in the golden light twixt afternoon and evening--that magical time right before dusk when you just want to hold onto what you had in the day but you know soon there'll be a beautiful sunset and you'll go out, not in a blaze of glory, but in muted flame that softens into dusk.
Two days ago was my last day at my job. Strange, it seems tomorrow I'll have to go in and do the same thing I've been doing since I got here, but I won't. I no longer have to hold onto that reality. God has given me grace upon grace to stay there and to somehow, finish well. Halleluiah. As it often goes, I left with no fanfare or tearful goodbyes and cookie cakes, just several hugs and well-wishes from friends and comrades I wish I could still see every day. They're the ones who made it special.
So here I am, in a status-sense back where I started when I got here, but in a spiritual and mental sense so much the better. God is doing a good work in me, little at a time. I feel as though I could catch my breath in fear and agitation wishing I could bring on the sunset's colors, but time will bring that cauldron and I'll be here, waiting...
for darkness. Because "God is in the darkness." That is what a tour guide once said of the darker parts of the Sienna Duomo before it became lighter and brighter up toward the skylight ceiling. God is in my future, dark and unseen by me, but known to Him as clearly as everything else. I do not have to strain to see, but simply take the hand that's offered me.
"In keeping pace or losing ground,
Lost has only to be found
Just as silence waits for sound...
Love can't be lost that's truly found."
--"Found", by Matthew Hall
And so I'll wait for You, as silence waits for sound.
Two days ago was my last day at my job. Strange, it seems tomorrow I'll have to go in and do the same thing I've been doing since I got here, but I won't. I no longer have to hold onto that reality. God has given me grace upon grace to stay there and to somehow, finish well. Halleluiah. As it often goes, I left with no fanfare or tearful goodbyes and cookie cakes, just several hugs and well-wishes from friends and comrades I wish I could still see every day. They're the ones who made it special.
So here I am, in a status-sense back where I started when I got here, but in a spiritual and mental sense so much the better. God is doing a good work in me, little at a time. I feel as though I could catch my breath in fear and agitation wishing I could bring on the sunset's colors, but time will bring that cauldron and I'll be here, waiting...
for darkness. Because "God is in the darkness." That is what a tour guide once said of the darker parts of the Sienna Duomo before it became lighter and brighter up toward the skylight ceiling. God is in my future, dark and unseen by me, but known to Him as clearly as everything else. I do not have to strain to see, but simply take the hand that's offered me.
"In keeping pace or losing ground,
Lost has only to be found
Just as silence waits for sound...
Love can't be lost that's truly found."
--"Found", by Matthew Hall
And so I'll wait for You, as silence waits for sound.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Loneliness is Half the Fun
Loneliness.
A sentence unto itself, all by itself. I think that most people, myself included, are afraid to talk about being lonely. We see it as a sign of weakness, that somehow we are deficient because we lack human companionship or deep connection for the present moment. I'm here to expound.
While it is true that common symptoms of loneliness are an ache and a sigh accompanied by longing and sleepless nights, there is an upside. I'm talking about all the things you get to be and do when you're lonely. First, there's embracing it--"Let's face it, self and God, I'm lonely. Yes, I am." It seems so much easier to acknowledge it than to pretend it isn't there.
Second, there's the ability not to wallow! I and thou do have a choice. Once it's sunk in, there it is. It's the same as saying "I have a toothache". You can focus on the pain, or take an Advil and enjoy the rest of your day.
I've had a lot of "Advil" days with loneliness. There's a quiet bliss in simple things done alone with yourself and God that are vastly underrated. First, there's talking to yourself and God, interchangeably. He knows when you're addressing self or Him, so you don't have to clarify. You can talk stream-of-consciousness without editing or thinking too much of what to say. You simply say your thoughts, and God doesn't think you're a crazy person.
There's also the ability to be spontaneous to an extent that requires no permission. Tonight I decided to root up the downtown public library and was captivated by the romantic old architecture of the surrounding buildings as I drove the streets finding parking. I took joy in exploration and everything, even the fairy-like bat that fluttered past a streetlight above my head.
And then there's the little, base things. You can stay in your pj's while making important business calls. And you can eat that whole pint of Ben and Jerry's yourself without sharing (hopefully not in one sitting). You may pass gas at any moment of day or night without offending.
There's also the ability to experiment. You can cook any exotic food combination you like and let your whole house smell like fish. This week I made an amazing meal of: Tilapia cooked in olive oil, dry mustard and coriander; Sweet potato home fries with dry mustard, ginger, salt and pepper; and Quinoa cooked in almond milk flavored with bay leaf and coriander. It could have royally flopped, but it tasted amazing! Everything was completely gourmet, if I do say so myself--and I do.
Beyond all this, there's the added benefit of plenty of peace, quiet and introspection. Just think--a mother of five would kill for this.
Yes, the grass is always greener on the other side. There are days when it doesn't pay to sit in the back of the church watching the heads of happy couples lean in toward each other while trying to pull myself back to the spiritual. Yet I would say with Paul, "I have learned the secret of being content, whether with little or with plenty, [whether alone or together]. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength". phil. 4: 11,13
A sentence unto itself, all by itself. I think that most people, myself included, are afraid to talk about being lonely. We see it as a sign of weakness, that somehow we are deficient because we lack human companionship or deep connection for the present moment. I'm here to expound.
While it is true that common symptoms of loneliness are an ache and a sigh accompanied by longing and sleepless nights, there is an upside. I'm talking about all the things you get to be and do when you're lonely. First, there's embracing it--"Let's face it, self and God, I'm lonely. Yes, I am." It seems so much easier to acknowledge it than to pretend it isn't there.
Second, there's the ability not to wallow! I and thou do have a choice. Once it's sunk in, there it is. It's the same as saying "I have a toothache". You can focus on the pain, or take an Advil and enjoy the rest of your day.
I've had a lot of "Advil" days with loneliness. There's a quiet bliss in simple things done alone with yourself and God that are vastly underrated. First, there's talking to yourself and God, interchangeably. He knows when you're addressing self or Him, so you don't have to clarify. You can talk stream-of-consciousness without editing or thinking too much of what to say. You simply say your thoughts, and God doesn't think you're a crazy person.
There's also the ability to be spontaneous to an extent that requires no permission. Tonight I decided to root up the downtown public library and was captivated by the romantic old architecture of the surrounding buildings as I drove the streets finding parking. I took joy in exploration and everything, even the fairy-like bat that fluttered past a streetlight above my head.
And then there's the little, base things. You can stay in your pj's while making important business calls. And you can eat that whole pint of Ben and Jerry's yourself without sharing (hopefully not in one sitting). You may pass gas at any moment of day or night without offending.
There's also the ability to experiment. You can cook any exotic food combination you like and let your whole house smell like fish. This week I made an amazing meal of: Tilapia cooked in olive oil, dry mustard and coriander; Sweet potato home fries with dry mustard, ginger, salt and pepper; and Quinoa cooked in almond milk flavored with bay leaf and coriander. It could have royally flopped, but it tasted amazing! Everything was completely gourmet, if I do say so myself--and I do.
Beyond all this, there's the added benefit of plenty of peace, quiet and introspection. Just think--a mother of five would kill for this.
Yes, the grass is always greener on the other side. There are days when it doesn't pay to sit in the back of the church watching the heads of happy couples lean in toward each other while trying to pull myself back to the spiritual. Yet I would say with Paul, "I have learned the secret of being content, whether with little or with plenty, [whether alone or together]. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength". phil. 4: 11,13
Monday, February 28, 2011
"Prayer in the Time of Chastening"
"When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on Thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For Thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings."
--William Shakespeare, Sonnet 29
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on Thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For Thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings."
--William Shakespeare, Sonnet 29
Saturday, February 12, 2011
I'll Have an Old-Fashioned
So I was at WalMart last week, and brought my spiffy new turquoise daytimer for 2011 along because I thought I might be getting a call back on an appointment and would need to check my schedule. I don't know how it happened, but somewhere between the checkout line and my car I lost it. I ransacked my brain and retraced all of my steps mentally and came to the conclusion I'd simply forgotten to take it out of the cart. Must have been a spacy day.
Anyway, I go back that night to WalMart's Customer Service, and I ask the guy at the counter if anyone has turned in a daytimer. He stares at me blankly, and slowly sounds out "day-ti-mer", like he's just learned Hooked on Phonics. I emphatically repeat--"daytimer". I glance at his name tag to see if he's foreign, but his name is Paul. He wanders off with an "I have no clue" expression in his eyes, and asks his manager, who reports that nothing has been turned in. So I try the checkout line I went through, and there's a new shift cashier. I ask her if she's seen a turquoise daytimer around her counter, and she says, "What?", like I'm speaking gibberish. I say, it's like a book that you can write in. She smiles blankly. I tell her thanks anyway, and determine to check back in the morning.
Come morning, I decide to try a new tactic. I go back to Customer Service and ask the girl behind the counter if I could check the lost and found for a...planner. "It's turquoise, and it--" "I have it right here", she interrupts, with a knowing smirk. There it is! I thank her profusely, and thank the Lord for its safe return.
Fastforward to today. I'm at work doing the crazy Saturday run-like-a-chicken-with-your-head-cut-off routine where my feet and mouth are going one way and my brain is sprinting to keep up. It's prom season, so I'm helping little girls with moms and girls with dads and girls with girls try on dresses meant for someone 6'3''. In the midst of restringing delicate chiffon on shaky hangers, a girl comes up to me out of the blue and asks, "Do you have a Droid?" I blink and say, "Excuse me?" In my head I think, "no, I don't even have a clap-on lamp, and could hardly afford C3PO..." She then wiggles her phone at me and bemoans the fact that she doesn't even know how to use her new droid and is asking everyone she can for help. I do the best I can, and direct her to the Apple store in the mall, and she says they probably wouldn't appreciate it if she brought in her Motorola. Well, what do I know?
So--no one uses the word daytimer anymore. They all have a Blackberry. I always thought that was a good flavor pairing with white chocolate in a latte. As for droids, I wouldn't know one if it beeped morse code and bit me. Have I become relegated to the stone age? Am I a relic at the ripe old age of 32? I always thought it was old people who cling to how they were brought up and what they knew in their prime. I can't be one of those--or can I??
I'll tell you what: I'm going to keep on watching Philadelphia Story with Katharine Hepburn, Carey Grant and Jimmy Stewart and wearing red lipstick like a 40's starlet and playing my acoustic guitar that's twice the size of my torso. And I'm only going to eat good donuts (not Krispy Kremes), and when I come up to the counter I'm going to ask for my favorite--an old-fashioned.
Anyway, I go back that night to WalMart's Customer Service, and I ask the guy at the counter if anyone has turned in a daytimer. He stares at me blankly, and slowly sounds out "day-ti-mer", like he's just learned Hooked on Phonics. I emphatically repeat--"daytimer". I glance at his name tag to see if he's foreign, but his name is Paul. He wanders off with an "I have no clue" expression in his eyes, and asks his manager, who reports that nothing has been turned in. So I try the checkout line I went through, and there's a new shift cashier. I ask her if she's seen a turquoise daytimer around her counter, and she says, "What?", like I'm speaking gibberish. I say, it's like a book that you can write in. She smiles blankly. I tell her thanks anyway, and determine to check back in the morning.
Come morning, I decide to try a new tactic. I go back to Customer Service and ask the girl behind the counter if I could check the lost and found for a...planner. "It's turquoise, and it--" "I have it right here", she interrupts, with a knowing smirk. There it is! I thank her profusely, and thank the Lord for its safe return.
Fastforward to today. I'm at work doing the crazy Saturday run-like-a-chicken-with-your-head-cut-off routine where my feet and mouth are going one way and my brain is sprinting to keep up. It's prom season, so I'm helping little girls with moms and girls with dads and girls with girls try on dresses meant for someone 6'3''. In the midst of restringing delicate chiffon on shaky hangers, a girl comes up to me out of the blue and asks, "Do you have a Droid?" I blink and say, "Excuse me?" In my head I think, "no, I don't even have a clap-on lamp, and could hardly afford C3PO..." She then wiggles her phone at me and bemoans the fact that she doesn't even know how to use her new droid and is asking everyone she can for help. I do the best I can, and direct her to the Apple store in the mall, and she says they probably wouldn't appreciate it if she brought in her Motorola. Well, what do I know?
So--no one uses the word daytimer anymore. They all have a Blackberry. I always thought that was a good flavor pairing with white chocolate in a latte. As for droids, I wouldn't know one if it beeped morse code and bit me. Have I become relegated to the stone age? Am I a relic at the ripe old age of 32? I always thought it was old people who cling to how they were brought up and what they knew in their prime. I can't be one of those--or can I??
I'll tell you what: I'm going to keep on watching Philadelphia Story with Katharine Hepburn, Carey Grant and Jimmy Stewart and wearing red lipstick like a 40's starlet and playing my acoustic guitar that's twice the size of my torso. And I'm only going to eat good donuts (not Krispy Kremes), and when I come up to the counter I'm going to ask for my favorite--an old-fashioned.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Wait Here for the Present
Puns--Sometimes considered the lowest form of humor, they can often be pretty profound. I find myself punning whenever possible. Tonight I was struck by the phrase "Wait here for the present". Sounds Biblical, doesn't it? But actually, that line was written by Beverly Cleary who wrote the Ramona the Pest kid series.
In one story, Ramona is going to school for the first time as a "big kid". She adores her new teacher, Miss Binney, and is willing to do whatever she says. When Miss Binney is assigning initial seating, she parks Ramona at a desk and admonishes her to "wait here for the present". As a first-grader, Ramona believes that she is the teacher's new favorite, because she's going to get a present! The day drags on, and Miss Binney is perplexed when she sends the kids out to recess because Ramona won't budge--her legs are locked to the desk until she gets her gift. When the confusion comes out, Miss Binney stumbles her way through making Ramona understand that "the present" also means "for now". Ramona is crestfallen, and joins the painful ranks of all the kids and adults who learn things aren't what they seem.
In an earlier time, the disciples were told by Jesus to "wait for the promised Holy Spirit". They had the same tenacity in prayer and sense of expectation that Ramona had, but in their case, the promise was fulfilled. The Holy Spirit of God swept in like a wind, flaming tongues of fire lit above their heads, and they all were filled with the Spirit and spoke in other languages as the Holy Spirit enabled them. The present they received was not just for them, but for everyone who received it.
"The present"--now. I wonder, is the "present-now" really our gift? Is the "waiting" really just abiding in another form? Should I simply abide? And how do I do that more fully? It seems, like the disciples, that I must press in, must tarry for the good, and when it comes, embrace it fully; be fully engaged in the present-now, and wait with expectation for the gift. Yes, I have had my bitter disappointments and confusion like Ramona, but I know that my present here-and-now is good because God is in it. Just like He brought the Holy Spirit to the needy world, He will bring to me the gift, the present that I need for myself and others. And when it comes, Watch out! It's gonna be quite a surprise.
In one story, Ramona is going to school for the first time as a "big kid". She adores her new teacher, Miss Binney, and is willing to do whatever she says. When Miss Binney is assigning initial seating, she parks Ramona at a desk and admonishes her to "wait here for the present". As a first-grader, Ramona believes that she is the teacher's new favorite, because she's going to get a present! The day drags on, and Miss Binney is perplexed when she sends the kids out to recess because Ramona won't budge--her legs are locked to the desk until she gets her gift. When the confusion comes out, Miss Binney stumbles her way through making Ramona understand that "the present" also means "for now". Ramona is crestfallen, and joins the painful ranks of all the kids and adults who learn things aren't what they seem.
In an earlier time, the disciples were told by Jesus to "wait for the promised Holy Spirit". They had the same tenacity in prayer and sense of expectation that Ramona had, but in their case, the promise was fulfilled. The Holy Spirit of God swept in like a wind, flaming tongues of fire lit above their heads, and they all were filled with the Spirit and spoke in other languages as the Holy Spirit enabled them. The present they received was not just for them, but for everyone who received it.
"The present"--now. I wonder, is the "present-now" really our gift? Is the "waiting" really just abiding in another form? Should I simply abide? And how do I do that more fully? It seems, like the disciples, that I must press in, must tarry for the good, and when it comes, embrace it fully; be fully engaged in the present-now, and wait with expectation for the gift. Yes, I have had my bitter disappointments and confusion like Ramona, but I know that my present here-and-now is good because God is in it. Just like He brought the Holy Spirit to the needy world, He will bring to me the gift, the present that I need for myself and others. And when it comes, Watch out! It's gonna be quite a surprise.
Monday, January 24, 2011
What Do You Know?
The best advice always given to writers is to write what you know. There are a lot of things I do know. And a lot of things I don't.
I know that I am Christ's. I know that I am His bride. I know that somehow, all things work together for good to those who love God, who are the called according to His purpose. I know that I have a destiny. I know the things He's said to me before, whether through Himself or through His word or through other people. I know that He loves me, unconditionally. I know that when I turn to Him humbly, He strongly supports me. I know that Jesus loves me.
I have learned that not everything is as important as I thought it was. That there are certain things worth fighting for and standing for like God and family, and other things it's best just to drop by the wayside. I'm learning that friends are more important than I gave them credit for. They're not fill-ins for a significant other, but rather make up the rest of the richness between your significant others and yourself. I've learned that a well-ordered home can bring me peace, and that a glass of chardonnay is quite a charmer. I'm learning the importance of cutting myself some slack. Dogs always choke if you don't ease up on the collar.
What I don't know and what I wonder about is this: When "the" two people meet, is it "Like Mmmagic", ala Sleepless in Seattle, or is it more like finding a long-lost friend you never knew but forgot you had? Do you look at that someone and think, "Hey, I know you!" ?
Maybe there's a lot more to friendships and love than I ever imagined. Imagine a world caught in the friendly fire of a man and woman so equally paired that they captivate the world for Christ. I do imagine, even though I don't know him. Yet.
May I and you live in the expectancy that "the best is yet to come". That we all go from glory to glory in Christ Jesus. And that we learn it's ok to love each other on the way.
I know that I am Christ's. I know that I am His bride. I know that somehow, all things work together for good to those who love God, who are the called according to His purpose. I know that I have a destiny. I know the things He's said to me before, whether through Himself or through His word or through other people. I know that He loves me, unconditionally. I know that when I turn to Him humbly, He strongly supports me. I know that Jesus loves me.
I have learned that not everything is as important as I thought it was. That there are certain things worth fighting for and standing for like God and family, and other things it's best just to drop by the wayside. I'm learning that friends are more important than I gave them credit for. They're not fill-ins for a significant other, but rather make up the rest of the richness between your significant others and yourself. I've learned that a well-ordered home can bring me peace, and that a glass of chardonnay is quite a charmer. I'm learning the importance of cutting myself some slack. Dogs always choke if you don't ease up on the collar.
What I don't know and what I wonder about is this: When "the" two people meet, is it "Like Mmmagic", ala Sleepless in Seattle, or is it more like finding a long-lost friend you never knew but forgot you had? Do you look at that someone and think, "Hey, I know you!" ?
Maybe there's a lot more to friendships and love than I ever imagined. Imagine a world caught in the friendly fire of a man and woman so equally paired that they captivate the world for Christ. I do imagine, even though I don't know him. Yet.
May I and you live in the expectancy that "the best is yet to come". That we all go from glory to glory in Christ Jesus. And that we learn it's ok to love each other on the way.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
And Now, Watch Me Tap Dance...
Today as I've been thinking about what to write, I am reminded of an old Mary Tyler Moore episode in which the news station is supposed to cover that year's election results. They are all set to go, and have the ballot ticker which feeds into the vote count so they can report live as the tallies are coming in. They even have a board on which they change the numbers for each candidate, Vanna White-style, aka Rhoda. Then the unthinkable happens--The ticker machine stops working smack in the middle of election coverage! Mr. Grant, the manager, runs out into a blizzard to find the replacement part for the machine, but meanwhile, Ted Baxter, the news anchor, has to keep on covering the nonexistent election coverage live--indefinitely! Ted, the ever effusive, narcissistic anchor, plays up every angle he can think of. He covers the weather, he tells bad jokes, he uses large empty words, and I think, dances, all till he's sweating and red in the face. The other stations have already called the election, but Mary, in Mr. Grant's absence, cannot ethically allow Ted to call the election on the air through hearsay only. And so, he sweats...
Tonight I feel like Ted Baxter, stuck on-air with no information and nothing to go on but past ticker-tapes. My jokes and stories have all been told, the dust from all past victories firmly settled, and no clue as to what's next except what I'd like it to be.
And so, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me tell you something I found amusing last night: I quoted Shakespeare in my sleep! Yes, that's right--In my dream I was actually trying to amend a poem I had written a few years ago by tagging onto it the first line of my favorite Shakespearean sonnet: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..." And so, I give you both the Shakespearean sonnet and my poem in their entirety. (Mind you, my poem won 2nd place in a contest and has been published and copyrighted, so no stranger reading this need get any bright ideas about stealing my work):
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Tonight I feel like Ted Baxter, stuck on-air with no information and nothing to go on but past ticker-tapes. My jokes and stories have all been told, the dust from all past victories firmly settled, and no clue as to what's next except what I'd like it to be.
And so, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me tell you something I found amusing last night: I quoted Shakespeare in my sleep! Yes, that's right--In my dream I was actually trying to amend a poem I had written a few years ago by tagging onto it the first line of my favorite Shakespearean sonnet: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..." And so, I give you both the Shakespearean sonnet and my poem in their entirety. (Mind you, my poem won 2nd place in a contest and has been published and copyrighted, so no stranger reading this need get any bright ideas about stealing my work):
SONNET 116
Let me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
The Kiss
I don’t want a tepid kiss, poor-steeped tea,
weak reflection of flavor and nuance,
insult to time and blending.
You doctor hackneyed words with honey,
sick sweet watery disguise for
nothing
exciting not my senses but piteous sip of sympathy.
When all’s timidly tried I’d rather have kept you pale in cheesecloth,
boxed neatly for another to sample your mix.
Perhaps later I’ll chance to uncover some earthy concoction
native of children, wholesome and rare.
Far before fragrance is wetted or even determined
his scent’s my companion commingled with memories.
As water adds life, and heat, the richness,
I’ll wonder at him—known, but not tasted--I’ll will self to wait.
Readied outdoors his essence to deepen
Light radiates tan infusion till
all-inspired, I drink.
There is a kiss, full-ripened and real,
precious brew finally worthy, blessed by time and sun.
Jessica Pearce, copyright 2007
So there you have it, folks. Never let me say I sent you away empty-handed, even as I shrug my empty hands upward.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)