Walking Two Moons

Eating, and hospitality in general, is a communion, and any meal worth attending by yourself is improved by the multiples of those with whom it is shared.  - Jesse Browner

A life of hospitality begins in worship, with a recognition of God's grace and generosity.  Hospitality is not first a duty and responsibility; it is first a response of love and gratitude for God's love and welcome to us.  - Christine Pohl

Today, I didn't vacuum the floor.  There are still little piles of dirt hanging out throughout the apartment, tracked in as snow melted and the ground stuck to the bottom of my Chuck Taylors.

Today, I didn't play catch up on work.  Despite two snow days, I feel like there are so many moving parts, so many what ifs, that I'm in a perpetual state of catch up.

Today, I didn't go grocery shopping, or put gas in the car.  I didn't clean the bathroom or do laundry or take care of the recycling.

Instead, I hosted one of my best friends for coffee.  We talked about life, ours and the new one she's carrying inside her.  We laughed and connected, talking of the past and the future.  I realized how refreshing it is to start my day with honesty.

Today, I laughed with a friend over terrible games of bowling, each of us taking turns barely breaking 100.  My skills, or perhaps lack there of, got teased by friend and stranger alike.  I tried sushi, good sushi, for the first time and marveled over the different textures found in similar looking rolls of rice.  I fumbled with chopsticks and giggled over inadequacies.

Today, I celebrated a student's birthday with her and her family in their home.  I ate homemade tamales and looked at family pictures eagerly shared.  I made new friends and smiled until my face hurt.  I left with plates of food and a small headache from trying to keep up with the Spanish flying between family members.  My belly, and my heart, are full.

Today, I didn't check one single thing off my "to-do" list, but I did connect with important people in my life.  I played and laughed and was reminded of the simple joy of being together, as friends and as strangers.  I experienced a beautiful picture of hospitality and a caring for one another in a way that is often lost admist the hustle and bustle of daily life.

As I sit and reflect on the day, I am reminded at how important it is to spend time with one another.  Being an introvert and living alone allows me to get comfortable with myself - that in itself is not a bad thing.  But it also breeds complacency, and I sometimes find that I seek solace in myself, by myself, instead of with others.  I realize it can be easy for me to forget how much I need community in my life.

Although I'm a few days late, perhaps I will spend this Lenten season investing myself in the company of others.  During this time of renewal and preparation, I desire to draw closer to the Lord daily.  Many times, like today, it is in the company of others where His presence is most noticeable.  Even though these interactions are likely to be uncomfortable or inconvenient at times, I am hoping to see the Lord in each of them.

How are you renewing yourself during this season of Lent?

When I Don't Feel Beautiful

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.  -Confucius

I want this space to be somewhere where I can be real and honest.  I want to put my thoughts out there, as I believe there is power in making oneself heard.  Sometimes the hardest step is giving voice to a challenge.

What is it about how women are wired that we constantly find ourselves engaging in negative self talk?  I've noticed it more and more in myself recently and I don't like it.  Here's a [gracefully redemptive] example.

A few Fridays ago, we had our biggest fundraiser of the year at work.  This event brings in 1/3 of the operating budget of our organization, and there are a lot of influential people that attend.  This being my first year on staff, I had little idea of what to truly expect.  But I knew that I wanted to look the part.

We cancelled program with the kids for the day, since the event was moved to a Friday this year.  LA and I spent a few hours in the morning moving things and generally rushing around, getting set up.  My one job was the powerpoint for the event.  I was charged with creating two - one to play it in the background during the mix and mingle, and one to list the live auction items during the event.  They looked awesome [in my humble opinion] and I was proud of my work.  A few hours before go time, I'm at the computer reviewing and making final touches, only to discover the first show won't play and loop automatically.  Even now I don't know what the problem was.  I'm not especially technically minded but I can usually figure things out given enough time.  I realized I created the show on a newer version of software than what is on the computer I'm using, and I do everything I can think of to make it work.  Finally, after no positive results, I resolve to take it home and see if I can run it off my laptop.

During my two hour break between set up and the event, I find not only can I not fix the show, but the IT guy can't offer any help either.  I had spent about 45 minutes troubleshooting only to see I was going to have to recreate the 50 slide show in the older version of software.  Game, set, match.  Technology 1, me 0.

All the "excitement" set me back quite a bit in terms of time and I jump in the shower 15 minutes before I'm due back at work.  I wash my hair quickly and, rather than dry it like I planned, I desperately try and get it to stay in a bun.  At one point, as I'm twisting wet hair into a knot on my head, my arms aching from being above my head for a little two long, the clip I'm trying to use slipping from my damp fingers, I almost cry out in sheer frustration.  I drop my hands and plead aloud that this comes together quickly.  I'm supposed to be at work right now.

I finally get the majority of my hair pulled back and I'm pinning some loose pieces in place as I catch myself thinking:

"This isn't turning out at all like you planned."

"People are going to know you don't belong here."

"Everyone will know you don't know what you're doing and you're trying too hard."

"Your hair is wet and your makeup is rushed and you don't look pretty."

Whoa, stop right there.

I was lucky this time.  Finally, I am able to recognize these negative comments and know that they are not true.  I'm not exactly sure where the change and recognition actually happened.  It used to be that I would hear the negative and know that it wasn't ok, but I couldn't give voice to anything else.  The negative would just sit there, acknowledged as wrong but not truly defied.  It wasn't challenged; it wasn't corrected.  It was at some point during my trip to Nicaragua, and shortly after I returned, that I began to see myself as the Lord sees me.

When I look in the mirror, I see an average girl, with hair that needs a trim and bangs that are too long.  She doesn't have the best skin, but overall she's alright.  Maybe her clothes don't fit exactly right, a little big in places, and there's a slight fold throughout her middle when she bends at the waist.  I see a girl who has big dreams but isn't always sure how to achieve them.  And it doesn't matter how hard I try not to put any stock in physical appearance, I care.  Although I appreciate my body and celebrate what it does for me every day, I can be honest in saying that sometimes I want to look a certain way.  Usually this ideal image does not match up to reality [does it ever?].

I find more and more than I am quick to remind myself and take comfort in knowing that when my Father looks at me, He is delighted.  He is overjoyed at what he has created and he sees that it is good.  The complexities of our physical bodies is awe-inspiring, and the intricacy with which everything works together blows my mind.  I remind myself that He knows me so well that "without the will of my Father in Heaven, not a hair can fall from my head."  [Heidelberg Catechism].  He sees into my heart and knows my dreams.  He knows the places in my life where I struggle or lack discipline.  He knows my insecurities.  And He loves me anyway.

And in that moment, staring into the mirror, I work hard at trying not to find my worth in the frustration of hair that won't stay up and makeup that I use to cover up insecurities.  As I watch myself try and step into this role I think I need to fill, He stops me.  And He speaks to me in a way that I never expected, audibly, through my own voice.  I look at myself in the mirror and I say, "Thank you that I don't have to be beautiful to anyone but You, and to You I am always beautiful."

And I know it's true.

The meaning of [my] life

I've been doing a lot of self-searching lately, trying to figure out where I want to be in a year.  Where I could, realistically, be in a year.

I just moved into this apartment.  I like its location.  I just started this job, and I [usually] like going into work every day.  So why am I looking ahead; why am I thinking of moving on already?

For many years, I have seen myself leaving town and moving abroad.  It's only been in recent years that the dream has begun to be fleshed out, but I still lack the courage to go.  It's a scary thing, especially when you've lived your whole life in one town.

What if I go to a country where I don't speak the language?  How do I open a bank account in a new country?  Can I even work for wages?  What would it be like to uproot every significant relationship I've ever known?  Everyday things would be new - laundry, cooking, getting from one place to another.  And don't even get me started on the idea of my travelling alone, as a single white female.  The idea of completing ordinary tasks seems exciting and new, giving me a chance to marvel at the simplest of things.  But without warning those same tasks can change to objects of paralyzing fear.

But it seems that everywhere I turn, particularly in church and small group, I keep getting the same message:


Go.  Love.  Be.  Travel.  Orphans.  Fear not.


And yet I fear.  Still I doubt.  Is this really where I am called to go?  Is this really who I am meant to be?

Last week, an interesting idea was presented in our small group.  The quote -

"We were created to glorify God"  [John Piper I think although I can't be positive]

What would it mean to embody this idea, to really live it out every day?  I know that the work I'm doing now is meaningful [actually, it's pretty close to what I would want to do as a career.  I think I only want my location to change].  I also know that one's calling is not necessarily the same thing one does as a vocation.  So why do I still feel so called to go?

That same night, a second question was posted.  This is not the first time I've been presented with this inquiry, but it's not one I find terribly realistic so I've never truly considered it.


"What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"


[Who can imagine a world without failure?  Failure is always a possibility, a scary one.]

What would I do?  I would travel the world, write, create art and not worry about how it's not perfect right away.  I would work with orphans, see and do things, leave a notable mark on the earth and the lives of its inhabitants.

And then tonight, a final thought, related to our small group study of John 6:1-25.  Mission [the work and opportunities we are given by God to accomplish, partnering with Him as His kingdom is realized, whether or not we choose to accept them] precedes faith.  Contrary to our belief, we don't have to have a certain amount of faith before setting out on mission with Jesus.  We don't have to have certain skills perfected; we don't have to have it all together.  Faith is the expectation that God will show up.

Perhaps my calling is not overseas.  Perhaps I am called down the street, to the orphaned of this community.  Perhaps I am called to a community in another state.  I don't know yet [does anyone ever know for sure?], but I'm eager to find out.

Ethiopia - Day 1

This whole thing has been a crazy wild ride.  Yesterday morning I got to the airport at 4:45am with mom and dad, picked up my totes, and waiting in the surprisingly long line to check in.  It being a small, regional airport, and so early in the morning, I didn't expect much of a wait.  One agent was assigned to check in all 6 of us, and I think he got so overwhelmed that he didn't even bother weighing most of our totes.  We had spent a lot of time being very particular about the weight, and before I got there he did weigh two of them and declared them too heavy.  I think once he saw how many of us there were, he just decided not to keep going with that trend.  Such a blessing, right from the get go!

We hopped our small airplane and took a short 30 minute flight to D.C.  When we were almost there, the sun started to come up above the clouds and it was a beautiful shade of pink.  It reminded me a lot of the plane ride to Nicaragua, where we got to watch a full sunrise above the clouds.

We waited around in D.C. for quite some time, found our terminal and a place to eat breakfast, and eventually met up with the rest of our team.  We spent time in the airport getting to know each other.  I think it was 16 of us that left from D.C.  Cherrie and 3 of our other team members were already in Addis.

A portion of our team waiting in the long line to board the plane.

The flight over was very long.  We sat on the runway for clearance for almost an hour, and didn't take off until 12:30pm.  I lucked out with a window seat and didn't have anyone in the middle seat.  The guy on the aisle I didn't know.  The first half of the ride was do-able, but after about 6am EST (or 1am in Ethiopia), it seemed unbearably long.  I was starting to feel antsy and a little sick from being cooped up and seated just before we were able to get off.  The plane was a little warm and felt stuffy.  Plus, thirteen hours is just a long time (it'll be closer to 17 hours coming home though - oh man!)

The country was a lot greener than I'd expected, and more mountainous.  I suppose the green comes from the fact that the rainy season just ended in September.  It was beautiful coming in and seeing the patchwork landscape.  Also, last night sometime in between me groggily turning over, I looked out the window and got to watch lightening from above the clouds - beautiful!

African landscape, although which country I'm not sure.

Old airplanes at Bole International Airport

Once we unloaded the plane (when they opened the back cabin door and let in a little fresh air, it was like Heaven), we went though immigration to get our visas and through customs.  There was a $20 charge for the visa, and they funneled you into a small room with desks and asked you why you were here and when you were leaving.  All in all, customs and immigration was an easy process.

After the paperwork, we had the tasks of getting our totes and moving them out the door.  We paid an airport worker $20 to help us.  (Little did we know that each guy that even touched your bags expected a tip.  They wanted $5-$10 USD, even if they only pushed your cart a few feet after you asked them not to.  It got to be a little annoying after we made it out of the gates).  As you go to leave the airport, all your bags are x-rayed.  The official behind the counter can decide to let you go, or to take a look inside the bag.  If they see something inside they like, they can either take it and keep it, or take it and tell you to pay them this much to get it back.  (Operation Smile went in a few weeks before us and all of their totes got confiscated.  The official behind the counter wanted $8,000 USD to get it back and the team had to just walk away).  To help safeguard against this, we covered our medicine chests with navy blue poster paper so that if those totes did get opened, hopefully the official would think it was the bottom of the tote.  I got asked what all my stuff was for.  My answer:  visiting friends.  I didn't lie, I just didn't know my friends yet :).  Miraculously, all our totes made it through without trouble, except one of Ann's that just had clothes in it.  An official searched through it but didn't take anything. 

Riding through the city was an eye opener.  It wasn't anything worse than I'd expected or already seen in other countries, but I figured we'd see more poverty in Korah and in the Addis.  There were lots of "walls" made from little more than corrugated steel leaning against two wooden poles.  It was almost ironic looking at construction throughout the city - new concrete buildings being erected in between scaffolding made from large posts of Eucalyptus. 

Driving through Addis on the way to the Guest House

Construction from the balcony of the Guest House.  Lots of buildings looked like this, half finished, and only sometimes did we see people actually working on them.  One of the trip leaders said some of these buildings have looked the same for 3 years.

There were also a lot more signs in English than I expected.  Stores and shops lined some streets; sometimes it was hard to tell what was a shop and what was a house.  I think in a fair amount of cases it was both.  Some busy intersections were met with donkeys and a herd of goats crossing without pause.  People also seemed to just cross the street whenever and I was amazed at how close a car would get to someone before stopping.  It was a short trip from the airport to the Guest House, luckily, but more on that later!

Letters from Home

The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium. ~Norbet Platt

Today I did something I haven't done in a really long time - I wrote a letter to someone I didn't know.  Not just a cute card sent in to a friend at college, but an honest-to-goodness, handwritten on lined paper letter.

Not my pen, or my penmanship

Danielle, a friend of mine from college, had told me of a airman in her husband's basic training class that hasn't received any letters since the start of training.  She'd sent out a note asking if anyone would be willing to write to him, and without anything to fill my days lately, I had no reason not to say yes.

There's something romantic about handwritten letters.  I've always liked giving them and receiving them but nowadays it's much easier to power up a computer and send an instant email or message.  (I have at least two shoeboxes full of handwritten cards and letters that I've received since I was a kid).  I like to think about all the hands touching my letter, and the excitement the recipient will feel when opening it.

I love letters

I will admit, though, that the experience of writing to an unknown serviceman was more stressful than I'd imagined.  What do I write to someone I've never met?  (I'd also like to mention that not only have I never met him, I don't even know his full name - which means I'm also assuming the person I'm writing to is a he).  Danielle gave me some pointers, but I still wonder about the adequacy of my letter, although I'm sure any notes from home are much appreciated.

While I'm aware that I've romanticized much of (OK, all of) this situation, there is a part of me that hopes he writes back.  I mean, with songs out there like the Dixie Chicks' Traveling Soldier, and John Michael Montgomery's Letters from Home, what woman in their right mind could help but romanticize.  All morning I've thought about the person I've been writing to, wondering about him, and felt a bit like a WWII woman, working to keep our service men's moral high.  At the very least, I'll have a new friend and pen pal out of the deal.

I have also decided today to spend at least one day a week writing letters to people I love, local or not.  Who knows, maybe I'll be struck to do more than one a week.  I'll keep you posted...

Source

Thirty-two flavors and then some

Yesterday at 12:40 I walked out of my job for the last time.  While it was glorious and much needed, I will admit to missing the people (already) and being a little nervous about the new financial situation I find myself in.  But I believe it's better to be happy and a little strapped for cash than miserable with all the money in the world.

After I left work, mom and I went out for lunch, and I took her to a Mexican restaurant she's never been to.  We spent some time wondering around the mall, and when we were about half way through the journey we ran into her younger sister, who had stopped in to purchase some shoes for her husband for father's day.

Mom and I accompanied her to Finish Line, where I was hit hard with a realization.  Mom was looking at a pair of shoes when the sales person (a boy I went to high school with) approached her and started making his pitch.  The shoes mom was looking at were called Brooks, and apparently they can do everything but actually walk for you.  They have a thing in the arch that's supposed to stabilize your foot and make you walk straighter.  Then there's this button of air you can see on the sole of the heel that is supposed to adjust to the pressure on your feet when you step down.  The salesman talked for probably 3 minutes without taking a breath, just giving information about this high-tech, yet surprisingly normal looking shoe.

Credit

I wasn't really interested, so I started looking around the store and my upcoming trip to Ethiopia popped randomly into my head.  I thought of all the people in that country, and in the world, without shoes.  We're not talking shoes that adjust to your walking style or shoes to help you lose inches or shoes designed for a specific activity like walking or running.  Just shoes to keep your feet covered, protect you from the elements, maybe help you to be able to walk a few years longer.  Here I am, standing in a store with 25 bays of shoes, each of which probably has at least 20 single shoes on display.  That's 500 shoes on display alone.  That doesn't count the mates to those displays, or the various sizes stocked in the back, or the shoes on display on tables in the middle of the store.

My mind was blown.  I sat on a bench for a moment, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a person who had lived without shoes my entire life, and walking into a store like this. 

I couldn't.

Then my mind took it a little farther - this is just one store in the mall.  There are at least 3 other stores devoted solely to shoes in the mall, not to mention all the department stores and small chains that sell shoes too.  We could shoe an entire country without making a dent.

Realizations like this one make me incredibly sad and humble but blessed and motivated all at the same time.  There are so many days I go through without thinking about what I have, about all I've been given and privileged to, and I use those gifts to maintain or obtain my own selfish desires.

Does anyone else think about these things?  Surely I can't be the only one...

Indecision

I woke up composing this entry this morning, and although that was 12 hours ago and I know it's not going to be at all like it started this morning, the fact that I've been thinking about it that long probably means it really needs to be written. 

I need a new job.  I know you're thinking "Already?  But didn't you just start this job and think it was the best thing ever?"  The answer is yes to both questions.  I guess it just goes to show you don't know what you're in for, or what you like, until you try it.  But I now know I don't like this.

I'm not used to having to meet numbers, and I've never had a job that requires me to sit for hours on end.  I'm used to planning and executing things, moving around, being proactive and interacting face to face with customers.  The desire to call in for work today started at 10pm last night - but I made it though all 8 hours (but just barely).  The pull to leave early each day weighs on me and while I want more than anything to follow in the steps of one of my coworkers who just hasn't shown up for work in the last week, I just don't have it in me.  My parents both have strong work ethics and (luckily) I inherited that trait.

Although he got up every day and kept plugging away at it, my dad hated his job and beginning probably as soon as I have memories I remember him telling me to get a job I liked.  That has become my mantra and, as a result, it might make it seem like I'm being a princess about my job(s).  But really, the thought of being roped into a work experience just for the benefits terrifies me.  I saw a lot of things in my dad after he retired that I never saw in him as a working adult and I don't want it to take 35 or 40 years of working for me to enjoy the majority of my waking hours.  I want to be fulfilled and make a difference and feel good about getting up in the morning.

I currently don't feel that.

So, starting tomorrow I'm updating that resume and I'm putting out feelers for something relating to my degree.  And I'm going to try my hardest not to be afraid of getting to start over somewhere new (because chances of me finding anything in my small hometown are shrinking more as time goes on).  Em and I talked about it last night and agreed that it never hurts to try and see where things go.  Wish me luck!

Lessons on Friday?

When I first started this blog I had high hopes.  I wanted to write frequently and be totally honest about life and my view of it.  Seeing as how the first one has fallen by the wayside, let's move on, shall we?

Today I'm feeling moody, which includes (depending on when you ask me) hopeful, lonely, rejected, productive and expectant.  I always have high hopes for weekend time off, which comes so few and far between (and by that I mean once a week of course).  This Friday has been everything I haven't expected.  So what have I done today?  After I got off work I went walking for 30 minutes around the neighborhood, swept the balcony (finally ridding it of those fall leaves to fully welcome spring on Sunday), finished a book, started a second, reheated a leftover dinner from Tuesday night, finished the last of a bottle of wine, took a bubble bath, and finished the gifts I'll give to my ballet class on Monday.  All this in the span of 5 hours.  I've got the productive yet lonely feeling down pat.

It's not that I don't like time to myself, everyone needs it and I enjoy mine like anyone else.  But I seem to feel best when I have a lot going on, scheduled back to back with things to do and people to see.  Not to mention that Friday night does not seem like a natural day to have "me time".  I want to be out, seeing friends or having people over, but lately it hasn't seemed to work that way.  At least I got stuff done, and while I fear tomorrow night might be a close second to this evening, maybe I'll finally get those pictures hung in my room.

This is not meant to be a poor-me post.  I recognize that it's important to learn how to live with yourself and be still and rest.  I'm just not very good at it most of the time.  Here's to learning something new every day.

New year, new adventures

"It's about choosing your path and being committed to it" -Mary Horowitz, All About Steve

I started this blog to document all the crazy things associated with living.  We live 98% of our lives between walls, whether physical or metaphorical, and I wanted this to be a small piece of the electronic world where I could leave my thoughts - and you could leave yours.

I recently changed the physical walls I live between and hope to use this to document all the crazy goings on.  At 24 I am finally out there, on my own, trying my hardest to be an adult.  Tonight marks the second night in a new apartment.  New apartment, new roommate, new job, new...life.  Last night, new roommate Em and I watched a movie and drank some wine to christen our new space.  Super cute and super fun. 

Let's start this first entry putting out there some of the expectations I have about this new stage. 
1.  We're going have people over like every night.
2.  I'm going to discover I have an natural inclination toward cooking and/or baking.
3.  We are not going to sit in front on the t.v. but rather expand our minds with books and deep, meaningful conversations.
4.  I will try my hand at interior decorating and, again, discover I'm very talented.
5.  Em and I will spend nights after work together, perhaps partaking in many of the above activities.
6.  This new found freedom will suddenly make me more appealing to the opposite sex.

And this is just a start.  I'm sure more expectations will surface while old ones are shattered with harsh reality checks.  Regardless, I look forward to growing in this new space.