Top Ten Things to Do When You Arrive at Church Unfashionably Early and Don't Have Any Friends
1. Sit down by yourself, carefully avoiding sitting too close to anyone, lest you unwillingly instigate eye contact or conversation.
2. Silence your phone, even though you already did that while you were killing time before getting out of the car.
3. Pretend you're enjoying the silence and using it to be prayerful by assuming a holy-looking posture and closing your eyes.
4. Give up the illusion, pull out your phone again, and pull up Facebook, just in case someone has changed their status since you last checked it in the car while killing time (see #2).
5. Clean out your wallet, only to realize that you don't have anywhere to put the pile of Starbucks receipts that serve as silent, condemning witnesses to how much of your income you spend at your place of employment.
6. Get out your notebook, Bible, and pen. Write the date on the page, and stack them nicely on the chair next to you (see #1 if you're wondering why I would want to prevent anyone from sitting down near me).
7. Realize that you have nearly enough time to make a list of ten things to do while you're waiting for church to start.
8. Examine the freakishly sparkly drum set sitting on the stage and wonder to yourself how someone probable male and 20 or 30 something ended up with said drum set. Decide which guy wandering around the area is probably the drummer. Laugh to yourself when you're right.
9. Look at the interesting wood wall ornamentation on the front wall, and wonder if we're looking at sound paneling or just 21st century art.
10. Glance around desperately, hoping that one of the literal three people you know walk in at this precise moment, saving you from several more minutes of this sort of pathetic self-reflection.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Cue the Sountrack, Please
For as long as I have been aware of the power of a good film score, I have secretly wished that I lived my life to a soundtrack. Think about the possibilities! On the comic side, a few french horns and any basic, mundane task has become an epic battle between good and evil. On the serious side, having a life soundtrack allows me to communicate exactly what I'm feeling without having to use words at all.
Recently, I was thinking about I wished my life had a few more of those magical moments that film scores make possible. You know, the ones that are a little bit poignant, but not yet sad? Kind of like a less cheesy version of a good Hallmark commercial? The ones where people realize how deeply they are loved and that they can in fact, accomplish whatever monumental task is in front of them? Yep, those moments. The funny thing is that I spend a lot of time trying to create those moments for other people, whether that's through cards or cookies or a clean house or a hug or a speech. You would think that this would make me more aware of when they're happening in my own life, but I think I'm so well-media-trained that I've lost the ability to recognize them in my own life without the music. But this past month or so, a few of these moments have snuck up on me (snuck upon me? what's the proper usage here?), and I've been meaning to bear witness to them for a while now.
A few weeks ago, I was camping with some of my dearest friends, and as we're sitting around a campfire, talking about life, I realize that they think about my future and dream about my life just like I do. They've actually spent time thinking about the kind of man I should probably marry and are just as surprised as I am at the path the last few years have taken. At an age where I feel more alone than I have in my entire life, simply because my age no longer dictates life patterns, it was beautiful to realize that although I am walking an individual path different from that of my friends, I am not walking it alone.
At the beginning of August, I moved from Spokane back to Tualatin, leaving behind a wonderful family that pretty much adopted me for the last 14 months. I miss them every day- the rhythms of their lives together, the funny stories from a family full of educators, the daily growth of a sweet grandbaby, the love and laughter of a family knit together by long years of faith and joy and sorrow and life. I also miss the chicken pot pie and lemon bars. But mostly, I miss the safe feeling they create with their homes and the ways they generously extend that to anyone who comes across their path. At the beginning of September, I celebrated a birthday, and the day before I turned 25, I found a big manilla envelope in the mailbox from Bekki. Assuming it was forwarded mail, I didn't think much of it, but as I opened the envelope, I found no less than eight separate birthday cards! Bekki had collected cards from everyone in the family and put them together in a gift that did more to encourage me than she could ever know.
What beautiful moments! I may not have done them justice with my writing today, but if I had the option of adding audio to this blog, I think you would get the picture just fine, and you would know that my life is every bit as sweeping and beautiful and poignant and hopeful as I could ever hope it to be. Sometimes you just have to listen a bit closer.
Recently, I was thinking about I wished my life had a few more of those magical moments that film scores make possible. You know, the ones that are a little bit poignant, but not yet sad? Kind of like a less cheesy version of a good Hallmark commercial? The ones where people realize how deeply they are loved and that they can in fact, accomplish whatever monumental task is in front of them? Yep, those moments. The funny thing is that I spend a lot of time trying to create those moments for other people, whether that's through cards or cookies or a clean house or a hug or a speech. You would think that this would make me more aware of when they're happening in my own life, but I think I'm so well-media-trained that I've lost the ability to recognize them in my own life without the music. But this past month or so, a few of these moments have snuck up on me (snuck upon me? what's the proper usage here?), and I've been meaning to bear witness to them for a while now.
A few weeks ago, I was camping with some of my dearest friends, and as we're sitting around a campfire, talking about life, I realize that they think about my future and dream about my life just like I do. They've actually spent time thinking about the kind of man I should probably marry and are just as surprised as I am at the path the last few years have taken. At an age where I feel more alone than I have in my entire life, simply because my age no longer dictates life patterns, it was beautiful to realize that although I am walking an individual path different from that of my friends, I am not walking it alone.
At the beginning of August, I moved from Spokane back to Tualatin, leaving behind a wonderful family that pretty much adopted me for the last 14 months. I miss them every day- the rhythms of their lives together, the funny stories from a family full of educators, the daily growth of a sweet grandbaby, the love and laughter of a family knit together by long years of faith and joy and sorrow and life. I also miss the chicken pot pie and lemon bars. But mostly, I miss the safe feeling they create with their homes and the ways they generously extend that to anyone who comes across their path. At the beginning of September, I celebrated a birthday, and the day before I turned 25, I found a big manilla envelope in the mailbox from Bekki. Assuming it was forwarded mail, I didn't think much of it, but as I opened the envelope, I found no less than eight separate birthday cards! Bekki had collected cards from everyone in the family and put them together in a gift that did more to encourage me than she could ever know.
What beautiful moments! I may not have done them justice with my writing today, but if I had the option of adding audio to this blog, I think you would get the picture just fine, and you would know that my life is every bit as sweeping and beautiful and poignant and hopeful as I could ever hope it to be. Sometimes you just have to listen a bit closer.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Too Much and Not Enough
Today, this week, this year, I'm feeling the pressure of too much and not enough.
I feel too much and I want too much and I want it too badly. I was reintroduced to the word desire this past year, and the things I'm desiring right now terrify me because I know that what I want is more than what most people are granted in this life. I'm afraid that the people around me will see how badly I desire these things, and will judge me as I have judged others for daring to hope and dream and reach and push and fall and hope all over again.
I am not enough. There will always be something that I am not, which intellectually, I understand and can even appreciate. But in moving to a new/old place, and meeting new/old people, I am constantly feeling the pressure of not enough.
And here's the real secret: There are people in my life who know both of the above statements to be true about me. I am, in fact, too much. I am, in fact, not enough. And those people love me anyways. Somewhere along the line, I just missed the memo and forgot to extend to myself the grace that allows me to lean into who I am so I can keep living into the Kingdom, all the while being too much and not enough, trusting the Redeemer who says "I am sufficient."
I feel too much and I want too much and I want it too badly. I was reintroduced to the word desire this past year, and the things I'm desiring right now terrify me because I know that what I want is more than what most people are granted in this life. I'm afraid that the people around me will see how badly I desire these things, and will judge me as I have judged others for daring to hope and dream and reach and push and fall and hope all over again.
I am not enough. There will always be something that I am not, which intellectually, I understand and can even appreciate. But in moving to a new/old place, and meeting new/old people, I am constantly feeling the pressure of not enough.
And here's the real secret: There are people in my life who know both of the above statements to be true about me. I am, in fact, too much. I am, in fact, not enough. And those people love me anyways. Somewhere along the line, I just missed the memo and forgot to extend to myself the grace that allows me to lean into who I am so I can keep living into the Kingdom, all the while being too much and not enough, trusting the Redeemer who says "I am sufficient."
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Twenty-Five
The journey of the last couple years has been a challenging, sometimes joy-filled, sometimes tear-filled, long and occasionally obnoxious process. And, undoubtably, it's far from over. But today marks the end of a particularly long and dark stretch, and so I'm pausing to be grateful. Even as fall sneaks into the morning with its cool dew and the evening with its early sunsets, it feels like spring is coming in my heart, and I'm so thankful.
One of my favorite authors wrote a chapter in a book once called "twenty-five,"* and in it, she describes what life can look when you're twenty-five-ish, but perhaps more importantly, how you can use your twenties to more fully become who you are and who you're going to be. I have always wanted to live intentionally, to celebrate life and love the people around me and be present to each moment as its gifted to me. In the past, the obstacles to living this way have included anxiety and a lack of discipline, but most recently, depression has been the pink elephant in the room, taking up so much space that there wasn't too much room left for me. I've been on anti-depressants for six weeks now, and as I climbed into bed last night, I realized that I felt something old/new, and it might just have been hope. I woke up to my alarm this morning, the sunrise of my 25th birthday peeking in through the curtains, and I thought about snoozing the alarm and crawling back into my semi-safe dream world. But, I didn't. I pulled off the covers and started my day, and while I'm feeling it all these hours later, I'm thankful that getting up seemed worthwhile today. So here I am, being twenty-five-ish, and while I know that the Spirit of God always lives in me, and that the light always shines in the darkness and the darkness has never overcome it, today, I feel it. And I rejoice.
*Shauna Niequist, in her wonderful book "Bittersweet"
One of my favorite authors wrote a chapter in a book once called "twenty-five,"* and in it, she describes what life can look when you're twenty-five-ish, but perhaps more importantly, how you can use your twenties to more fully become who you are and who you're going to be. I have always wanted to live intentionally, to celebrate life and love the people around me and be present to each moment as its gifted to me. In the past, the obstacles to living this way have included anxiety and a lack of discipline, but most recently, depression has been the pink elephant in the room, taking up so much space that there wasn't too much room left for me. I've been on anti-depressants for six weeks now, and as I climbed into bed last night, I realized that I felt something old/new, and it might just have been hope. I woke up to my alarm this morning, the sunrise of my 25th birthday peeking in through the curtains, and I thought about snoozing the alarm and crawling back into my semi-safe dream world. But, I didn't. I pulled off the covers and started my day, and while I'm feeling it all these hours later, I'm thankful that getting up seemed worthwhile today. So here I am, being twenty-five-ish, and while I know that the Spirit of God always lives in me, and that the light always shines in the darkness and the darkness has never overcome it, today, I feel it. And I rejoice.
*Shauna Niequist, in her wonderful book "Bittersweet"
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