Fear

Do we live in fear? Are we crippled but it? I find that most of the problems I see in the world (including my life) are traced back to fear. People stuck in jobs they hate because it is too terrifying to think of starting a new one or even not finding a new one in the first place. Or fear that the job that is fantastic will run out in the near future. Elderly who don't technically need a walker but use it for fear of falling and breaking a hip. People who are stuck in a routine because of the safety of it. People who don't try new things because new things are scary, especially when done alone (so me). Fear of being alone! (Again, totally me.) Fear that our bank account will dip into the negative when there are still bills to be paid. Fear about tomorrow's weather! Fear about crime! It seems to be everywhere.

There's that horrible token phrase, "Don't worry about anything. Pray about everything." It is cliche to an intense degree. Because of course, if we don't worry about falling down and breaking our hip, we might actually fall down and break our hip. Then come the I-told-you-so's and the regret. "I should have known better." Is there a degree of worrying that is actually helpful? Perhaps what we are really seeking is awareness. Aware of walking slower so we don't fall but not being so caught in fear that we don't walk anywhere. Aware of a new job opportunity and the reality that change is scary but that it happens anyway. Heck, here I am in Montana. I never would have guessed it.

Personally, though I still retreat to my office when I get overwhelmed (read: afraid), I find I am usually rewarded when I step out. I am met by an incredible love story that has seen war and death and still survived. I am met by gracious smiles and handshakes and hugs. I am met with a breathtaking view of mountains, bright flowers, and a moon with a face in it. The fear isn't gone but at least I'm learning that reality never bites as hard as I think it will. And if it does, I'll deal with it then. Now is not the time.

Adventure Awaits

I've got silk in my teeth from the delicious sweet corn I just ate. I took a trip over to the farmer's market this morning and spent $50 on corn, bread, cherries, strawberries, zucchini, eggs, blueberries, peaches, and honey. I had an almost spiritual time with my local deliciousness while fixing some quiche, boiling the corn, and cutting up my veggies. I love local.

And speaking of local, I have almost survived two weeks here in Billings, Montana. The last few hours of the road trip here I was freaking out. There was nothing and more nothing for miles and miles and miles. I was thinking, "Oh my goodness. Here I am going to live further out west than anyone in my family ever has and very far away from all those family and all my friends. WHAT AM I DOING?!" And then I got into Billings and discovered civilization and neighbors and people making Hall's house beautiful for my arrival. And I was more at peace. Hard to be here alone but I'm adjusting just as I should be. I found Hall's radio/cd player/record player and use it to fill the silence. That helps tremendously.

My friend Kris from seminary lives here and has been showing me around Montana. we've been to Yellowstone, Cody Wyoming, Red Lodge, and Bozeman. What beautiful, beautiful country there is here. I know I thought this was in the middle of nothing but it is quite something in the middle of a lot of something else. I think that's the biggest surprise. I never expected it to be so beautiful. Then again, I've not been here through the winter and the farmer's are predicting it to be a rough one. So keep me in your prayers. Mail me postcards, letters, and packages full of love. I'm on an adventure of a lifetime!

Ready or Not

Ready or not - that is the question. Ready to drive 20 hours? Sure. Ready to see the family? Yes. Ready to see the new house and start internship? Yes please.

Ready to leave here? No.

It's more than the piles around my apartment that still must find homes in bags and boxes and wish their way into my car tomorrow. It's more than the feeling of sickness in the pit of my stomach that I can't shake with sleep or foods full of good vitamins and protein and fiber. Nothing helps.

Last night, I had a packing party with two friends. We took a time out and gathered on my (tragically still here) mattress on the floor in the "dining room" and talked about life. About relationships. About becoming the person you always hoped you would be and accepting the person you really are. Knowing yourself. Enjoying life. Being single or at least unmarried and why America says that is wrong... and how frustrating that is. About how life keeps changing. It was wonderful.

And then I realized they are not sitting in my piles of things to take with me.

I remember when I was 11 and moved for the first time how hard it was. My neighbor told me "Home is where your stuff is." I'd like to know what she would say when I tell her that my "stuff" is in a lot of different places. I've got boxes in both my parent's basements. Storage items and things I've passed on in at least 10 different homes of friends and other family. Some will find it's way to Montana where it will share space with the furnishings of someone else's home. So home for me is actually in a lot of different places by her definition.

I got a message from a friend when I was in TN last weekend: "Enjoy home while you are away from home and on your way to your new home." I smiled. She's completely correct. I'm blessed to have a lot of homes. But...

That doesn't stop me from resisting this big move like it is the plague. I just need more time. I'm not quite ready. Just another week. Another month. Another year. Another lifetime. Then I will be ready. Then.

Advice

So I keep finding myself in situations where people are giving me advice. About moving. About ink. About being friends with an ex. About life. MY life.

And I have to say, today I reached the ceiling on getting advice. I appreciate the balanced feedback from my spiritual director who I approached with these issues. I appreciate the insight from my mother who knows what she's talking about and knows me ridiculously well. I appreciate my tattoo artist advising me on tattoo care as my last one turned out beautifully and it is his passion.

What I'm full up on right now is everything else - "Well, you know... You should really... " I don't want to imply that you, dear reader, are unwanted in my life. But the advice about packing, internship, my ink, my ex, and my body are getting tiresome. It makes me feel as if everyone in my life sees me as a woman who is inept in all areas. It doesn't feel so nice.

Now, being on the other end of advice giving, I get that it generally comes from a place that is well meaning and sometimes even loving. I gave my mother advice when I was home last weekend and we got into a tiff about it. So I do it, too. I guess what I'm wondering is why? Why is it so easy to give advice and so annoying to get? Even if it comes from someone you trust who has good intentions, it rarely sounds like anything other than, "You have failed completely at (this aspect of your) life. Let me fix you."

My supervisor last summer told me that not all people hear advice this way. Like it implies there is something wrong with them. I remember being told that I had pretty much failed to connect with a patient or benefit them in any way and I broke down in tears. I had failed! My supervisor stepped in. No, I had not failed as a human being, a child of God, a hospital chaplain. I had failed to connect with this patient, this time, in this training session. What was all the fuss about?

It was a wake up call for sure. Why did that failure feedback send me into such a tizzy? (I've been reading too much 'Llama Drama' if 'tizzy' has entered my vocabulary.) Equally, it took me months to sort through the feedback that I was racist, sexist, and more after a challenging Endorsement Panel last fall. I was a mess in the beginning; vacillating between, "Is that true?!?!?" and "That can't be true!!!!!!" Now, almost a year later, I know to what extent I am a racist, sexist, and more and what else in the room was not actually MY stuff at all.

Is the same thing happening now? People giving me advice they must think I need to hear and my rejecting it? I can't decide. It seems very unhelpful now. I guess I will tell you in a year.

In the meantime, cease and desist.

Julie and Julia

I'm sitting here on my mother's couch watching Julie and Julia which incidentally combines two things I love - writing and cooking. Writing is an old love. Cooking is a new love. I think most of this is formed by being in community with people who are passionate about food. And not just any food. Fresh food. Local produce. Homemade deliciousness.

Think about how many ways we daily cut corners for convenience, time saving, and efficiency. Parmesan cheese already grated in a plastic bowl. Pre-chopped carrots and tomatoes. Whip cream in a tub or a can.

So this year, surrounded by the influence of people making brownies from scratch and their own whip cream, cooking with freshly chopped vegetables and making their own tortillas, I got inspired. So I started cooking without cutting corners.

Let me tell you - the difference is astounding. My first quiche had pre-made refrigerated crust, cubed ham, canned veggies, and pre-shredded cheese. It was bland and barely passable. My latest had home made wheat crust, fresh veggies, chicken that I cooked and cubed, and two different kinds of cheese that I shredded from blocks. It was FANTASTIC.

And I think part of it is that it is so much FUN to do all of this: to shred my own cheese, cut corn off a cob, and cook a breast of chicken in its own little dish (a former fear of mine was cooking chicken). I got the experience the JOY of cooking and I think it must come across in the actual food. What is that about?

I am not completely naive. I realize I am blessed to even be able to find and afford fresh food and sometimes organic or local food. I am blessed to have some time to set aside and prepare a dish for people I love. I am blessed to be able to have a home to cook it in. I guess I'm trying to live into my blessings?

... and it gives me deep joy to do so. So yay for fun movies about blogging and cooking. And yay for old and new loves.

Dive in dear friends. Dive into your blessings.

The Art of Leaving

A pastor I met recently called seminary "Transition Practice." In other words, it isn't so much about the classes and the books as it is about the art of leaving. Of saying goodbye. Of going from one community to the next. Of starting anew with a new set of somebodies. Of trusting there will be new somebodies that will love like these somebodies we already know and love.

I'm having a difficult time leaving. Saying goodbye. Going from this community to the next in Montana. Trusting that there will be new somebodies that will love me like my somebodies already do. I guess I still need a lot of practice but I can't say I'm looking forward to another round of goodbye's. Does it ever get easier?

As I give away my laundry hamper, my couch, my things that are really only things, I find myself flooded with all the memories surrounding them. I don't need to have this couch (I am on it now) to remember four rounds of horrible illnesses, fantastic movies with friends, cuddling with my boyfriend, and fantastic conversations over coffee, tea, and homemade meals. It doesn't stop me from hugging a cushion as tightly as I can and humming the lyrics to Ingrid Michaelson's "Breathing" though. Oh goodbye, why are you so difficult?

Comfort vs. Living Simply

I am one of the last interns to leave for internship - one of the last to start. This has caused me to see my friends through several rounds of packing and giving away. There are the three piles: take, store, get rid of. The "get rid of" stack is generally sub divided into trash and charity depending on the quality of the item. This sorting process has been especially interesting in light of my time in Mexico this summer. As a citizen of over-consuming-America, what do I do with all my stuff? How much do I NEED? What stuff is sentimental but functionless? What stuff is completely superfluous?

My greatest conundrum for moving to Montana is what to do with all that STUFF that I've accumulated in the last two years added to the things I brought with me in Henry the first year. More specifically, what to do with my couch, table, bed, entertainment center, tv, microwave... when I am moving into a fully furnished house? I only need to take the essentials (which, I apologize, also include my guitar and xbox and several well loved mugs and blankets!).

I lived perfectly find in Mexico for a week living out of a suitcase. Simply. My needs have been provided every single day even though I feel broke most of the time. I've been very blessed. Maybe because of this assurance, ultimately I decided to get rid of everything. Sell. Give to our school's international students who need to furnish their apartment. I came into this very fantastic apartment with very little and filled it up with fantastic hand me down furniture. All of it was provided for me perfectly. Can't I trust that God will provide for me again senior year?

So I had a yard sale on Saturday and gave the rest of my things away. I have various odds and ends boxes of office supplies, cd's, and books to go with my clothes, kitchen stuff, and the aforementioned essentials. In the past, I've been overwhelmed with how much stuff I have. This time, I'm contemplative about how much stuff we all have. Other cultures are not this cluttered!! Well, let's be safe and say that there are many other cultures who live (and LIVE abundantly!!!) a lot simpler than we Americans do.

In a note to my supervisors, I said that I was planning on only packing a car full of things to bring with me. Their response: "Sounds like you will be packing lightly, which I believe is one of God's intentions for us on this good earth." So I think I'm going to be in good hands this year!

Any thoughts on your STUFF? Over consuming? Ironic joy of consuming (retail therapy, comfort foods, etc)?

Introverted Tendancies

Announcement: I am an introvert. I am an introvert who loves being around people and needs contact and relationship to stay sane... but it is also draining. I have to have a place to come home to and be restored. Be re-energized. This causes some particular problems in this field where so much of my life and job are to be with people. I recognize that everyone needs some alone time and that all people crave human contact but there is a difference between the people who get their energy FROM other people and people who get their energy from being alone.

So says the source of all common knowledge, Wikipedia: Extraverts (also spelled extroverts) tend to be gregarious, assertive, and interested in seeking out excitement. They tend to think out loud and cannot solve things in their heads as well as introverts. However, it should not necessarily be assumed that just because one has many friends that they are an extravert. Introverts, in contrast, tend to be more reserved, less outgoing, and less sociable. They are not necessarily loners but they tend to have smaller circles of friends. Introverts have an easier time solving things inside their head without help. Introversion does not describe social discomfort but rather social preference. An introvert may not be shy at all but may merely prefer non social or less social activities. There are people who are inbetween, those that don't mind to be in a big crowd or alone. These people may have a large group of friends but don't mind spending time alone.

I am an introvert. So right now, I'm basically ready for a nap. Anyone else?

Where has my blog gone?

Frankly, I blame it on poor time management. Alas, I'm going to try to get this going again for internship. I'll need my outlet!

I'll be moving out of my Chicago apartment on the 20th of August and driving to Billings in three parts - Chicago to St. Paul/Minneapolis; MN to Bismark, ND; ND to Billings. That way I get to stop in on family and visit and it is nicely chunked out in 6-7 hour pieces (20 hours total). I'm going to attempt to pack Henry and nothing else. I might mail a few boxes out west in the end, depending on how much stuff I have. And let's remember... I have a lot of stuff. I try to keep consolidating and what not, but I'm a single woman. I have a tool box; multiple sets of sheets and towels; wall decor; books galore; various kitchen objects that range from useful to fun; a laptop, guitar, and an xbox; and clothing including winter wear! It's going to be fun...

But I have a whole month to get there. Let me tell you what I've been up to this SUMMER!

That's right. I got/get a summer. One of the last, I'm assuming. That's the beauty of starting internship September 1st. But I got a summer job - several jobs in fact. Small ones but they are fantastic and put a little money in my pocket. The first is working for a youth mission program out of the seminary. For one of the programs (there are several), I spent three weeks with 16 high school students and a few other adult mentors. We spent a week in Chicago (meeting with various Chicago advocacy groups and professors, touring Hyde Park, learning about Islam and meeting with Muslim youth, and beginning to talk about traveling to Mexico...), one week in Mexico (at the Lutheran Center in Mexico City and CCIDD in Cuernevaca learning about the culture and the effects of NAFTA, meeting with Mexicans, and seeing where Liberation Theology was born), then a week back in Chicago (to meet with immigrants in the Chicago area, debrief everything, and say goodbye). Generally, this sounds like an introvert's version of hell but it was really quite fantastic. I got to work with some of my favorite people and the youth taught me a lot about how crappy it is to be a teenager right now. I couldn't be happier I did it though I was more than exhausted at the end of the third week.

Besides that, I've been meeting with youth groups coming to Chicago for the week. We talk about vocation and where God might be calling them - both now and in the future. I've been babysitting two fantastic youngin's - we go on long walks, chill, and talk about the alphabet. It has been ridiculously hot, so I've been sleeping a bunch (/recovering from school and the youth mission program) and staying near my AC window unit. I played through the rest of Mass Effect and borrowed Mass Effect 2 from my friend Nils who is out of the country and am happily making my way through that. I'm journaling. I'm reading books. I'm organizing my head and heart and soul and apartment all at the same time in preparation for the year ahead. I'm pumped!

I'm ready for internship. For open skies. For new places. For new people and faces. For a culture that might be as foreign to me as Mexico or as familiar as my home town. For new adventures. For getting stretched, humbled, and spiritually fed. For all that the year holds of which I have no idea. Can't wait, can't wait, but can totally take another month to get there. ;)

It's best to compose a poem...

Hello my lemons,

I'm writing poetry again. But the new stuff is too raw still so I shall post something I wrote for the seniors last year which seems perfect for the semester's wind down:

For the Seniors

If I hung you on the wall like a mirror,
I wonder if you'd talk like me, act like me.
Could I dress you up and keep you here with me?
Sing you stories and show you songs about me?
Could I hug you in the quiet crazy of my sleep
When houses I no longer live in call me home
And running never gets me where I'm going.
But they are pretty, all the same, these dream sleep dreams.
They tap at our unspoken and the too much spoken
And yet demand no specific answer for their questions.

Find me in the midst of these and sing,
Tell me how you are like my skin, my story,
But how you dream instead of ponds and rivers
Sometimes frozen but rarely walkable or warm.
How you hang art on the wall instead of mirrors
And find yourself staring at the thick paint,
Wondering why the artist painted blue
When you had always considered grass green.
Which then makes you think of open plains and fields
And following your footsteps to some new house
Some home where mirrors and art are hung side by side
But maybe you don't recognize your skin or the color of paint
When it sketches itself in unrecognizable colors and hues
On walls that look nothing like the home in your head.

Find yourself there where the rivers freeze overnight
And the sick do not always remember your name.
Find there the sad cry of tired voices
And their need for a dream like yours.
Not for mirrors or symbolic art on church walls
But for passion and a willingness to hold the pain.
For recognizing that grass is not always green
And that sometimes the strangest dreams let you run the farthest.
Hold them there and let me be here in my wandering,
Also finding the places that somehow feel like home.