The two things I should probably comment on today: 1. We had the smallest amount of daylight hours today out of the whole year. That means it is going to be getting steadily lighter from now until June! Woohoo! 2. The world did not end, as predicted by some interpreters of the Mayan calendar (an interpretation that was both hotly disputed and widely talked about). I guess I should not say that definitively yet-- we still have a few hours to go before the day is officially over for the whole world. But I would have expected at least the internet to be out by now if it was all going to end.
Those are my things to be joyful about today!
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
Wondering...
Only 5 (or 4, depending on how you look at it) days until Christmas! Today my mom and I went and got a Christmas tree. It is a bit later than we would normally get one, but we were feeling lazy about such things until today. Today, of course, was pouring down rain, and cold. We stopped at a lot where Mom had spotted a tree she liked on the outer edges, and waded through mud puddles to get to it. Once there, the tree lot man (who was dressed entirely in orange rain gear) tried to give us a tour of the lot, until we finally stopped at a tree and decided we wanted it and refused to be toured around any more. The man did not seem to understand our reluctance to wander in the rain looking at trees, but he finally let us take the tree and go. And now we have a tree! Yay!
I was perusing the internet today reading about joy, and something that stuck out to me about a blog post I read (and now I can't find it to link to it) was the concept of wonder. I think that as a society, we are generally fairly cynical. On my ride home tonight I was listening to NPR and there was a discussion about whether science is replacing philosophy. The move of some well-known scientists to discount religion and philosophy as unquantifiable and unprovable is something that is definitely influencing the world as we know it. I got out of the car before the discussion was finished, but this particular discussion was leaning toward philosophy being important and having a place in society. Which I happen to agree with. I think that some things just need to be beyond quantification. I love the fact that we still can't predict if it will actually snow for sure or not!
There is a degree of the unexplainable about Christmas. I already talked about miracles a bit, but I think that part of our joy is holding on to the truth that there are things going on that we don't have to understand every aspect of. We can just trust that we are a part of the big, beautiful picture. I love the picture that Madeleine L'Engle (yes, again) paints when she asks:
"Was there a moment, known only to God when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped their hands for joy?"
I wonder.
I was perusing the internet today reading about joy, and something that stuck out to me about a blog post I read (and now I can't find it to link to it) was the concept of wonder. I think that as a society, we are generally fairly cynical. On my ride home tonight I was listening to NPR and there was a discussion about whether science is replacing philosophy. The move of some well-known scientists to discount religion and philosophy as unquantifiable and unprovable is something that is definitely influencing the world as we know it. I got out of the car before the discussion was finished, but this particular discussion was leaning toward philosophy being important and having a place in society. Which I happen to agree with. I think that some things just need to be beyond quantification. I love the fact that we still can't predict if it will actually snow for sure or not!
There is a degree of the unexplainable about Christmas. I already talked about miracles a bit, but I think that part of our joy is holding on to the truth that there are things going on that we don't have to understand every aspect of. We can just trust that we are a part of the big, beautiful picture. I love the picture that Madeleine L'Engle (yes, again) paints when she asks:
"Was there a moment, known only to God when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped their hands for joy?"
I wonder.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Hot Showers and God's Gifts
Well, it turns out that I was led astray as far as snow goes. Boo! No snow whatsoever for me. The older lady I was staying with and I were both disappointed. But it did kind of bring home for me the fact that there IS joy in the anticipation of things-- even if they don't happen when we expect. How weird is that?
I am kind of a weirdo when it comes to waiting for things. Sometimes I am terribly impatient. Sometimes I am really good at waiting. Sometimes I am a bit fanatical about it. Once, when I was leading a team for two months in Bangladesh, we stayed our last couple of weeks in a guest house that had hot water showers. Such a luxury! We had been showering in cold water up until that point, and there was not even a chance that we were getting the grime from the polluted air off of ourselves to a satisfactory level in the cold water. Some of my hair actually turned orange from the pollution while I was there. And my hair is brown-- not blonde at all-- so that was quite the feat.
Anyway, when we finally stayed at this place with hot showers, I refused to take one for days. I was kind of mad that we had the option of hot water, because I felt like I wanted to tough it out for as long as possible and really earn hot water. My team would come out of the shower with exclamations of joy and washcloths black from the weeks of built-up silt scrubbed from their skin, but I held out.
One day it kind of hit me that I was being ridiculous. I realized that there were no amount of cold showers that would cause me to suddenly "deserve" a hot shower. A hot shower, in my situation, was total unmerited favor.
I think that's where I go astray when it comes to waiting for things sometimes. I wait and wait and try to earn whatever it is I think I'm going to get, when in reality, that thing is a gift that I don't have to-- and can't-- earn, and I could have it whenever I wanted it.
When I finally took a hot shower, it was amazing. Those weeks of cold water showers had definitely made me appreciate what I had been missing. But as I watched the water running down the drain in pollution-black rivulets, I knew that this shower was no better or worse than it would have been if I'd had it a few days earlier or later. It was good, that was sure, and I had missed out for a little while on something good, because of my own skewed perception.
So... is it a stretch to relate this story to Advent? In this season of waiting and then of gifts, I hope for myself that I know how to separate the two. The waiting is important-- it helps us to appreciate the gift more when it comes. But the whole point is to be ready when the gift is there, so let us not miss that gift! And when the gift of God is right in front of us, begging us to open our arms to it, let us accept wholeheartedly. We will never deserve it. But that's kind of the point.
I am kind of a weirdo when it comes to waiting for things. Sometimes I am terribly impatient. Sometimes I am really good at waiting. Sometimes I am a bit fanatical about it. Once, when I was leading a team for two months in Bangladesh, we stayed our last couple of weeks in a guest house that had hot water showers. Such a luxury! We had been showering in cold water up until that point, and there was not even a chance that we were getting the grime from the polluted air off of ourselves to a satisfactory level in the cold water. Some of my hair actually turned orange from the pollution while I was there. And my hair is brown-- not blonde at all-- so that was quite the feat.
Anyway, when we finally stayed at this place with hot showers, I refused to take one for days. I was kind of mad that we had the option of hot water, because I felt like I wanted to tough it out for as long as possible and really earn hot water. My team would come out of the shower with exclamations of joy and washcloths black from the weeks of built-up silt scrubbed from their skin, but I held out.
One day it kind of hit me that I was being ridiculous. I realized that there were no amount of cold showers that would cause me to suddenly "deserve" a hot shower. A hot shower, in my situation, was total unmerited favor.
I think that's where I go astray when it comes to waiting for things sometimes. I wait and wait and try to earn whatever it is I think I'm going to get, when in reality, that thing is a gift that I don't have to-- and can't-- earn, and I could have it whenever I wanted it.
When I finally took a hot shower, it was amazing. Those weeks of cold water showers had definitely made me appreciate what I had been missing. But as I watched the water running down the drain in pollution-black rivulets, I knew that this shower was no better or worse than it would have been if I'd had it a few days earlier or later. It was good, that was sure, and I had missed out for a little while on something good, because of my own skewed perception.
So... is it a stretch to relate this story to Advent? In this season of waiting and then of gifts, I hope for myself that I know how to separate the two. The waiting is important-- it helps us to appreciate the gift more when it comes. But the whole point is to be ready when the gift is there, so let us not miss that gift! And when the gift of God is right in front of us, begging us to open our arms to it, let us accept wholeheartedly. We will never deserve it. But that's kind of the point.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Joyful moments
Apparently, it snowed on some people in the Portland area last night. Not on those of us in the Sellwood banana belt, though. It might snow again tonight, and I am working, so I'm hoping to see some amazing snow early in the morning! I love snow. I know that my opinion is not the majority (among adults... I think that most school-going children are with me!), but I can't help it!
So there you go: my bit of joy for you. Other joyful moments today included watching A Charlie Brown Christmas with an 88-year-old and hearing her laugh her way through it, spending time with people and helping out at Forward Edge International, hanging out with my roommate for a while, and eating my new favorite snack: Newman's Own Organic Honey Wheat Mini Pretzels. They are so good! And also they are mini, which is one of my favorite features when it comes to food.
Those are joy-in-the-moment things. I am anticipating some things as well, so those get to count, I think. I'm looking forward to spending time with family. I'm appreciating the peace and hope that are finally taking root a little more in media coverage today. I am grateful for the assurance that God is with me and will never leave me. I have moments of panic, sometimes, where I start to worry about money and the future and life in general. And somehow, in those moments, I am able to take a deep breath ("I am a little seed...") and remember that I have always been taken care of, and that it's not going to change now.
So... random-ish thoughts today. I hope you had some joyful moments (in the present or anticipated) as well!
So there you go: my bit of joy for you. Other joyful moments today included watching A Charlie Brown Christmas with an 88-year-old and hearing her laugh her way through it, spending time with people and helping out at Forward Edge International, hanging out with my roommate for a while, and eating my new favorite snack: Newman's Own Organic Honey Wheat Mini Pretzels. They are so good! And also they are mini, which is one of my favorite features when it comes to food.
Those are joy-in-the-moment things. I am anticipating some things as well, so those get to count, I think. I'm looking forward to spending time with family. I'm appreciating the peace and hope that are finally taking root a little more in media coverage today. I am grateful for the assurance that God is with me and will never leave me. I have moments of panic, sometimes, where I start to worry about money and the future and life in general. And somehow, in those moments, I am able to take a deep breath ("I am a little seed...") and remember that I have always been taken care of, and that it's not going to change now.
So... random-ish thoughts today. I hope you had some joyful moments (in the present or anticipated) as well!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Joy
This week we lit the "Joy" candle on the Advent wreath. Each week we have a different family or individual light the candle of the week and share something, and this week the lady who opened up the sharing had a good point: what a week to be thinking about joy.
Today, the first funeral services took place for the children who were gunned down at Sandy Hook school. This week will be full of them. It's sad. Which seems like the opposite of joy. Merriam-Webster's dictionary says (the lady from church read this, too, just so you know it's not an original thought) that joy is: "the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires."
I don't feel like being joyful, and the prospect of writing about it bothers me a little because I know that there is great sorrow among people in my nation tonight. And yet, the apostle Paul was pretty adamant that Christians should rejoice always. Always? And this was a guy who saw and experienced some pretty awful stuff.
So... I think that at my first glance, Merriam-Webster's definition of joy was perhaps lacking a little bit as far as what my understanding of joy from scripture is. My own experience with joy is that it runs more deeply than a quick, reactive emotion when something goes my way. And this, conveniently enough, brings us back to the idea of Advent. Romans 12:12 says to be "joyful in hope." I read an article earlier tonight where the author underlined the part of the dictionary definition that says "the prospect of possessing what one desires." So, the anticipation of things being as they should be brings us hope and joy. I think that for me, peace comes from knowing that God is with me right now. Joy comes from the hope that eventually, all things will be made new and right.
That's what I'm hanging onto right now. As we realize more and more how very real the darkness is in this world, we can have a measure of joy because it will not always be so. Advent is a reminder that in the moments where it seems impossible to find joy in the present, we know that there is a time coming when promises will be fulfilled.
I do pray for those directly affected by the tragedies we experienced this week. I pray that they will have time and space to mourn and to know that their losses are significant to all of us. I pray that when it is time, they will find hope and peace again, and that they will know what it is to have joy restored to them. And I pray for the rest of us, struggling to make sense of it all and to know how to react, that we will find a way to remain in the love of God, who is now, and will continue to be, with us.
"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy will be complete. My command is this: love each other as I have loved you." John 15:9-12
Today, the first funeral services took place for the children who were gunned down at Sandy Hook school. This week will be full of them. It's sad. Which seems like the opposite of joy. Merriam-Webster's dictionary says (the lady from church read this, too, just so you know it's not an original thought) that joy is: "the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires."
I don't feel like being joyful, and the prospect of writing about it bothers me a little because I know that there is great sorrow among people in my nation tonight. And yet, the apostle Paul was pretty adamant that Christians should rejoice always. Always? And this was a guy who saw and experienced some pretty awful stuff.
So... I think that at my first glance, Merriam-Webster's definition of joy was perhaps lacking a little bit as far as what my understanding of joy from scripture is. My own experience with joy is that it runs more deeply than a quick, reactive emotion when something goes my way. And this, conveniently enough, brings us back to the idea of Advent. Romans 12:12 says to be "joyful in hope." I read an article earlier tonight where the author underlined the part of the dictionary definition that says "the prospect of possessing what one desires." So, the anticipation of things being as they should be brings us hope and joy. I think that for me, peace comes from knowing that God is with me right now. Joy comes from the hope that eventually, all things will be made new and right.
That's what I'm hanging onto right now. As we realize more and more how very real the darkness is in this world, we can have a measure of joy because it will not always be so. Advent is a reminder that in the moments where it seems impossible to find joy in the present, we know that there is a time coming when promises will be fulfilled.
I do pray for those directly affected by the tragedies we experienced this week. I pray that they will have time and space to mourn and to know that their losses are significant to all of us. I pray that when it is time, they will find hope and peace again, and that they will know what it is to have joy restored to them. And I pray for the rest of us, struggling to make sense of it all and to know how to react, that we will find a way to remain in the love of God, who is now, and will continue to be, with us.
"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy will be complete. My command is this: love each other as I have loved you." John 15:9-12
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Today Calls For Another Heartwarming Video
I love these Kiwi kids. My favorite part is at around the 3 minute mark where the stable is described as "hay-ish and animal poo-ish." Also, Joseph's face when Jesus "pops out."
Enjoy.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Horrible.
Today was another sad day. I learned, along with the rest of the country, that 20 school children had been gunned down in Connecticut this morning. Eight adults are also dead, including the shooter. It is tragic and heartbreaking and I don't even want to try to understand.
Facebook is full of debates about gun control and how we deal with mental illness, but it's hard for me to really want to engage in those debates. Right now I just want to be sad and angry about it. So... tonight I don't really have anything to say about Advent. I do still appreciate the anticipation of the coming of the baby who changed everything. But tonight I want to reiterate that the king we remember waiting for DID come. He was already one of us. He has already endured a life of joy and love and pain and loss, a horrible massacre of children, the murder of his cousin, and death for crimes he did not commit. He is Emmanuel, "God with us," and instead of thinking about waiting for him tonight, I want to remember that he IS present with us.
Platitudes are not helpful... I can't even think of good words to pray. But I do know that knowledge of the presence of God is what I long for when I am overwhelmed. So I hope for an awareness of God tonight for myself and for all who mourn, for whatever reason.
Facebook is full of debates about gun control and how we deal with mental illness, but it's hard for me to really want to engage in those debates. Right now I just want to be sad and angry about it. So... tonight I don't really have anything to say about Advent. I do still appreciate the anticipation of the coming of the baby who changed everything. But tonight I want to reiterate that the king we remember waiting for DID come. He was already one of us. He has already endured a life of joy and love and pain and loss, a horrible massacre of children, the murder of his cousin, and death for crimes he did not commit. He is Emmanuel, "God with us," and instead of thinking about waiting for him tonight, I want to remember that he IS present with us.
Platitudes are not helpful... I can't even think of good words to pray. But I do know that knowledge of the presence of God is what I long for when I am overwhelmed. So I hope for an awareness of God tonight for myself and for all who mourn, for whatever reason.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Santa Lucia
You can find out about the history of Santa Lucia Day here. I have to be honest-- most of what I know about Santa Lucia involves wearing a wreath with candles on your head (thrilling!) and wearing white (less so...). I have several Scandinavian friends, and some of my favorite times in New Zealand were when all of us got together to share our holiday traditions from home with each other. Santa Lucia was always a part of that time, and there was usually a Star Boy as well in the mix, which was even better, as far as comedy goes. Star Boy is traditionally a little boy, but we always had fully grown Scandinavian men showing us the tradition, and the hat (note the picture above), while adorable on a child, is kind of laughable on a man.
Anyway, I'm glad I took the time to research a little bit about who Santa Lucia was, and why she is celebrated. The origins of this story tell us about someone who cared for the poor and made an effort to bring the light of Jesus into the lives of hungry and hurt people. As beautiful as the celebration is, the heart behind it is even more so. May we all be inspired by Santa Lucia and her willingness to reach out to those in need.
I also wouldn't mind seeing more grown men wearing pointy star hats.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Just a Little Something...
If you feel like you need a little Christmas-related pick-me-up, watch this. Kids reminding me of the sweetness of Christmas, once again. And seriously: the sheep! I could die.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Sigh
Today was a weird day. It was super dark all morning-- my roommate and I were both pretty astounded by how much it seemed like it was dusk already. We had a short conversation about whether this makes the days seem longer or shorter; obviously there is less daylight, but when you feel like it's 5pm all day, things seem to stretch out somehow.
Then, at actual 5pm, my mom called to "make sure I was alright," which made no sense to me whatsoever. She told me that there had been a shooting at the local mall, and just wanted to make sure I wasn't there. Which I wasn't, so that was pretty much the end of that conversation. I don't have TV reception at my house, so we hadn't heard any news up until then. When my roommate's sister in law texted her to make sure she didn't get shot at the mall, we decided to hop on the internet.
What we found out was mostly just sad news. Three people, including the original shooter, were dead at the mall. It sounded like there was a lot of confusion and distress and people still hiding scared in the mall, and now, hours later, I know that's true. I watched the news with the older lady that I work as a caregiver for, and now it's on again. It's unsettling. Even more unsettling is that it's not as shocking as it would have been a few years ago. This is our world now-- things like this seem to happen more and more often. It's horrible, but it's not as unusual as I would like it to be.
Today is a day to practice peace. As I watch the news, I remember that ultimately, God is good. Even in this violent world where people are somehow driven to commit horrible acts, God is good. There is hope. I choose to hold on to that and hope that the things I say and do are an assurance of it for others. I think that there are a lot of people in my community who will not be getting much sleep tonight. There are law enforcement officers working to put this case into order, and grieving families, and scared people who were caught up in chaos today. My prayer for them is that they will know the peace of God, as well.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Christmas Spiral
I got to do a cool thing last night. Our church has a "Christmas Spiral" every year for the kids younger than 6th grade. I have been working as the children's ministry coordinator at our church, so was pretty excited to see what this was all about! One of the families sets it up and runs it every year, but I did help gather greens, which I assumed would be making up the spiral (and I was right!).
The spiral was made out of evergreen clippings and Christmas lights which were laid on the floor in (guess what?) a spiral, with a little table in the middle. The table had little nativity figures and a candle on it. With the overhead lights out in our church library, it was really beautiful! All the kids gathered together ahead of time, and then were led quietly into the library, where everyone sat in a circle around the spiral. The lady who was facilitating the event told the Christmas story to the kids, and she was great! The kids were really into it. After she told the story, she encouraged everyone to really think about the Christmas story, and then, one by one, each of the kids was given a candle. The candles were stuck in apples as holders. One at a time, the kids went around the spiral until they got to the middle, and then lit their candles on the big one, and then walked back out, placing their candle on plates somewhere in the greens.
I will say, there were a few moments where I thought we all might catch on fire. I was standing by the fire extinguisher just in case! But I also really hoped there was not a fire, because I am not 100% sure how to get the fire extinguisher off the wall. Anyway, it was a non-issue, because all was well as far as fire goes.
Aside from that, I was really struck by the simple beauty of the evening. The kids were all really quiet and eager to make the silent march around the spiral to light their candle. And I found myself able to really contemplate as I watched each kid, and wondering what might have gone through the minds of those who, thousands of years ago, made the journey to meet and worship the Christ child-- the light of the world-- and to carry that light beyond that moment. What a great way to remind kids of the story of Jesus' birth, and to introduce an appreciation of reverence and contemplation.
After each kid had a chance to go around and put their lit candles in the spiral, we sang a few Christmas songs in the quiet, candle-lit room. The families were dismissed one at a time and left the room, and then, just like that, all was loud and boisterous again, with conversations and laughter and eating snacks and running around.
It all seemed just right, really. The peace and silence in the chapel were right, and the laughing and talking afterward, too. All of this seemed like such a reflection of God's kingdom to me. How amazing that I get to be a part of it!
The spiral was made out of evergreen clippings and Christmas lights which were laid on the floor in (guess what?) a spiral, with a little table in the middle. The table had little nativity figures and a candle on it. With the overhead lights out in our church library, it was really beautiful! All the kids gathered together ahead of time, and then were led quietly into the library, where everyone sat in a circle around the spiral. The lady who was facilitating the event told the Christmas story to the kids, and she was great! The kids were really into it. After she told the story, she encouraged everyone to really think about the Christmas story, and then, one by one, each of the kids was given a candle. The candles were stuck in apples as holders. One at a time, the kids went around the spiral until they got to the middle, and then lit their candles on the big one, and then walked back out, placing their candle on plates somewhere in the greens.
I will say, there were a few moments where I thought we all might catch on fire. I was standing by the fire extinguisher just in case! But I also really hoped there was not a fire, because I am not 100% sure how to get the fire extinguisher off the wall. Anyway, it was a non-issue, because all was well as far as fire goes.
Aside from that, I was really struck by the simple beauty of the evening. The kids were all really quiet and eager to make the silent march around the spiral to light their candle. And I found myself able to really contemplate as I watched each kid, and wondering what might have gone through the minds of those who, thousands of years ago, made the journey to meet and worship the Christ child-- the light of the world-- and to carry that light beyond that moment. What a great way to remind kids of the story of Jesus' birth, and to introduce an appreciation of reverence and contemplation.
After each kid had a chance to go around and put their lit candles in the spiral, we sang a few Christmas songs in the quiet, candle-lit room. The families were dismissed one at a time and left the room, and then, just like that, all was loud and boisterous again, with conversations and laughter and eating snacks and running around.
It all seemed just right, really. The peace and silence in the chapel were right, and the laughing and talking afterward, too. All of this seemed like such a reflection of God's kingdom to me. How amazing that I get to be a part of it!
Monday, December 10, 2012
Peace on Earth
Today is the second Sunday of Advent. We lit the "Peace" candle at church this morning. And altogether, today was a very peaceful one for me.
I was thinking about the idea of peace earlier this week-- I think about it a lot, actually. I volunteer sometimes at Medical Teams International at the Real.Life. exhibit. This is a multi-sensory walk-through exhibit that gives people a little experience of what life is like for people who are affected by disaster, conflict and poverty. It's really well done, and my job when I'm volunteering is mostly just to kind of be there to answer questions, help move people along and make sure things are running smoothly. This week I was there when a couple of high-school groups went through. At one point, some high school girls were talking quietly to each other about the exhibit, and one of the girls asked the other: "what kind of world do we live in?"
I thought that was a good question. The last week has been filled with news of war and unrest, and I feel like everywhere I look I see some sort of heartache or another. I find myself falling asleep at night and waking up in the morning praying for peace. Peace in the war-torn Middle East. Peace for the family of the British nurse who killed herself after accidently giving out too much information over the telephone. Peace for my neighbors and friends and family here at home. I long for it.
One thing that I was struck by during today's sermon was that one of the best questions to be asking is: how can I bring peace to my world? How is what I am doing/ who I am being contributing to peace? I want to be at peace with others, which comes from being at peace with myself, which comes from being at peace with God.
And once again, Jesus is central to our ability to have peace-- to be peacemakers. We can be at peace with God because of Jesus and what he has done. And hence, we can be at peace with ourselves, and with others. Everything is not well in this world. But I can breath in and out in the face of breathtaking unrest, because I know that peace can be my reality, and I hope that because of Jesus, I can be an agent of peace in this world.
"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7
I was thinking about the idea of peace earlier this week-- I think about it a lot, actually. I volunteer sometimes at Medical Teams International at the Real.Life. exhibit. This is a multi-sensory walk-through exhibit that gives people a little experience of what life is like for people who are affected by disaster, conflict and poverty. It's really well done, and my job when I'm volunteering is mostly just to kind of be there to answer questions, help move people along and make sure things are running smoothly. This week I was there when a couple of high-school groups went through. At one point, some high school girls were talking quietly to each other about the exhibit, and one of the girls asked the other: "what kind of world do we live in?"
I thought that was a good question. The last week has been filled with news of war and unrest, and I feel like everywhere I look I see some sort of heartache or another. I find myself falling asleep at night and waking up in the morning praying for peace. Peace in the war-torn Middle East. Peace for the family of the British nurse who killed herself after accidently giving out too much information over the telephone. Peace for my neighbors and friends and family here at home. I long for it.
One thing that I was struck by during today's sermon was that one of the best questions to be asking is: how can I bring peace to my world? How is what I am doing/ who I am being contributing to peace? I want to be at peace with others, which comes from being at peace with myself, which comes from being at peace with God.
And once again, Jesus is central to our ability to have peace-- to be peacemakers. We can be at peace with God because of Jesus and what he has done. And hence, we can be at peace with ourselves, and with others. Everything is not well in this world. But I can breath in and out in the face of breathtaking unrest, because I know that peace can be my reality, and I hope that because of Jesus, I can be an agent of peace in this world.
"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Just In Case
If you somehow missed the very best Christmas special that I know of, I want you all to know that you can watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on Hulu.
Here is the link!
Happy watching! I'll be back tomorrow to tell you about the candle we light for week 2 of Advent.
Here is the link!
Happy watching! I'll be back tomorrow to tell you about the candle we light for week 2 of Advent.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Where Can I Find a Santa Claus Mug?
Guess what I found? Madeleine L'Engle's The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas, only $2.99 as a Kindle download. This is a prequel to the Austin series that she wrote many years ago, which are some of my favorite books ever. Anyway, it's just a short little book, and I'm not sure how I didn't know about it before (did I read it as a child?), but I think the internet is amazing.
I'm not too far into it, but one of the things that I am enjoying as I read it is that the Austin family (it's written from the perspective of a 7-year-old Vicky) has a surprise for every day of Advent. They have a calendar, of course, and it's one like my brothers and I used to have: no candy or hidden treasures, just pictures of donkeys or shepherds or whatever behind each little window. I remember loving to fold back the little window each day and see who was behind it.
But I digress. They also get to have another surprise each day. One day they hung Norwegian Elves across their windows (not real ones, don't worry), and another day they got to drink out of Santa Claus mugs. I like that! I think that maybe I get caught up sometimes in having some sort of deep and meaningful thought... I don't want to miss out on the fun, too. Drinking out of a Santa Claus mug might not seem very spiritual or significant, but I think it actually is, somehow. But I'm not going to try and prove it. I'm just going to enjoy my little book.
I'm not too far into it, but one of the things that I am enjoying as I read it is that the Austin family (it's written from the perspective of a 7-year-old Vicky) has a surprise for every day of Advent. They have a calendar, of course, and it's one like my brothers and I used to have: no candy or hidden treasures, just pictures of donkeys or shepherds or whatever behind each little window. I remember loving to fold back the little window each day and see who was behind it.
But I digress. They also get to have another surprise each day. One day they hung Norwegian Elves across their windows (not real ones, don't worry), and another day they got to drink out of Santa Claus mugs. I like that! I think that maybe I get caught up sometimes in having some sort of deep and meaningful thought... I don't want to miss out on the fun, too. Drinking out of a Santa Claus mug might not seem very spiritual or significant, but I think it actually is, somehow. But I'm not going to try and prove it. I'm just going to enjoy my little book.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Miracles
Today I spent the afternoon with my mom watching Hallmark Christmas movies. It was a good afternoon. One of the movies pleasantly surprised both of us by being clever and actually pretty good. The other one was more typical, but still... there is something cozy and familiar about these movies that we like.
The movie that was only so-so did make me think, though. Just a little bit. :) And not really about much to do with the movie. But there was a sick grandmother, and she was talking about dying, and she said something along the lines of: "it will be a miracle if I last beyond the New Year." And she said this without any expectation of a miracle at all. Of course (not to ruin the movie or anything for you), a miracle does happen, although it's barely acknowledged as one.
Anyway, what it made me think about was this: I believe in miracles. Christians believe in miracles. But I feel like we throw around phrases like, "it would take a miracle..." without ever having an expectation of that miracle ever taking place. It's just kind of a part of our cultural lexicon, denoting something that is unlikely to happen.
But we should know better. I hope that, in the future, when I say something would take a miracle, that I say it knowing that a miracle is totally possible. If God can be born to a virgin as a human baby, then I can suspend disbelief that God cares about my life and is willing to help me. I want to be more aware and ready for the supernatural elements of life. Because the truth is, God works beyond my logic sometimes. I know that he gave us the ability to think and reason, but we also really lack perspective at times.
Madeleine L'Engle is one of my favorite writers. Here is a poem that she wrote about this season, summing up what I am trying to say much more eloquently and sweetly than I am able to:
"This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild
Had Mary been filled with reason
there'd have been no room for the child."
The movie that was only so-so did make me think, though. Just a little bit. :) And not really about much to do with the movie. But there was a sick grandmother, and she was talking about dying, and she said something along the lines of: "it will be a miracle if I last beyond the New Year." And she said this without any expectation of a miracle at all. Of course (not to ruin the movie or anything for you), a miracle does happen, although it's barely acknowledged as one.
Anyway, what it made me think about was this: I believe in miracles. Christians believe in miracles. But I feel like we throw around phrases like, "it would take a miracle..." without ever having an expectation of that miracle ever taking place. It's just kind of a part of our cultural lexicon, denoting something that is unlikely to happen.
But we should know better. I hope that, in the future, when I say something would take a miracle, that I say it knowing that a miracle is totally possible. If God can be born to a virgin as a human baby, then I can suspend disbelief that God cares about my life and is willing to help me. I want to be more aware and ready for the supernatural elements of life. Because the truth is, God works beyond my logic sometimes. I know that he gave us the ability to think and reason, but we also really lack perspective at times.
Madeleine L'Engle is one of my favorite writers. Here is a poem that she wrote about this season, summing up what I am trying to say much more eloquently and sweetly than I am able to:
"This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild
Had Mary been filled with reason
there'd have been no room for the child."
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Day 4
Ugh. It's later than I was planning on being awake, so this might be short. Then again, I always think that and often end up rambling a bit longer than I expected. But... I digress.
I am not a morning person. I mean, I'm not grumpy in the morning, but I just would rather not be awake before 9 or so. Back in my YWAM days, I would get up and go eat breakfast at 7am every day with my DTS students, and they quickly became used to seeing me enshrouded in a hoodie, stumbling to the cereal bins. One of the perks of my lack of job is that I get to sleep a little later fairly often.
However, I sometimes spend the night in an older lady's apartment, because she needs to have a caregiver available 24-7. And when I do that, I wake up early (for me-- I'm sure that my Dad would scoff at my idea of early). The thing is that once I'm up and have brain function, I actually really like being up. There is a specific kind of quiet before and during the dawn hours that feels more significant than the late night hours to me. Maybe it's just the novelty of it, but it's nice.
This morning was one of those mornings. At first I lay in the dark trying to talk myself out of the snooze button. And then, as I sometimes do, I began to talk to God. Mostly grumbling about how I would rather be asleep, I suppose. And my usual wondering about the best way to get through the day and when I might be able to have a nap. And then I thought (I wasn't talking out loud; sorry to disappoint you), maybe this is a good time to listen. What do you have to say to me, God?
The immediate thing that came to me was this verse: "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned." Isaiah 9:2
How appropriately Advent-y! One of my favorite things about this season is the proliferation of twinkle lights and candles everywhere. This is the darkest time of the year, but we find a way to live in the light. I love the parallel at this time of year, when it's so easy to understand the oppression of darkness, to the land of the shadow of death. And, ultimately, our liberation from that land. A light has dawned! My drive home was filled with little cheery beams of hope as I drove past store fronts covered in little lights.
So, it's not super deep and definitely not original, but today that was what was on my mind.
I am not a morning person. I mean, I'm not grumpy in the morning, but I just would rather not be awake before 9 or so. Back in my YWAM days, I would get up and go eat breakfast at 7am every day with my DTS students, and they quickly became used to seeing me enshrouded in a hoodie, stumbling to the cereal bins. One of the perks of my lack of job is that I get to sleep a little later fairly often.
However, I sometimes spend the night in an older lady's apartment, because she needs to have a caregiver available 24-7. And when I do that, I wake up early (for me-- I'm sure that my Dad would scoff at my idea of early). The thing is that once I'm up and have brain function, I actually really like being up. There is a specific kind of quiet before and during the dawn hours that feels more significant than the late night hours to me. Maybe it's just the novelty of it, but it's nice.
This morning was one of those mornings. At first I lay in the dark trying to talk myself out of the snooze button. And then, as I sometimes do, I began to talk to God. Mostly grumbling about how I would rather be asleep, I suppose. And my usual wondering about the best way to get through the day and when I might be able to have a nap. And then I thought (I wasn't talking out loud; sorry to disappoint you), maybe this is a good time to listen. What do you have to say to me, God?
The immediate thing that came to me was this verse: "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned." Isaiah 9:2
How appropriately Advent-y! One of my favorite things about this season is the proliferation of twinkle lights and candles everywhere. This is the darkest time of the year, but we find a way to live in the light. I love the parallel at this time of year, when it's so easy to understand the oppression of darkness, to the land of the shadow of death. And, ultimately, our liberation from that land. A light has dawned! My drive home was filled with little cheery beams of hope as I drove past store fronts covered in little lights.
So, it's not super deep and definitely not original, but today that was what was on my mind.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Waiting
Just to get this completely-unrelated-to-Advent topic out of the way: what is the deal with mid-season finales? This was not a thing when I moved to New Zealand. I feel like the TV networks are trying to sell me something. (I burst out laughing as soon as I wrote that sentence. Of course they are trying to sell me something.) Why a special name for the last episode before the holiday break? I think it's just an excuse to advertise more when the shows start up again.
Anyway, obviously I am behind the times.
Today, I read this quote by Henri Nouwen: "A seed only flourishes by staying in the ground in which it is sown. When you keep digging the sand up to check whether it is growing, it will never bear fruit. Think of yourself as a little seed planted in rich soil. All you have to do is stay there and trust that the soil contains everything you need to grow. This growth takes place even when you do not feel it."
Advent is a season of waiting. Have I mentioned this? :) I think that one reason that I am wanting to spend time exploring the significance of Advent is because this year has definitely been a year of waiting for me. I have no idea what the future holds for me, which is not easy. I don't know if anybody really does-- crazy things happen all the time that nobody plans for-- but sometimes we have a general idea. I don't really feel like I do. I know the direction I would like to go and am doing what I know to do in order for that to work, but I have no idea if or when it will work out like I hope.
Anyway, obviously I am behind the times.
Today, I read this quote by Henri Nouwen: "A seed only flourishes by staying in the ground in which it is sown. When you keep digging the sand up to check whether it is growing, it will never bear fruit. Think of yourself as a little seed planted in rich soil. All you have to do is stay there and trust that the soil contains everything you need to grow. This growth takes place even when you do not feel it."
Advent is a season of waiting. Have I mentioned this? :) I think that one reason that I am wanting to spend time exploring the significance of Advent is because this year has definitely been a year of waiting for me. I have no idea what the future holds for me, which is not easy. I don't know if anybody really does-- crazy things happen all the time that nobody plans for-- but sometimes we have a general idea. I don't really feel like I do. I know the direction I would like to go and am doing what I know to do in order for that to work, but I have no idea if or when it will work out like I hope.
Nouwen's quote resonated with me as I read it. I think that I still need to do what I can in order to move forward, but I definitely think I could trust a little more that God does care, and is working things together for my good, and that I will come out the other side a little healthier and stronger. I wonder what people would do if, every time I feel stressed out about this, I just closed my eyes and said over and over: "I am a little seed. I am a little seed." Just imagining the ridiculousness of actually doing that pretty much erases my stress.
Trying to relate my own waiting to the waiting of the world for the coming of Christ does put things into perspective. God is good. Our waiting here on earth will ultimately be fulfilled. I guess that is worth waiting for.
While we're talking about Henri Nouwen, I will close with a prayer he wrote for the Advent season:
Lord Jesus, master of both the light and the darkness,
send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.
We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.
We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.
We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.
We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.
We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.
To you we say, "Come Lord Jesus!" Amen.
While we're talking about Henri Nouwen, I will close with a prayer he wrote for the Advent season:
Lord Jesus, master of both the light and the darkness,
send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.
We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.
We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.
We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.
We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.
We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.
To you we say, "Come Lord Jesus!" Amen.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Selah
First of all, if you like quizzes, I found one about Advent. Here's the link: Advent Quiz. I sincerely hope that you do better than I did. Trick questions, I say!
I was looking at an Advent devotional for today, and the scripture that was used in this particular devotional was Psalm 67:
I was looking at an Advent devotional for today, and the scripture that was used in this particular devotional was Psalm 67:
1 May God be gracious to us and bless us
and make his face to shine upon us,
Selah
2 that your way may be known upon earth,
your saving power among all nations.
3 Let the peoples praise you, O God;
let all the peoples praise you.
4 Let the nations be glad and sing for joy,
for you judge the peoples with equity
and guide the nations upon earth.
Selah
5 Let the peoples praise you, O God;
let all the peoples praise you.
6 The earth has yielded its increase;
God, our God, has blessed us.
7 May God continue to bless us;
let all the ends of the earth revere him.
I don't have a lot to say about the psalm, actually. The first thing that I noticed when I read it was the word "Selah." This is a word that is used to give instruction to stop and think about what was just said. There are a few different thoughts about the origin of the word, but for the most part people seem to agree that "Selah" denotes a pause that is specifically placed for the purpose of really taking note of the words preceding it.
Someone recently said to me that they don't think that we should do anything differently during Advent or Lent or holidays than we do any other time. Their point was that we should always be living with intention, not just during special times. And... point taken, really: I could do better at living my life with more purpose and thoughtfulness all year long. However, I don't agree that we should not live a little differently during set-aside times of the year. I love the liturgical year, partly because it has these times. I think of Advent as a "Selah" time. These are the days when I want to pause from my routine and let the words of Jesus sink deeply into my conscious.
I hope that I can give these words the space to inform the rest of my life. I hope that when I carry on to say things like, "Let the peoples praise you, O God..." (I may not use these exact words) that they mean much more for resting and considering that God "judges the peoples with equity and guides the nations upon earth." And I hope that my interactions with people all year long are steeped in the love that comes from pausing to consider the love of God, who became a helpless baby, and then a wise young man, and then let himself be killed, to reconcile the nations to himself.
Selah.
Someone recently said to me that they don't think that we should do anything differently during Advent or Lent or holidays than we do any other time. Their point was that we should always be living with intention, not just during special times. And... point taken, really: I could do better at living my life with more purpose and thoughtfulness all year long. However, I don't agree that we should not live a little differently during set-aside times of the year. I love the liturgical year, partly because it has these times. I think of Advent as a "Selah" time. These are the days when I want to pause from my routine and let the words of Jesus sink deeply into my conscious.
I hope that I can give these words the space to inform the rest of my life. I hope that when I carry on to say things like, "Let the peoples praise you, O God..." (I may not use these exact words) that they mean much more for resting and considering that God "judges the peoples with equity and guides the nations upon earth." And I hope that my interactions with people all year long are steeped in the love that comes from pausing to consider the love of God, who became a helpless baby, and then a wise young man, and then let himself be killed, to reconcile the nations to himself.
Selah.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Day One
So, I'm already regretting the decision to try and blog all about Advent. First of all, I was feeling lazy tonight. And second of all, I don't feel any deep thoughts coming on. But I press on!
I did some research on the themes of the Advent weeks. When I was a little girl, my family had a little advent wreath (which was metal-- can it still be a wreath? Merriam Webster indicates a maybe on that.) and these little purple candles that went in it and we lit one every week. I don't remember what the designated themes that we talked about were back then. But my research (Google, woo hoo!) tells me that there is not really a standardized theme from week to week that all Christian traditions follow. Many denominations set their own, and there are some common ones out there, like shepherds, wise men, Joseph, and Mary, etc.
My church focused on "hope" this week. Which was great, because that's what I was thinking about. One of the scriptures referenced was Ezekiel 37, which is about the Valley of the Dry Bones. Ezekiel was a prophet who was given a vision of a valley full of dry bones. (I know: it's surprising, considering the heading of the story.) And as he prophesied over them, God brought them back to life. "So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet-- a vast army." (37:10)
This was all symbolic of the people of Israel, who were exiled in Babylon at the time. It was God's promise to the nation that he had not forgotten them, and would restore them, although they felt hopeless. I think it's pretty amazing to think about that in our own contexts, as well. Even death-- even decomposition-- is not the final word. God is capable of breathing new life into dusty old bones. It makes me wonder what hopes and dreams I have let die that God might be wanting to breath new life into and to resurrect. And that wondering-- that possibility-- gives me hope.
I did some research on the themes of the Advent weeks. When I was a little girl, my family had a little advent wreath (which was metal-- can it still be a wreath? Merriam Webster indicates a maybe on that.) and these little purple candles that went in it and we lit one every week. I don't remember what the designated themes that we talked about were back then. But my research (Google, woo hoo!) tells me that there is not really a standardized theme from week to week that all Christian traditions follow. Many denominations set their own, and there are some common ones out there, like shepherds, wise men, Joseph, and Mary, etc.
My church focused on "hope" this week. Which was great, because that's what I was thinking about. One of the scriptures referenced was Ezekiel 37, which is about the Valley of the Dry Bones. Ezekiel was a prophet who was given a vision of a valley full of dry bones. (I know: it's surprising, considering the heading of the story.) And as he prophesied over them, God brought them back to life. "So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet-- a vast army." (37:10)
This was all symbolic of the people of Israel, who were exiled in Babylon at the time. It was God's promise to the nation that he had not forgotten them, and would restore them, although they felt hopeless. I think it's pretty amazing to think about that in our own contexts, as well. Even death-- even decomposition-- is not the final word. God is capable of breathing new life into dusty old bones. It makes me wonder what hopes and dreams I have let die that God might be wanting to breath new life into and to resurrect. And that wondering-- that possibility-- gives me hope.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Advent, Baby!
Advent starts tomorrow. I was in a staff meeting at church earlier this week, and my pastor asked us what sorts of things are important to us/ stand out about the season of Advent. I'll be honest (here, at least!): my very first thought was that I love Hallmark Christmas movies-- the cheesier the better! I did not say this in staff meeting, and instead said something else that seemed a little more appropriate and was also true. BUT, it struck me that I don't really want Hallmark to define what Christmas is for me. Although I will still be watching a ridiculous amount of cheesy movies.
Some of my most meaningful Christmases in the past few several years have been the ones away from home. I love Christmas and love to be with family during this time of year, but being in foreign and unfamiliar places on Christmas was a great opportunity to really let the hope and joy of God With Us resonate in me.
My first Christmas away from home was spent in the Philippines. We spent time working with various YWAM ministries-- a lot of staff were away for the holidays, so we were able to help fill in a bit in the feeding program for kids that lived by this one railroad track. We also spent time with people who lived on a giant trash heap, and with several others who had recently been relocated from the trash heap to government housing, where they were trapped in a cycle of poverty that was going to be difficult to break. YWAM was (and still is) working to make education available for many of these people, and had a lot of other ministries happening as well. I remember being overwhelmed by the hardness of life for these people, and feeling homesick and guilty about that.
On Christmas night we went to an English speaking church service. I don't remember much about it, except for the moments when we sang the song, "O Holy Night." As we sang the words, "A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices," it clicked with me. Here I was working with these dirty, scared, exhausted people, but our weary efforts at survival were not the end of the story. "For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn." Hope has arrived. The longing of this world can be fulfilled. Emmanuel-- God With Us-- is here to repair what has been broken.
In our staff meeting, my pastor talked a bit about the anticipation of the Advent season. I like that aspect of it; I like the symbolism of not quite being there yet... even though we know the story already. I still have moments of longing, in this messed-up world, waiting for everything to be made right. But I believe it will be, and the beginning of that is the hope that comes with the birth of the Messiah.
So my plan is, this year, to really participate in Advent. I actually don't know as much about it as I'd like to, but I like the idea of making a point to focus on the coming of the Christ. So I'm going to learn. And write. And probably say some things that I will disagree with in a year. But that's okay with me.
Some of my most meaningful Christmases in the past few several years have been the ones away from home. I love Christmas and love to be with family during this time of year, but being in foreign and unfamiliar places on Christmas was a great opportunity to really let the hope and joy of God With Us resonate in me.
My first Christmas away from home was spent in the Philippines. We spent time working with various YWAM ministries-- a lot of staff were away for the holidays, so we were able to help fill in a bit in the feeding program for kids that lived by this one railroad track. We also spent time with people who lived on a giant trash heap, and with several others who had recently been relocated from the trash heap to government housing, where they were trapped in a cycle of poverty that was going to be difficult to break. YWAM was (and still is) working to make education available for many of these people, and had a lot of other ministries happening as well. I remember being overwhelmed by the hardness of life for these people, and feeling homesick and guilty about that.
On Christmas night we went to an English speaking church service. I don't remember much about it, except for the moments when we sang the song, "O Holy Night." As we sang the words, "A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices," it clicked with me. Here I was working with these dirty, scared, exhausted people, but our weary efforts at survival were not the end of the story. "For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn." Hope has arrived. The longing of this world can be fulfilled. Emmanuel-- God With Us-- is here to repair what has been broken.
In our staff meeting, my pastor talked a bit about the anticipation of the Advent season. I like that aspect of it; I like the symbolism of not quite being there yet... even though we know the story already. I still have moments of longing, in this messed-up world, waiting for everything to be made right. But I believe it will be, and the beginning of that is the hope that comes with the birth of the Messiah.
So my plan is, this year, to really participate in Advent. I actually don't know as much about it as I'd like to, but I like the idea of making a point to focus on the coming of the Christ. So I'm going to learn. And write. And probably say some things that I will disagree with in a year. But that's okay with me.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
October, What a Month...
It turns out I'm not that sorry to see the back of October 2012. And let's be honest, that was already a week ago, so I'm clearly needing to get with the times. The USA has re-elected a president since then, for Pete's sake!
But I'm more of a hindsight person, I guess. I like to ruminate and then write. Forget this "in the moment" stuff. For the moment, at least.
As I was saying: October. Horrible. I had a moment, somewhere near the beginning of the month, where I realized that I still don't have the job I want to have, or really any prospects of it. I have been offered a few jobs, and turned them down because I really am trying to stay specific in what I do-- and at least have a job with medical insurance, which none of these had. But in October, I really was second-guessing those decisions. I'm still working for my church, but that will likely end soon, as they find a person who is willing to take the job on a permanent basis (I am not), and that's a little sad. I've had a good experience working with the kids at church and even more so working with their parents and the people who are really active with kids. But I also feel like it's not the thing I want to do forever or even for much longer.
Sometimes I wonder how audacious I am to be so picky about things. I don't know that many people who LOVE their jobs. And I know that whatever job I end up with is not going to be perfect. But I do want one that is perfect for ME, if that makes any sense. So I am holding strong. So far.
October is when I started to really question how ridiculous I am being. And that's the main reason I disliked it. Yep, solely because of too much self-doubt. There were some great things that happened in October: I visited my grandmother in Tulsa, OK (woo hoo! Party city!) and also found the very best dark chocolate with sea salt and turbinado sugar that I've ever had, and spent time with the whole family (Mom and Dad and my older brother's family were there waiting for me), spun my niece in one million circles and laughed at her antics heartily. We also all went to Austin, TX, where my little brother lives, and had a holiday there. We ate delicious bbq! I learned about fried avocados! The Alamo truly has no basement!
Anyway, things are working out for now. I have yet another interim job as a caregiver that has pretty ideal hours and my favorite: I get paid while I sleep. But part of me really just wants the security of a permanent job. I don't know how long this will last. I want to buy a dresser for my room, but I keep thinking I might need the money for something more important. I am torn between not wanting to live in a "poverty" mindset, but also being smart. But also, I don't think I ever want to just buy expensive things without thinking twice about them. I want to be intentional with money. I just don't want to HAVE to be. :)
So, there you go. My thoughts in a nutshell from the past month. I am amazed at how God has provided for me, and disappointed that I have such a hard time trusting that it will continue. Hopefully I am learning something from all of this.
But I'm more of a hindsight person, I guess. I like to ruminate and then write. Forget this "in the moment" stuff. For the moment, at least.
As I was saying: October. Horrible. I had a moment, somewhere near the beginning of the month, where I realized that I still don't have the job I want to have, or really any prospects of it. I have been offered a few jobs, and turned them down because I really am trying to stay specific in what I do-- and at least have a job with medical insurance, which none of these had. But in October, I really was second-guessing those decisions. I'm still working for my church, but that will likely end soon, as they find a person who is willing to take the job on a permanent basis (I am not), and that's a little sad. I've had a good experience working with the kids at church and even more so working with their parents and the people who are really active with kids. But I also feel like it's not the thing I want to do forever or even for much longer.
Sometimes I wonder how audacious I am to be so picky about things. I don't know that many people who LOVE their jobs. And I know that whatever job I end up with is not going to be perfect. But I do want one that is perfect for ME, if that makes any sense. So I am holding strong. So far.
October is when I started to really question how ridiculous I am being. And that's the main reason I disliked it. Yep, solely because of too much self-doubt. There were some great things that happened in October: I visited my grandmother in Tulsa, OK (woo hoo! Party city!) and also found the very best dark chocolate with sea salt and turbinado sugar that I've ever had, and spent time with the whole family (Mom and Dad and my older brother's family were there waiting for me), spun my niece in one million circles and laughed at her antics heartily. We also all went to Austin, TX, where my little brother lives, and had a holiday there. We ate delicious bbq! I learned about fried avocados! The Alamo truly has no basement!
Anyway, things are working out for now. I have yet another interim job as a caregiver that has pretty ideal hours and my favorite: I get paid while I sleep. But part of me really just wants the security of a permanent job. I don't know how long this will last. I want to buy a dresser for my room, but I keep thinking I might need the money for something more important. I am torn between not wanting to live in a "poverty" mindset, but also being smart. But also, I don't think I ever want to just buy expensive things without thinking twice about them. I want to be intentional with money. I just don't want to HAVE to be. :)
So, there you go. My thoughts in a nutshell from the past month. I am amazed at how God has provided for me, and disappointed that I have such a hard time trusting that it will continue. Hopefully I am learning something from all of this.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Well, it has certainly been a while since I wrote in this blog! And I can't promise that it won't be a while until I write again. But at this moment, I am determined to write more. And the best first step seemed like to write something!
Oh, this year. It has not been easy. But I feel a little ridiculous saying that, because it hasn't been legitimately hard, either, depending on what easy and hard mean to you. It has been a little over a year since I came back to America... I have had a few moments where I have found myself startled to realize that this is home now. I don't know when I started thinking of myself as a little bit Kiwi, but I do still say "we" sometimes when I talk about how "we" do things in New Zealand. Which, by the way, I try not to do TOO much; I don't want to be THAT girl. I think it is understandable-- it took me years to get to the point where it felt like New Zealand was where I belonged. And even when I knew it wasn't anymore, I think it is only logical that it is taking me a while for my subconscious to belong here in the USA.
Anyway, it hasn't been easy, as I said. I needed a rest when I got home, and didn't want to need a rest. I wanted to be the one missionary who returned home and had a seamless transition. I feel like I know who I am, mostly: what I like, and what I love, and what I want to do. But when I came home, I felt like as much as I knew those things about myself, I couldn't stomach doing them. I couldn't stand the thought of listening to people talk about their faith or praying for them or having anyone pray for me. I didn't want to be a part of a community or to articulate any kind of truth to anyone else, or to come up with a strategic plan of any sort or do any ministry at all. I did want to find a cave (a warm and cozy one), and take a nap for a few months. But I didn't WANT to want that. And so I pretended I didn't, a little bit. This was a mistake. I don't know what would have happened if I had just admitted the truth, but I do wonder if I would have been less likely to escape into watching too much TV, or any of the other things I did to distract myself from how inadequate I was feeling.
Hmm... I did not realize that I was going to talk about this. And I'm not going to much more; at least not today. I don't think that anyone is reading this blog any more, which is fine. But if you are, don't freak out. I'm okay. A year in, I'm feeling a lot more ready to take on ministry again (which is good, since I am working for a church currently). I also feel much more cautious about it. And I am doing things like writing because I want to, not because I have to. I took kids to camp this summer and loved it, and have re-connected with some old friends who have known and loved me for years, even though I am TERRIBLE at keeping in touch. So. Things are going. I am not "there" yet, wherever that is, but I have hope that I am getting closer.
Rambling to a probable audience of zero is kind of nice sometimes.
Oh, this year. It has not been easy. But I feel a little ridiculous saying that, because it hasn't been legitimately hard, either, depending on what easy and hard mean to you. It has been a little over a year since I came back to America... I have had a few moments where I have found myself startled to realize that this is home now. I don't know when I started thinking of myself as a little bit Kiwi, but I do still say "we" sometimes when I talk about how "we" do things in New Zealand. Which, by the way, I try not to do TOO much; I don't want to be THAT girl. I think it is understandable-- it took me years to get to the point where it felt like New Zealand was where I belonged. And even when I knew it wasn't anymore, I think it is only logical that it is taking me a while for my subconscious to belong here in the USA.
Anyway, it hasn't been easy, as I said. I needed a rest when I got home, and didn't want to need a rest. I wanted to be the one missionary who returned home and had a seamless transition. I feel like I know who I am, mostly: what I like, and what I love, and what I want to do. But when I came home, I felt like as much as I knew those things about myself, I couldn't stomach doing them. I couldn't stand the thought of listening to people talk about their faith or praying for them or having anyone pray for me. I didn't want to be a part of a community or to articulate any kind of truth to anyone else, or to come up with a strategic plan of any sort or do any ministry at all. I did want to find a cave (a warm and cozy one), and take a nap for a few months. But I didn't WANT to want that. And so I pretended I didn't, a little bit. This was a mistake. I don't know what would have happened if I had just admitted the truth, but I do wonder if I would have been less likely to escape into watching too much TV, or any of the other things I did to distract myself from how inadequate I was feeling.
Hmm... I did not realize that I was going to talk about this. And I'm not going to much more; at least not today. I don't think that anyone is reading this blog any more, which is fine. But if you are, don't freak out. I'm okay. A year in, I'm feeling a lot more ready to take on ministry again (which is good, since I am working for a church currently). I also feel much more cautious about it. And I am doing things like writing because I want to, not because I have to. I took kids to camp this summer and loved it, and have re-connected with some old friends who have known and loved me for years, even though I am TERRIBLE at keeping in touch. So. Things are going. I am not "there" yet, wherever that is, but I have hope that I am getting closer.
Rambling to a probable audience of zero is kind of nice sometimes.
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