i am boring

Today, I had this thought. I was sitting at a table, surrounded by friends, good food, and celebration, and I couldn't think of anything to say. I didn't have any ammunition to begin conversation, despite my potential conversational partners. I sat there and stared at the other diners and had nothing. I felt that my inability to make conversation was due to a lack of interesting thoughts in my mind, which was directly tied to the fact that I'm a boring person.

I can't make conversation like several friends of mine whom I admire; I cannot discuss topics like the presidential election with insight or articulate the problems occurring between Georgia and Russia. I don't have innovative ideas on a regular basis that I can share with others. I am not a visionary. I don't have interesting habits or abilities; I am not athletic and I do not speak multiple languages. I can't discuss my own interests with others, because it appears I have none. I don't meet new people, because I don't talk to strangers! Where is the passion, the fueling desire that motivates all other action for me? What is the underlying spark that lights the fire that consumes the rest of my life? There is none. Right now, I just go to work. Then I go to school. And that is it. I am suffering from occupation withdrawal: my time is no longer occupied 24/7 and I am at a loss to fill it. Who knew that only working one job while going to school would be so traumatic.

But no hobby, marathon, project, ambition, goal, task, or person is going to fill this feeling of incompletion. Those things make my friends interesting, but do not supply their self-worth. I can't quite understand where this is coming from and I don't have an explanation of why I feel this way. I don't have a cure. This is a moment of loss for me; loss and lack of understanding. Why does life not feel full anymore? Why do I feel so cut loose? Am I having a more difficult time adjusting than I thought? It's true that the summer was full of challenge, excitement, and healthy uncertainty. But I can't think about the next three years being this way-- a drone in an office, a part time student, slowly aging faster and faster than my classmates, who continue to get younger and younger. I can't!

I need to remember again why I'm here. What I'm doing, why I'm working. I need a lead on Project Empowerment, something to keep me going, to help me to look forward to the future without disregarding the present. I need a sign! A sense. I need reassurance from God! Something to renew my sense of self-worth without being a substitute or a time-filler or just another thing I do. I need to remember how to stand still and be at peace. I need to find certainty in my chosen course of action. What a scary feeling, to not feel sure. I need not to believe that I am boring. I hope I find my footing quickly.

prayers for the people

On Tuesday, I attended my first ever Wesley chapel session. I am not feeling the least bit guilty about having never gone before, because before when I worked more than one job and lived at my home, it was a major inconvenience to come for chapel. The Tuesday chapel was before class, so I would typically be writing my papers at the last minute when chapel met, and the Wednesday evening chapel always coincided with me caring for Ben and not wanting to come back to school. So, I had my reasons.

Anyway, in Methodist church, apparently, (and probably some others, but just not in mine), there's included in the worship service something called prayers of the people. This is a time when the congregants can feel free to call out names of people or families or situations that they want lifted up in prayer. It does do something good to hear a reverently spoken name in an empty, yet full chapel sanctuary. But I get the feeling that prayers of the people probably doesn't work at all with big churches. I can kind of see my church going on and on and taking forever if we tried it in our Sunday worship service. But to play off of that, I thought that I'd write some prayers FOR the people on here-- kind of things that I want to lift up for people I care about. So here goes.

I pray for R, and settling in again in a new place. For starting over once more. For trying something new. For knowing what is truth and being able to discern truth, when necessary from teachings. I pray for R's family, and all the drama that might exist in that situation.

I pray for MT. I pray that she continues to recover, and I say a thank you for her kind and thoughtful heart, always good even in the midst of personal issues. Let me be a better friend to her.

I pray for Ash. That she has not bitten off more than she can chew, that she does not get sick, get burnt out or fed up with me. I pray for our living situation and patience and honesty.

I pray for E. That she is able to remain strong in the face of exhaustion, that she continues to believe in what brought her there, that she might miss us all, but not too much. I pray that she be given access to the avenues and paths that might broaden her mind and her heart and her options for the future. That she holds on to what she needs to keep but can let go of what she is meant to lose. That she resists temptation. That she gets enough sleep. That our friendship remains strong despite great distance. That I can be the friend to her that she has been to me.

I pray for D. That his ideas continue to be what makes him special, but do not get away from him. I am grateful for his friendship. For familiarity. For plans. For potential. I am grateful he is who he is. That he might always make his way, after you, Lord.

I pray for ELB-ow. For her hives! For the year ahead of her and her work and her work, and her hard work. Thank you for a present companion, God. Help us to remain friends despite growing up. Thank you for letting us be silly. To pretend we are younger than we are. That she grows in her faith and continues to be a good role model for young Christian women.

And for JKJ. That she pushes through in her academic work, but not at the sacrifice of personal relationships. That the year passes quickly for her, but not too quickly. May she remember the time at hand and be grateful for it in the future. Keep her spirits up and help her to remember how much she is loved.

I pray for Skari, my sometimes forgotten friend. For his patience despite my lack of follow through. For whatever might be occurring in his life that I do not even know.

I pray for JL. I am so proud of her strength and her courage and so grateful for her loyalty and her hard work and the depth and growth of our friendship. Let her not feel too homesick. Let her feel at home among her brothers and sisters in Christ.

I pray for the princess. Lord, I am grateful for recovery. For healing and habit. Thank you for her servant's heart, and help me to be more caring and more open-minded and more patient with her. Let this year be one full of growth for her, for maturity and understanding. I pray that her current situation leads directly to those qualitities.

And I am quite sure there are more prayers to lift up, but my life is like a big church and this blog is only big enough for a small congregation. Know that I have more prayers than I could ever record, and that God hears them all despite my inability to do so.

Amen.

too comfortable

I'm settling in. The past few weeks have been rather tumultuous for me, and have helped me to formulate a stance on how I view change and how change fits into my life. I think my stance is summed up best by Brandon Heath's "Don't Get Comfortable". Because just when I start to feel comfortable-- in my living situation, with my routine, with my schedule and my 'place' in life, in my world, that is exactly when I start to feel the pulls of change. I don't adjust to change well. But the urge to change things up, to never be too comfortable, seems to come from God.

Recently, the hard change I've encountered has been my living situation. I've been living in total comfort: I've had my own basement apartment, clean, relatively new, safe, air conditioned, and completely unshared. I've acquired things in the last year to supplement that comfort, things I don't really need. I've surrounded myself with stuff and blocked out the rest of the world. That comfort was a grateful reprieve from the life I lead in Indonesia. The amenities were completely different: from living without a shower or western toilet and spotty water and electricity to my own washer and dryer, dishwasher, and wireless internet. Perhaps that was something that really helped me to adjust to a new life in DC. But lately I've been feeling a call to live a different way, and have been actually feeling nostalgic about living in Indonesia and the way that I lived (it's so NOT about amenities...). So I said goodbye to my luxurious digs and moved in on campus-- with a roommate in a shared efficiency apartment. I haven't slept in a twin sized bed since college. And I haven't slept in the same room as another person in... well, anyway, I haven't had a roommate in 5 years. Try fitting all the crap of an entire apartment into the space of half an efficiency... well, my roommate is an amazingly gracious soul and I am grateful.

At first it felt really hard. Even though I knew that I was doing the right thing by giving up my apartment and moving here, once I was in I felt completely frustrated and wondered what the heck I was doing. But slowly, slowly, it's coming together. It's small, but cozy. And I live with a great girl. There's no commute-- I walk across the parking lot to work every morning and every afternoon. (So no gas! And no pollution! I bet I could get away with not driving for a whole WEEK! At my other apartment I drove EVERY SINGLE DAY). It has been a fun challenge to see how the pieces fit-- kitchen things, linens, clothes, but as someone else said to me-- I'm good at organization. And the community! Tonight, I had fellowship with old friends, and even got an invitation to a weekly breakfast group from a classmate I hardly know. I'm in love with Wesley once more.

I was worried about sharing, though. And making room in my life for the needs of others. My old lifestyle was sometimes lonely. I worked hard and had long hours and sometimes would fall asleep on the couch after dinner. I didn't have to worry about how my behavior affected someone else, didn't have to share my belongings or have much discipline in the way of keeping things clean. But so far, my roommate has been my workout partner, my meal partner, and has kept me putting things in their place just with her presence (also, in a space this small with as much stuff as I have, not putting things in their place would get out of hand pretty quickly). I'm finding that I like to ask if Ashlinn wants tea when I boil water for myself, that I enjoy cooking for two people instead of just one, and that if I'm thinking she needs the shower, I'm less inclined to waste time and water by staying in longer. I keep thinking Christians are meant to live in community. I've been out of practice.

That's the other major perk of this situation. I'm preparing for a move (again! oh, gosh!) to the Intentional Community (or IC) in the spring (more on that later). I'm hoping that this experience will pave the way to living with others in a more intentional way. I want to think about others without having to think about it. I want it to be automatic. I want to serve others on a regular basis and be less self-sufficient (imagine that!). I can't exist on my own; living with others will help me to remember that, and will also pave the way for me to be a better Christian for myself and for others. This is the first step. I feel God calling me to change MORE; to keep changing, to step by step be better and live more fully into His calling for my life. Let the God of change continue to shake things up and continue to keep me in His comfort without allowing me to be too comfortable. Thanks for a successful first step. Amen.

united

I am back. 3,746 miles on the road, and the whole time there was one recurring theme to my thoughts. Possibly because I'm at the stage in my life when it seems like the world is moving on without me. Many of my friends have already gotten married, and many are becoming engaged. Possibly because a portion of my trip was devoted to the wedding celebration of old friends. And possibly because my departure and homecoming were bookended with talk and letters of relationship news and wedding gift thank you cards.

But whatever the reason, I kept thinking about getting married. Let me tell you 3,746 miles is a LONG way. But 3,746 miles when you can't quite wrap your mind around something and can't move on to think about anything else is EVEN LONGER. The entire concept of marriage has me thinking: we each seem to have such strong feelings about marriage these days. Where did they come from?

When most of us start to think about marriage, what probably comes most quickly to mind is the wedding. The celebration of becoming united. The idyllic white dress, bridesmaids, church, and cake. The showers and bachelor party. We fail to consider first the planning and preparation necessary to make it to that stage. How much exactly has to fall in place for two people to meet, realize one another's compatibility, and fall in love. More than that, for two people to make a conscious decision to commit themselves to the other for the rest of their lives. For those who marry so young, I sometimes wonder, how is it possible to even understand the gravity of the decision being made? Just as I decided to become a Christian before I understood what a Christian was, I sometimes wonder how many marriages happen that way.

And beyond that. When we think of marriage, we do not first think of the rest of our lives together. We think of the beginning of the rest of our lives. How often do we consider the hard times ahead, paying the bills, moving homes, sacrificing personally for the sake of the unit? When we think of marriage, do we think of the day to day routine, the waking up and going to work, the schedule of being away from one another and the reunion at the end of the day? Do we consider the bigger picture of what being united means?

For many, myself included, the thoughts of marriage originate with the wedding. And this is, after all, the first celebration with loved ones of the decision a couple has made to share their lives. The wedding service is a good start to an understanding of what marriage means. And the recent wedding I witnessed got me thinking about some of the traditions that we relish as little girls (or little girls at heart), and the meanings behind them. For instance, at the start of the ceremony, when the officiant says, "Who gives this woman to this man in matrimony?"

Now, what does that sound like to you? Because once, that might have sounded like the climax to a tearful goodbye to childhood and the beginning of womanhood: the response, from the father, "Her mother and I do," and then maybe a choked, "I'll always be your little girl..." from the bride to the father. Kind of like the scene from The Little Mermaid (old school, I know), when Ariel gets to marry Prince Eric and says goodbye to King Triton of the sea after he's given her legs! and lets her go. Hey, I was a little girl, once. I've thought about this.

But now, I hear that question differently. Now I hear "who gives this woman to this man in matrimony?" and I hear possession. I hear an exchange of property, and it makes me think of the time when a woman was chattel and a marriage was not a choice, but a political bargaining tool. When a union was not about a decision two people made in faith to God and each other but about power: Power among men, power over property, power to own and to rule. For how long do we continue a tradition when we understand its roots? For how long do we continue a tradition if we do not?

This is just one of the things regarding marriage I considered as I drove. I realize now that there are definitely many too many thoughts to include in just one post tonight, so this will have to be part one of a series! But the answer that I came up with, at least for this portion of a wedding service that had my hackles raised was that it's time to make a change. If I ever experience the joy of the union, I think this question is one that will have to change. The more I've considered marriage from my new community perspective, the more I see it as a reflection of my idea of baptism.

For me, baptism was explained as the community celebration of the personal decision one makes in his or her heart to follow Christ. You become a Christian not through any rite or ceremony. You become a Christian when you commit your heart to God. The baptism service is a symbolic act of rebirth to signify the personal decision you've already made, a sharing of your decision with your community. And then you celebrate. Well, isn't a wedding just the same? The decision to marry comes so much earlier than the wedding itself. The love you feel for your significant other does not change when you say, "I do." The sentiment is not altered by the ceremony. But it is a public declaration of the decision you've made together, and in your hearts to spend your lives together. You share with your community the monumental decision you've made. And then you celebrate.

I've been thinking lately, as I consider the Intentional Community that is developing around me, how important the role of community is. For both of these epic steps in a Christian's life, the community must be present, must play an active and affirming role for the private decisions to be validated. A Christian is meant to live in community and to share these decisions together. So doesn't it make sense, then, for the COMMUNITY to give the bride to her groom and the groom to his bride?

So, it would go like this.

Officiant: "Who gives this woman to this man, and who gives this man to this woman, to be united in holy matrimony?"
Community: "We the community lovingly give this woman to this man and this man to this woman to unite in holy matrimony."

Then you can get rid of all that pesky "any objections?" portion of the service, too. Now, for the next blog on the subject of "holy" matrimony...

scary stuff

I recently completed half of a 3,500 mile solo road trip, and just an hour and a half short of my last destination, I had a really scary encounter on the road. I had been warned by several people of a hurricane on the move, set to hit Houston just as I was set to arrive. I knew there would be rain, but I thought nothing of it-- Houston has terrible weather all the time. The last time I drove home, some tropical storm or whatever was hitting the Gulf at the same time and I remember my drive through Lousiana as one of the hardest in the rain. The rains were so heavy, I could only see the taillights of the car in front of me. And I could only see the road for the taillights. That time, I was afraid. This time, I was not.

So I had been driving for days already. I left DC on Friday afternoon after work and drove to Columbus. Saturday I drove to Newark, OH. Sunday, I drove to Cincinnati. Monday, I drove the crazy 13 hour drive from Cincinnati to Edmond, OK (and let me tell you I was practically delirious when I got there... OK has boring tollroads!). And I was in my last 8 or so hours from Edmond to Houston. I had already been slowed down by two major accidents (one right after the other) in Dallas, that had literally reduced the speed on the interstate to a complete stop. I drove past both scenes, one more serious than the other, but I got very emotional when I saw someone being pulled from a mutilated vehicle on a body board. Scary stuff.

But I had passed all that and was SO close to home. I was in Madisonville, just before Huntsville, then Conroe, then the Woodlands on I-45. The rain had been drizzling for more than an hour already, more of a nuisance than a real danger, I thought. There was water on the road, but it wasn't raining hard, if you understand, the majority of the issue was really water being kicked up by the vehicle in front of you. Nevertheless, I admit I was not being as careful as I ought to have been. I was doing a lot of passing, (legally) to get out from behind 18-wheelers, so I wouldn't have to deal with their water. So I was doing a lot of driving in the left lane.

Once, before it happened, I felt my vehicle skate on water in the road. It was very quick, and I didn't lose control of my vehicle or anything, but it should have been a warning to go slower, under the speed limit because the road had bad traction in the rain. Instead, my heart beat a little harder, a little faster for a minute, and then I continued on as I was. And so when my vehicle hydroplaned and I actually lost control, I knew what was happening, but all I could feel was disbelief. And then, a wonder, was this it for me?

So I was driving in the left lane, having passed another 18 wheeler not too long ago. I hydroplaned on water in the road and the wheel of my car was wrenched from my hands. I skid counter clockwise, the nose of my car going first left, off the road, and then right, back on the road, and then left again, swinging me across both lanes of traffic and down into the grassy ditch on the right side of the road. There was no shoulder. I ended up facing the right direction, six or so feet below the highway, half in the oncoming lane of traffic on the farm road. I sat for a moment in shock before I could school my response: look for traffic on the farm road, shift into park, reach for my phone, dial my mother. I was shaking uncontrollably and I didn't know really whether I was fine or if I wasn't fine. Writing right now I can still feel the car swing, that feeling of being out of control. It's like the phantom feeling of a roller coaster after you've gone home and gone to bed. I can still feel it. With the memories, I have fear, but when it was actually happening, I wasn't afraid.

Eventually, after speaking with my mother, I was able to pull myself together enough for her sake to drive again. Very slowly, I pulled myself up onto the farm road and at a crawl, followed the farm road to a nearby gas station. The rain and wind had picked up so much so that when I got out of my car to check, under the awning of a gas station, I was pelted with water droplets anyway. Miraculously, the vehicle was completely unharmed. I was completely unharmed. After I hung up with my mother, I let myself have a good cry, as my mind began to wonder at how I had been saved from how very badly this could have been. I-45 was full of construction, and before the rain got heavy, I had seen construction crews packing up on the road. What if they had still been there? What if I had injured or killed a construction worker? What if there had been concrete barriers on the road? I would have smashed into them, been in the way for other vehicles. What if there had been signs? or blockades? or parked vehicles on the side of the road? What if there had been vehicles in front of or behind me? What even happened to that 18 wheeler I had just passed? The ways in which my misfortune could have resulted in true misfortune took my breath away.

And now, too, I wonder at my response. This was not the first time I have faced possible death. When I was nine, I unknowingly came very close, but an exploratory surgery in the nick of time saved my life. Again, more recently, when I lay in bed delirious with fever, I thought that it could have been it for me. An emergency evacuation to medical care would not have saved my life if I had dengue hemorragic fever, instead of dengue strain A. And now. On the road. So easily, life can be taken away. So quickly, we could reach our end. I think if that had been it for me, I'd be ready, but I'm not volunteering. There are so many things in life I still want to do! And so many things I feel that God has set before me to do, which I accept, whether or not I am yet excited about doing them. I am overwhelmed by God's desire to save me, again and again, from my own lack of care-- really recklessness with my own life. How little respect I have had for His creation of me!

So that is the complete accounting of the incident on (and off) the road. Let this be a lesson to all, and not only to me, that we can be better stewards of ourselves. Being careful on the road is a whole new facet to self-care I had never considered. But we cannot hope to care for anyone or anything well if we cannot first care for our own lives.