yearning for a former me

Recently, I have been yearning for a version of my former self. This is definitely related to thinking with my sixteen year old brain: apparently when I become dissatisfied with my current situation, I begin to 1) approach it from a younger perspective and 2) yearn for the good 'ole days [of my 'youth']. Primarily, I have been nostalgic over the time I spent in Indonesia. To the nth degree. All the things I hated then, but still had the foresight and self-knowing to realize that while I hated certain aspects of my life in Indonesia, it wouldn't take long before I was wishing for them back. Some powerful 'grass is greener' thinking going on in the story of my life. I mean, I hated the fifteen minute walk to school (Ironically, it is still a fifteen minute walk to school. And history repeats). All the stares, the altitude of the walk, feeling so alone while being surrounded by pairs of people everywhere: female students arm-in-arm, gaggles of gangly boys, teachers in their matching green baju kuring, stooped grandparents and chunky grandbabies. I seemed to be the only one without a partner. And approaching the school, climbing the steep driveway, walking through the gate not knowing what I would encounter (there seemed to be absolutely no rhyme or reason to the assemblies, surprise school holidays, unexpected exams or re-set school schedules for obscure Muslim holidays. I can't even remember the number of times I showed up to school on time, but had mysteriously missed my class!).

It was a REALLY steep drive way. I was ALWAYS breathless by the time I reached the top, much to the amusement of--well, everyone.

I remember hating the cramped angkot rides to and from the market-- an absolute necessity, since I could neither afford nor could I stomach the luxury of taking a $2 'taxi' from my home in Kampung Garegeh to the hub of the city. Public transportation stopped running around dark. So, mostly, I was home by dark. On the rare occasions that I could not drag myself from the internet cafe on time, I have strong memories of being pulled in two directions: compelled by a knot of anxiety and dread in the pit of my stomach for not knowing how I would pulang (return home), warring with a desperate desire to be connected to home in one of the only ways still possible. It's so strange that I put such a major restriction on myself, and that I remember it so well. In retrospect, it seems so silly to have been concerned, but that's easy to think from my city with a safe and reliable metro system that enables me to return home into the early morning hours.

The angkot all lined up at Pasar Bawah. Just like the feeling I used to get when I might be picked to perform (and then mess up) in PE in elementary school, I used to repeat the number of my angkot over and over so I would get on the right one.

Although I lost weight quickly once I moved to Bukittinggi, I used to feel so BIG and fat and American in the angkot. Drivers fully expect to fit 15-18 passengers on a regular trip (and will wait until that many passengers embark before departing), but at least once, there were 21 of us, including the driver. I used to feel so guilty for taking more room than everyone else-- but physics is physics and my mass couldn't be condensed.

Did I mention that all the males smoked, everywhere? Even the male teachers, at school during the school day. In the moment, I used to abhor the practice, and it used to disturb my breathing. Now when I get a whiff of clove cigarettes, I pause and inhale.

And now a dreaded daily experience is a cultural quirk I fondly remember participating in.

How about the rain? During the wet season you could count on an afternoon shower without fail, and it was such a restriction because while it was raining, you needed to be indoors-- but if I were out and about, there was no indoors to be had (I was mostly at the market and that is an open air market). So I would try to schedule my activities in pre-rain and post-rain segments (not easy to do when you live 30 minutes by public transport from the city). For laundry purposes, it was necessary to pull the clothes in off the line before the rain started, otherwise they would not dry that day, and I never left my clothes out overnight (who knew what could happen to them? If they disappeared, it's not as if I could replace them-- they don't sell my size off the rack in the land of 5' Asians). So I'd gather the damp clothes and desperately haptrap places for them to hang indoors-- usually dripping water all over the tile floor.

The view from my front door.

Conversely, I now think of those rains as imposed periods of quiet time, to sit and rest and not be bombarded with looks or expectations in a foreign place. I remember so many afternoon rains spent staring out the door, noticing the sun shining despite the downpour and thinking how persistent was the day in the face of potential darkness. Or, staring out the door and watching the day submit to gathering clouds, turning gray and quiet and still. And submitting, myself, to a peaceful nap on the covers of my humble bed, not worried at all about the open door. If only there was room for quiet time now.

And my house! And all it's quirks. While I did feel comfortable in my house, and I made it mine, I spent so much time there in isolation that there were probably equal parts comfort and resentment. The garish brightly colored walls. The crazy bugs that found their way in despite closed windows and doors. The enormous spiders that would greet me in the sink when I woke up in the morning (those things were hairy). The squatty potty! The tile floor! The unreliable electricity!

Welcome to my home.And my shower! And my toilet! (P.S. Just in case you're judging my cleanliness, I bought some crazy Indonesian acidic tile cleanser and scrubbed the heck outta the mandi-- but the grout never came clean.) The 'shower' is on the left. Sorry; my bucket's not pictured.And this is my modest kitchen (which took me nine months to gather together). That is the sink where I washed dishes, brushed my teeth, washed my face and boiled water for my morning bath. On the right is my two-burner propane stove. My only mirror, my pantry and my pots and pans. See that plaid sock thing on the left? I sewed that by hand to store plastic bags (Indonesians love them some plastic bags).
And this is what I accomplished in that modest kitchen. Fake table, fake Mexican food. Tortillas from scratch. Salsa from scratch. Fake cheese (oh, keju.) And chicken tacos-- a chicken that died for my meal. I know; I made myself watch.

Can you hear me? Don't I sound proud and nostalgic? I remember these once hardships with a mixture of fondness and pride. Look what I accomplished! Look what I endured! I made it through; I'm better for it. Forget that-- I just miss it. Forget that I didn't love it all the time while I was there, I certainly love the memories. I'd like to make some new ones. I dream that if I went back, the world wouldn't be so restricted. And I think that is possible because I, in fact, did survive the first time.

But where is all this nostalgia coming from? Notice how I didn't really say anything about anybody (not just because I was mostly alone)? I didn't mention anything about relationships (and I still maintain some). I have recently discovered this and it leads me to believe that I am not nostalgic for a place and a people; I am nostalgic for a time in my life. This is all about me, remember (because I'm mostly selfish. Or at least I've become that way). I am yearning for a simpler time, where there were fewer obligations and responsibilities, a time that was less complex for me, and a time when I was more in tune with God. I am yearning for the time that I grew into big shoes and became Amelia. I am yearning for a time when life, while simpler, also felt more difficult on a daily basis. In Indonesia, I lived each day by God. I survived because that was God's plan. Every day was only conquered because God was by my side and I recognized this early on, because there was so much I was not in control of and so much I didn't understand. When things worked out, it was not because I worked them out. It was because God did. It was impossible to forget God's hand was in everything, impossible not to feel God's presence, not to hear God's call. Hard decisions became no-brainers. Life wasn't the Amelia show, it was Amelia bowing to the direction of a director with a grander vision for the way the movie would end.

Life isn't like that here. I work, I earn money, I pay the bills, I eat. I do those things. I am responsible. I get the credit. I am in control. I make decisions about where I should go and I work out the details now. When things run smoothly, it is according to my plan, because I am detail-oriented and did not forget anything. I survive because I do not take risks, I have learned so much it is easy to forget I don't know it all. I forget about God, because I no longer live each day by God. I make all the decisions, but somehow they've been piling up lately and despite my self reliance I have been unable to see myself in a bigger picture. You know why? Because I've been playing at God's job, but I'm total shit at it because I'm not God. I can't see the bigger picture. I still need God. I became a details master and thought that just because I could master the act that I could produce the whole show.

And this shift from lovingly receiving God's prompting to pushing God out of the picture has me very dissatisfied. I don't like this Amelia I've become in DC, in adulthood. Sure, I like that I am capable. I like that I can manage more. I like that I am even self-reliant, in most things. These new skills in an Indonesia situation would be an entirely new experience. But (while I really really do want to go back to Indonesia), I don't want Indonesia again the way that I want that Amelia back. And I can't repeat Indonesia. It wouldn't be the same. I need a new adventure. But what I don't think I can continue is living here, in this place, surrounded by comfort and forgetting what hardship even feels like (although, to be fair, the things I discussed earlier were not necessarily the difficult parts of my situation in Indonesia, just the parts I remember not liking). I don't know that a daily life with God is possible in a place where it seems like I am in charge. I'm too comfortable, too insulated, and life is too full of luxury. I bow down to the god of consumerism and I buy my way to happiness. I waste. I withhold. I don't care-- I can't seem to stop, anyway.

So where do I go from here? I think this has subconsciously been the sole motivator for my thesis themes: although I've been addressing my ideas in broad terms (these are the things American Christians do that separate them from God), I have been unwittingly talking about myself. I am the consumer who has allowed my want of things to separate me from God. I am separated from God. But there is hope because we are not divorced yet-- I've recognized my fault and desire to correct it (broad speak: American Christians seek to reconcile with God by rejecting consumerism and participating in multiple counter-cultural movements that instead glorify God's commandments to love our neighbors, ourselves and the entirety of Creation). I will do these things. I will wear a mantle of good stewardship; I will reject wastefulness and greed. I will practice moderation. I will love people more than things. I will experience God's Creation instead of destroying it. I will do all the things I've been thinking and reading about, only this time I will do them with a purpose: to mend my selfish ways and remember that God is both in charge and calls me to live with more care. I have to give up being in control by buying things if I want things with me and God to work.

Like any relationship, it takes effort to be in relationship with God. But the amazing thing is that God made me, so God appreciates all the parts of me already. While I may be yearning for my former self, my merciful God is already looking to mold me into my future self. I don't know how this will be accomplished, but hopefully when this thesis is written and my tie to this place of privilege dissolves, I'll be prepared for the trials of leaner times because of it. And me and God will be co-habitating once again.

baby

I have been a baby forever.

Doesn't that sound silly? But, it's true.

I'm still not a grown up. And it doesn't have anything to do with what I am responsible for, or the decisions I make on a regular basis; who decides where I go and what I do and what I eat or who pays for whatever. It has to do with TRUE age. With real maturity.

I'm twenty five. It has sounded so old until right this moment. That's because I've been thinking with my high school brain. The sixteen year old version of myself that still measures ambition and success based on a life planned out by the year and 'how long it takes' to accomplish 'levels' of the plan. The baby version of myself that still thinks people in their twenties know it all and that I am SO far from that.

The version of myself that keeps thinking, I better stick to that plan. That plan is my salvation. That plan is the way to live life.

I've been a baby forever. Forever! Who thinks that people are less valuable because they don't 'have their shit together'-- and that this is defined based on what you DO. Where you work, what you study, and where volunteering will get you. Who thinks that I am less valuable unless I am also DOING SOMETHING that will GET ME SOMEWHERE.

News flash: Everything gets you somewhere. Even just time spent will teach you something that will automatically put you in a different place than where you started. I am dying for being in the same place after three years, and OH how that VIOLATES my ideas of progress and success. But am I the same person when I started?

Absolutely not.

Do I still think the same way that I did, even when I first got to DC?

Not a chance.

Do I even LOOK alike? Let's examine.

Amelia, Spring 2008

Amelia, Summer 2008

Amelia, Summer 2009

Amelia, Fall 2009

Amelia, Spring 2010

Pretty clear, right? Just in case you missed the major differences because the progression was too much, let's reevaluate once more:

Like, woah, right? I was such a baby. But that doesn't mean that I am old now. On the contrary. I am STILL young. I only have been feeling so old recently because I have been so young this entire time. That makes sense if you give it some thought: I felt old and aged because in actuality I was too immature to see how that I wasn't old at all-- if I could really see how much there is that I DON'T know yet, I'd realize how young I really am.

I've been feeling like time has been running out on the things that I want to do, on my time in this place, on the amount of years I allotted for a graduate program, thinking that the next 'step' of life is supposed to be creeping up on this time here. Knocking on the door. Of course, I also made assumptions about what my 'next steps' would be. But isn't my inability to change plans I made years ago, and all the assumptions that accompany those plans in actuality a rigidity that can only accompany the idealism of youth? The next steps aren't knocking. The next steps aren't even the next steps I had mentally planned for. So what if it takes me four years to finish my first master's degree? I made some wise decisions that led me to part-time study, and I spent a good three years learning a LOT. So much, in fact, that I am a changed woman to the point that I cannot ever go back to the girl I was before I moved here. In so many ways.

I credited my time in Indonesia for the period of my life when I gained my first few steps of true independence. While that time continues to be extraordinarily formative, and all of the things outside of my comfort zone I accomplished while I was there will always be badges of honor for a former social hermit, I think DC finally made me an adult. It is here where I let go of misguided expectations from my childhood about what is 'grown up' and what is acceptable; I made real sacrifices based in faith and through them, reached a new level of understanding of Jesus' sacrifice in a way that defined the gospel for me. I refined my understanding of my purpose here to include education that cannot be taught in the classroom. And oh, the relationships I have established here. I joined community. For the first time, I have been a real member, a participant, and not just an outsider wondering why I should bother to try. Those are lessons that have altered me from the inside out, and will go with me wherever I go next. Whenever that might be.

It's weird that I still find it necessary to convince myself that I'm not old. That I'm not running out of time. That it's not possible to live my life wrong, or to run late in life! If I can still find joy in daily life, if God is with me and reveals beauty to me, can it be possible that I am meant to be somewhere else? In a society that defines who we are by what we do, I have to figure out a way to resist. I cannot define my worth by that standard. God made me for so much more.

And my life will be uncovered according to God's plan. I said today to a friend that when I moved to DC, I was absolutely certain of a handful of things-- things that would happen while I was here. But now I am absolutely certain of almost entirely nothing. The one thing truth that is left is that God won't fail me, and as long as I am in relationship with God I will never be alone. That is real comfort when the pressure of 'keeping up with' my peers-- so many close friends getting married this year! And so many with children already! so many who have made much faster progress in their careers or their education than I!--starts to make me feel like I've missed something, or I'm late, or left behind, or abnormal or an aberration in anyway. I'm not. I'm just living a different life than they are. God has a different purpose for me right now. And I love that.

So, I'm not old. I'm not as young as I was. But I'm ever hopeful of the way my life will go and the calling I wait to hear next. And one thing's certain: I am constantly in process of becoming the woman God created me to be. If that ain't comfort to this baby, there ain't nothing that is.

raining on my own parade

So. I had a long, detailed, in-depth conversation with a very intelligent friend of mine yesterday evening... and I'm going to have to re-evaluate the intense, immediate desire to return to Indonesia, along with the finer points of my previously outlined proposal. I like how the teaching aspects pulls in my former experience in Indonesia, and I think it could even be a redeeming experience to be able to return and teach in Indonesian schools, in Indonesian. But if I truly had my druthers, I'd study disaster relief aid organizations-- only I don't have the experience or connections or academic background to qualify me for such a proposal at this point. I'll give it more thought. We'll see.

pre-gaming the project

warning: this post contains intellectual property. and plagiarism is a crime. go away, idea thieves.

The wheels in my head are spinning out of control. A friend mentioned to me recently that she was considering applying for a Fulbright grant. I am a dual-degree master's student. All of my friends are smart. This came as no surprise. What did surprise me, however, was the lightbulb which came on when she said that-- and the dawning idea that I am still eligible for a research grant. And I now have the academic prowess (or the gumption, at least) to consider a Fulbright research grant (versus an English Teaching Assistantship, my former grant). I could go back! I could do good! I could REALLY be the mission of Fulbright, this time, to facilitate cultural exchange and mutual understanding, by leaving good behind. Not just useless broken English in rural Sumatra. ::sigh::

I starting thinking about why Indonesia, and realized plainly that I don't feel my work there is done. It is not just about being dissatisfied with my semi-incomplete former grant (dang dengue), or about my continuing desire to connect with my cultural heritage. But that country-- woah, that country. A handful of jewels flung across the Pacific. That nation is a special place, full of diversity, culture, intelligence, determination and survival amidst a continuing onslaught of factors not in their favor. I am in love with Indonesian people. I have to go back.

But how, how can I integrate my current studies in Christian theology into a research project that will promote the mission of Fulbright, leave good behind, AND be considered acceptable graduate-level academia? Well. The wheels, I tell you. They started and are still going. Hence the frantic typing of this lengthy post (if it doesn't seem lengthy yet... it will). Also, post prolonged exposure in the host country is NOT preferred, and to merit a critical language enhancement award, I will need to provide a convincing argument to support a need for intensive, in-depth language study. Christian theology. Overwhelmingly Muslim population. Former Fulbright. Mediocre language skills... so. many. factors. to. consider.

And finally the spinning produced the following. Consider, for one moment, that I was not only post-graduate degree (MTS). Consider that I am post graduate degree (MTS), but in progress MA, IPCR? That I had the backing of a large, well-established school interested in the promotion of peace through interfaith dialogue? That I had another year to participate in and learn through such programs? That my grant would premise (though not necessarily required) my return to complete my second graduate degree? And that my research project incorporated all of the aforementioned factors: my prior teaching experience, specific to Indonesia; my more recent study in Christian theology; a future exploration into Muslim-Christian relations (like my whole life isn't a case study already); a need for a very specific set of Indonesian vocabulary (theological vocabulary); my current obsession with creation care and consumerism and how that relates to American Christianity; and the opportunity to work with and establish relationships between Indonesian seminaries and U.S. institutions--like my home-base of Wesley Theological Seminary, perhaps?

More details: I taught in an Indonesian high school (albeit a public high school that had only a handful of Christians). BUT what IF my project were to develop either a Christian curriculum regarding creation care/consumerism or some sort of interfaith curriculum-- very entry-level stuff-- to promote inter-faith dialogue at the high school (SMA) level between Muslims and Christians, specifically? The project could be related to my MTS thesis work if I incorporate into my thesis a substantial portion regarding why consumerism is a challenge to Christian faith and why creation care is important-- because of misconceptions and faith responsibility (must continue to develop this tie). The curriculum could be developed working with an Indonesian seminary--I would need intensive language training in order to be able to do this and to use bahasa Indonesia for theological discussion/training/writing/teaching. And I could collaborate with an Islamic training facility, as well. BUT THEN I could take my curriculum and I could IMPLEMENT IT at the schools participating in the English Teaching Assistantship Fulbright grants-- there will be 30 ETA grants for 2011/2012, the best contenders could be selected to make the project more feasible, based on the input of the ETAs regarding the make up of their classes-- diverse groups or Christian schools (I was surprised, there are a lot). The curriculum could be taught in INDONESIAN (which automatically means that my point will get across, and furthers the argument that intensive language training is a necessity), but would draw heavily upon my teaching experience as an English teacher. What good could be left behind! And how this work would tie into my future as an advocate for Muslim people, as a Christian woman.

This would be how I see the grant playing out: I would definitely want to apply for a Critical Language Enhancement award-- it would seriously be critical to my research and implementation. I would spend the first three months or so in intensive language study, learning the vocabulary I would need in order to teach in Indonesian. After this, I would begin working with the seminary to develop the Christian school curriculum. Then I would begin working with the Islamic training facility to develop the interfaith dialogue curriculum for mixed public schools. This would likely take several months to do.

Before the curriculum were finished, I would be in contact with the 30 or so ETAs to determine which SMAs would be the best candidates for implementation. I would select 8-10 schools (this number might change, depending on location, accessibility and time remaining post curriculum development) and schedule my visits to come and present the curriculum in 1-2 days. That would be phase three of the grant, and would likely conclude my grant (leaving, of course, with the curriculum in the hands of both the seminary and the Islamic training institute, to be used in local high schools, and with the teachers of all the high schools I have visited and with AMINEF-- to potentially be implemented by future ETAs as an enrichment day, if translated into English). The research/work would persist, in the country. And the basis of the project would be to encourage dialogue among Indonesians, but presented by an American, it would also encourage international interfaith dialogue.

Upon further consideration, let's revisit the tie-in to my thesis work. My thesis is based on the premise that I can establish that American Christianity has become entrenched by consumerism, and that this is negative for our faith because it separates us from God. As a response to this, I plan to explore the multiple countercultural movements that reject Christian consumerism and even embrace creation care (for argument's sake, the extreme opposite of consumer culture), reunited us with God. This is relevant to my previous work in Indonesia and the curriculum if I can supply a convincing argument that during my ETA grant I was a constant curiosity because I was not Muslim, yet there was no dialogue regarding our differences in faith. That I observed there was no platform to discuss the differences between Christian and Muslim, in essence, establishing that lack of dialogue is the current status quo (in thesis terms, that no dialogue is culturally approved). But since my thesis will cover countercultural movements that encourage wholeness (reunification with God), my curriculum will be based on beginning a countercultural movement: interfaith dialogue. Basically, the premise for this and all interfaith dialogue is that if our differences are safe to discuss and out in the open, they aren't scary anymore. My aim, through my curriculum in high schools, would be based in encouraging countercultural responses to ignoring our differences. Perhaps this could even be perpetuated by offering the curriculum online, and even sending it to be taught in other high schools.

I like this relation to my thesis work better, because American consumeristic culture is nothing like the majority of Indonesia. But this does leave a major gap in terms of the necessity and the uniqueness of my project: of course interfaith dialogue between Muslims and Christians is necessary, that's a given. How is my curriculum going to do much good? Why's it necessary now, in this way? And if the aim of the curriculum is very broadly: 'interfaith dialogue' what makes my proposal unique? Sure, it promotes the message of Fulbright. But without any current major event that highlights an international lack of communication between Muslims and Christians, why is this important? Dang, I thought I had it.

Alright, there's clearly much more work to be done on this idea, but I feel like I'm off to a crazy fast-paced start. I didn't just hit the ground running, I flew past the first checkpoints. There's some heavy academic thought in my future... I'll be back to update as soon as my brain has caught up to sorting it through.

Oh. And making it relevant to the title? The idea is that this new, MAJOR proposal would pre-game the perpetual hope of the greater Empowerment Project. The EP is a calling, something I know I will at the very least attempt to fulfill in my days on this earth. This idea is like an appetizer to the EP, but it's very relevant and the scale upon which this would play out-- the coordination, the planning, the multiple parties that would be involved-- is similar to but merely smaller, shorter, and more concentrated than the idea of the EP. The organization is similar, however.

Bed time. I'm wiped.

tuckered out

I wanted to stop by this place before I lay down my head to say briefly that I had a fantastic day. I drug myself out of bed at an unconscionably early hour but the day rose to meet me with a whisper. We had gorgeous weather, there was exercise, I did not drive to work. It felt fresh to come back to a place where I just so recently felt sapped. I was productive at work, had a picnic lunch with my great big floppy beach hat and then spent two hours of the afternoon working on a scavenger hunt, of all things. Let me tell you that it is a great day when you form a six person pyramid next to the Dean of Students on the bottom.

Then there was a dinner date with a good friend, and discussion about God.

And, I got to ride metro.

a little spring cleaning

I think it's about time. This blog, like so many things in my life, has been recently (and not so recently) neglected as I worried and worked towards the pressing matters in my life. I haven't left time for self reflection or other contemplation but instead have spent it all on other pursuits. I'm sorry to say that is my habit for more than one thing in life. When deadlines encroach and there are multiple agendas all working simultaneously but not in cooperation, sometimes you just do what you have to do to get things done. But no more. There has finally been time for a spring cleaning around here-- just in time for actual spring. The remodel proves it. :)

Today is Easter. The Christ is Risen! I think it a fitting tribute then, to launch spring around here on this day, the eternal symbol of new life. I hope I remember this. Ironically, I meant to practice a little discipline in self reflection during Lent and write everyday. Good thing for grace, because that did not happen.

So, I think it's time for a life-update. The changes around these parts have been numerous. I'm grateful for them all. There have been many moments with friends, in work, in fellowship, and thankfully, for rest. This semester has been a time of rest (or at least it was meant to be in my coursework), and contemplation. I feel comfortable recording a recent decision I've been afraid to make regarding my schoolwork. I'm going to finish my Masters in Theological Studies, instead of switching to a Masters of Divinity at this point. I postponed the official degree change for a long time, even while I was working on the coursework for the new degree, but at this point in my life, my calling does not feel firm enough to entertain the idea of three more years in study. With my MTS, I can finish next May and I can begin to consider next steps: living abroad, traveling, moving to Portland, another Fulbright grant. I'm going to begin exploring as I begin brainstorming/writing/reading for the thesis, so I will definitely write more about that. But most importantly, it's good to have reached an end that I can plan around. I'm such a planner-- not being able to envision the next years of my life (or envisioning them in static, un-changing and still) has been extraordinarily frustrating for me. Although I still do not know what will happen next, my active fantasy life will help me explore the options and make decisions.

It's interesting to evaluate where I am in life with where I thought I'd be. Actually, it's interesting to evaluate where I am in life compared to those I associate with-- who most are where I thought I'd be. It's good to know that while I thought I'd be where they are, I'm happy with where I actually am. You follow? I know there is a lot of possibility in each of my friend's lives, even those who pretty much have a plan to follow, but the possibility in mine, is absolutely endless. Endless. Instead of being scary now, or depressing, this is totally exciting. There are so many things I want to do in life, and I'm a year shy of being able to go out and do some of the more intensive ones. Am I concerned that while others are putting down roots, I'm interested in packing up and moving on... and on, and on? Apparently, a little, yes. But not enough to tarnish the desire or even the joy at the possibility. I've always been a very reliable, very safe person. But I don't want to live so cautiously that I miss opportunities to live into the plan of the Creator. With faith, some risks we are required to take.

And we are required to make changes, too. I think, the more changes I make, the more I will be ready to take risks. The more I learn, the more changes I want to take. The changes I've been thinking about and implementing over the last 9 months or so are all those that are currently funneling my thesis train of thought. I live in a sprawling urban area. I see, on a regular basis, 1) how wasteful we are; 2) how commercially driven all of our pursuits have become; 3) how disconnected we are from the earth, creation, and therefore, our Creator God. I don't think I have much more city in me-- because at heart, I'm not a rebel. At heart, I'm a follower, and a pleaser, and a person who maintains the status quo. It is only in Christ that I am moved by the rebellious. Because I have been here for nearly three years. And I see that I am wasteful. I see that I am commercially driven. See that I have become a consumer-- I buy, and I begin to see the world in bought/sold. And then I become disconnected, separated from God. I become lazy. Slothful. Gluttonous-- and the kind of person I never wanted to be. I feel like I have to change, and I have to leave (even if I come back) in order to buck the desire in me to be like everyone else in corporate America.

There are so many ways I could take this. I'm going to list a few so I can come back. Buying secondhand/handmade. Reconnecting with the earth by growing your own food. Supporting local agriculture by joining a CSA. Knowing where your food comes from- period-. The growing numbers of vegetarians and vegans. Handmade instead of store-bought. Making/Cooking things from scratch. Staying in instead of going out. Thrifting vs. Target. Ditching disposable products in favor of longer lasting and more earth friendly ones: Family Cloth, Mama Cloth, menstrual cups, cloth towels instead of paper towels, Nalgene bottles instead of water bottles, bringing your own instead of plastic grocery bags, hankies instead of tissues, cloth napkins instead of paper, real plates and silverware and glasses instead of paper, plastic or styrofoam; reusable snack bags or glass containers instead of ziplocs and plastic. Going organic (food), eating locally. Buying organic clothes. There are even folks I know who conserve water by waiting to flush the toilet... Each of these is a little rebellion to the culture that tells us we are all expendable; to wasteful ways that separate us from Creation entrusted to us, from God who created us.

Some of those I've already implemented. Some of those I hope to implement. I know that this idea of corporate Christianity isn't new. And neither is Creation Care. That's okay. I'm identifying something that separates me from God. So that I can reconnect. In thesis terms, I have found a topic I am passionate about and can actually consider reading/writing/studying for the next year (pending approval). And some of the things I outlined are subversive enough to 'American' culture that I feel like I'm taking a risk by becoming an advocate, which is very good for my 'play it safe' nature.

And that's the ten minute wrap up for now. It's safe to say I plan to be back here again soon, as I continue to work through these ideas. Plus, I've got camping photos/tales to report soon. Until then: some images of the change in the season to mark the changes in me.