dear God,

i would really like a job--

soon.

thanks,

Adel

i had a moment this weekend, driving,

somewhere between new brunswick and newark

on the garden state parkway

a memory slowly creeping into my mind,

a Truth long buried.

the fear and anxiety that lie latent in my chest

always appear most readily when i am in modes of transportation, particularly driving. the last 2 years have brought out a constant throat closing, chest burning, nauseating anxiety whenever i put myself in a moving vehicle, even when i'm the one behind the wheel. i always talk myself through it, but its exhausting, especially when i go somewhere new. i never let it stop me because that's me. i fight through it/against it. until this last weekend.

a trip to nyc was planned and i wanted to go. but when i found out we were driving in, i kinda felt like crying. i just didn't want to deal with it anymore. last week i decided that i was going to practice doing what i wanted to do, following my gut and listening to my heart, not my head. it started with that drive to the hudson. i hadn't driven on impulse since high school. it continued with a 2 hr hike mid-week and concluded with the Truth long buried.

i used to love driving.

the peace that pervaded following that thought was unbelievable and carried me through the rest of the day. i used to love driving. it wasn't a guilty accusation towards my anxiety-ridden self or a this desire is long lost. no, it was Truth, spoken to my heart to grant freedom. a reminder of who i am. a call, a deep awakening of who God has created me to be, spoken in a whisper to a child long lost, trying to find her way home. i've always known that the anxiety i have felt in travelling, especially driving has been connected deeply to my spiritual walk, an assault on the very fabric of my being. a suffering i've never been able to pinpoint.

but something happened on that parkway.

a Whisper that not only set me free of my fear of something simple that i used to love, but with it, told me i was Home. Home in Him. and there's nowhere else in the world i would rather be. it's been way too long.

i had a revelation yesterday.

well i've had several revelations in the last few days but only one of which i'll address at this time. with not much to do in regards to [real] life work, i've had more time to do some soul work. and that means i crashed b.c i haven't done much soul work since august.

all sense of purpose came to a screeching halt sunday evening as i listened to friends who have become very dear to me in a very short period of time talk of grand life plans and moving to far away places. normal talk pertaining to this stage in life. but myself still in the midst of great upheaval having actually followed through on what normal people only talk about wanted to put my hands over my ears and say la la la la like a 5 year old.

and then i did. in my own way.

i left. after they did. it would've made more of a statement if i would've actually left when they were talking about it but i never react that fast. i suffer from delayed emotion

and i drove. not a normal coping mechanism anymore in my life, though i did it a lot in high school, back when my parents paid for the gas and it was only a dollar a gallon.

i got as far as the Hudson. would've gone farther if it weren't for the darn $8 toll. i would've gone to the ocean if it weren't for the tolls to get there.

i sat. i stared. i contemplated running away.

but where to? i need my paris. yes, that's right, it's mine.

what has happened to me? where is the girl that loves new things and adventure, dreaming the impossible? oh that's right i've let people mean something to me.

and it scares the shit out of me.

how did i get here? i didn't make sense of all of this until yesterday.

yesterday i had an intense and wonderfully thought provoking conversation with my agnostic housemate. funny how her thought process isn't much different than mine. we've had some similar life experiences, particularly difficult relationships. the intellectual, spiritual, and creative aside, boys are always a good thing to bond over. that and tea. in the very short time that she has known my story, she has served to validate the absolute unhealthiness of my experience in a way that only someone who has been there can. as i was walking through how i came to enter the relationship in the first place and my overall ineptness in the relationship category (not been very successful to date...) a picture came to mind, a vague realization. the words slipped out of my mouth as only happens when you talk through things and a connection (Holy Spirit) between the sub conscious and the conscious is made. 'if it hadn't been for david, i would've never really learned to connect with people'. that's what i said at the time.

but there's more to it than that. the picture that still resides with me is a concept i've been wrestling with all year. it's something i experienced at the time with david (and guys in general) and that i re-experienced earlier this year on a much smaller scale. that God does let us have our way with ourselves but if we are sealed in His Spirit, He will let us know that it is not His will. it's our choice whether we listen or not. its this sudden awareness that my life was on a steady downward slope until that moment i filled out the application for miracle camp my sophomore year of college. the worst hadn't happened yet. but it was the beginning of God saving me from myself. (nothing is hardly ever a single point in time in my life but always a process)

david was not an anomaly. david was the result of a pattern in my life, a rebellious pattern. a pattern set deep in my sinful nature, enforced by my parents, enforced by the majority of my life experiences. a willful pattern to choose what i desired, unhealthy relationships particularly centered on male affection and security, over God; a pattern of trusting no one, keeping everyone at arm's length. in order for God to change that pattern within me, He had to break me. i did not listen. I was in His Spirit but repeatedly i did not listen. i continued to 'save' people to feel needed. i continued to be tantalized by male attention, yet frustrated at its unfruitfulness. i knew it wasn't the answer but i told God i didn't care. i was addicted. if i had not reached the dark depths of that absolutely unhealthy relationship, i don't know that i would have ever been truly broken of my addiction. i drove myself there. it was only by His Grace that i was saved.

without brokenness there can be no new life.

i can see now that the years following that, though i have been frustrated by what seems to be a continuation of the same pattern, has really been God teaching me how to have real, deep, healthy relationships. though i had been broken of the old pattern, i did not yet have the tools to establish a new one. He has been stocking my tool kit well. and i am grateful.

i feel like a schizophrenic.

i'm surrounded by all these people, what i have been craving for so long.

i've made a choice to commit, to being in one place.

i have friends, real friends, of a larger number and wider variety than ever before.

the sheer amount of people in my life, both near and far who truly understand me and care about me is absolutely mind blowing.

and i want to run away.

i want to run far, far away.

the pieces are starting to fall into place and i am curled up in a ball, waiting for the ceiling to fall.

all my built-in protection is gone. no distance to keep people at arms' length. no all consuming job to take up all my time. no plans of leaving to warn people i'm only temporary.

now what?

these were all things i have felt extremely convicted about in the last few months. things i knew that God was asking me to get rid of, to leave myself open to what He wants for me. and now i'm here. and i feel naked. i want to run and hide. i want to disappear for a week or two.

and yet i can't stand to be alone.

see? i'm schizophrenic.

this is the life.

can i just say that?

i think i could do this for real. or maybe i'd get bored. i probably would get bored. hmm. i don't know. i can wear whatever the hell i want. i wore the same thing two days in a row. why? because its so comfortable. awesome. plus i can't take a shower since the plumbing is being worked on. but it doesn't matter because i just take my computer wherever i want and work on things whenever i want.

listen to whatever music i want.

and live completely in my head.

bonus.

ok maybe that's a bit dangerous. but for right now it's perfect. after all, one can't live inside their head all of the time. but it is a nice exchange after living completely outside of my head for the last 11 months. i kind of like it in here. cozy. a bit of a spiral downwards sometimes. but also a land of dreams, where impossibilities are within easy reach.

a good cup of coffee and a rainy day helps.

all while designing a brochure.

i'm telling you.

i'm gonna be famous someday.

ever walk away from a situation feeling completely unresolved?
like something should've been said or done and it wasn't, but you can't quite put your finger on what it is. and it doesn't really feel like you could've done anything about it. or maybe i'm just being stubborn.

i'm feeling very stubborn right now.
very stubborn.
my eyebrows are furrowed as i think about what i should type.

i don't even question in my mind if i should've said something. because i'm feeling too stubborn to even entertain that possibility. so that probably means i should have. but instead i sit here with furrowed brow. i think i'm frustrated, but i'm not even sure about that. all i know is i'd rather stew than feel what i actually need to feel.

i think it is that i am done trying--not in a bah i give up throw my hands up way. but in a withdraw sort of way. in a i'm just going to be me and forget about you and your silliness, relegating any emotion to the back of my mind. b.c i'm not going to be controlled by it. so there.

i think i go on writing binges...

after waking to this

i drove home in the dark through the neighborhoods of west orange and happened upon the most spectacular view of new york city metro area, driving down a steep neighborhood street facing east. what is normally blocked by green foliage suddenly, now in late fall, shows a clear view of everything from west orange new jersey to the new york city skyline. i wish i'd had a good enough camera to capture it. it took me completely by surprise.

and still leaves me breathless.

i was so taken by it that though i kept driving home, i am still drawn to driving back to that exact spot to sit on the sidewalk and stare. maybe i will. if not tonight, then tomorrow. its as if a trance has been placed upon me. and i wonder at the absolute craziness that i should be able to witness a black bear cub and the above scenic view and the new york city skyline and everything in between within the span of 12 hours. i am completely struck by how much i love where i live. maybe not the actual location of maplewood nj on the edge of irvington, nj (where they say the crime of newark is being pushed to) but the 2 hour radius from said place. while i can't say that i absolute love new york city, the view it gave me tonight was beyond description. and while newark is the armpit of the armpit of the nation, i found myself pacing its streets the other afternoon, finding bits of beauty amidst the utter awkwardness of being a white chic walking down broad street. (that's not something that words will ever master, only experience) even better, it takes an hour for me to drive to the delaware water gap and the appalacian trail, relatively in the middle of nowhere, where new york city light pollution no longer interferes with the stars. and finally south, an area that i don't particularly love for any reason except the people.

i think i'll miss living here. i've taken advantage of the location. i love the small town of maplewood with all its facades of innocence, which don't really fool me because i've seen real small town innocence. but i like their efforts, as only wealth can try in vain to create a bubble of safety. and its all going to change in two weeks. that's right. two weeks. my whole life will change in two weeks.

ok not my whole life.

the people won't change.

thank God.

but the scenery will. and i'm an aesthetic.

i get attached to both the ugly and the beautiful around me.

i have one thought for you....

why can a random stranger on the street have the courage to talk to me as a woman, a man whom i have no right to trust, no reason to believe that he should have anything to offer, yet is willing to risk rejection though he knows nothing about me and knows that his chances of getting even just a phone number are slim. why oh why is he willing to do that and yet in my life i have yet to have a guy that i actually know and trust come anywhere close to having that kind of courage?

would someone please tell me why?

i feel like i'm waiting for a boy to call . . .
though at least i am guaranteed a response (which is more than most boys will guarantee; wonder if it'd be possible to make that a requirement of the male part of our species. treat a date like an interview--you have to call me, if only to tell me you never want to see me again. but alas relationships are never that black and white)--
even if the news may not be what i want to hear.
though i wonder if i really want to hear it?

either way it'll be a lot to digest.
i'll either be back at square one, starting the job search all over or i'll be committing my life for the next 4-5 years in new jersey, a state i never intended to end up in. either way--it's kind of scary.
right now i'm just in limbo.
i think i should be freaking out about it more--
but i'm not.
maybe because in this case no news is good news.
because there's still hope. the longer they deliberate, the greater my chances. after all the other person has been around for quite awhile. if they really wanted him/her, they would've already made the decision. so there's still hope.

hope. what a concept i struggle with.
struggle is not even adequate. wrestle. fight. beat to a bloody pulp. kill.
yes. i kill hope. that is such a vivid and true way of describing my relationship with hope.
and yet it is incredibly persistent, like that weed in the garden that keeps coming back. the roots so deep that it would take an earthquake to uproot it. and even then, i wonder. i witness this persistence daily in the vulnerability of my students. growing up in a culture that seems to kill all hope, these children still desire, no, demand, hope. they do not give up. they refuse, despite everything life hands them. they are fighters and fighters for hope. they believe that life can only get better. they'd never articulate it that way but their faces and voices say it every day when they ask me for help with their homework or that problem with that boy or the conflict at home or the fight against loneliness and boredom. they have so much less than i did growing up. yet they are willing to hope so much more. i feel as if i'm learning in reverse. i grew up without hope; without belief in much of anything; with only this sense that life should be different than what i witnessesd, never really believing that it was possible.
thus the battle against hope. i've wanted to hope but i didn't believe that my life could mean anything; that i could have friends--lifelong friends, soul sisters, real community. i didn't believe that i could be anything more than a job; that i could have purpose in how i spend my days. i didn't believe that i would ever find a soulmate; that i would have a family of my own--a home where even strangers felt safe. i didn't believe that i could create.
but that hope--it kept growing back. something deeper than myself. not even the earthquakes of broken abusive relationships and change, knowledge, philosophy, and disbelief, could kill it. beyond my control. beyond my best efforts to drown out this hope. it survived. and now i work with children who, day in and day out, hope against all hope for love and safety and something better than what they have. they hope in a God they've never even heard of; a new creation they've never read about; a love that's only been perverted.
they put me to shame.
so i learn in reverse.
to hope.

Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

thinking = worry

that is my form of worry. some people should think things through more thoroughly--plan better, etc. i--well i over-think in some desperate attempt to gain control over a situation. because it seems to me that if i think things through in enough different ways, i will cover all of the options and thus choose the best one when the choice comes. but in the end it doesn't matter how much i think through something or don't think through something. it never goes the way i planned. those choices i thought through--they don't even become choices! because i don't have any real control.

i am teetering on the brink right now, wrestling with the reality that my life is not my own. all the plans that i made are getting thrown out the window, replaced by an entirely new set, unless of course one of the many moving pieces should come crashing down. which, at this point in my life, i am humbly aware that that is very much a reality. because it has happened before and who is to say it couldn't happen again--tomorrow. how absolutely wrong everything could turn in a split second. or right. and i am shocked yet again by how fleeting it all is. my life is but a mist. stability is not something i can create. i can't really create anything. i am overwhelmed by how little control i have. and humbled. still working on being grateful.

i took today off. mostly because i've been pushing myself too hard. and the thought of entering that school made me want throw up. i spent all day alone doing the normal things that make me feel more at peace, refreshed, etc. sleeping; writing/praying; walking/yoga; sitting still.

but i don't really feel any better.

i still feel incredibly confused and befuddled and slightly depressed and frustrated and trapped.

oh and guilty.

and let's not forget, failure.
there's a reason i stay busy and surrounded by people, even if it all drains me too much and pushes me to the max. because when i am left alone, all too often the guilt creeps in. this time it's about americorps. after all i didn't go into work today and i really don't want to go tomorrow. i want to crawl into a hole. i'm not fulfilling the expectation i set for myself--basically work my ass off until november 19 so i can get all my hours in--the right way. instead of having to fudge. but i'm going to have to fudge. i failed. my expectations...not my boss's because she doesn't care, she knows i do the work. but for some reason my legalism has kicked in during this situation. my determination not to fail has resulted in burn out and exhaustion and well, failure. sigh.

and did i mention the dirty dishes piling up in the sink...

and the grant that i made very little progress on despite repeated efforts....

and the job interview i keep rehashing in my mind--over and over and over and over and over again...

and how i'm not looking for another job because i'm just too tired...

and well, you get the point.

this is where i say life sucks and be my emo self and mumble and grumble.

instead i'm willing myself to remember God's goodness. after all, i had TWO interviews last week for this job. and even if it doesn't come through, it definitely has defined my passions for me. God would not bring me this far in this process to let it be a complete dead end. He has something for me to learn from this, whichever way the cookie crumbles. there's the lesson: He always has something for me to learn, whether the situation comes out the way i want it to or not.

He does not lead me in futility--a lesson i continually forget.

and He always provides.

always.

Since I don't really know where this is going,

I'm just going to jump right in...

So I got a text message from my sister at 2.12 am saying that she has a boyfriend. which I knew was coming because I knew she's been hanging out with this guy since school started. and I'm happy for her. because she's never had one before and finally some guy followed through.

as long as I don't think about it too hard.

because how many times have I had some guy flake out on me? how many times have I flaked out on a guy? how many stinking times have I gotten it wrong?!? and as cori always does, I'm sure she'll get it right the first time.

I've been processing lately what it means to get it wrong. actually it's something I've been processing since the moment I thought of breaking up with David. and about every guy I've been interested in since then. because clearly up to this point, I've failed. I know it's not entirely all my fault--they do have to claim some responsibility. but I finally fully recognized that I knew I shouldn't have said yes to David. yes to marrying him. yes to dating him. yes to even taking him to prom. in my gut, the whole time I knew it was wrong. but I didn't listen. and that's true of every guy since then. because I want it. because I want it so stinking bad. I refuse to listen.

but...and this is a big but...

I've been learning.

1) I've been learning it's ok to admit you are wrong. Because let's face it, we're wrong by nature. We're not supposed to get it right. as a matter of fact, we CAN'T get it right.

And my God is big enough to take the wrong and make it right.

2) I've been learning that I can learn. And that means, one day, I will know. I don't care what all the pessimists say and the critics whine, I will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the man I marry is the man I'm supposed to marry. Because I've gotten it wrong so many times. I will know.

3) I have only begun to grasp on a whole new level how tainted my desires are--and how fleeting. and how awesome God's desires for me are instead. I've always felt it, sensed it, in the back of my soul.

but only since admitting how wrong I truly was about David and accepted that responsibility, have I been granted the freedom to admit how absolutely right and beautiful God is. as long as we hold onto that one shred of our dignity, we deprive God of his absolute glory because we're still clinging to the hope that we ourselves can get it right. which is a lie. we can't. we are sinful, in utter depravity. grace can only enter the picture once we've admitted we're wrong.

i spent today in the middle of nowhere--

and it couldn't have been spent any better.

my brain hurts

i don't think it can hold one more ounce of information....life detail...job opportunity....design instruction...event plan....emotional whatever.

i just called the after school program i am checking out this afternoon to verify the time i'm supposed to arrive. why? because i thought she said 3.45 pm but my brain started doing weird things on me. oofta.

too much people, just too much. but i am glad it is being used. far better that it be used to its fullest extent than lay wasted in idleness. this is, after all, rather familiar territory for me--one i am far more comfortable in than rested idleness. it would be about this time in the semester that i would feel about the same--like i just couldn't take anymore but no end in sight. it's at this point that my walls break down and cracks in the facade appear.

carefully constructed appearances go to the wayside.

tears burst forth at inappropriate times.

frustration actually shows.

bewilderedness leaks out in forgetfulness and sarcasm.

laughter bubbles when it shouldn't.

and people actually discover who I really am.

otherwise i'd say it is bad to reach this point--unhealthy, stressful, exhausted, blah blah. but if i never reached this point, no one would ever really know me. and i would think i was really in control of me..and my life. which is a lie. i'd rather be humbled. and reminded of His Truth.

i should be looking for jobs. i should be applying for jobs i've already found.
but it has been about a month. and i always hit a wall about now.
this being my now third job searching time in well less than 12 months, i am well acquainted with the one month hump. it is easy to maintain hope during those first 4 weeks when the world seems to bow at your feet, offering its seemingly endless fruits of the great American economy. possibilities abounded.
hope reigned.

and then there was nothing.
great
black
empty
silence.

God. where are You.
Your Silence creates a roar.
a roar that weakens me.
i know i said i would wait on You this time.
but i am weak and poor.
and my faith reflects such.
hopelessness threatens to drown me.
God. where are You.

my hands are bound.
my soul is weary.
my heart confused.
on You i wait.

it's funny how i can 'finish' a day utterly exhausted and then give me a few hours of downtime, and i'm not tired anymore.

i spent my saturday morning in a class, and let me tell you, i love class. there is not much that energizes me more than having someone give me information. i love information. maybe because it has been a little lacking in my life as of late. i'm parched.

really i love seeing someone talk about something they are passionate about. and what i love about a classroom setting: there isn't the pressure of a direct response. i can enjoy the pure pleasure of listening and letting my mind process without having to worry about responding. i love just absorbing. i do have to say i listen with greater attentiveness than i did in college, though even then i was an avid listener. i do everything with greater intensity than i did in college. i think that's why i find life so exhausting at times. after all, someone made you take classes in college that you didn't really want to take, so you didn't pay attention. and for better or worse, i never really struggled with school. just floated by on cloud nine.

and today. oh today. today i heard someone speak with such great passion about a life changing project he has begun, not only for himself, but for ALL the students that will pass through the halls of Newark Public Schools. he may not succeed and he is willing to admit that. but he is still willing to try. that i may be so willing. he even was so bold as to declare this was a direction he felt called by God to follow--in the most humble way, mind you. it was incredible.

in the last few years, i have been on a philosophical journey of belief in the paradox of destiny/fate/predeterminism, call it what you will, should it or should it not exist. what i find incredibly refreshing about the work culture i have slowly been immersed in is that while they may not believe that God is in control, they have a drive that says there is something i am meant to do in this world and i am going to find it. even if it is 'only' tutoring these children or teaching at a particular school. with that drive comes the undeniable quality of destiny. for how can you possess such drive without a sense of purpose behind it? then again there are those driven out of guilt or a need to prove--though i seem to find less of them out here than i thought.
aside from the debate of the harm of humanitarianism on our society, the one thing they have impressed upon my soul is the absolute necessity of destiny.

i have not encountered thus far, one person out here, christian or non, who has said to me when they hear the debate of what i should do with my life, make a decision, own up to it, take control. no one tells me i just need to make up my mind and get on with my life. Not one christian has said anything about there not being one thing you're supposed to do, God just works with what we choose. you wanta know why? b.c it's impossible to live in a society in which so many basic factors are beyond your control and live in absolute ignorance of it. ie traffic. instead, again christian and non, express faith, patience, things will fall into place. how does that happen in a society that is so incredibly motivated? i don't know.

but i do have to say, that being out here and the various circumstances i have brought on myself and God has wrought has humbled my view that i am in control; that i have power to make choices; that God just works His will with what we give Him.
no.
God is in control.
and He does have a plan.
and I will follow it.
whatever form it comes in.
I will not settle for anything less.

and because of that, i cannot live in the limbo of God only controls the big things or God works with what we give Him. i have felt what it feels to fight Him and I am feeling what it feels to follow Him. i have witnessed the drive that He gives us to accomplish His will, even in those who have perverted it, yet I will follow. I will have faith.
For He is faithful.

100th blog

this folks, is my 100th blog. i can't decide if that's a good thing--or a bad thing. i've never been able to decide if being a dedicated blogger is a good thing or a bad thing. i find it strange that i feel compelled to post my musings about life for the rest of the world to see, not that the rest of the world actually takes notice which is probably for the best. i can't believe i actually follow through; that, in and of itself, is a mystery. i have a love/hate relationship with this thing called the internet and the information age it has spawned. i love that i, the ever curious intellectual, can figure out just about anything i want to but i hate that i am inunadated by choices that i know i can't possibly choose from and that i waste so much time narrowing it down or even just playing around. and in this world where words mean very little, a book even less, and anyone can have ten minutes of fame, i can't believe that i persist in adding to the flood.
and yet i do.
for what reason, only God knows.

so here i go again...
i really need to investigate better conjunctions. i tend to overuse them.

i am increasingly struck by the absolute conundrum of my situation, particularly following Sundays. every Sunday brings about a whole day of hanging out with a group of people that i just never expected to come into my life. and so quickly. a group of people in various walks of life who make an effort to meet with each other, not just for church but for anything. the community is absolutely astounding. while Christ is the core, the glue that binds it together, it draws people quite literally from all walks of life. i am encountering, for the first time, a group of Christians that are not exclusive. a group of Christians that actually welcome strangers in such a way that it makes it almost impossible to resist. i'm sure if you were really stubborn, you could. and with this, i have begun to see why God brought me out here and ultimately, how i could end up staying here longer. they don't need me; yet i am invited to participate. refreshing.
the community is undeniable.

as i stop fighting, lay my defenses down, and actually live out here, not just survive, i can see how i fit out here, despite the cultural differences. i see the opportunities; how much i can learn; the people that i meet just in passing, each with such different stories from mine, each rich and fascinating. i see God at work. i am catching glimpses of how all of this has changed me, defined me, honed my perspective, and hating is turning into gratefulness for the direction it is pushing me. i am beginning to love where i am at again, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically. and i am finding it impossible to imagine my life without this. it is becoming less and less of a blip, an accident, a freak twist of fate and more and more God at work.
funny how perspective changes with time. especially when you stop kicking and screaming.

do you sense a 'but' coming....

Michigan/Chicago/the Midwest is still my home. there are so many people i love. people i have known for years. people who have known me for years, who really know ALL of me, people who know me in a way that is impossible to know me if you have just walked into my life out here. people that i don't want to just let slip away and yet is impossible to keep close at such a distance. i don't want to be like my parents who moved and left everything behind and never looked back. my heart is still there. and my desires still reflect that culture more than the culture out here. my life is more about people than success, more about experiences than money, more about beauty than efficiency, more time and space than less, more about history and wisdom than the newest, hottest thing on the market.

but comparing the worlds, trying to figure out where i fit in, is like comparing apples to oranges--no like trying to choose between a fantastic italian cappucino with all of its rich complexities and a fresh-baked homemade chocolate chip cookie with its simple, comforting taste. each hold completely different properties and satisfies completely different parts of the palate and psyche. and really you want both. but it seems you have to choose. do you see my conundrum? both fit me for completely different reasons.
so where do i go?
what do i choose?
only God knows.

it's interesting how much one's heart and mind can go back and forth between two polar opposites. wanting, one moment, to run as far away as possible and the next, unable to imagine being elsewhere. how in the world do you discern what you really want/need when what you want, you just can't have? so in fear of never getting even close, running away seems to be the better option. why hold on? why not just forget and live, throwing oneself hopelessly into the present because there is no better place to live. and yet one can't help but hope. don't we all? we hope for something greater than ourselves, or possibly despair, depending on your personality and belief.

I've become much more content in my present for many reasons, largely the work of a Hand much larger than my own. but there is still this nagging, this longing that reminds me that this isn't quite where I want to be. and I wonder how much of that is me adjusting. and how much of that is a call to something else. I wonder how much of that would go away if I just stayed here- or anywhere for longer than 12 months.

that's the problem with my personality. I love a challenge and I'll adapt to anything and I love how going through the process of adapting always, without fail, makes me a stronger person, more comfortable in my own skin. It seems that I could belong just about anywhere. I know it's not true. the last nine months have shown me that. it's a lesson He's had to teach me repeatedly. but my skeptic self can't help but wonder, if He really has somewhere specific He wants me or if just anywhere will do. because if just anywhere will do then let's give up this silly search and settle into life and live in the present. forget that hope, that longing and throw oneself into now. because I love the now and really despise this thing that hangs in the back of my mind.

but if He does have somewhere that He wants me, then I guess I can't give up the wandering, the searching quite yet. only the next few months will tell as I have begun yet again to seek where He wants me. and if it must be away from my home, my hope, my heart; then I pray it won't be long. or that He says good riddance to that ridiculous nagging in the back of my heart and mind.

i've found a job opening....
and it seems to be a combination of everything that i know and love--
youth, outdoors, arts, urban culture, helping others.

yet i hesitate to write this cover letter.
b.c i know if i write the right things, i could really get this job.
and i'm not quite sure that i'm ready to commit to that.

it's funny how once you find what you really want, you become afraid to commit to it. or at least i do.

i have a feeling i'll be the same way when it comes to getting married--if i ever get married. it's kind of been moved lower on the list. it's not exactly of high priority on people's lists out here and the longer you spend out here, the more that makes you just think, oh i guess it can be put off. where in the midwest everybody freaks out by the time they're 25 if they don't have a significant other b.c if it hasn't happened yet well then by golly its never going to happen. and maybe it won't. but that's as much in God's hands as everything else in my life.

but i will write that cover letter by Sept. 7: the deadline. and you know what? i probably won't even get an interview for the job. and all of this fretting will have been for naught.

you know you're poor when....
you get excited about babysitting for rich people so you can eat their food :)
you get excited about the extra cash so you can buy things like air freshners and pesto and mouthwash and an acid free glue stick.

monday, first day of school: cloudy, dreary skies. rain. cool winds blowing.
tuesday & wednesday: the same.
it was as if the universe knew that school had begun. and breathed a sigh of relief. and while the weather has warmed again, the wind whispers with the taste of autumn on its lips. and i love it.

there is something about autumn that draws me in more than any other season. it's as if i've been holding my breath all summer long waiting, waiting for the taste of autumn. and i didn't realize it until yesterday when i finally let it go. perhaps because it signals the beginning of school: something i have always secretly relished. or perhaps because it brings the bittersweetness of memories wrapped in its breezes. memories of the waning busyness of camp, the time to treasure its beauty and freedom after a summer of sprinting, the comfort of friendships grounded in renewal and coffee. it is the air of experience, of knowing what has already been and foreseeing what will shortly come, that causes that tangible sigh of relief. Summer and winter, they feel as if they will never end when you are in their midst, stretching on interminably, fooling you into thinking they will never leave. Spring promises great new things in its youthful vigor. But autumn, autumn says i already know, there is no rush. grab that extra layer and take time to process, to learn from what i already know--that all good things come with experience.

it makes me wonder when the next time will come that i should experience such a feeling--that all good things come with experience. when i should be in a place long enough to be able to say, here let me show you what to do. i feel comfortable here and you don't. let me extend some grace. when i won't have to be at the mercy of others. do you know how tired i am of being at the mercy of others?
others' whims. others' standards. others' failures.
always picking up the pieces. making the most of what i've been given. scraping by.

when is it going to be my turn? when will i be somewhere that i feel at peace with? will i ever stop longing for places i've already been? people i've already loved?
will life ever hold a rhythm that i can enjoy? that i can settle into?

God are you done with me yet?

decisions must be made
a line drawn in the sand
because of a simple insurance card
funny how little things like that force you to nail things down

....at least for now.

i continue to wade through my life: my desires, my needs, my pasts, my futures, my hurts, my joys. trying to find the pattern, the string that holds them all together. correction: i know the string--that's God. i guess it's more trying to find what i should keep adding to the string. its like different interests, places, and people are different colors and types of beads. as i've gone through life, different colors were more prominent, repeated from daily use more than significance or outstanding capability. and then there are those types of beads that have changed colors but remained constant.
the colors would be: school (x12), music, theater, art(x3), theater, school (x4) , art (x4), camp, praise/ministry teams, youth service, camp, travels, student government, graphic design, camp, travels, graphic design, camp, youth service, customer service, graphic design, youth service
the most prominent shapes in order from most frequent to least would be: learning, creativity, service, leadership, adventure
so what bead do i add next? what color?

my friend handed me a book yesterday and mentioned something along the lines of this would be a good light read for you. she always does this handing me the ones with the cover from the eighties or the pinkest girliest font. this one was called 'altar call'.
now i don't read chick porn--i gave up that stuff a long time ago when i realized what unrealistic expectations it places on relationships and i don't read christian feel good novels--again sets up expectations/cookie cutter answers to God. plus i tend to live a bit too vicariously through novels--how else do you think i survived junior high?!?
but i always read the ones that she hands me...mostly out of curiousity and a little bit of indulgence. indulgence of something that lies buried deep inside of me.
funny that this one should be about a girl in her late twenties who gives herself a makeover by moving to a new place and ends up realizing her heart was really back at home. i've been seeing this theme reoccuring in a lot of things that have come across my path recently. but that's beside the point.
i still walk away at the end of the novel with two completely contradictory ideas--it happens with any chick flick-ish thing. it doesn't happen like that in real life--people don't always work things out and its hardly ever that clear. you don't always get your happy ending....but then why does my heart break at this-every time?
a man isn't going to chase after you. besides the last time it didn't work out so well.
but i still want someone to.
you are supposed to be strong and independent-not controlled by your emotion.
but i want to fall in love.
guard your heart; don't let anyone determine your life for you-absolute freedom.
if people aren't my life, then what is?

logic vs love

any wonder i'm confused?

calculations

what's the difference between worry and being responsible?

for example: now that i don't have a second job and i just collected that last pay check, i currently have a very set income. an income, mind you, that realistically, doesn't even leave me enough room to tithe. (not that i have been very good at that before this. what can i say? i like my money. and besides, is not what I'm doing a MAJOR gift of my time and talents already?? isn't that enough!? but that's another tangent.) i do have some cushion room because i did work my ass off for 6 months. but me, i'm a goal setter. especially with money. i see that i have approx. 2500 in my bank account. i have 4 months left. i think i can live on what i make each month, if i don't tithe. i would love to walk away with at least 2000 in my bank account in december. That's what would be left if i tithe out of my savings. if i don't have any emergencies/tickets/you name it. so realistically that leaves me with $60/wk. if i tithe out of my actual pay check, its only $40/wk (after the bills). not sure that's possible to live on. anyways, you get the point.

this is what my brain has been spending much of its energy on in the last week or so. and quite realistically will for the next 4 months. i'm not really worried about it...yet. right now its still a game, a challenge. and i still have the security of that extra money in my bank account. so if i do mess up aka get a ticket (very realistic), have my car break down (which my parents will probably pay for but another realistic possiblity), go to the doctor, break something, have to buy art supplies, overspend with friends, the list goes on, i will have money for it.

no matter what i sure spend a lot of time calculating.
at what point does the calculating cross the line from being responsible to worry?

i've spent a lot of time from December to June calculating. calculating money, calculating jobs, calculating plans, calculating time, even calculating my heart. and none of it got me anywhere. do you hear me? ANYWHERE. no amount of thinking, planning, or calculating answered any of my questions. it didn't leave me with more peace-it left me with less. it didn't give me more answers, it gave me more questions. it didn't open doors; it actually slammed them in my face. and while i sought after God in all of it, i sought after Him with my plans in mind, asking Him to confirm my ideas. and He laughed at me, not in ridicule or spite, but with a jolly chuckle, shaking His head in amusement at my scurrying attempts to help Him in His work in my life. Such feeble attempts they were in comparison to His incomprehensible hands, no wonder I felt frustrated. Only once I threw up my hands, my entire body, in utter defeat could He pick me up, wipe the tears from my eyes, and begin drawing my picture for me.

hm. so maybe i should stop calculating.

i hate tolls.
why in the world should i have to pay to cross a darn bridge--$8 nonetheless.
bah.
all i have to do is drive around long enough and i'll end up paying for the privilege of driving whether i wanted to or not.
bah humbug.

Comfortable in my own skin

i went backpacking on the Appalacian Trail this last weekend.

2 days notice.

hardly any forethought.

just because i had told myself about a month ago:

you should look into taking a backpacking trip.

so i said yes.



the most physically challenging thing i've ever done.

carrying a backpack about a third your weight will do that to you.

and borrowing hiking boots that give you blisters only contributes.



but none of that stopped me from probably having the best experience i've had since moving out here (besides going home to michigan). i don't think i have ever felt more comfortable with myself among such a diverse group of people in such an incredibly short period of time. completely unexpected



the possible discomfort of a trip with complete strangers didn't even cross my mind until i pulled up to the lodge thursday morning. then it was, oh shit, what did i get myself into?
but after the initial awkwardness of the first day, i found a group of people who found me funny.
go figure. me-funny. my sarcasm was actually appreciated/understood. and my forgetfulness/clumsiness, a group joke, not a curse.
haven't had that in a long time.

i found a group of people who i could learn from; yet were still willing to learn. i was reminded of what it's like to be with educators. we never stop learning.

i found a group of people who took care of me. it was essential. i couldn't take care of myself. they noticed me. and did something about it. they were incredibly present.
do you know the last time someone took care of me?
the last time someone really noticed me?
noticed and did something about it?

i haven't been seen, really seen, in years.
i haven't allowed myself to be.

the last time i really let myself be seen and taken care of, it was all wrong. the privilege was taken from me by persuasion and guilt, handed over reluctantly. never given freely. i've been hesitant ever since. i hide behind responsibility, duty, everybody else's ignorance, and lies. quite honestly everyone else is just too busy to see through the facade. and even if they notice, they all too often don't have the time and/or tools to do it well.

i love to play; to discover and create. i want to be free. but life gets in the way. i long to be childlike; unassuming; space to move and just be. i shouldn't be put in a cage.

backpacking let me be just that.
the people let me be just that.
free.

1500 miles later....

After
1500 miles &
3 weeks,
I'm left with a
1/2 filled gas tank
1 runny nose
2 bleary eyes &
1000 memories.

Here I stand--correction: kneel,
grateful for all that I have been given.

My life will never be the same.
Old chapters are closed with a sigh of relief.
New doors are opening.
Hope is on the horizon.

I never expected life to be thrown into such utter contrast and sharp clarity. I never expected to be so broken and so healed--cathartic. And I most definitely never expected to find home.

It's funny how we say things even when we're not really sure we mean it. I do it all the time--exaggerate, excuse, boast, bemoan. And then I kick myself because I really do like to mean what I say and say what I mean. But the more I think about what I say and who I have become, it seems to be more of a self-fulfilling prophecy, a proclamation once spoken that must come true. I recall vows I made or words I felt that I spoke rashly in the last say 5 years and then I evaluate my life and realize maybe I wasn't that far off.

Example: Last summer when introducing myself at church, I named my hometown as Lawton MI. I'm not really sure why I said it to this day and afterwards I regretted it because of the comments and jibes I received. But after these last two weeks, I realized how true it is. And I realized that's what I've been running from.

How dare I find the place I want to call home before I've lived hardly anywhere else. How dare I
settle on a relatively small town in the Midwest in one of the states with the worst economy in the nation. How dare I move in with a family after I've moved out of my own. That just couldn't be. So I ran.

If I hadn't ran, I would never have considered going back contented with the reality God has called me to. Had I not ran, I would not have returned confident in who I am a part from any job, friend, or family. Had I not ran, I would most certainly have never learned the absolute value of people. I would never have been given the unique opportunity and privilege to choose lasting relationships over adventure, success, and power, fully aware of the decision, not paralyzed by fear but empowered by grace.

If I am to say, as I have always said somewhat prophetically, that I am about people more than about a job, success, power, money, or anything else this world has to offer, then I cannot treat individuals as disposable. I cannot be this person that floats in and out of people's lives. My nature is to wedge myself into people's lives, leaving an indelible mark, even when I try not to. That was my theoretical paradigm but I have realized my theory and reality didn't match. A paradigm shift was required. 6 months ago, looking for a job, I said to myself, I can love any kid, any person anywhere. I will move wherever I please and just work with the people there for that time and then move on. Essentially, adventure and experience trumped people and relationships. I was willing to sacrifice meaningful relationship to the god of I've done this and I've been there; be jealous. So here I sit. Alone. In a place that makes me long for somewhere called home, having once again left the real relationships behind. God has had His way with me.
I am meant to be somewhere, not just float by.
I will open myself to the possibility of the long term.
I will consider quality over quantity.
I will stop trying to save the world.
I will just be me, a person who needs the support and love of a solid Christian community of all depths and ages to be the best that she can be in a simple, beautiful world uncomplicated by time, deadlines, and the race to success with wide, open spaces to breathe.

You don't realize what a good thing you had until you've lost it.

answers

I always answer. always.
whether I should or not, I always do.
God, why can't I just keep my mouth shut?

That's all I've been doing the last 6 months.
answering.
looking for answers.
running from answers.
forging my own answers.

forging.
there's a great word to describe my answers.
forgery.
I don't actually have the answers so I make up my own.
and they fail every time. but sometimes it takes awhile for them to fail--a week, a month, a few months. or rather I talk myself into my answers so well that I really do think they are the answers. until they slap me in the face. repeatedly. because after all, I can't get it the first time.

that's where I am. slapped. repeatedly. empty handed. dreams ripped out. abandoned.
who would ask for anything more?
apparently, I do.

I have nowhere to go. and yet everywhere. I have no answers and yet all of them. I know You have them, but You are strangely silent, letting me wander around, knocking on every door, following my own pursuits in utter frustration. I don't know how to do anything else.

I have been humbled.
I have been brought to the depths of utter despair, fully aware that all of my answers have brought me there. my search for adventure, excitement, experience, power, money, success, and pride. I am without any answers. I feel as if I have tried everything I know.
and found lacking.

it just adds up sometimes

you know what stinks about life?
that there are always dishes to do,
the clothes don't fold themselves,
and EVERYTHING always gets dirty.

always. without fail.
and I have to take care of it. me.
I hate taking care of those things
because it's a problem that never solves itself.

where's the sense of accomplishment in washing the dishes if right after you finish, you prepare dinner and make more dirty dishes? there is none! and by the time I finish eating, I'm too tired to clean up. And who wants to do dishes in a sink that is under a stairwell anyways?
bah humbug.

don't even get me started on doing laundry.

why does life have to be consumed by these details? why are they such a chore? why can't I stay on top of them? why is it an endless battle with myself--one I'm constantly losing?

in so many ways these last two weeks I have felt like I can't see past these details. not just in my housekeeping, but in everything. I am consumed by the small things: the heat, the humidity, the laundry, the dishes, what my next drink should be (I literally calculate how and what I should get from which coffee shop or store that will satisfy my particular craving the best), what time I should go to bed, what time I should get up, how much gas I need, how much money I have for gas, what clothing I should wear, how much I need a hair cut, where I should get a haircut, how much money I should spend on a haircut, and the list goes and could become incredibly minute in detail if I allowed it. It is insane. It's tunnel vision at its worst. It's tunnel vision to the point where I become so frustrated with a student because I can't see past the sweat dripping down my back and can't bear to think of driving yet another block around this wretched city, just to satisfy her endless craving to be with me. A craving that I can never fully satisfy. It's tunnel vision because I can't bear to think past the details to the larger implications. I can't process what it means to that student that I let her down yet again--for the hundredth time in a world where all she has known is disappointment. Not because I am not capable--because I am quite capable.
No. I have had too much of reality. too much. I have seen too much. I have heard too much. I know too much. And I just can't take anymore. I cannot ingest another injustice. I cannot stomach another heartache. I cannot absorb any more abandonment. It's nobody's fault. And yet everyone's. I have taken it from every side. I have been stretched beyond what I thought stretchable. And I am still here. But I feel as if I can't take another step. I feel as if I can't care for another heartache no matter how small. I feel as if the battle has been decided before it was ever fought. and I've lost. until...

Until she sits on my lap, lays her head next to mine and whispers in my ear.
Until he grabs my hand in fear as he climbs his first mountain.
Until she compulsively reaches for a hug because words are not enough.
Until she says "I'll call you later" and really does.
Until he smiles for a picture you never thought he'd take.

And then you think and pray I will never be enough for these children but Lord, may I just be a piece, a piece in their puzzle, because they are already a huge one in mine.

eager expectation with hope

i need to write something--
but i'm too tired.
i need to make sense/put something down in carbon
but i've been dragged through a ringer.

life requires that we process what has happened to us--
or so our generation says.
sometimes i wonder if the silence to which the previous generations adhered wasn't such a bad idea.

not that i talk.
no i just think.
and i'm exhausted.

i have thought about more things in the last 2 months living alone than i have ever in my entire life.
no joke.

it is good.
it is necessary.
it is healing.
but it also leaves one feeling incredibly exhausted, wondering why. because after all, what have i done but sit.

i like being alone. alone with my thoughts. alone with myself. even if i don't always spend it well. i don't write enough. i don't paint enough. i don't pray enough. it will never been enough. yet i still wait in eager expectation with hope.

hope that some day
it will bring peace.

sitting on my hands

I am so incredibly impatient--and I have asked God to teach me patience.
So I am trying to sit on my hands.
far easier said that done.

I've quit my job: some because I don't like it; some because I'm exhausted; mostly because God asked me to. because I am NOT a quitter. damn it, I'm not! I will stick things out until I like them, even if I never really do. That's how much of a non-quitter I am. But I am a square peg being shoved into a round hole. I could stay, but I've experienced this once before quite strongly and while I loved that place and its people more than life itself-still do, it made me weep. still does.

Sometimes we are asked to give up our dreams so that God can give them back to us in better form than we imagined.

But right now I just feel like throwing a fit.

I sat on the boardwalk on Staten Island, mesmerized by the tiny lights of vehicles creeping along the Verrazano Bridge and the glow of the city, waves crashing and wind blowing. A teenager on the bench next to me bickering with her mother on the phone. If you really loved me then you'd give me what I want. I've never asked you for anything. Just give me this one thing. A sense of entitlement. I see it every day in my children. I hear the same arguments, the same exact words. Uncanny.

How many times have I had that same argument with God?

And then He gives me my way--as if to say here, you try it. Tell me how it goes. So I go to work. I look at the possibilites. I search. I dream. I plan. I am like a child on the floor, amongst a giant puzzle, trying to put the pieces together but the pieces are too heavy for me to lift. No amount of planning and scheming can give me the strength to move them. I have to wait for them to move. And then when they move I become frustrated because they don't move in the order I want! As if I had any control over them in the first place.

If I had not planned, I would not have been frustrated. I would have rejoiced in their movement, fascinated by how they came together with divine timing.

So I am trying to sit on my hands. I am trying desperately not to plan. That's a huge reason why I try to fill my life to the brim, so I can't plan. Now I am learning how not to plan in the silence. When every bone in my body says, you must remain on top of things. The voice of my mother echoing in my head. You should've been prepared. You should've left more time. You should've thought of that. So I plan. I prepare. And I'm still frustrated. BECAUSE I CAN'T MAKE THE PIECES MOVE!

I can't make my home in a place where my gifts aren't used.
I can't work in a place where I am taken advantage of.
I can't live with someone who doesn't understand me.

But I want my home back. I want a place where I feel safe and capable, a community to love and be loved. I want to work to my full capacity, to make the most of every opportunity, to be everything that I can be. And I want to live with someone in companionship and love for life.

My attempts have failed. So God sent me to Newark New Jersey. The only thing that really makes sense so far is the thing He has sent me out here to do--work with urban youth. And all my plans to make the other pieces fall into place have been frustrated. Far sooner because I listen at least a little bit better than before.

So I sit in the middle of the puzzle pieces of my life--waiting. waiting for the pieces to move and desperately trying to just be. to stop checking the job sites. to stop thinking about the future. and just reside in the present. but it's hard.

God teach me patience.

The Other Side

One of my students that I am particularly close to has taken an interesting turn in the last few days. She can be incredibly intense, prone to yelling when frustrated without a second thought or slamming items down. But she is also one of my most dedicated helpers on a good day. Today though, today was not a good day. Nor was yesterday. I find myself becoming increasingly frustrated with her because I know who she really is, not this angry arrogrant demon child. Yet she insists upon putting on faces that just aren't her. And she knows I know she's doing it. She knows she's pushing my limits because she knows me so well.
As a relationship with a person, especially a child, becomes more intimate, there are things that were excusable at the beginning of the relationship because of ignorance that are no longer excusable. When I first met her, I excused her rudeness because I knew she didn't know any better. Now she knows. Now there isn't an excuse. Now it is a lashing out, not aimed at me personally which I know, but still unacceptable. So now I get in her face about it because I'm sick of taking her crap. She demands respect from me, which I have given her, because she deserves it and she's not getting it anywhere else. But she's not giving it to me. She is also finding that as I get to know her better that I will hold her to the potential that I know she has. That I demand she give me her best and no excuses are allowed and she finds that frustrating. So yesterday was a particularly bad day and she got a lecture for it in the car before her Kumon. A lecture, mind you, not a yelling because she gets that all the time. No, this was a reasonable appeal to the God-given nature within her, the conscience that is there, fed feebly by what few words of Truth she hears at church. After which, she stormed into Kumon.
However something interesting occurred while she was working on her Kumon. This something caused her to come up to me after Kumon and apologize because she felt guilty (she used the word guilty, not me). This was a real apology, something that I haven't received from any of my students before. Sure they say they're sorry but it is not one of genuine repentance. This one struck me. She does that. She says things that are far beyond her years that will strike me; things about herself, responses to my comments, genuine Truth flows from her mouth. That's not something I get from my other students. We talked about it. I told her I forgive her and that there is a clean slate and that that is what forgiveness means. We shook on it and the moment passed.
But later as I was driving home, I realized that I had never received an apology like that before. For the first time in my life this real genuine apology of a child forced me to face the fact that in accepting that apology and genuinely offering forgiveness, I was acknowledging that I had been hurt. I was acknowledging that I am vulnerable. I was acknowledging it and offering real healing for both of us and not shrugging it off saying it's ok whatever, sweeping it under the rug. There is more to forgiveness than just forgetting.
I can forget almost anything. It gives me an incredible capacity to be open to people and life. I just plain don't remember all of the things that have hurt me in this life. It is a defense mechanism, but it also explains why my tendency is to be reactionary and why I effectively cut people out of my life without a second thought once they have crossed that certain line. I may forget what exactly they did, but a wall is established that I will not cross even though I may want to. There are a few friends that I still hope against all hope that they won't hurt me the same way that they do every time I share a real piece of myself because I still believe in that person I know they can be. But time and time again it happens. So walls are established. These walls are like two way mirrors. I, behind the mirror reflect back to whoever the person is, more often than not, what part of me they want to see to whatever extent that will allow them to feel at ease with me. My life and character is so multi-faceted and deep that it is hardly ever a lie of who I am but rather a simplification. A simplification because I feel I'm just too complicated for most people to handle. Meanwhile I am behind the mirror, taking in all that these people are, protected by the reflection, the illusion that they know me when they really don't. But it also backfires on me because then people often have no idea that they have hurt me in the first place. And being the incredibly complex person I am, I did not become this way because life was all sunshine and flowers. This kind of complexity is only sprung out of hurt and pain in a sensitive soul that cause much thought and growth. Hurt and pain that have hardly ever received real apologies because to me how can it be real if that person doesn't really understand how they've hurt me? Therefore I have very rarely offered real forgiveness but instead built the wall and forgotten-or attempted. There are also key severed relationships throughout my life that I have never given them the opportunity to apologize and therefore the chance for me to offer forgiveness. Not that they need to offer an apology for me to forgive, but it shows how unwilling I am to admit that I am vulnerable, let alone continue to be vulnerable in the relationship with the acknowledgment to myself and that person that I am vulnerable and capable of being hurt.
In this job with these children I have had the opportunity to offer real apologies, something I have spent much of my life working up to because it was never said at home where I wanted to hear it the most. Never did I expect from this to be taught such a valuable lesson in forgiveness. Never did I expect to experience it from the other side.
I am vulnerable.
When you hurt me, I will acknowledge it. And in doing so, I will more than likely be asking more out of you than you want to give. I will be holding you to a higher standard than you feel you can live up to. I only do so because I can see vividly the potential that you have been given. And if I don't make that known, then I am not doing myself a disservice but you.
Truth must be spoken.
When an apology is offered, I will accept it. I will acknowledge forgiveness. And when I forgive, I vow to continue in the relationship in loving acknowledgement of and growth from the past, not forgetfulness of it. I will not build the wall.
Love must be lived.

The world groans in anticipation

Do you ever have those days where you just wander through it? I got on the wrong train this evening because I was in this trance-like state. Once I realized it I had an inner moment of freaking out because obviously I didn't have the right ticket. But still it hardly phased me. Then once I actually got to the station I wanted to get off at, I took a different way home walking which ended up taking forever. It frustrated me some but really I felt like my feet moved of their own accord, going a direction that only they knew where it would lead. Even as I sit and type, my brain and fingers are trying to go a direction that I'm not conscious of.
It's like when you have a craving for something but you can't quite put your finger on it. My unconsciousness, my body, my life is craving something. It is seeking something unbeknownst to my conscious self.
It's like when you have the word on the tip of your tongue or you're trying to remember the name of a song that you just know you know. But this is something bigger than that. It seems there must be some reason for why I wandered so far out of my way. Like the universe is trying to tell me something. Or that it's protecting me from something.
Or when you awake from a dream that was fantastic in detail and color, extremely interesting and positive but you're not quite sure why. You lay in bed trying to recall the face of that person that made it that way or the event that made it so fantastic. It's there but you just can't quite bring it forth. Like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for me. Waiting for me to do something. Or maybe I'm waiting for it to do something.
While it would be much more reasonable to blow this feeling off and snap out of it, it makes life much more meaningful not to. I could be incredibly frustrated with myself that I got on the wrong train and ultimately it took me an hour and a half to get home when it should've only taken me a half hour. However my brain was working so much the entire time that I really couldn't be. Working but not working. Because my brain is always working and it drives me insane. No this is different. This is actually more like it's listening. Listening to see what comes next.
It is listening because it is so exhausted from trying to figure out what should come next, that it has finally thrown itself down in utter exhaustion. For whatever reason it makes me just want to stare out into space or stare around like I'm trying to remember something. But at least my brain has stopped working so hard.
So whether it's because God is working the cosmos to do something great around me or my brain is just exhausted, instead of looking for answers, I'm just waiting. Which I think is where I should be.

Still waiting...

Two days ago after I decided I really am going to quit one of my jobs because well, I just can't do it anymore (2 months of at minimum 60 hr weeks--it works for some people but not this one), I was walking down the streets of Newark with my students, and I had a 'moment'. It took a couple of months for me to have these moments with these students. It's nothing they are aware of. Just a glimpse for me into what I like to call the realness of life, a snapshot of the big picture, a bit of God's view. They are most at peace with life and their surroundings most often when we are walking, moving, creating, playing. That's not to say they are peaceful--but it is in these moments when I can feel myself take a deep breathe and say yes, this is how it should be; this is what I long to give them.
And as I had this particular 'moment' after coming down from the reality of my boss at my other job, I was blessed with a distinct clarity by contradiction. Clarity that I can do kids--I understand them; I reach them; I do it well. That this is where I am supposed to be for right now--not forever, but for now. And most importantly, that I will always desire infinitely more to work and just be with people, specifically children. That a child will always take precedence over anything else in my life.
By contrast, it made me realize that money isn't worth sacrificing my energy I could be spending with them. Money isn't worth having 'the experience' of working in a coffee shop. And money definitely isn't worth my frustrations with my boss and all that that costs my students.
That's not to say that I don't ever want to work in a coffeeshop again--I do. There's something inside of me that still holds onto the hope that I will find one that is actually run well, has good coffee, and isn't entirely wrapped up in pushing profit.
But this one isn't it.
And its costing me too much.
So I'm still waiting. Still waiting to find the job that I can truly take ownership in. Still waiting to have a stable financially viable income. Still waiting for the pieces to fall into place.

jump in my car

Jump in my car.
See what my life looks like.
How fast I ride.
Take in the scenery.
Take a walk in my shoes for a mile or two.

It's simple-and yet so complicated.
It is simple so it must be complicated.

It is culture shock within 4 miles.
To the west lies luxury and safety.
To the east- a desert of desperation, anger, and fear.

The scenery is constantly changing.
From freshly mowed lawns to gutted projects.
From playgrounds in grass to concrete surrounded by chain link fences.
From subdued answers and polite exchanges to angry responses and shoving matches.

My internal universe has no choice but to absorb the constant change.
But nothing is more exhausting than constantly absorbing.
And it feels as if that is all I have been doing.
Absorbing.

Absorbing the ignorance--from both worlds.
Absorbing the unceasing drive for futile progress.
Absorbing the brokeness and rage that follows.

In the west it is hidden, carefully masked with platitudes and "good people".
In the east it rages out of control, daring anyone to challenge.

I am the witness of both.
I am an outsider and an insider.
I am a participant and a recipient.

I have no doubt of the absolute futility of both, though I myself get caught up in them daily.
Neither can I reconcile their mutual existences, within minutes of each other no less.
Finally, I become numb to avoid the overload of trying to reconcile myself being in both worlds.

My frustration, my inability to communicate, my aching heart
slowly eats away at my resolve to remain constant in character and personality between the two.
That anything is accomplished is beyond me.
Literally, anything within myself and those around me that is affected and changed for good cannot be of myself.
It is too complicated. It is out of my control. It must be within His.
That I am here at all must be of Him.
That I survive each day must be of Him.

We must not meant for this world.

A season of questioning

I usually go through these seasons of wrestling with questions about my faith. My senior year it was the validity of faith, whether God is real and the Christian life is worth living. Last year in the fall it was a question of how predetermined my life is--do I really have control over my fate? And there have been many others in between. It's never that I truly answer the questions because they are unanswerable. Rather it is a matter of wrestling with them until I understand the different sides of the arguments and at least feel that God is still in the midst of them, even without answers. I just need to think about things.
The question that seems to be glaring me in the face, daring me to deny it, is the question of homosexuality. And then to take one step back from that, the question of how I portray myself as a Christian in this broken world. I am for the first time feeling the full weight of responsibility to be honest with these people, even if the term Christian carries so much crap with it. By the very nature of who I am as a person, I invite individuals to open up to me, to share themselves and their stories. Yet I hold myself back, primarily in the area of faith. I do not struggle with sharing the love of Christ through action. I can absorb all sorts of evil and malice done to me. But I feel as if I betray their trust when they find out in conversations down the road that I am a Christian. Something so vital to who I am, I don't share because I am afraid it will bring on preconceived notions that I would rather avoid instead of facing head on.

I am not strong enough. I wilt. I back away. I fear.

Because of the times I myself have been scarred by other Christians. Strong individuals who don't recognize the power of their words and judgments. Individuals who are themselves afraid and thus judge. And because I am so darn determined to be different, to be kept out of the box.

But I want to be honest. I want to not care how I am going to offend someone.
I just want to be.
me.
and that means Jesus.
but damn it what does that look like?!

But back to the homosexuality issue. I briefly looked up links on the internet before starting this post to start gathering info. That's what I do when I'm thinking about these things. I gather info from the world I see around me and any source I can find. It sickens me to see what Christians are writing on it-on both sides of the argument. But more than that, it sickens me that it is an argument. It sickens me that we can really justify the naturalness of same sex relations. No, it doesn't sicken me. It breaks me. That's what I can't shake. I used to be fascinated by the concept, wondering if I myself would ever head down that path being in the artistic world and a bitter female. It seemed like a viable option. But now I'm faced with the reality in several different facets on a daily basis. And it is this harsh reality that breaks me. It creates the same feeling of heartache and gut wrenching emptiness that I have when one of my children talks about their drug addicted father or absentee father or how their mom is too lazy to help them with homework or how they'll be beaten when they get home or when the boys fight--definitely when they fight. It makes me want to cry. And double over begging God to explain why we must live in a world that is so broken.

It breaks me.

God why?
Why must we live in a world that is so broken?
My heart is breaking for people who have no idea that life could be any different.

Whatever the costs.

I am sitting this lovely chilly morning in my new apartment with my first cup of OQ Coffee (check out www.oqcoffee.com) which is fantastic-no lie. I can't see outside very well and my world is full of artificial light but it is my own and that is what counts. In 6 months that may not matter as much but right now it does. I have two cuts on two different fingers-one from work and one from play; both from knives-and only one bandaid. I have food in my half fridge, a hot plate that cooks well enough, and a sink that I must stoop to use. Books and art line my dark wooden walls as colors clash and collide. A space heater whirs in the background. This is my life now. I have friends who are married, have steady full time jobs with benefits, kids on the way, and a house. But this is the life I have chosen.

I went with some friends into the city. Correction: I met some friends in the city. I arrived early by train so I could walk around the Lower East Side. As I exit the subway with a sigh of relief, noise hits me in the face. It absolutely fascinates me how much is crammed into so little space. The wind was fiercely blowing trash in mini tornados, only further emphasizing the absolute chaos. People are everywhere. This east coast life still feels very fresh and foreign to me, almost suffocating at times. Walking around taking in the coffee shops, thrift shops, record stores, antiques on the sidewalks, festivals in the street, I can't quite decide if I should feel safe here or not.

No one pays attention to me. It's not like Newark where everyone stares. No, people here are definitely too busy/overwhelmed/distracted to take the time to notice. This is seen the most in their eyes as they take your order for a cappucino or brush past you on the street. It comes from living day in and day out in close proximity with hundreds, possibly thousands of strangers.

And I can't help but feel very out of place. This is not who I am and this is not the kind of life I want to live. I have no interest in knowing/owning the next up and coming thing. I want to slow down my life, not speed it up. It unnerves me considerably that the Starbucks looks like a disaster area when I walk in. If Starbucks can't pull off their calm, collected environment that I have seen even in Shanghai here in the city that never sleeps, that's chaos.

So why am I drawn to this city that makes Chicago look picturesque and Paris a lovers dream? This dirty, filthy, downright ugly city. Yes, it is ugly. Please do not tell me that a city that leaves no space for anything, even air, is pretty. Yet I ache for it. I want to live there not to give into the culture but to fight it. To love people in their broken, chaotic lives.

As I am walking back with two friends to the subway to cross this seemingly God forsaken city by myself, that Nudge is there. And in that simple Nudge much is said. "Though you hate and love this place, you will be here soon enough. And while you will do simple things like bartend and serve coffee, you will change lives. And while this seems unconventional and the opposite direction that you want to take in life, this is where I am calling you. It will not be fun all the time. You will definitely not feel safe and comfortable much of the time. But I will be with you."

And with this I am struck with the absolute need to stop making sense of my life. Because it doesn't make sense. It never will. And the image that keeps coming to mind since that moment walking down the street is the very life of Jesus. When did He ever own a house? When did He ever settle down, get a steady job with full time benefits and a 401k? He lived fully in the chaos of the here and now with people. He didn't make sense, but He had purpose-to do His Father's will. His Father's will is to love people and that is what I will do. Whatever the costs.

rantings&ravings

So this cafe job....I just have to rant about for a bit in order to allow God to change my thinking. In order to give my mind space to deal with its chaos in His way instead of my own. Because right now I am struggling with space. I want it but I can't find it. There is something about writing things down that creates space intrinsically within one's mind. There is permanence with words written that is not felt as strongly as words spoken. That is not to say that words spoken aren't just as powerful. But it requires more thought and effort to put things down on paper. And that gives me space.

My boss is difficult. She is a strong, intense individual that is constantly pushing and nagging. She knows what she wants and she's not afraid to get it. She has very high expectations for me and it is driving me crazy. I can't live up to the expectations she has for me. Ok no I can live up to them but she does not make me want to. She makes me want to either scream or cry. I have honestly tried my hardest to learn how to not take criticism personally so that I can better myself as a person because ultimately I want to become a better person. I want to become stronger. So I can take criticism. I'm artist. How can I become a better artist if I can't take criticism? I've been a leader often enough. I know that to be a good leader you have to be open to criticism. But nagging--I can't take nagging. I hate it. I despite it. It drives me insane. It wears me down. And it definitely doesn't make me want to do a better job. It doesn't empower me. It leaves me feeling drained and worthless. And that's how I feel when I work with her. Her work style does not create an environment that makes me want to get up and do something to make the place better. Instead it makes me want to crawl into a hole and wait until the storm has passed. And while as a newbie I know I'm getting more of it than the others, she does it to them too. She does it to everybody. There's never a positive word out of her mouth about our work. She likes to find out about our personal lives and she is positively engaged when asking those questions. But as of right now, I have no idea if she even still thinks I was worth the hire. I think she does, but from her words it sounds like I'm not. And the things critiqued are things I'm still learning about. So..

I should let it roll off my shoulders. I should ignore it. It speaks more of her personality than my own. But it's hard. And I have spent my entire life looking for verbal approval. Never did my parents say good job about my schoolwork or my grades. I just thought what I did was normal. It's why I still struggle with thinking I'm smart. I am. I realize it more and more because I see how other people take in information and realize I do it differently and more efficiently and retain it. But I don't think I'm smart because it was just expected. Being a hard worker--do you know how rare that is in today's society? Wow. Again something my parents never said good job for or anything. Basically with this cafe job I feel like a puppy dog just looking to have my ears scratched. And I hate that I feel that way. I hate that I need approval so desperately that it upsets me when she doesn't give it to me-this stranger who knows nothing about my character or my life or where I've been and what I've done. And ultimately I'm never going to get it. I can see that in how she treats the other employees. Praise is like a drop of water in the desert. Rare. I know from her talking to me that she thinks they are great, but do they know? They don't ever hear it from her. And when you know it's so incredibly elusive, it makes you question even trying. It makes you want to compromise your integrity in dealing with the situation. And it makes me want to scream I can't do it. I can't live up to all this expectation. I am sinful damn it. I am forgetful. I am busy. I am tired. I am incomplete. Please show me some grace.

Will someone please show me some grace?

Today there was light.

Today I stepped out of the train and onto the platform for the first time with a sense of familiarity. A slight chuckle at individuals cramming onto the Path, making the doors open again and again despite the signal to leave. Mind clear to absorb the surroundings. Confidence stronger than fear and uncertainty.

No inner panic on the train.
No cursing traffic or individuals.
No one could touch me.

That is how I'm used to feeling in a city. That is how I felt in Chicago from the moment I stepped foot on its windy streets. Always freedom to enjoy it on my terms; never forced, an endless stream of culture to experience. Chicago and I became fast friends for life. But Newark...
Newark is hard, bitter, and strong; impervious to outsiders. Newark has been forced upon me to love its people and its culture. Newark breaks my heart with every step I take upon its rundown garbage-laden streets. Newark demands my respect.

But today Newark didn't have to demand my respect. Today it was given--not because of what it can give me but because of what I can give it. Today for the first time I felt strong enough to truly give to a place and people where I haven't had much choice. Because one of the most difficult of any task in life is to love and give out lack of choice and instead of real desire. I don't like Newark. Its culture is not one I enjoy. Its people I cannot understand. I have absolutely no desire to adapt any trait of this way of life. I cannot see the good because their world is so broken. I do not judge. I do not condescend. It is fact. The anger and bitterness one must absorb just walking down the street is exhausting. And I thought the brokenness was going to win; that darkness would triumph. But today it didn't.

Today there was light.

And that light was the light of Man.

Up a Creek without a Paddle

As much as I like to fly by the seat of my pants, I also love to plan things. I like to know that I have certain things concrete in order to let the rest of my world fill with lovely chaos. Because I love chaos as well. A good balance between the two is ideal.

Too much planning and one forgets that life is not within our control.
Too much chaos leads to a life that never goes anywhere, lacks focus and never turns one direction or the other.

Planning leaves one wondering where all the time has gone.
Chaos leaves one wondering when time will ever end.

Planning forces one to always look to the future to be prepared for the next thing that just might happen.
Chaos shifts the focus to the past where life was simpler, easier, "the good ol' days" because it brings comfort or the ever present, never prepared for what is up ahead.

I lived controlled chaos in college. I had my structures within which life was mildly tamed. I had direction. I was prepared to a certain degree and the past wasn't too great so I didn't want to dwell on it. I lived very much in the present and the future consisted to the end of the semester-never much beyond. My family and friends were consistent. My dwelling place was fairly consistent. I went out and did many things but I always knew what I was coming back to. It kept me grounded but allowed me freedom.

When I graduated, all of that changed. At first I dwelt largely in the past, the good ol' days. My life went completely to chaos. Then I slowly began to shift towards planning, finding the next step. I planned a month or two in advance. Then I moved to New Jersey and with the absolute lack of any comfort around me, shifted fully into planning mode, dwelling largely in the future. I have spent the last few months trying to find a job as well as daydreaming of all the possibilities after "this" whatever this is. My schedule is very full and sporadic and so I don't have much room in life unless I plan it a month in advance. But then this last week hit. And now all I can do is get through tomorrow. I have been very abruptly jerked back from the future to the very real and gritty present.

In some ways it's comforting. I have no room left to worry because it has been clearly shown that it's all out of my control. Who's to say that I should wake up tomorrow and find it exactly as today?

But I also feel stranded.

Only to me...

Only something like this would happen to me....

Nothing like someone stealing your car to put you in your place in the universe.

I'll finish this later when I'm not in shock.

Do you ever wish you could shut your brain off?

I think waaaaay too much.

I love different things. I love exploring new opportunities. I'm kind of an addict to change.
But . . . those kind of things can only be truly appreciated when you have some form of stability to fall back on. Something or someone that you know will take care of things with you. Not necessarily for you because well, I'm too independent for that. Someone who has shown they are reliable. But someone that you know will be there to work with you through it so you don't have to think about every absolute possible worst case scenario to prepare yourself. Because well, its just not a good thing to be unprepared.

This is how I feel right now in my life-that it is not a good thing to be unprepared. I'm glad I spent last year at Miracle Camp. I honestly don't think I could've handled leaving all semblance of security at that time what with my parents moving, graduating, etc. But now I am for all intensive purposes, on my own. My parents only live 2 hours away, and they pay for my cell phone and my car insurance-thank God. But that's it. And while I am becoming comfortable where they are, I am becoming increasingly aware that I need to make my own life and even if they wanted to, they couldn't really help me. It's like when they used to look at my math homework in high school and just shake their heads. There's no way they could help me because they themselves didn't know. The situations I am dealing with now from finding a part time job to an apartment to dealing with a culture that they have never encountered like I am right now...they can offer advice but they don't have anymore connections than I do out here. And they definitely don't know more than I do about Newark culture and inner city youth.

At camp I still felt like anything could go wrong and it would work out. It would be ok.
When I travel overseas, I leave myself with no other option than to believe that if something awful is meant to happen to me, then I will just have to trust it is going to be ok. I am willing in those circumstances to fully recognize that I am not in control and don't feel the need to be responsible.

But here. In real life. I feel responsible. I feel like I need to be prepared. I don't feel like there is anyone here that I can rely on if I hit a tough spot. Everyone else is so busy and wrapped up in their own worlds that are also constantly changing. I realize that I enjoy change when the people around me are stable because I know they'll support me if I totally mess up.
Instead I am constantly thinking.
Covering my own ass.
Preparing.

It's exhausting.

I've been avoiding writing anything even though I've had this thought for awhile.

I realized this about four years ago...but I'm realizing it all over again.

After I ended my engagement, I was incredibly afraid that I would shut down my ability to care about human beings. I already believed even before I was engaged that I didn't have the ability to care enough. The different friendship situations going on the same time as that unhealthy relationship reinforced my inadequacy to truly love. Looking back I realize how I was utterly cornered in every aspect of my life by situations where I wasn't enough for the other individual. And I was trying to be. They were expecting me to be enough and I was trying to be enough. When I ended the engagement I had already ended those other relationships. It was the end of an era. I was already bitter and suspicious before all of this so why should I expect anything else? But something else happened.

After working at camp for that first summer, after working with kids for the first time and finding that unlike the lies my relationships taught me, I actually did have the ability to care, I knew I couldn't walk away from it. So I agreed to work in an after school program with inner city kids, on top of a heavy course load and another part time job. Tough kids. Kids that didn't usually listen to me. Kids that fought and yelled. I wasn't prepared to handle them. But working with kids is like falling in love. Kids consume you. They demand all of you with no promise of anything in return and you don't expect anything. And when they do give, they are completely unaware of it. It is without pretentiousness or expectation. It is without manipulation. It just happens.

That's why I can't walk away. I can be bitter and cynical about ANYTHING else in the world. But when a little black boy named Ali walks up to me with his puckered lips and dreads and looks me in the eye, he could ask the world of me and I would give it to him. And when I watch him as he sits crosslegged on the gym floor in the middle of a game without a care in sight as life flies by, he gives me the world.

It's like falling in love. But safer. Better yet, the perfect picture of grace. Because I know no matter how vehemently Musukulah says she hates me one day, the next day I will receive an excited greeting and a big hug. Even as I get so frustrated that I want to scream, I can't help but smile. They always open my heart, even when I fight it with every fiber of my being. They see through my facade and aren't afraid to tell it like it is. It never stings for long for they are children so honest words are easily forgiven. After all they don't know any better.

Or maybe they do.

Maybe we could learn a thing or two from them.
The honesty and vulnerability of a child....even admist his or her corruption.