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.