I've realized lately that I have a particularly hard time giving praise -- telling the people I care about that I care about them, offering compliments, letting people know I appreciate them, or even just that I like spending time with them. I've also realized that I have a hard time hearing and receiving those things from others, but I think that's for unpacking another time. . .
Why is this? Perhaps it's a vulnerability thing -- by telling someone that I value her, I feel like it devalues me in some weird way and opens me up to harm. Maybe it's because I feel insecure, like people wouldn't really care what I think of them, so I shouldn't voice it. Or it could be shyness -- telling someone my opinion of him, even if it's a positive opinion, takes a fair amount of extroversion and confidence. All of those reasons are cop outs, though. Realistically, I think it's mostly fear -- fear of putting myself out there, of being vulnerable, fear of feeling insecure, of putting someone else before myself.
This is a particularly bad thing to have a hard time with, because it ends up being really detrimental to friendships and hurtful to people. It makes me come across as standoffish, closed, hard to read -- things I'm not and don't want to be. It's like when Andi told me, some six months after we met and once we had become friends, that when she first met me, she thought I was a real bitch and that I had written her off from day one. I made no such judgement in my head; in fact, I thought she was great and really wanted to be her friend, but my actions made her think the opposite. I wonder how many people I've unintentionally shut out or hurt by acting this way.
I've been working on being more generous and forthcoming with my positive thoughts lately, and it's almost comical how difficult it is for me. I think nice things about people all day, but actually getting the words out of my mouth is so daunting. I'll sit and repeat over and over in my head some thing that I want to say, and that I truly believe, until I work up the courage to get it out. Whether it's "Those jeans looks great on you" or "You did a great job handling that uncomfortable situation" or "I thought about you all day today" or "You're one of the most important people in my life, and I really value your friendship" (that one is actually still kicking around, waiting to get out to a couple of people whom I want to hear it) -- the thought of saying the words makes my heart pound.
I know this is something really important to get better at, and that all of my friendships and relationships will benefit from me being more open and generous in this way. Everyone needs affirmation, compliments, kindness. I know I need it, and I want to be able to give it, as well.
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"The longer you think, the less you know what to do." -Death Cab
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Remembrance
Every morning for the past few weeks, I've been reading and meditating on the PC(USA)'s Sunday lectionary for the upcoming week. I find it centering to focus on the same set of verses every day for the whole week; tying things together further is that we are following the series at MBCC, so one of the week's passages is also the basis for the sermon on Sunday.
One of this week's passages is Isaiah 49:15-16:
I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.
It seems simple; but really, can you imagine that? Every time God looks at his hands, he sees us there -- that is how often he thinks of us. We are engraved there, in his hands -- that is how close we are to him. I can't quite get my head around it.
What is engraved on the palms of my hands? What do I think of as often as I look at them? What is so close to me, so important to me, that it exists there? What should be engraved on the palms of my hands?
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"You were born to glow majestically and love until your hands bleed." - Page France
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Confidence
This has always been a struggle for me. For a long time it was physical, feeling awkward and gangly and clumsy. As I've grown comfortable in my own skin, I've grown out of that, for the most part. But confidence in general, in who I am, in terms of self-worth and all the ways that plays out in relationships and decisions and life, is always volatile.
It's so temperamental, so easily influenced. When people treat me well, I feel good about myself. When I'm in relationships that are positive and I feel like people care about me, I feel positive and care about myself. But when someone is upset with me or dissatisfied with me or not valuing me, I have a hard time fighting feeling that way myself; I take it too much to heart; I let it have too much influence. And the cycle continues -- I put up with being treated worse than I should because I believe, even if it's subconsciously, that I don't deserve to be treated better.
But then when I am treated better, it's like a whole different world; I remember that I am worth listening to, worth investing in, worth opening doors for, worth walking five miles with out to the beach and back. When someone whom I value is valuing in me in return, it changes the way I see things -- really, everything.
And that's good, of course; but I do wish I were more able to pull myself out of it, or to rely on God to pull me out of it, instead of having it be tied up in other people. I suppose, in a sense, God is pulling me out of it by providing people to help build me up. But I wish I could take more confidence, God's confidence, in who I am, what I believe in, what I'm working toward, why I am valuable. I wish it didn't feel so changeable, so often.
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"I'm bound by these choices so hard to make; I'm bound by the feeling so easy to fake. None of this is real enough to take me from you." - Wilco
It's so temperamental, so easily influenced. When people treat me well, I feel good about myself. When I'm in relationships that are positive and I feel like people care about me, I feel positive and care about myself. But when someone is upset with me or dissatisfied with me or not valuing me, I have a hard time fighting feeling that way myself; I take it too much to heart; I let it have too much influence. And the cycle continues -- I put up with being treated worse than I should because I believe, even if it's subconsciously, that I don't deserve to be treated better.
But then when I am treated better, it's like a whole different world; I remember that I am worth listening to, worth investing in, worth opening doors for, worth walking five miles with out to the beach and back. When someone whom I value is valuing in me in return, it changes the way I see things -- really, everything.
And that's good, of course; but I do wish I were more able to pull myself out of it, or to rely on God to pull me out of it, instead of having it be tied up in other people. I suppose, in a sense, God is pulling me out of it by providing people to help build me up. But I wish I could take more confidence, God's confidence, in who I am, what I believe in, what I'm working toward, why I am valuable. I wish it didn't feel so changeable, so often.
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"I'm bound by these choices so hard to make; I'm bound by the feeling so easy to fake. None of this is real enough to take me from you." - Wilco
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Connection
This week has been crazy. Despite my best attempts, I've managed to be busy every night, with barely five minutes to do dishes or put away clothes or clean the cat box. Tonight I stayed home and caught up on chores and Snaut and The Office. . .it's basically too hot to move, anyway.
But despite all the running around, I feel like the time I've spent with people this week has been really great. I've had some good, meaningful connections -- reconnecting with some older friends I'd fallen out of touch with and beginning to forge stronger relationships with newer friends.
I need to feel connected, but I need to remember that is a multi-faceted thing. I need to take time to connect with my friends and family, with myself, and with God. There has to be a balance among all of those; if one outweighs the others, I lose perspective, insecurities and doubts creep in, and a cycle of disconnection begins.
I can feel the pendulum swinging back toward the center, though. Slowly but surely, I'm finding that balance between investing in the people who are important to me, spending enough time alone to think and reflect and be intentional about what I'm doing, and seeking God in the midst of it all.
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"So throw me a rope to hold me in place; show me a clock for counting my days down. Cause everything's easier when you're beside me, come back and find me. . ." - KT Tunstall
But despite all the running around, I feel like the time I've spent with people this week has been really great. I've had some good, meaningful connections -- reconnecting with some older friends I'd fallen out of touch with and beginning to forge stronger relationships with newer friends.
I need to feel connected, but I need to remember that is a multi-faceted thing. I need to take time to connect with my friends and family, with myself, and with God. There has to be a balance among all of those; if one outweighs the others, I lose perspective, insecurities and doubts creep in, and a cycle of disconnection begins.
I can feel the pendulum swinging back toward the center, though. Slowly but surely, I'm finding that balance between investing in the people who are important to me, spending enough time alone to think and reflect and be intentional about what I'm doing, and seeking God in the midst of it all.
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"So throw me a rope to hold me in place; show me a clock for counting my days down. Cause everything's easier when you're beside me, come back and find me. . ." - KT Tunstall
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Unwavering
How do you make everyone happy? How do you tell everyone what they want to hear?
You don't. You can't. You can't stand for anything if you do. You never will.
But I do. But I somehow can. But yeah, I'm not standing for anything.
I need guns, and I need to stick to them. There is so much more than hedging your bets; life is not worth living if that's how you live it. We all need certain things, and we need to be firm about needing them. We need to demand them -- of others, and more importantly, of ourselves.
In all honesty, I don't know where I stand. But if I would listen to my own advice, I'd realize that I just need to pick a place and be there -- wherever it is. Be there, unwaveringly.
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"I want to walk worthy, my calling to fulfill. Please order my steps, Lord, and I'll do your blessed will. The world is ever changing, but you are still the same. If you order my steps, I'll praise your name."
You don't. You can't. You can't stand for anything if you do. You never will.
But I do. But I somehow can. But yeah, I'm not standing for anything.
I need guns, and I need to stick to them. There is so much more than hedging your bets; life is not worth living if that's how you live it. We all need certain things, and we need to be firm about needing them. We need to demand them -- of others, and more importantly, of ourselves.
In all honesty, I don't know where I stand. But if I would listen to my own advice, I'd realize that I just need to pick a place and be there -- wherever it is. Be there, unwaveringly.
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"I want to walk worthy, my calling to fulfill. Please order my steps, Lord, and I'll do your blessed will. The world is ever changing, but you are still the same. If you order my steps, I'll praise your name."
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Community
For some reason, I have always thought of myself as a loner, self-identified as an introvert. I'm not quite sure where I came up with that, but I'm realizing lately that it's not at all true.
Perhaps it was because I'm an only child, and I spent a fair amount of time playing by myself as a kid. I wasn't the most social teenager, and I did need my at-home time, away from my friends -- but even then, I wasn't by myself. I spent the majority of my time from birth to age 18 with my parents; we always have been and still are extremely close, a team of three. They're my best friends.
In college, I had my first taste of living in a larger community. The freshman UHC floor put all of my pals within bedroom-door-knocking distance, and I spent every minute with them -- there was always someone who wanted to hang out. My summer in San Francisco was hyper-community -- I was never alone, even sleeping each night in a room with 3 to 4 other girls, and spending every waking hour talking, working, praying, and otherwise connecting intensely with the people around me. I continued to live with roommates after that, and even had another very community-intensive summer working in LA; but I think more monumentally, I entered into a relationship and developed a very strong emotional connection with another person. That was a new kind of community, but it's one that I've realized is basically the most important one to me -- the community formed with a partner.
I have this urge to share my life, all the details, mundane as they may be. Perhaps I've just been conditioned to be like this, and now I expect it; I still talk with my parents almost every day to give and receive updates. But I don't like keeping things to myself; I want perspective, opinions, advice, thoughts. I want to include people in my life, and I want to be included in other people's lives. I want to feel connected, needed, involved.
And now I find myself living alone, not as any part of community. And I also find myself "single," not part of any one strong emotional partnership. And thus, I'm finding it challenging to navigate the landscape of my various friendships, disperse my need to connect, and still find that sense of community that I crave. I worry that I get too clingy or invest too much in friendships that aren't ready for it. I don't like feeling this way, being in this place. I know I need this time to be on my own, to introspect and figure certain things out, but I miss feeling connected.
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"She says wake up, it's no use pretending; I'll keep stealing, breathing her. Birds are leaving over autumn's ending; one of us will die inside these arms." - Iron and Wine
Perhaps it was because I'm an only child, and I spent a fair amount of time playing by myself as a kid. I wasn't the most social teenager, and I did need my at-home time, away from my friends -- but even then, I wasn't by myself. I spent the majority of my time from birth to age 18 with my parents; we always have been and still are extremely close, a team of three. They're my best friends.
In college, I had my first taste of living in a larger community. The freshman UHC floor put all of my pals within bedroom-door-knocking distance, and I spent every minute with them -- there was always someone who wanted to hang out. My summer in San Francisco was hyper-community -- I was never alone, even sleeping each night in a room with 3 to 4 other girls, and spending every waking hour talking, working, praying, and otherwise connecting intensely with the people around me. I continued to live with roommates after that, and even had another very community-intensive summer working in LA; but I think more monumentally, I entered into a relationship and developed a very strong emotional connection with another person. That was a new kind of community, but it's one that I've realized is basically the most important one to me -- the community formed with a partner.
I have this urge to share my life, all the details, mundane as they may be. Perhaps I've just been conditioned to be like this, and now I expect it; I still talk with my parents almost every day to give and receive updates. But I don't like keeping things to myself; I want perspective, opinions, advice, thoughts. I want to include people in my life, and I want to be included in other people's lives. I want to feel connected, needed, involved.
And now I find myself living alone, not as any part of community. And I also find myself "single," not part of any one strong emotional partnership. And thus, I'm finding it challenging to navigate the landscape of my various friendships, disperse my need to connect, and still find that sense of community that I crave. I worry that I get too clingy or invest too much in friendships that aren't ready for it. I don't like feeling this way, being in this place. I know I need this time to be on my own, to introspect and figure certain things out, but I miss feeling connected.
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"She says wake up, it's no use pretending; I'll keep stealing, breathing her. Birds are leaving over autumn's ending; one of us will die inside these arms." - Iron and Wine
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Lap Cat
I really love my cat. He brings me a lot of joy. He waits at the door for me to come home, unless I come home at a time when he's not expecting me, in which case he staggers into the living room all bleary eyed a few seconds after I open the door trying to figure out why the schedule has changed. As soon as I sit down he's on my lap, rolling around and purring and all up in my face. And I take care of him -- I buy him expensive food made specially for indoor cats so he doesn't get super fat: I trim his claws so he doesn't get stuck on things (or me); I clean up his puke when he eats too fast and throws up on the living room rug. Lately I've been letting him sit on my lap while I'm at the kitchen table, eating breakfast or Internetting or writing -- encouraging bad behavior, I know. He wiggles around and tries to get comfortable, and even though he can't, he still stays, because he just wants to be close to me.
But invariably, after he's been calmly lounging as a lap cat for five or ten minutes, he starts to freak out. One second he's purring and purely content, the next he inexplicably wraps his front feet around my arm and starts biting my wrist, ears back, wild look in his eyes. I usually don't know what I've done to provoke him -- he just goes into attack mode.
As he went from cuddling to attacking me tonight, I thought about how we do that to God. Seriously, though. God takes care of us -- he provides us with the best spiritual food we could ask for; he keeps us humble and gracious so we don't harm the people around us; he cleans up the aftermath from our overindulgences, maybe not necessarily puke, but sadness or fear or loneliness. And most of the time we're so content; we lounge around, happy and purring, thankful to be loved and taken care of. But then sometimes, inexplicably, we turn around and -- WHAM -- we sink our teeth into his hand and start frantically kicking at his arm, totally ungrateful, taken over by some kind of wild anger. And he's probably like, "Whoa, what the. . .what did I do to deserve that??"
Though I wish I didn't have those moments of unwarranted freakout, I don't know how to. But once I've gone over to the other side of the room for a bit and sulked around, I always realize how much happier I am when I'm purring on God's lap. So I go back, of course. And he always lets me back up.
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"Because I'm so scared of being alone, that I forgot what house I live in." - Caedmon's Call
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Perspective
Tonight, I feel trite and melancholy and self-pitying and lonely and uninspired.
There are terrible things going on in the world. Tens of thousands of people are dead in Myanmar; and hundreds of thousands of people's lives are forever changed, devastated. There are terrible things happening in this City; homes of families and kids are being raided by ICE agents. And I'm sitting here, being mopey. I have no real reason, at least no reason from any perspective other than my own. And yet.
There you have it. Tomorrow is a new day, hopefully one with a bit more perspective.
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"I don't mind restrictions, or if you're blacking out the friction. It's just an escape; it's overrated, anyway." - Death Cab
There are terrible things going on in the world. Tens of thousands of people are dead in Myanmar; and hundreds of thousands of people's lives are forever changed, devastated. There are terrible things happening in this City; homes of families and kids are being raided by ICE agents. And I'm sitting here, being mopey. I have no real reason, at least no reason from any perspective other than my own. And yet.
There you have it. Tomorrow is a new day, hopefully one with a bit more perspective.
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"I don't mind restrictions, or if you're blacking out the friction. It's just an escape; it's overrated, anyway." - Death Cab
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Calm
This past Saturday, I had a meeting to attend at 8am. I set my alarm for 6:45 in order to be there on time, which is probably the earliest I've gotten up in months. I don't get to work these days until around 9:30, 9 at the earliest.
I biked over to the coffee shop in the Dogpatch, and instead of taking the circuitous, more mellow route with less traffic and more bike lanes, I braved the Cesar Chavez way. It's more direct, but depending on the time of day, it's pretty terrifying because you're sharing the lane with lots of highway-bound, fast-moving cars, with no space of your own.
I had forgotten how amazing the City is early on weekend mornings. Biking on this road normally makes me feel like I'm taking my life in my hands, but at that hour on a Saturday, I had the whole thing to myself. There were no cars out -- everyone was still sleeping or enjoying breakfast or doing things other than driving like maniacs. It was great.
Biking used to be a pretty big source of stress for me. I allowed myself to get really, really angry when cars cut me off or didn't respect me on the road - I would yell, bike frantically after them, make a waving-arms-scene in their rear-view mirrors. I biked in constant fear of getting hit. It was no way to spend close to an hour of each day, and the effects of that stress and anxiety rippled out into other aspects of my life.
Somewhere along the way, in the last few months, I stopped getting mad, and I stopped being afraid on the road. I bike defensively, for sure, but I've taken on a very calm mindset about my daily commute. Not only has this allowed me to enjoy biking much more, but I feel like that calm has rippled out into the rest of my life, too, replacing the anxiety and anger that had been there before.
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". . .honey, you cannot wrestle a dove." - The Shins
I biked over to the coffee shop in the Dogpatch, and instead of taking the circuitous, more mellow route with less traffic and more bike lanes, I braved the Cesar Chavez way. It's more direct, but depending on the time of day, it's pretty terrifying because you're sharing the lane with lots of highway-bound, fast-moving cars, with no space of your own.
I had forgotten how amazing the City is early on weekend mornings. Biking on this road normally makes me feel like I'm taking my life in my hands, but at that hour on a Saturday, I had the whole thing to myself. There were no cars out -- everyone was still sleeping or enjoying breakfast or doing things other than driving like maniacs. It was great.
Biking used to be a pretty big source of stress for me. I allowed myself to get really, really angry when cars cut me off or didn't respect me on the road - I would yell, bike frantically after them, make a waving-arms-scene in their rear-view mirrors. I biked in constant fear of getting hit. It was no way to spend close to an hour of each day, and the effects of that stress and anxiety rippled out into other aspects of my life.
Somewhere along the way, in the last few months, I stopped getting mad, and I stopped being afraid on the road. I bike defensively, for sure, but I've taken on a very calm mindset about my daily commute. Not only has this allowed me to enjoy biking much more, but I feel like that calm has rippled out into the rest of my life, too, replacing the anxiety and anger that had been there before.
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". . .honey, you cannot wrestle a dove." - The Shins
Monday, May 05, 2008
Vision
I met with Bruce tonight to discuss some MBCC business-ey stuff. Not surprisingly, the conversation waxed global -- where is our church is going, how does our community grow from where we are now, how do we challenge our members, how do we deal with practical things like money and facilities and locations and space?
I don't have any answers for those questions, but they're exciting for me, and I want to be a part of figuring them out. I feel like I'm ready to pour myself into something. I have no practical ties right now; nothing is keeping me in my current job or housing situation; nothing is holding me back from doing. . .anything I want to do. I do feel like I need to stay in San Francisco, and I do feel like I need to stay at MBCC, but beyond that, I'm ready to do whatever -- I just don't know what that whatever is. I don't know where to direct my very broad but very real passion.
In a lot of senses I feel like I'm where I was when I was 19 -- obviously I've grown and learned a lot since then, but I remember how it felt going into my first summer in San Francisco, when everything was an unknown, when I felt like anything could happen, when I had no clue what life would look like at the end of those three months. I was forever changed that summer. Life was totally different after it; a whole different world opened up. And now, I'm in that world, I live here -- so what am I going to do about it?
I want to be interacting, I want to be living. I've always felt, to a degree, like I'm in some space between binaries, that there are mutually exclusive "ways of life," and I need to choose between them -- there's the normal, comfortable, responsible, reasonable life, and there's the life that is lived with passion, spent making a difference, taken over by something really meaningful. And the more I live, the more I'm convinced that there isn't much of a middle ground -- either you're in or you're out. As I've been saying so much lately, it just comes down to making a decision.
But right now, I feel like the possibilities are just so vast that it's paralyzing. When you feel like you can do anything, what do you do?
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"I wanna give you whatever you need. What is it you need? Is it within me?" - DC
I don't have any answers for those questions, but they're exciting for me, and I want to be a part of figuring them out. I feel like I'm ready to pour myself into something. I have no practical ties right now; nothing is keeping me in my current job or housing situation; nothing is holding me back from doing. . .anything I want to do. I do feel like I need to stay in San Francisco, and I do feel like I need to stay at MBCC, but beyond that, I'm ready to do whatever -- I just don't know what that whatever is. I don't know where to direct my very broad but very real passion.
In a lot of senses I feel like I'm where I was when I was 19 -- obviously I've grown and learned a lot since then, but I remember how it felt going into my first summer in San Francisco, when everything was an unknown, when I felt like anything could happen, when I had no clue what life would look like at the end of those three months. I was forever changed that summer. Life was totally different after it; a whole different world opened up. And now, I'm in that world, I live here -- so what am I going to do about it?
I want to be interacting, I want to be living. I've always felt, to a degree, like I'm in some space between binaries, that there are mutually exclusive "ways of life," and I need to choose between them -- there's the normal, comfortable, responsible, reasonable life, and there's the life that is lived with passion, spent making a difference, taken over by something really meaningful. And the more I live, the more I'm convinced that there isn't much of a middle ground -- either you're in or you're out. As I've been saying so much lately, it just comes down to making a decision.
But right now, I feel like the possibilities are just so vast that it's paralyzing. When you feel like you can do anything, what do you do?
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"I wanna give you whatever you need. What is it you need? Is it within me?" - DC
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Assurance
Moments of desperation. The first time I ever remember having them, and characterizing them as such, was in Prague. I felt very isolated while I was there, far from my support network and the people I loved. I also had a lot of free time. Despite being in a beautiful, culturally rich city, there was only so much I could do -- I was there long enough to "outgrow" the touristy stuff but not long enough to establish a real, authentic life. Classes were interesting and even challenging, but neither they nor their related work required a large time commitment. Thus, I had to find ways to pass the time, and I would often find myself looking at the clock, taking stock of my activity options, and having these mini-panic-attack moments of desperation about how I was going to survive. I think the reason, at the bottom of it, was that I was afraid of being alone, of having to pass the time by myself.
It's silly, really, and I know it. I always managed to fill the time, and I usually ended up doing something fun and worthwhile, whether it was hanging out with a friend or reading a book or taking a walk through the cobblestoned streets. I surely didn't spend my time in Prague sitting around moping. But no matter how often I successfully filled the moments, no matter how many times I didn't die of loneliness, I still had that clenching in my chest, that tightness in my throat, that stinging in the corners of my eyes the next time I was faced with an empty block of time and no obvious plan for it.
I started having them again about six months ago. It's easy to see why -- I felt alone, emotionally, for the first time in four years, and I was alone, physically, for the first time in almost a year. Avoiding the moments of desperation is largely what has driven me during these past months. It's the reason I started micromanaging my social life, plotting activities for weeknights and weekends on a calendar, booking out my time in chunks, planning various activities to pass the hours -- so I wouldn't have to feel or be alone, an attempt to lessen the frequency of those desperate, stifling moments. And again, every time I do have free time, I use it well; I don't freak out; I don't perish; I usually even enjoy it. Nonetheless, I still can't trust that will actually be the case going into it.
I wish I had more assurance about this, about believing that I won't be alone, even when I am alone, about -- as cheesy as it is -- the fact that God is always with me. I wish I felt like that was enough. I know it is, in my head, but I have trouble convincing my heart of it in those desperate times.
The truth is, no matter how full I make my schedule, no matter how many dinners and drinks and activities I plan, I'm only running away, fooling myself, prolonging the inevitable. I'm still going to have my moments of desperation until I find and accept that assurance in my heart.
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"Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God, born of his Spirit, washed in his blood." - Fanny J. Crosby, 1873
It's silly, really, and I know it. I always managed to fill the time, and I usually ended up doing something fun and worthwhile, whether it was hanging out with a friend or reading a book or taking a walk through the cobblestoned streets. I surely didn't spend my time in Prague sitting around moping. But no matter how often I successfully filled the moments, no matter how many times I didn't die of loneliness, I still had that clenching in my chest, that tightness in my throat, that stinging in the corners of my eyes the next time I was faced with an empty block of time and no obvious plan for it.
I started having them again about six months ago. It's easy to see why -- I felt alone, emotionally, for the first time in four years, and I was alone, physically, for the first time in almost a year. Avoiding the moments of desperation is largely what has driven me during these past months. It's the reason I started micromanaging my social life, plotting activities for weeknights and weekends on a calendar, booking out my time in chunks, planning various activities to pass the hours -- so I wouldn't have to feel or be alone, an attempt to lessen the frequency of those desperate, stifling moments. And again, every time I do have free time, I use it well; I don't freak out; I don't perish; I usually even enjoy it. Nonetheless, I still can't trust that will actually be the case going into it.
I wish I had more assurance about this, about believing that I won't be alone, even when I am alone, about -- as cheesy as it is -- the fact that God is always with me. I wish I felt like that was enough. I know it is, in my head, but I have trouble convincing my heart of it in those desperate times.
The truth is, no matter how full I make my schedule, no matter how many dinners and drinks and activities I plan, I'm only running away, fooling myself, prolonging the inevitable. I'm still going to have my moments of desperation until I find and accept that assurance in my heart.
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"Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God, born of his Spirit, washed in his blood." - Fanny J. Crosby, 1873
For Friends
I'm struck tonight by the amazing people that are in my life, so I'm straying from The List to reflect on and give thanks for them.
I've been able to spend some really good, quality time with a lot of different friends lately -- starting in Greeley, and then radiating out in the past week since I've been back. It's so incredible to see how God moves through all the various people that are part of my life, both in ways they see and in ways they possibly don't, and it's inspiring to see how God is working in each and every one of them, despite their struggles and through their triumphs.
It's truly staggering to see how God is present in each of these widely varied relationships, in the conversations and time shared together, despite the varying levels of comfort and intimacy, through the contexts and complex histories.
I'm feeling very thankful tonight for the relationships I am blessed to be a part of and the people I am blessed to count as friends.
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"Some moments last forever, and some flare out with love, love, love." - Mountain Goats
I've been able to spend some really good, quality time with a lot of different friends lately -- starting in Greeley, and then radiating out in the past week since I've been back. It's so incredible to see how God moves through all the various people that are part of my life, both in ways they see and in ways they possibly don't, and it's inspiring to see how God is working in each and every one of them, despite their struggles and through their triumphs.
It's truly staggering to see how God is present in each of these widely varied relationships, in the conversations and time shared together, despite the varying levels of comfort and intimacy, through the contexts and complex histories.
I'm feeling very thankful tonight for the relationships I am blessed to be a part of and the people I am blessed to count as friends.
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"Some moments last forever, and some flare out with love, love, love." - Mountain Goats
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Self-discipline
About six months ago, when I found myself living alone for the first time in my life, I went around my apartment posting notecards with scripture on them in conspicuous places -- above the kitchen sink, next to the bathroom mirror, on the inside of the closet door. The idea was that when I saw a card in one of these highly traveled locations, I'd have to stop and at least read it (and hopefully reflect on it) before moving on with the next thing I was going to do. It was an attempt to get myself to slow down, to reflect more, to seek God in the mundane things I did every day.
The verse I put above the bathroom mirror is from 2 Timothy: "For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline." When I first put this up, I was totally on board with the not being timid, the having power, and the having love; these things all seemed worth seeking out in my own spirit. But I felt a little weird about the self-discipline part. It struck me as somehow "too Christian" -- language that connotes long dresses and turtlenecks and bad haircuts and no fun. I guess subconsciously I was thinking, "Oh, self-discipline, that's not something I need to work on, I have that, it's no big deal."
But actually, it's a huge deal. It's what underlies all of these "things" I'm writing about; the lack of it is what prevents me from succeeding in having any of them accurately describe me. Sure, I exert a fair degree of self-discipline in my daily life -- I have to; we all do. I get up every day, I feed and bathe myself, I go to work, I take care of my cat. Recently, I've been taking devotional time in the mornings, and I've been writing every evening. My self-discipline in terms of actions is fairly on track, and at worst, it's wrangleable -- I can force myself to do these things, physically, even when I really don't want to.
It's self-discipline of the mind that I struggle with. The key to getting anywhere with the list of things I'm striving for is exerting self-discipline over my thoughts, my intentions, my inner monologue, which is far harder to quantify or prove -- and yet, it can make so much of a difference in everything if it's truly happening.
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"I make all of the right noises, but they never make it to you." - Page France
The verse I put above the bathroom mirror is from 2 Timothy: "For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline." When I first put this up, I was totally on board with the not being timid, the having power, and the having love; these things all seemed worth seeking out in my own spirit. But I felt a little weird about the self-discipline part. It struck me as somehow "too Christian" -- language that connotes long dresses and turtlenecks and bad haircuts and no fun. I guess subconsciously I was thinking, "Oh, self-discipline, that's not something I need to work on, I have that, it's no big deal."
But actually, it's a huge deal. It's what underlies all of these "things" I'm writing about; the lack of it is what prevents me from succeeding in having any of them accurately describe me. Sure, I exert a fair degree of self-discipline in my daily life -- I have to; we all do. I get up every day, I feed and bathe myself, I go to work, I take care of my cat. Recently, I've been taking devotional time in the mornings, and I've been writing every evening. My self-discipline in terms of actions is fairly on track, and at worst, it's wrangleable -- I can force myself to do these things, physically, even when I really don't want to.
It's self-discipline of the mind that I struggle with. The key to getting anywhere with the list of things I'm striving for is exerting self-discipline over my thoughts, my intentions, my inner monologue, which is far harder to quantify or prove -- and yet, it can make so much of a difference in everything if it's truly happening.
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"I make all of the right noises, but they never make it to you." - Page France
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Resilience
This is one I think I've got a pretty good handle on, one trait I can confidently say I posses. Now, I've never had any really terrible things happen to me, and I'm thankful for that. But I feel that I am good at bouncing back when setbacks do occur; I can make the most of potentially harrowing situations, grow and shine through adversity, and keep up hope for the future.
I've always been a firm believer that things will be better in the morning. I remember when I would be upset as a kid, my dad would tell me that I should go to sleep, and if I was still feeling the same way in the morning, I could decide what to do about it then. This is still largely my MO today. I know that as the day drags on and I get tired, I lose perspective and the ability to think clearly, making those moments before bed often some of the hardest. It would be easy to wallow in that place, but in my experience, things have never failed to be better in the morning -- even if it's only a little bit, they are still always better.
Largely, resilience comes from having hope, and hope is one of the most important things to me. I believe that God has amazing things in store for my life, that he has plans I don't yet know -- and that's what I'm living for. I have to believe this -- it's what keeps me going. Even though things happen that I don't understand and life twists and turns in unexpected ways, I know that it is all happening on God's timeline, and so I must move on, forge ahead, and look forward to what is coming next.
And when I look back at where I've been and where I am, even over the last few months, let alone the last few years, it's proof to me that I can and must continue to be resilient, no matter what challenges there are. Because there is something worth getting to on the other side of the loneliness, something worth waiting for through the moments of desperation and despair.
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"It's sixteen miles to the promised land, and I promise you, I'm doing the best I can." - Rilo Kiley
I've always been a firm believer that things will be better in the morning. I remember when I would be upset as a kid, my dad would tell me that I should go to sleep, and if I was still feeling the same way in the morning, I could decide what to do about it then. This is still largely my MO today. I know that as the day drags on and I get tired, I lose perspective and the ability to think clearly, making those moments before bed often some of the hardest. It would be easy to wallow in that place, but in my experience, things have never failed to be better in the morning -- even if it's only a little bit, they are still always better.
Largely, resilience comes from having hope, and hope is one of the most important things to me. I believe that God has amazing things in store for my life, that he has plans I don't yet know -- and that's what I'm living for. I have to believe this -- it's what keeps me going. Even though things happen that I don't understand and life twists and turns in unexpected ways, I know that it is all happening on God's timeline, and so I must move on, forge ahead, and look forward to what is coming next.
And when I look back at where I've been and where I am, even over the last few months, let alone the last few years, it's proof to me that I can and must continue to be resilient, no matter what challenges there are. Because there is something worth getting to on the other side of the loneliness, something worth waiting for through the moments of desperation and despair.
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"It's sixteen miles to the promised land, and I promise you, I'm doing the best I can." - Rilo Kiley
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
The Jesus Factor
I don't feel like writing about any of the things on The List tonight; I feel like writing about the thing that informs them, the thing that really informs everything for me right now.
I'll admit that it's somewhat cheesy, but it is true, as Dale puts it -- everything would be much simpler if it weren't for The Jesus Factor. It's kind of like the "on paper" perspective: On paper, my life is perfect. I have everything I should want. And I do appreciate the good fortune I've had; it's not a matter of being ungrateful. It's the fact that it isn't enough. Having these things I'm "supposed" to have isn't enough for me. I want more. I want to do more, be more, feel more, make more of a difference. I want my actions, my life, to be meaningful.
And it's all because of Jesus -- that sense of being called to something higher, having some greater force to answer to, wanting to live like he did. If it weren't for The Jesus Factor, I think I would be about 98% satisfied with my life right now. But because of it, I know I'll never be satisfied; I'll always be striving to do more, to keep struggling and growing into who I am called to be, who I was made to be. And no, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, especially in the end; I know that. But in the moment, it sure is annoying, especially during these times when I am so desperately seeking direction, vision, purpose, and clarity -- and having such trouble finding it.
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"All we've got to show what we really are is the same kind of scars. And looking at you, all I see is you're waiting for something, single file. . ." - Elliott Smith
I'll admit that it's somewhat cheesy, but it is true, as Dale puts it -- everything would be much simpler if it weren't for The Jesus Factor. It's kind of like the "on paper" perspective: On paper, my life is perfect. I have everything I should want. And I do appreciate the good fortune I've had; it's not a matter of being ungrateful. It's the fact that it isn't enough. Having these things I'm "supposed" to have isn't enough for me. I want more. I want to do more, be more, feel more, make more of a difference. I want my actions, my life, to be meaningful.
And it's all because of Jesus -- that sense of being called to something higher, having some greater force to answer to, wanting to live like he did. If it weren't for The Jesus Factor, I think I would be about 98% satisfied with my life right now. But because of it, I know I'll never be satisfied; I'll always be striving to do more, to keep struggling and growing into who I am called to be, who I was made to be. And no, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, especially in the end; I know that. But in the moment, it sure is annoying, especially during these times when I am so desperately seeking direction, vision, purpose, and clarity -- and having such trouble finding it.
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"All we've got to show what we really are is the same kind of scars. And looking at you, all I see is you're waiting for something, single file. . ." - Elliott Smith
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Presence
When I told KJ I wanted to unlpug for the weekend I was going to be in Greeley, he was pumped. He said it would be great because it would allow me to be "fully" there.
It's so true. How many times am I doing one thing but thinking about another? How often am I with one person but checking my phone to see if another has contacted me? So much that I feel I'm rarely fully there, actually present doing any one thing. At work, I'm always doing 400 things at once, in the middle of lots of different projects, carrying on IM conversations with five people, drafting three or four emails at any given moment. Even when I'm at home, I'm simultaneously checking my email, watching TV, playing with Snaut, cooking dinner, or whatever else. How can I really be doing any of these things well if I'm trying to do them all at once?
Multitasking is a good skill to have, but I feel that I've gotten too good at it. I can juggle so many things at once that I don't know how to just focus on one anymore. Sitting and making myself just read or just write has become difficult; I get antsy when I try to do one thing, start to finish. Just like savoring the moment, I need to slow down, to re-learn how to focus.
I feel that being present is most important with people, though, that I need to cultivate this most in my relationships. When I am spending time with someone, I want to be fully there, intentional about spending that time with that person, focusing on that person and our relationship. I hope to receive that kind of presence from the people in my life, and there's absolutely no excuse for me to not give it to them.
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"And I just want to stand outside and know that this is right, and this is true, and I will not fade into, fade into the night." - The Eels
It's so true. How many times am I doing one thing but thinking about another? How often am I with one person but checking my phone to see if another has contacted me? So much that I feel I'm rarely fully there, actually present doing any one thing. At work, I'm always doing 400 things at once, in the middle of lots of different projects, carrying on IM conversations with five people, drafting three or four emails at any given moment. Even when I'm at home, I'm simultaneously checking my email, watching TV, playing with Snaut, cooking dinner, or whatever else. How can I really be doing any of these things well if I'm trying to do them all at once?
Multitasking is a good skill to have, but I feel that I've gotten too good at it. I can juggle so many things at once that I don't know how to just focus on one anymore. Sitting and making myself just read or just write has become difficult; I get antsy when I try to do one thing, start to finish. Just like savoring the moment, I need to slow down, to re-learn how to focus.
I feel that being present is most important with people, though, that I need to cultivate this most in my relationships. When I am spending time with someone, I want to be fully there, intentional about spending that time with that person, focusing on that person and our relationship. I hope to receive that kind of presence from the people in my life, and there's absolutely no excuse for me to not give it to them.
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"And I just want to stand outside and know that this is right, and this is true, and I will not fade into, fade into the night." - The Eels
Monday, April 28, 2008
Savoring the Moment
In college I had a good friend named Arun who would suck down Frappuccinos like they were water. Not the milkshake-type things you actually get at Starbucks, but the chocolatey/coffeey/milky drink in the little glass bottles that you get at the convenience store. Many a night during freshman year, he would buy one at the 7-11 on the first floor of our dorm, pop it open, and down it in like three long gulps, 30 seconds total. I didn't understand it. Whenever I got one, I would gingerly sip it and try to make it last as long as possible -- it was a treat, and I wanted to enjoy it. I used to yell at him whenever he'd drink one, chiding him for not "savoring" it. How can you even taste something, let alone enjoy it, when you consume it that fast?
The way I've been living my life over the past few months has been like the way Arun drank Frappuccinos. I've just been running down to the 7-11 to get one, sucking it down, and moving on to the next thing so quickly that I don't even realize what I've just done, I don't even know what it tasted like. Get up, get ready for work, go to work, multitask all day and eat lunch at my desk, come home, make dinner, rush to some social activity, rush home, go to bed. It's not that I don't enjoy the social activities, and it's not that I don't at least occasionally enjoy work -- it's just the fact that my mind is going so many miles an hour while I'm doing all of these things that I'm not really, truly appreciating the fact that I am doing any of them.
At the risk of dragging the metaphor on too far, I want to savor my Frappuccinos; I want to be able to tell the difference between Mocha and Vanilla. I want to enjoy the things I'm doing and the company of the people I'm doing them with, to decide intentionally how to spend my time and then intentionally savor that time. I want to focus on what I'm doing, when I'm doing it, and give it the attention it deserves. The hardest part is just letting myself slow down enough to enjoy any given moment -- to put aside thoughts and worries about what else is going on, what I have to do next, what I have to do in a week, so that I can focus on whatever I'm doing right then.
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"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." -Matthew 6:34
The way I've been living my life over the past few months has been like the way Arun drank Frappuccinos. I've just been running down to the 7-11 to get one, sucking it down, and moving on to the next thing so quickly that I don't even realize what I've just done, I don't even know what it tasted like. Get up, get ready for work, go to work, multitask all day and eat lunch at my desk, come home, make dinner, rush to some social activity, rush home, go to bed. It's not that I don't enjoy the social activities, and it's not that I don't at least occasionally enjoy work -- it's just the fact that my mind is going so many miles an hour while I'm doing all of these things that I'm not really, truly appreciating the fact that I am doing any of them.
At the risk of dragging the metaphor on too far, I want to savor my Frappuccinos; I want to be able to tell the difference between Mocha and Vanilla. I want to enjoy the things I'm doing and the company of the people I'm doing them with, to decide intentionally how to spend my time and then intentionally savor that time. I want to focus on what I'm doing, when I'm doing it, and give it the attention it deserves. The hardest part is just letting myself slow down enough to enjoy any given moment -- to put aside thoughts and worries about what else is going on, what I have to do next, what I have to do in a week, so that I can focus on whatever I'm doing right then.
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"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." -Matthew 6:34
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Blogging As An Exercise In Self-Discipline
I just spent a weekend unplugged: no computer, no internet, no cell phone. I don't know when the last time was I did this. . .perhaps never. But I've been feeling too available lately, too tethered, allowing various (oft superficial) interactions to take up too much of my time and energy. I've been lacking direction, feeling stagnant. I've been moving too fast, doing too much multitasking and not enough enjoying the moment I'm in, in both mind and body. I'm doing so much that I'm not actually doing any of it. I'm never sitting still. I'm never listening.
The weekend was fantastic. In my down time, instead of texting or checking my email or browsing Facebook or Yelp, I actually sat and read or wrote or thought or listened. It's incredible what that slowing down the pace of your life will do for perspective. (Being in the company of an old friend who has always inspired and challenged me is immensely helpful, as well. And traveling 1,200 miles from the distractions of normal life doesn't hurt, I guess, but I believe it's mostly a mental thing.) I have a new clarity, a new sense of purpose and vision, a very new sense of calm. I asked and received, sought and found, knocked and had the door opened unto me. I highly recommend it.
There are many things I want to do as a result of this weekend of introspection. One facet of them is to be still more often, to spend more time in thought and prayer and reflection, to get writing again, and to actually practice self-discipline about it. So I'm resurrecting the blog.
Earlier this year I started a list of "Things I'm Striving For" -- qualities I want to posses, words I want to use to be able to describe myself -- and I've been adding to it over the past few months. Right now there are 25 items on the list, and every day, I'm going to write about one of them -- what it means, why it's important, how it looks as part of my life, and what the challenges are for getting there. A bit self-indulgent, perhaps; but I need some discipline to get me writing again, and I feel like this is a good place to start.
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"I need to watch to watch the wind blowing on the sea; let me hear it slowly, rustling the trees. City people move, too fast for me. . .funny how time flies away, funny how it flies." - Peter and the Wolf
The weekend was fantastic. In my down time, instead of texting or checking my email or browsing Facebook or Yelp, I actually sat and read or wrote or thought or listened. It's incredible what that slowing down the pace of your life will do for perspective. (Being in the company of an old friend who has always inspired and challenged me is immensely helpful, as well. And traveling 1,200 miles from the distractions of normal life doesn't hurt, I guess, but I believe it's mostly a mental thing.) I have a new clarity, a new sense of purpose and vision, a very new sense of calm. I asked and received, sought and found, knocked and had the door opened unto me. I highly recommend it.
There are many things I want to do as a result of this weekend of introspection. One facet of them is to be still more often, to spend more time in thought and prayer and reflection, to get writing again, and to actually practice self-discipline about it. So I'm resurrecting the blog.
Earlier this year I started a list of "Things I'm Striving For" -- qualities I want to posses, words I want to use to be able to describe myself -- and I've been adding to it over the past few months. Right now there are 25 items on the list, and every day, I'm going to write about one of them -- what it means, why it's important, how it looks as part of my life, and what the challenges are for getting there. A bit self-indulgent, perhaps; but I need some discipline to get me writing again, and I feel like this is a good place to start.
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"I need to watch to watch the wind blowing on the sea; let me hear it slowly, rustling the trees. City people move, too fast for me. . .funny how time flies away, funny how it flies." - Peter and the Wolf
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Sunday, December 30, 2007
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