I had a very deep conversation with a fellow Ellie's Run for Africa volunteer named Dede this morning.
I've always been drawn to older people ever since I was a child. Perhaps it's the general sense of calmness that surrounds them, the quiet assurance and confidence that comes from living life and learning from the many mistakes of the past? I don't know. All I know is that I was completely at ease with Dede as I poured out my heart to her under the shade of a tall tree at the edge of the course marked out along the grassy terrain of Percy Warner Park.
We had met on Friday and decided to be partners in tearing down one of the tents (a proposedly furious storm that night threatened to rip apart every tent pitched up earlier in the afternoon). We talked a bit about my move here to Nashville, about her move here from Texas years ago when she and her husband were still dating. I shared a tiny morsel of my family and my past.
This morning as I headed over to the park to help tear-down at the conclusion of the race, I ran into Dede again. Her face lit up, she ran over to me, wrapped her arms around me and told me she had been praying for me last night. I was touched.
A couple hours passed and I wandered around talking to a couple musician-friends/acquaintances, people I'd met back home in Philly when I helped out with some of their shows. It wasn't until the end of the morning that I ran into Dede again.
We stood under that tree and talked. I poured out my heart -- all the frustrations, fears and hurts I'd experienced in the short time I've been in Nashville. She understood. Completely. And as I shared about 2 friends who'd hurt me the most in my "short" time here, the ones who've caused me the greatest heartache and from whom I've felt the most rejected, she could only say 2 words: Release them. Release them from the obligations your broken/needy heart has placed on them, from the hurt they've caused you, from their inability to understand you (or want to for that matter). When you release them, you'll finally be able to fully forgive them.
There is wisdom to be gleaned from our elders, from those to whom we've been fortunate to be bound to in God's beautifully full family.
I am thankful for Dede and am thankful for each of you -- for the ways you pray for, encourage and challenge me to grow. For the ways you remind me of the Truth that I can't seem to see during the hailstorms of life and in my stubbornness.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A Storm's a Brewin'
After the goings on at work today, I'm nearly positive that my time there is coming to an end. It's been a daily concern lately, wondering when I'll be called into the director's office and told that they won't be needing me to come in anymore. Looking at my paltry "savings" and wondering how long I can realistically "live" here before I start making plans to move back home where I will be in the same situation I am now, but living rent free.
I am physically queasy. My innards are nervous and knotted. I want to rip my skin off because all of this discomfort.
Tonight as I lay here on my bed, the fear and worries molesting every part of my heart, mind and soul, it rains. A storm has been brewing all day and the clouds have finally released their tears. The sky is grumbling as lightning plays a game of peek-a-boo behind heavy blue-gray clouds.
Part of me wants to go and stand in the middle of the storm -- to be physically and emotionally drenched. I want the outpouring of heaven to wash away all these fears.
I have no idea what to make of this, nor what tomorrow will hold. And, quite honestly, I hate it!
It's sink or swim, fight or flight time and all I'm feeling is defeated, deflated and discouraged beyond belief.
If you're in a praying mood... now is the time.
I am physically queasy. My innards are nervous and knotted. I want to rip my skin off because all of this discomfort.
Tonight as I lay here on my bed, the fear and worries molesting every part of my heart, mind and soul, it rains. A storm has been brewing all day and the clouds have finally released their tears. The sky is grumbling as lightning plays a game of peek-a-boo behind heavy blue-gray clouds.
Part of me wants to go and stand in the middle of the storm -- to be physically and emotionally drenched. I want the outpouring of heaven to wash away all these fears.
I have no idea what to make of this, nor what tomorrow will hold. And, quite honestly, I hate it!
It's sink or swim, fight or flight time and all I'm feeling is defeated, deflated and discouraged beyond belief.
If you're in a praying mood... now is the time.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Retro-Active
I'm quieting my mind at the moment, having just left AllieDearest's house a short while ago where we watched a New In Town and chatted about Nashville life (men). I feel full now, even as my stomach threatens to growl and demand (post-)midnight snackage.
Throughout the day I've been considering whether or not I should return to Philly. Life is hard here and is so full of uncertainties. Songs and chords left open, unresolved. I wonder if I'm made of tougher stuff than I think. And wonder if wisdom would agree with my rationale: that going back home would be easiest and the least traumatic on my finances.
I've no idea what next month looks like. I may (or may not) have a job by then. As thankful as I am that my church-life here is starting to shape up nicely, I'm worried about a lot of things.
I know I ought not worry, but I do.
Throughout the day I've been considering whether or not I should return to Philly. Life is hard here and is so full of uncertainties. Songs and chords left open, unresolved. I wonder if I'm made of tougher stuff than I think. And wonder if wisdom would agree with my rationale: that going back home would be easiest and the least traumatic on my finances.
I've no idea what next month looks like. I may (or may not) have a job by then. As thankful as I am that my church-life here is starting to shape up nicely, I'm worried about a lot of things.
I know I ought not worry, but I do.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Life and Death and Everything in Between / Vagabondage
The Meaning of Life: The Great Debate (This One's Not)
There is a sudden urge to think of deeper things tonight.
It's still Monday as I type this, but just barely. My mind is sluggish as I've been fighting the pull to nap and sleep in fear of waking up before the dawn (again). As I recline here on my bed furnished by my very generous roommate and as I fight the desire to go out and buy more cute summer dresses (a first for me) and sandals I can't afford right now, I think about death and life and everything in between. There is a sadness stirring up. It's a sigh deep within me.
I think about the friends and family I left behind in Philadelphia, about security and creature comforts. I feel for my uncle and his family as they grieve the loss of his mother last Sunday, just short of a year after his father's passing. Wishing I were nearer. Wishing I could be there for my cousins. But, I am here in Nashville, almost 900 miles and 3.5 states away.
And, oddly, in thinking about transient and eternal things, of life and love and sickness and health, I think about the footprints we leave -- about the trace shadows and whispers of ourselves that echo in the souls of the people we touch. I think about all that we leave behind -- the fragments of self we are so stingy to dole out in the craze of schedules and appointments, of deadlines and dreams. And, I wonder if people will see me when I leave or the One in whose shadow I so drunkenly and crookedly stumble to follow.
Life as a Vagabond
I've been thinking a lot about the word home. I never quite felt at home in Philly and am definitely not feeling that here in Nashville. I fee like a vagabond most days -- wandering about the day, filling up time and space. Directionless. Lost. Bewildered. Alone.
Just last week JWoo asked how I was feeling about my move here. She wasn't the first to ask that week as I had a few others checking in on me as well. As I told her how settling in was proving to be slower and more difficult than I'd imagined, she asked if there was somewhere else I needed/wanted to be, if possibly another move was in order. The only response I could give was a shrug and an "I have absolutely no idea!" But, the more I ponder that, the more I realize like AnnieP shared last month at Bible study, I will never feel at home here. Perhaps I'm not meant to? Perhaps this constant uneasiness that I'm able to suppress most days was birthed from a deep longing and need inside me? Maybe this unyielding ache is my soul's beacon (beckoning) for the God who breathed life into it? A tracking signal for the One who already knows me, has already found me, and who never lost me in the first place?
I wonder how to remain present when all I can think of is the future and what it has/doesn't have in store. I wonder which of these friendships and ties will break and wither as I begin to feel the pain and hear the tearing and fraying of the ropes that bind us/me together. I wonder at my calling and purpose in life, about job security and benefits and all those things "entitled" to me. I long for something permanent, but am living day-by-day in the temporal. It's as if I'm staring into the face of an ominous black cloud and shaking in confusion.
I'm hoping in time I'll realize (and remember) that I'm not going head-to-head with some mysterious smoke monster, but simply walking in the cool shade of my Father's shadow.
There is a sudden urge to think of deeper things tonight.
It's still Monday as I type this, but just barely. My mind is sluggish as I've been fighting the pull to nap and sleep in fear of waking up before the dawn (again). As I recline here on my bed furnished by my very generous roommate and as I fight the desire to go out and buy more cute summer dresses (a first for me) and sandals I can't afford right now, I think about death and life and everything in between. There is a sadness stirring up. It's a sigh deep within me.
I think about the friends and family I left behind in Philadelphia, about security and creature comforts. I feel for my uncle and his family as they grieve the loss of his mother last Sunday, just short of a year after his father's passing. Wishing I were nearer. Wishing I could be there for my cousins. But, I am here in Nashville, almost 900 miles and 3.5 states away.
And, oddly, in thinking about transient and eternal things, of life and love and sickness and health, I think about the footprints we leave -- about the trace shadows and whispers of ourselves that echo in the souls of the people we touch. I think about all that we leave behind -- the fragments of self we are so stingy to dole out in the craze of schedules and appointments, of deadlines and dreams. And, I wonder if people will see me when I leave or the One in whose shadow I so drunkenly and crookedly stumble to follow.
Life as a Vagabond
I've been thinking a lot about the word home. I never quite felt at home in Philly and am definitely not feeling that here in Nashville. I fee like a vagabond most days -- wandering about the day, filling up time and space. Directionless. Lost. Bewildered. Alone.
Just last week JWoo asked how I was feeling about my move here. She wasn't the first to ask that week as I had a few others checking in on me as well. As I told her how settling in was proving to be slower and more difficult than I'd imagined, she asked if there was somewhere else I needed/wanted to be, if possibly another move was in order. The only response I could give was a shrug and an "I have absolutely no idea!" But, the more I ponder that, the more I realize like AnnieP shared last month at Bible study, I will never feel at home here. Perhaps I'm not meant to? Perhaps this constant uneasiness that I'm able to suppress most days was birthed from a deep longing and need inside me? Maybe this unyielding ache is my soul's beacon (beckoning) for the God who breathed life into it? A tracking signal for the One who already knows me, has already found me, and who never lost me in the first place?
I wonder how to remain present when all I can think of is the future and what it has/doesn't have in store. I wonder which of these friendships and ties will break and wither as I begin to feel the pain and hear the tearing and fraying of the ropes that bind us/me together. I wonder at my calling and purpose in life, about job security and benefits and all those things "entitled" to me. I long for something permanent, but am living day-by-day in the temporal. It's as if I'm staring into the face of an ominous black cloud and shaking in confusion.
I'm hoping in time I'll realize (and remember) that I'm not going head-to-head with some mysterious smoke monster, but simply walking in the cool shade of my Father's shadow.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Rolling Thunder, Hear My Cry!
Nashville has had its share of torrential storms in the past month. Today, for instance, sheets of rain fell from the sky unexpectedly while I sat at my desk and watched.
The funny thing about these storms is that they have a way of unearthing debris. As soon as they stop the pond just outside my office floods with broken branches and litter of all sorts. At once the pristine waterfront is covered with messiness.
It's a metaphor for life I think. Storms are evident in our lives and they will come and go unexpectedly leaving behind debris. Things we've kept hidden so well will rise to the surface and the messiness of our lives will show itself for all the world to see.
But, as with all things, life springs from the destruction and cleansing comes from the letting go of the waste in our lives.
The rain, the tears, bring a freshness that's often hard to see as you're running for cover and waiting for the storms to pass.
The funny thing about these storms is that they have a way of unearthing debris. As soon as they stop the pond just outside my office floods with broken branches and litter of all sorts. At once the pristine waterfront is covered with messiness.
It's a metaphor for life I think. Storms are evident in our lives and they will come and go unexpectedly leaving behind debris. Things we've kept hidden so well will rise to the surface and the messiness of our lives will show itself for all the world to see.
But, as with all things, life springs from the destruction and cleansing comes from the letting go of the waste in our lives.
The rain, the tears, bring a freshness that's often hard to see as you're running for cover and waiting for the storms to pass.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
"Tell Me All Your Thoughts On God"
Today, after a gruesome 9-hours at work, I, on a whim, headed to Centennial Park to read. Up until now, I'd never done more than drive past it, but today was just too glorious a day to waste sitting in a coffee shop (however wonderful Fido can be).
I parked my car, pulled out my yoga mat from the trunk and found a quiet spot under the shade of 2 tall trees just a stone's throw from the lake and its fountains.
As I lay there reading, the last bits of sun dancing softly through the trees, I took a moment to breathe it all in. Reclined under the coolness of these tall arbors I was reminded of how very small I am in the grand scale of things. And yet, my Creator sees even me. As I observed the birds and squirrels dancing in the trees, a peace filled my heart (a first here) as I reflected on Matthew 6:26. And as I reflected, I heard God speak into the depths of me a promise to provide and satisfy my deepest longings and needs. A call to trust and wait on Him, my loving Father and attentive Creator. A command to set my worries, anxieties, fears and hurts aside.
I parked my car, pulled out my yoga mat from the trunk and found a quiet spot under the shade of 2 tall trees just a stone's throw from the lake and its fountains.
As I lay there reading, the last bits of sun dancing softly through the trees, I took a moment to breathe it all in. Reclined under the coolness of these tall arbors I was reminded of how very small I am in the grand scale of things. And yet, my Creator sees even me. As I observed the birds and squirrels dancing in the trees, a peace filled my heart (a first here) as I reflected on Matthew 6:26. And as I reflected, I heard God speak into the depths of me a promise to provide and satisfy my deepest longings and needs. A call to trust and wait on Him, my loving Father and attentive Creator. A command to set my worries, anxieties, fears and hurts aside.
Live each day with the courage and boldness to follow your convictions.
Love as I have loved you... even if others reject you.
Forgive.
Wait.
Trust.
Show compassion. Breathe mercy.
Love and forgive. Again and again and again...
Be joyful no matter what the situation (even when life hurts like hell) because you are dearly loved.
Find your hope and satisfaction in the One who knows you completely, intimately and wholly.
100!
Back when Korea was still war-torn and "developing", when infant mortality was mercilessly high, people valued each moment and breath of life. If a child survived her first 100days of life, the entire neighborhood was invited to join the family in celebration of the child's dol. The dol was (and is) a celebration of prosperity and longevity, of a strong and healthy life ahead.
June 7th marks my first 100days here in Nashville. It seems so insignificant to many, but to me it's symbolic because, in ways, I am an infant here. Everything is new and unfamiliar. Nothing is what I'd thought it would be. I am learning each day and finding the strength to walk. I am naive to this life here. But, I am growing more and more into who I am to become. These tentative steps I take now will become graceful strides wreaking of confidence soon enough.
I thought I'd never survive this long. I thought this day would never come. There were days I wanted to die and others when I just wanted to crawl under covers and weep (and I did... more often than I care to admit).
As stupid as it sounds, I want to celebrate with my lovely Nashville-folk, particularly those who've seen me through the roughest patches during the last 3months, when to be around me was unbearably uncomfortable and unnerving.
Hmmm... Maybe a picnic in Centennial Park is in order?
EDIT: A friend has brought to my attention an error I'd made. 100 days is a baek il not a dol. I was wrong! Either way, it's a long time coming. And I mean a LONG time coming!!!
June 7th marks my first 100days here in Nashville. It seems so insignificant to many, but to me it's symbolic because, in ways, I am an infant here. Everything is new and unfamiliar. Nothing is what I'd thought it would be. I am learning each day and finding the strength to walk. I am naive to this life here. But, I am growing more and more into who I am to become. These tentative steps I take now will become graceful strides wreaking of confidence soon enough.
I thought I'd never survive this long. I thought this day would never come. There were days I wanted to die and others when I just wanted to crawl under covers and weep (and I did... more often than I care to admit).
As stupid as it sounds, I want to celebrate with my lovely Nashville-folk, particularly those who've seen me through the roughest patches during the last 3months, when to be around me was unbearably uncomfortable and unnerving.
Hmmm... Maybe a picnic in Centennial Park is in order?
EDIT: A friend has brought to my attention an error I'd made. 100 days is a baek il not a dol. I was wrong! Either way, it's a long time coming. And I mean a LONG time coming!!!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The Changeling (or Metamorphosis)
I’m sitting here in Philadelphia International Airport, on my way back to Nashville from a visit home that was all too short.
The funny thing about going home after being away from it for any length of time is that the ties that connected you to it seem to oddly fray and loosen until they aren’t as taut as you had hoped or remembered. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, yes. But, it also makes the heart strings slack.
I’m going through a season of transition that is often times excruciatingly painful and hard to bear. There are days I walk about leaving a trail of tears, feeling as if all is coming undone within me and all anyone can do is watch - if they even choose to do that much.
In their attempts to “help” me, many people have tried to remind me how “strong” I am. How I’m tougher and more fit to bear this cross than I realize. That I only need to wait out this storm and “chill out” before all is well.
But I’ve realized that in going through all of this - in being torn apart and ravaged as it were – that God is doing something. He’s opening my eyes to my own folly. He’s showing me my weaknesses, my sins, my idols. It’s gruesome and painful to endure. I want to die! And, maybe, that’s what He’s calling me to do? To die to myself. To my need to feel appreciated and loved. To my loneliness that eats away at my sanity. To my need to matter.
Maybe this is where true strength is found? Not in pumping myself up or pulling myself together, but in opening up my hands and letting go of the fraying rope I’ve been holding onto for dear life. In letting my Creator break apart the pieces of this house I’ve constructed so He can rebuild me according to His design.
It’s not going to be pretty and I’m sure it’s going to be an ugly thing to watch. And, there will be moments when I’ll need LOTS of prayer and an encouraging word (and maybe even a hug every now and then).
I’m just hoping He speeds up the process...
The funny thing about going home after being away from it for any length of time is that the ties that connected you to it seem to oddly fray and loosen until they aren’t as taut as you had hoped or remembered. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, yes. But, it also makes the heart strings slack.
I’m going through a season of transition that is often times excruciatingly painful and hard to bear. There are days I walk about leaving a trail of tears, feeling as if all is coming undone within me and all anyone can do is watch - if they even choose to do that much.
Most would turn away, shake their heads and say, “[S]he’s still got such a long way to go.” - Remember Your Chains by Steven Curtis Chapman
In their attempts to “help” me, many people have tried to remind me how “strong” I am. How I’m tougher and more fit to bear this cross than I realize. That I only need to wait out this storm and “chill out” before all is well.
But I’ve realized that in going through all of this - in being torn apart and ravaged as it were – that God is doing something. He’s opening my eyes to my own folly. He’s showing me my weaknesses, my sins, my idols. It’s gruesome and painful to endure. I want to die! And, maybe, that’s what He’s calling me to do? To die to myself. To my need to feel appreciated and loved. To my loneliness that eats away at my sanity. To my need to matter.
Maybe this is where true strength is found? Not in pumping myself up or pulling myself together, but in opening up my hands and letting go of the fraying rope I’ve been holding onto for dear life. In letting my Creator break apart the pieces of this house I’ve constructed so He can rebuild me according to His design.
It’s not going to be pretty and I’m sure it’s going to be an ugly thing to watch. And, there will be moments when I’ll need LOTS of prayer and an encouraging word (and maybe even a hug every now and then).
I’m just hoping He speeds up the process...
… please, Lord?
"Baby, I Apolo-gize For All the Things I [Haven't] Done"
To all my (3) readers:
There is a ton I've wanted to share with you here, but I'm finding my words stifled and my mind cloudy these days. Please accept my apologies.
I will try my best to put these thoughts to words as soon as I am ready and able.
Stay tuned...
There is a ton I've wanted to share with you here, but I'm finding my words stifled and my mind cloudy these days. Please accept my apologies.
I will try my best to put these thoughts to words as soon as I am ready and able.
Stay tuned...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Clearly...
Trying to be transparent in an opaque city/world sucks.
I hate it. Hate it. HATE IT.
The end.
[A bit melodramatic? Possibly. But, it is how I feel at the moment.]
I hate it. Hate it. HATE IT.
The end.
[A bit melodramatic? Possibly. But, it is how I feel at the moment.]
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Reflections of the Way Life Used to Be...
Today is Easter. It is also the first holiday I've spent away from home since years ago when I'd gone to an Urbana conference Christmas/New Year's week. It was full. I am drained and wondering how I'll function in the morning, but would not trade it for anything in the world.
Pulling into the church parking lot, I prepared myself and legs for a long trek, but was happy to find someone from the earlier service pulling out as I was turning the corner. Knowing I was 20min late I assumed I'd be standing like Danny and I had to do weeks before and was second-guessing the wedge heels I'd worn. I'm no fan of blisters or sore feet. By the grace of God (really!), I found a seat up in the front and made myself comfortable around my fellow brothers and sisters. Everything was right for once.
We had a very celebratory time of reflection and worship today at church.
Shortly after the special choral program, a few volunteers participated in what was dubbed "The Cardboard Testimony". One by one, each person went up to the front holding a large sheet of cardboard and on it was posted their deepest secrets and hurts - the "before", if you will. Slowly and joyfully, they flipped the sheet to reveal the glorious "after", the ways in which God had brought restoration, forgiveness, healing and redemption. I was floored and could not help tearing up throughout the entire presentation.
A few of the stories hit close to home for me and for a friend of mine. I thought of him and his many hurts and my heart ached for him to be at church with me to witness this; to be reminded once again of the great, unfathomable, unsearchable, unending love of the Father. To know that He was not alone in his hurts, that others had suffered and overcome them, and that he could, too.
As I reflected on these lives, these hearts turned whole and full by the grace of forgiveness and mercy, I was struck silent, at once both thankful and heartbroken, in unease and yet happily at peace. Reflecting on where/who I once was and where/who I am now: A work in progress still. Ever growing. Ever faltering. Forever loved and forgiven. Accepted even when I am not. His and not my own.
Pulling into the church parking lot, I prepared myself and legs for a long trek, but was happy to find someone from the earlier service pulling out as I was turning the corner. Knowing I was 20min late I assumed I'd be standing like Danny and I had to do weeks before and was second-guessing the wedge heels I'd worn. I'm no fan of blisters or sore feet. By the grace of God (really!), I found a seat up in the front and made myself comfortable around my fellow brothers and sisters. Everything was right for once.
We had a very celebratory time of reflection and worship today at church.
Shortly after the special choral program, a few volunteers participated in what was dubbed "The Cardboard Testimony". One by one, each person went up to the front holding a large sheet of cardboard and on it was posted their deepest secrets and hurts - the "before", if you will. Slowly and joyfully, they flipped the sheet to reveal the glorious "after", the ways in which God had brought restoration, forgiveness, healing and redemption. I was floored and could not help tearing up throughout the entire presentation.
A few of the stories hit close to home for me and for a friend of mine. I thought of him and his many hurts and my heart ached for him to be at church with me to witness this; to be reminded once again of the great, unfathomable, unsearchable, unending love of the Father. To know that He was not alone in his hurts, that others had suffered and overcome them, and that he could, too.
As I reflected on these lives, these hearts turned whole and full by the grace of forgiveness and mercy, I was struck silent, at once both thankful and heartbroken, in unease and yet happily at peace. Reflecting on where/who I once was and where/who I am now: A work in progress still. Ever growing. Ever faltering. Forever loved and forgiven. Accepted even when I am not. His and not my own.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
You, Too in 3D
Lately, I've noticed a growing trend: Unavailable Availability.
With technology excelling as it is, new products and programs out on the market, Blackberries and iPhones, texting and Tweets, I've realized that many of us are becoming hermits. Even as I sit here typing this, I'm having 3 "conversations" on Facebook. All within the comfort of my own room. All without vocalizing a single thought or word. I find it more and more disturbing these days...
Am I bashing technology? No, of course not. Facebook and G-Chat offer the opportunity to communicate with friends and family across different timezones and continents. But, there is a coldness and distancing of ourselves I think.
My ears long to hear the distinctly personal inflections, patterns and rhythms of the human voice. My eyes take delight in seeing a warm smile or the way a person's nose might crinkle when s/he laughs. And, my heart warms when hearing a hearty laugh.
These little trinkets remind me that we are all the same: All human. Flesh, bone and spirit. Breathing and living this same life. All sojourners on this short, unmapped road. All struggling to find hope. Peace. Happiness. Fulfillment. Love.
I want to experience life with you. All of you. I want to hear your stories and know your heart. I want to witness the ways in which God is working out His Grace and Redemption story in each of you. To discover a facet of Him that only you possess, the individual markings left on you by your Creator that no one can quite see until we're inches from the canvas.
But, it's hard to do when I'm sitting here in my room, clicking away words that have not been uttered to ears that haven't really heard a word.
I think we need to do something about this... Don't you?
With technology excelling as it is, new products and programs out on the market, Blackberries and iPhones, texting and Tweets, I've realized that many of us are becoming hermits. Even as I sit here typing this, I'm having 3 "conversations" on Facebook. All within the comfort of my own room. All without vocalizing a single thought or word. I find it more and more disturbing these days...
Am I bashing technology? No, of course not. Facebook and G-Chat offer the opportunity to communicate with friends and family across different timezones and continents. But, there is a coldness and distancing of ourselves I think.
My ears long to hear the distinctly personal inflections, patterns and rhythms of the human voice. My eyes take delight in seeing a warm smile or the way a person's nose might crinkle when s/he laughs. And, my heart warms when hearing a hearty laugh.
These little trinkets remind me that we are all the same: All human. Flesh, bone and spirit. Breathing and living this same life. All sojourners on this short, unmapped road. All struggling to find hope. Peace. Happiness. Fulfillment. Love.
I want to experience life with you. All of you. I want to hear your stories and know your heart. I want to witness the ways in which God is working out His Grace and Redemption story in each of you. To discover a facet of Him that only you possess, the individual markings left on you by your Creator that no one can quite see until we're inches from the canvas.
But, it's hard to do when I'm sitting here in my room, clicking away words that have not been uttered to ears that haven't really heard a word.
I think we need to do something about this... Don't you?
Friday, March 27, 2009
"I'm Going Nowhere And I'm [Having] to Take My Time"
It's Friday night. I'm now roughly 24 hours from a major milestone: 1 month in Nashville. Instead of being out and about the town, I am here... again. Alone. Again.
"Time after time"
I'm realizing more and more these days how little patience I have. As I sit here clicking away at the keys, I'm aggravated and stressed after a failed attempt to watch Kings on Hulu. I'm about as close to the window as I can possibly be without actually being outside and am still playing tug-of-war with borrowed internet signals. After an hour or so of trying to watch 30-minutes of the 120-minute, 2-part premiere, I've given up. Surrendered. You, Borrowed Signal, have won. Again.
"I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me"
All day, I've been craving human contact. A hand to hold; a warm body to sit beside. But, as stated before, I am alone. Save for a few minutes down at the MOCHA office and at the Brentwood Harris Teeter, I have been alone to stew (ferment) all day.
"It's just the nearness of you..."
Loneliness heaves itself on me at the oddest moments and refuses to leave once it makes itself home. I've wanted to cry a lot tonight.
I never knew an introvert could ever hunger for social interaction. But, like many things about me, I've learned that I'm not quite like everyone else. I'm an anomaly in every way imaginable and it confuses me as much as it does all of you.
"Chase all the ghosts from your head... smarter than the tricks played on your heart"
My mind tells me that something is wrong with me. That I'm not fun/interesting enough to be around. That I'm not worth others' time or concern. And when I come across days like this, it's hard to believe otherwise.
"Wasn't trying to pull you in the wrong direction, I just wanted to make a connection..."
I want to discover and experience these people who have now entered into this part of my story, and in turn, I want to be discovered/experienced by them. Yes, it's unnerving and uncomfortable, but the beauty of being found is so worth it... at least to me.
"Yeah, you're working; building a mystery, and choosing so carefully..."
Days like this make me wonder if anyone wants to make that sort of effort anymore. If we're all satisfied with Tweets and comments on each others' walls. If the brief and superficial banter is enough. It's not for me - I'm left longing and hungry for more..
"In the still of the night..."
I want to take a walk in the cool night air to clear my head. To walk by shops and people simply to be physically near people. But, that would require me getting in my car and driving nearly half an hour to do so. The thought of having to do that is unbearably agitating.
So, I'll just sit here in the dark with my imagination... A scary thought I'm sure we've all come to realize.
"Your picture on my wall, it reminds me that it's not so bad..."
Lord, on days like this - days that seem so void of hope or comfort; days when I'm almost inconsolable - remind me of You. To know that the nearness of you is enough. To know that even when the sky is downcast like it is today, the sun still shines and fights to warm this heart and this face with its glow.
"Time after time"
I'm realizing more and more these days how little patience I have. As I sit here clicking away at the keys, I'm aggravated and stressed after a failed attempt to watch Kings on Hulu. I'm about as close to the window as I can possibly be without actually being outside and am still playing tug-of-war with borrowed internet signals. After an hour or so of trying to watch 30-minutes of the 120-minute, 2-part premiere, I've given up. Surrendered. You, Borrowed Signal, have won. Again.
"I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me"
All day, I've been craving human contact. A hand to hold; a warm body to sit beside. But, as stated before, I am alone. Save for a few minutes down at the MOCHA office and at the Brentwood Harris Teeter, I have been alone to stew (ferment) all day.
"It's just the nearness of you..."
Loneliness heaves itself on me at the oddest moments and refuses to leave once it makes itself home. I've wanted to cry a lot tonight.
I never knew an introvert could ever hunger for social interaction. But, like many things about me, I've learned that I'm not quite like everyone else. I'm an anomaly in every way imaginable and it confuses me as much as it does all of you.
"Chase all the ghosts from your head... smarter than the tricks played on your heart"
My mind tells me that something is wrong with me. That I'm not fun/interesting enough to be around. That I'm not worth others' time or concern. And when I come across days like this, it's hard to believe otherwise.
"Wasn't trying to pull you in the wrong direction, I just wanted to make a connection..."
I want to discover and experience these people who have now entered into this part of my story, and in turn, I want to be discovered/experienced by them. Yes, it's unnerving and uncomfortable, but the beauty of being found is so worth it... at least to me.
"Yeah, you're working; building a mystery, and choosing so carefully..."
Days like this make me wonder if anyone wants to make that sort of effort anymore. If we're all satisfied with Tweets and comments on each others' walls. If the brief and superficial banter is enough. It's not for me - I'm left longing and hungry for more..
"In the still of the night..."
I want to take a walk in the cool night air to clear my head. To walk by shops and people simply to be physically near people. But, that would require me getting in my car and driving nearly half an hour to do so. The thought of having to do that is unbearably agitating.
So, I'll just sit here in the dark with my imagination... A scary thought I'm sure we've all come to realize.
"Your picture on my wall, it reminds me that it's not so bad..."
Lord, on days like this - days that seem so void of hope or comfort; days when I'm almost inconsolable - remind me of You. To know that the nearness of you is enough. To know that even when the sky is downcast like it is today, the sun still shines and fights to warm this heart and this face with its glow.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
You Don't Always Get What You Ask For
I'm quickly learning that I need to erase any notion of what I thought to be life from my mind. I'm no longer in the city. Far from it actually. I am in the burbs!
Today was especially glorious. A cheery 70-degree day, full of sun and singing birds. It was quintessential Disney at its best.
In hopes of enjoying some part of the day (after spending the afternoon reformatting and sending out my resume) I put on my gym clothes and hiking sneaks and headed out to the trail my roommate recommended. As is the case with any outing I make now, I had to hop into Dino and drive to the neighboring development to go for my hike.
I was extremely excited.
All throughout the day I had envisioned walking along a gravel or dirt path with the scent of spring wafting all about me, happy birds singing their lovely songs above in trees that swayed with the breeze. Sadly, however, the trail was nothing more than a tiny winding sidewalk that wound all along the development's labyrinth.
I forced myself to walk along the "path" for about an hour (getting lost along the way) before I headed back to Dino and drove home unfufilled and desperate for nature.
Tomorrow, another gloriously beautiful and warm day, I, upon the recommendation of a friend, will head out to a honest-to-goodness nature trail. In the woods. Amidst trees. (I hope) Then it's off to Franklin to spend the night with some girls watching chick flicks.
Wish me luck.
Today was especially glorious. A cheery 70-degree day, full of sun and singing birds. It was quintessential Disney at its best.
In hopes of enjoying some part of the day (after spending the afternoon reformatting and sending out my resume) I put on my gym clothes and hiking sneaks and headed out to the trail my roommate recommended. As is the case with any outing I make now, I had to hop into Dino and drive to the neighboring development to go for my hike.
I was extremely excited.
All throughout the day I had envisioned walking along a gravel or dirt path with the scent of spring wafting all about me, happy birds singing their lovely songs above in trees that swayed with the breeze. Sadly, however, the trail was nothing more than a tiny winding sidewalk that wound all along the development's labyrinth.
I forced myself to walk along the "path" for about an hour (getting lost along the way) before I headed back to Dino and drove home unfufilled and desperate for nature.
Tomorrow, another gloriously beautiful and warm day, I, upon the recommendation of a friend, will head out to a honest-to-goodness nature trail. In the woods. Amidst trees. (I hope) Then it's off to Franklin to spend the night with some girls watching chick flicks.
Wish me luck.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Who Wants the Funk?
I don't, but it certainly has made itself quite at home here.
Last night I suffered a bout of homesickness. It hit hard in the most random of places: the Pei Wei in Green Hills.
After visiting another church, famished and unable to find anyone to join me for dinner, I went alone to Pei Wei. I ordered something my friend highly recommended and sat at a long table flanked by 2 couples enjoying dinner together.
My food came out and I was puzzled. The side of lo mein I'd ordered was nothing more than a bowl of dry, noodles. Perplexed I had it sent back and asked for the stir-fried version with veggies. The server returned with a bowl of the same dry noodles and steamed vegetables on top. Tired and hungry, I gave up and ate the odd concoction until my stomach would no longer allow me to.
The combination of visiting a strange church alone where not a single soul came over to say hello, eating alone again, not having spoken to anyone all day and now filling my mouth with weird "Asian" food, cracked the shell of confidence I'd successfully held up for 2 weeks.
I began to miss home. First, it was the yumminess of Chinatown. Then, the great restaurants in Philly. Then, Philly. And, finally, friends and family back home. Sitting in the middle of Pei Wei (by that time the only person left at that long, empty table), I was beginning to feel the aches of homesickness.
A heaviness of melancholy heaved itself on me. Tears began to well up and I did my best to push them down. I made it to the WholeFoods parking lot and into my car before the dam broke and the tears began to pour.
I cried all the way home.
It was the kind of cry you'd expect from a child who had gotten herself lost in the middle of an amusement park or a department store. It was a cry of silent desperation full of sighs and deep breaths that were never quite long enough to catch enough air. Pangs of loneliness and fear filled me. I felt lost and was in desperate need of consoling (and lots of long, warm hugs).
By God's good grace, a friend called me. The sound of a familiar voice was uplifting. And it made me realize how much I needed and missed the sound of loved ones' voices. To hear the warmth and weight of each word fall on my ears. The sound of laughter. The intonations and inflections of every syllable like heartbeats. [I need more of this. So much more of this.]
Today, the homesickness and loneliness linger. They sit beside me now as I type, whispering their sad songs in my ears. I am unmotivated to do anything productive. Rather I'd just like to sleep or eat tons of chocolate.
I'm really hoping this feeling goes as quickly as it came...
Last night I suffered a bout of homesickness. It hit hard in the most random of places: the Pei Wei in Green Hills.
After visiting another church, famished and unable to find anyone to join me for dinner, I went alone to Pei Wei. I ordered something my friend highly recommended and sat at a long table flanked by 2 couples enjoying dinner together.
My food came out and I was puzzled. The side of lo mein I'd ordered was nothing more than a bowl of dry, noodles. Perplexed I had it sent back and asked for the stir-fried version with veggies. The server returned with a bowl of the same dry noodles and steamed vegetables on top. Tired and hungry, I gave up and ate the odd concoction until my stomach would no longer allow me to.
The combination of visiting a strange church alone where not a single soul came over to say hello, eating alone again, not having spoken to anyone all day and now filling my mouth with weird "Asian" food, cracked the shell of confidence I'd successfully held up for 2 weeks.
I began to miss home. First, it was the yumminess of Chinatown. Then, the great restaurants in Philly. Then, Philly. And, finally, friends and family back home. Sitting in the middle of Pei Wei (by that time the only person left at that long, empty table), I was beginning to feel the aches of homesickness.
A heaviness of melancholy heaved itself on me. Tears began to well up and I did my best to push them down. I made it to the WholeFoods parking lot and into my car before the dam broke and the tears began to pour.
I cried all the way home.
It was the kind of cry you'd expect from a child who had gotten herself lost in the middle of an amusement park or a department store. It was a cry of silent desperation full of sighs and deep breaths that were never quite long enough to catch enough air. Pangs of loneliness and fear filled me. I felt lost and was in desperate need of consoling (and lots of long, warm hugs).
By God's good grace, a friend called me. The sound of a familiar voice was uplifting. And it made me realize how much I needed and missed the sound of loved ones' voices. To hear the warmth and weight of each word fall on my ears. The sound of laughter. The intonations and inflections of every syllable like heartbeats. [I need more of this. So much more of this.]
Today, the homesickness and loneliness linger. They sit beside me now as I type, whispering their sad songs in my ears. I am unmotivated to do anything productive. Rather I'd just like to sleep or eat tons of chocolate.
I'm really hoping this feeling goes as quickly as it came...
Saturday, March 07, 2009
City Mouse, Country Mouse
I write to you, my lovely (i.e. 2) readers, from the familiar comforts of Fido, one of my fave coffee shops in the area. The "area" being Nashville, TN. Yes, folks, I am finally here.
It's been about a week since I left Philadelphia in all her gloomy, cynical wonderfulness to move here. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, about this time last week, Dino and I were driving through Virginia. It took forever to drive across that God-forsaken state. I've now added VA to my hate list. (If any of you are from VA or know anyone in/from VA, please accept my apologies, but yeah... I pretty much hate it now.)
Learning to settle-in here has been an interesting season of transition. I never quite new how much of a city girl I was until I came here. Everyone seems to move a bit slower here. Life is set on cruise control for a better part of the population in Nashville. Yet, here I am, mind and body still wanting to race, to press down on the pedal just a tad more. As Ricky Bobby would say: "I [still] wanna go fast!"
I'm beginning to wonder if I actually know how to rest. I mean to really rest. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. It worries me sometimes.
Case in point: Upon the advice of friends, I have taken it easy this week. Done my best to acclimate to life here. But, now that I'm unemployed, I've realized how long a day can be. How many hours can go wasted. I'm a bit stir-crazy. And, sadly, it's only been 2 weeks since I gleefully left my job.
I don't think I know how to relax and enjoy this season of life quite yet. Every part of me wants to go out and do something. To be productive. To take the bull by the horns.
I wonder what drives this deep-seeded yearning. Why I want to take a pick axe and make headway before the land is surveyed, before I've had the chance to fully take in my surroundings.
In so many ways, I still feel out of my element.
This city gal is gonna need some time before she can get used to this "country" lifestyle.
It's been about a week since I left Philadelphia in all her gloomy, cynical wonderfulness to move here. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, about this time last week, Dino and I were driving through Virginia. It took forever to drive across that God-forsaken state. I've now added VA to my hate list. (If any of you are from VA or know anyone in/from VA, please accept my apologies, but yeah... I pretty much hate it now.)
Learning to settle-in here has been an interesting season of transition. I never quite new how much of a city girl I was until I came here. Everyone seems to move a bit slower here. Life is set on cruise control for a better part of the population in Nashville. Yet, here I am, mind and body still wanting to race, to press down on the pedal just a tad more. As Ricky Bobby would say: "I [still] wanna go fast!"
I'm beginning to wonder if I actually know how to rest. I mean to really rest. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. It worries me sometimes.
Case in point: Upon the advice of friends, I have taken it easy this week. Done my best to acclimate to life here. But, now that I'm unemployed, I've realized how long a day can be. How many hours can go wasted. I'm a bit stir-crazy. And, sadly, it's only been 2 weeks since I gleefully left my job.
I don't think I know how to relax and enjoy this season of life quite yet. Every part of me wants to go out and do something. To be productive. To take the bull by the horns.
I wonder what drives this deep-seeded yearning. Why I want to take a pick axe and make headway before the land is surveyed, before I've had the chance to fully take in my surroundings.
In so many ways, I still feel out of my element.
This city gal is gonna need some time before she can get used to this "country" lifestyle.
Monday, February 23, 2009
A Foray
The time has come. In a matter of days, I'll be shoving my things into temperamental yet faithful Dino and heading down to Nashville.
I can't believe it...
This weekend was the start of a long process of saying goodbye to everything (everyone) I've known to be "home."
Saturday found me misty-eyed as I drove through the familiar streets of downtown Philadelphia. I gave a respectful nod to old Billy Penn perched high atop City Hall, looking down over his dear children, we Philadelphians, who so often forget his presence until, like me, we go away. I laughed as once again I missed a turn and had to take a long detour to get back on track. (This seems the story of my life.)
Last night I spent an evening with my dear friends from my old church. A mishmash of people I've known for almost a decade. Most of these relationships have grown (evolved) over the years - from the days when I'd taught them in Sunday School or College to our present state as peers. Brothers and sisters. Friends. And as they came over to tell me how excited they were for me, how much they'd all miss me and expected me back for visits, as they each one-by-one gave me their final goodbye hug, I felt a tiny crack surface on my heart and tears burn the backs of my eyes.
In an hour I meet with a friend for lunch. Tonight I'll be surrounded by dear city friends, old and new. The rest of the week will be a whirlwind of packing, tying up loose ends, shopping for last minute things and a few more goodbye dinners strewn about.
I'm starting to realize how hard this is going to be/get.
I can't believe it...
This weekend was the start of a long process of saying goodbye to everything (everyone) I've known to be "home."
Saturday found me misty-eyed as I drove through the familiar streets of downtown Philadelphia. I gave a respectful nod to old Billy Penn perched high atop City Hall, looking down over his dear children, we Philadelphians, who so often forget his presence until, like me, we go away. I laughed as once again I missed a turn and had to take a long detour to get back on track. (This seems the story of my life.)
Last night I spent an evening with my dear friends from my old church. A mishmash of people I've known for almost a decade. Most of these relationships have grown (evolved) over the years - from the days when I'd taught them in Sunday School or College to our present state as peers. Brothers and sisters. Friends. And as they came over to tell me how excited they were for me, how much they'd all miss me and expected me back for visits, as they each one-by-one gave me their final goodbye hug, I felt a tiny crack surface on my heart and tears burn the backs of my eyes.
In an hour I meet with a friend for lunch. Tonight I'll be surrounded by dear city friends, old and new. The rest of the week will be a whirlwind of packing, tying up loose ends, shopping for last minute things and a few more goodbye dinners strewn about.
I'm starting to realize how hard this is going to be/get.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Danger! DANGER, Will Robinson!!!
I am now 3 weeks away from the big move. I'm excited. Really excited, but scared out my gourd lately. Being constantly reminded of "the state of the economy" helps little to quell the nervousness invading my senses.
This is a dangerous place I find myself in. Every part the control-freak, I'm floundering here. I can't see past the next step (if even that). Can't make my usual 4 or 5 contingency plans. I am completely and utterly out of my element. And God is in no way drawing the curtains back to give me a sneak peek into what's to come. Instead He's calling me to trust Him.
Trust in [Me]. Lean not on your own understanding or what you think is best or rational. Acknowledge Me... even HERE in your worrisome state. Watch as I move mountains for you, child. I'll clear the path before you. Just trust Me and walk where I lead.
I'm hoping against all hope for this burden of fear to lift come daybreak.
This is a dangerous place I find myself in. Every part the control-freak, I'm floundering here. I can't see past the next step (if even that). Can't make my usual 4 or 5 contingency plans. I am completely and utterly out of my element. And God is in no way drawing the curtains back to give me a sneak peek into what's to come. Instead He's calling me to trust Him.
Trust in [Me]. Lean not on your own understanding or what you think is best or rational. Acknowledge Me... even HERE in your worrisome state. Watch as I move mountains for you, child. I'll clear the path before you. Just trust Me and walk where I lead.
I'm hoping against all hope for this burden of fear to lift come daybreak.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
The End of One Thing... The Beginning of Another
In about a month and a half, I will be leaving Philadelphia... finally! In 6 weeks I will packing my things and heading down to Music City (aka Nashville).
It's been a long time coming - full of detours and pitfalls - but, it's happening. Really, truly happening! I am leaving this bubble, spreading my wings. And I'm crap-in-my-pants happy/excited/scared to death.
It's been a long time coming - full of detours and pitfalls - but, it's happening. Really, truly happening! I am leaving this bubble, spreading my wings. And I'm crap-in-my-pants happy/excited/scared to death.
Monday, January 05, 2009
17 Days or 2.5 Weeks, If You Prefer
In roughly 2.5 weeks (17 days to be exact) I'll be saying saiyonara to my twenties. I couldn't be more scared or thrilled about it.
These past 10 years have been a journey. Full of hills and valleys, and laden with detours. It's been exhausting and confusing trying to find me along this untraveled, uncharted path. I have hated it.
But, finally, FINALLY, I am coming into my own. Finding my stride. Breathing freer.
It's almost as if the little plastic flakes in my snow globe of a life are finally settling in. Falling into place and resting softly. And as they do, I think I'm able to see clearly... Now that the storms are passing... Now that the skies are parting and the sun is breaking through.
The next 2 months are going to be scarily heartwrenching: Saying good-bye to the old me, to this "life" I've "lived" for so long and to move on from here. To move on. To run away and run towards something else. Blindly. Without reason or certainty.
It's terrifying, but I can hardly wait!
These past 10 years have been a journey. Full of hills and valleys, and laden with detours. It's been exhausting and confusing trying to find me along this untraveled, uncharted path. I have hated it.
But, finally, FINALLY, I am coming into my own. Finding my stride. Breathing freer.
It's almost as if the little plastic flakes in my snow globe of a life are finally settling in. Falling into place and resting softly. And as they do, I think I'm able to see clearly... Now that the storms are passing... Now that the skies are parting and the sun is breaking through.
The next 2 months are going to be scarily heartwrenching: Saying good-bye to the old me, to this "life" I've "lived" for so long and to move on from here. To move on. To run away and run towards something else. Blindly. Without reason or certainty.
It's terrifying, but I can hardly wait!
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