I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I love seeing the shock on people's faces when their first impressions of me are proven wrong. I like playing this game with myself, getting to know a person and learning later on just how wrong I was in the beginning. I used to people-watch and make up stories in my head about what kind of jobs and lives they must have based on their actions/appearances (and possibly store that information in my filing-cabinet mind as inspiration for characters in my future novel).

First impression...

Alter ego!



(Future seminarian, anyone?)

Much of my life is a double-edged sword. I am a walking definition of irony, and I'm learning to love it.

Down and out is overrated

Each of these mini revelations probably deserve individual blog posts of their own, but if I don't blurb about them now, I'll forget, so here we go:

I have learned that the likelihood of finding a relationship has more to do with motives than what you look like or what kind of personality you have (face it, if the world's fattest man can get married at 1500 pounds, your appearance isn't keeping you from getting any dates, I'm positive). The more that people, and particularly women, view significant others as a means to complete themselves, the more they will whine and complain about being lonely and unfulfilled. If we looked at life partners as more like complements rather than consolation prizes or easy access to gratification, the better chance 80% of us would actually find one.

Not every difficult person is a terrible person by default. The person who got the evil eye from me at Starbucks from talking loudly on his cell phone probably thinks I go through every day of my life with a giant stick up my butt. And okay, sometimes I'm made aware that that's true. I've mentioned before that patience is not my strong suit. However, if I don't want to be judged as a bitchy person every time I lose my cool and slip up, I can't look at every difficult customer that comes into the Craft Shop as permanently awful people either.

This is the coping mechanism that has gotten me through many a difficult misunderstanding with someone who seems like they only want to cause trouble: maybe he/she just got laid off. Maybe he/she just found out his/her boss is having an affair with his/her secretary. Maybe the fact that we are out of purple glass beads was the last straw that made them snap. Sometimes you never know. And the more I pray to have patience, the more opportunities I get to practice patience. Go figure.

You have to face pain if you want your life to count for something. Quite honestly, I am astounded by people who have no problem trusting God despite knowing innocent people were brutally killed in a shooting in Norway, tornadoes destroyed homes in Joplin, and innocent people get hit by drunk drivers, but the moment something bad happens to them personally, all faith and goodness in God or humanity goes out the window.

Why are people shocked by suffering? Sh!t happens. That's just how it is. And yet so many people go through life as if they're somehow immune to it. These are character-building events. And why do some people try to comfort themselves and others by saying there is no rhyme or reason for it? How is anyone comforted and able to learn anything by asserting the ultimate meaninglessness of whatever the bad experience was? "There was no reason behind this tragic accident, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sucks to be you." Most people wouldn't respond so bluntly, but that is the reality behind what they are saying. No wonder so many people give up on God, it just takes too much effort to look beyond tragic circumstances and find what can be learned and even gained from suffering.

You don't become refined and thick-skinned by having everything handed to you. And some crap things that happen lead to awesome things that could never have happened otherwise. I've met two women here that I bonded with by sharing our stories of a mutual tragedy. They are encouraging me in ways not many people have been able to. Which leads me to this point...

Healing doesn't happen immediately because it isn't supposed to. Those aforementioned women have reached a place where they have found true joy again. But it's been several years since their initial struggle started. It's barely been a year for me. As much as I prefer otherwise, I know I won't return to Ohio a completely healed person. But I've made some baby steps toward progress, and that's a huge accomplishment.

Conquering the world one mountain at a time

(Pretending I'm back at Stonehenge)

Man makes plans, but the Lord determines his steps.

Proverbs 16:9

What makes a leader?

With only 3 weeks left in Colorado, now I'm starting to freak out about whether I made the most of my time here. I'm pretty sure I did, since I made a quasi-official decision to apply to Denver Seminary when I never thought I'd want to end up this far west (though I need to do the "responsible" thing by checking out a few more schools before I make my official decision. Anything is possible). The chaplaincy program is four years long, which will give me more than enough time (hopefully) to discern if this is actually what I want to do. Or, better yet, what I'm actually called to do. Then again, I can make a ministry out of anything. Even bagging groceries can be a ministry of some sort, somehow.

Can't say I never had any suspicions before, but I have learned that one of my spiritual gifts is definitely NOT patience (though I am convicted of it). In many instances I've learned more about what I'm not or don't have than what I am, and do have. Sometimes I feel like I'm not cut out for spiritual leadership because the thought of being responsible for helping to shape other people's souls terrifies me. It terrifies me because I feel my own crap makes me unqualified.

But according to last Thursday's talk, the best way to be a successful leader is to not brag about your awesome leadership skills; instead, own up to your own weaknesses and shortcomings, because leaders have to be real people living in the real world, not on some towering pedestal, in order to be taken seriously and effectively lead people to Christ. And if I keep on waiting for my life to get cleaned up before I can effectively lead people, I'll never do anything productive. Maybe one crap issue will be resolved, but several years from now, another one might come up and then I'll be back where I started. But even if I can't speak with any kind of authority on some issues, I know something about others that could be, who knows, actually helpful to somebody.

I explained this to my friend Justin at lunch today, and he said "So if the thought of being a spiritual leader scares you, why are you considering chaplaincy?" My response: "Well I'm not a chaplain yet." :)

The staff Talent Show was last week. I got to dance for the first time in 5 years. I tried to load a video, but the internet is being stubborn so pics will have to do for now. Check out the video on Facebook instead (if you feel so inclined...).

The jacket came off when the music picked up ("Alive Again" by Matt Maher, one of my favorite worship songs). It was kinda epic.

Intense concentration!



For the record, pretzels are more valuable to me than flowers. :)

Choosing Joy when life is sucky: the story behind my new tattoo! (Kinda)

Today was one of the better days I've had in Colorado. The last few LT talks have been a little hard to handle: first the "night of confession," then a discussion on being refined and strengthened through trials. Naturally, all this has gotten me thinking more about my own trials and how many of them were unexpected this summer.

But during the "night of confession," I made friends with a girl I probably never would have gotten to meet had we not gone up on stage and confessed our feelings about an ugly, awful thing that happened to us that we have in common. I got to meet with her today, and then finally caught a shuttle into town to one of my favorite coffee shops in Estes Park, where another friend happened to be. I finally got some of the alone time I've been craving for weeks -- not to mention great coffee. And coffee makes everything better :-D

My life group has been dubbed the "hardcore" life group because of our impromptu decision to drive to Boulder last week and get tattoos (not matching tattoos, though. We're not cult-ish). While the decision to get them together was a little impulsive, my decision about what I wanted was not. I came up with the idea about a month or so ago, and it was oddly inspired by one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made. LT has challenged me to think of how God can make the worst of our choices and experiences work for our benefit...and while it sucks to suffer from the consequences of bad choices, God made sure I met up with some truly amazing people to demonstrate what grace looks like.

I have been learning that happiness is not my goal in life, but joy is. And the difference between the two is that happiness is fleeting and dependent on feelings, whereas joy is a deep-seated state of being that has nothing to do with circumstances. Joy is an actual choice, one I will be reminded to make every time I see this:

...and I'll be reminded of the suffering I endured to get it. And if I can endure that, pffft, I can handle anything!

(This was when the tattoo guy called me a drama queen. You'd think he'd never seen a girl afraid of needles before!)

And the actual tattooing process itself...I think I'm done after this one. I know I said that after the first tattoo, because as my mom said when I told her, "You don't need a tattoo for EVERY major revelation in your life, you know." And as Sam put it so eloquently: "I love tattoos, but getting them makes me feel like a masochist." Now I understand what she means!

Keeping calm, carrying on

A typical work day usually starts out like this:

Alarm goes off at 7. Cathy and Maegan are already gone or on their way out. I'm always the last person to bed, last person to get up. Hit snooze button at least 5 times. Get dressed, get ready, head out. I never have time for breakfast. I clock in, sit down in my little section of the craft shop and wait for customers. And since I'm not "from around here," they ask me lots of questions. I swear if I had a quarter for every time I've heard "How long are you here for?" "What school do you go to?" "Oh, you graduated? What are you doing with yourself now?" I could retire by the end of this summer.

It's that last question that I don't know how to answer. Am I supposed to already have my post-college life planned from the moment I receive my diploma? Why do people act so shocked when I say I have no idea what I'm doing? The job market sucks, and I had a major revelation mid-sophomore year that drastically altered the career plans I already had. So no, I don't know what I'm doing with myself once this summer is over. Stop reminding me (okay, that was a little bitter. I'm really much nicer than that, I promise!).

I've been told to find a "niche" in ministry based on personal experience, and go with that. Problem is, I have too many experiences to choose from. So far the most definite career plan is chaplaincy while writing books on the side, but I know better than to say that that is a sure plan.

My ministry doesn't really have a name. My ministry is, or could be, working with people whose loved ones have been affected by cancer. My ministry is working with women who feel trapped in abusive relationships, whose dignity has been stripped from them. My ministry is reaching out to "spiritual orphans" who left the traditions they were raised with, believing God is calling them elsewhere, but feel like they can't ever belong anywhere.

My ministry is all over the place.

I might be making this decision process a lot more confusing than it has to be. I'm checking out a potential grad school in Denver with my parents in a little over a week, and maybe that will help clear things up from me. I never thought I'd feel comfortable this far from home, but now that the summer is already half over, I need to get away again.

Why can't every day be filled with views like this?

(Not gonna lie, I was definitely singing 'Colors of the Wind' in my head when this was taken)

Exposing the ugly to find the cure

These are some of the most common complaints I've heard from people who gave up on church: it's too preachy. The pastors and congregants are arrogant. The sermons reek of stereotypes about men and women and are completely out of touch with reality. The pastors encourage people to put on happy faces even when they don't feel like it, because God forbid a Christian is seen as anything less than joyful.

I haven't been to enough churches long enough to say whether most are actually like this or not. But I feel so extremely blessed that the first home church I've found has completely shattered every single one of the above stereotypes.

Growing up non-Christian, my view of what Christian faith looks like in a modern world was skewed. I thought the Holy Spirit was some kind of magic antidote for life's tough issues, that you accept Christ as your savior and suddenly your job is easier to handle, you're happy all the time, and your acne clears up (okay, not really). But based on many conversations I've had with non-Christian friends who grew up Christian, the church has been bashed as a place where you have to put on a front and be fake, because sin is shame and shame makes outcasts of people who may be in desperate need of fellowship.

Last night's LT meeting was -- I hope -- the turning point in my quest for healing this summer. When the speaker said he was turning over the microphone to the crowd for anyone to come up and boldly confess their most personal, shameful sins, the first thought that popped into my head was "Hell no!" The point of this wasn't to perpetuate gossip and expose all our dirty little secrets; the point was to completely shatter the walls of pride that keep us from admitting that we are flawed, broken people in desperate need of grace. Pride is that pesky emotion that prevents needy people from seeking help, which results in way more destruction than simply willing your issues away. That never happens, ever. Our own strength is just not enough.

I saw and heard things I will never forget last night. There were women I assumed had it all together -- the personality, the smarts, the seemingly perfect boyfriend, the good looks -- confess to struggling with eating disorders, shame for past sexual experiences, and self-hatred. There were men who confessed to struggling with lust, porn addiction, and feelings for other men in their Bible studies. I saw grown men break down and heave in desperate, gut-wrenching sobs. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've seen grown men cry and let me tell you, when that happens, that is serious business. You never make fun of a man who cries.

Lust was probably the biggest issue confessed for both men and women, which blew me away because the issue of women struggling with it is so rarely mentioned in the church. There are Christian books on dating and setting boundaries I've read that I've wanted to throw across the room because they fail to address the absolute fact that women can struggle with lust and pornography just as much as men do. The transparency and courage of these people was one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed.

It wasn't long before I felt myself being pushed toward the stage to confess my own sin. I think part of that was because I'm tired of being that awkward, moody girl who always has something going on, but never talks about it, so therefore no one can help her. I wanted to get everything off my chest because this group of people, this church, is my family.

I may not know half the names of the people in it, but I am them, and they are me. We are all in this bitter struggle together, and I finally felt the conviction to come clean about some of the things that have been weighing down my heart this summer: having impatience for customers at work. Being jealous of other people's successes. Harboring hatred for someone who hurt me in ways that no one should ever know.

It all just came out, and afterward I cried so hard my whole body shook, and I sat in a "prayer huddle" for more than three hours afterward, with a dozen other broken but beautiful women who loved me and showed me grace. It hurt like hell, but it was honestly one of the most beautiful moments of my life that I will always remember, because this is exactly how God works: breaking us down to build us up.

This is a quote from one of my favorite biographies on Joan of Arc that sums up the meaning of last night extremely well:

An experience of God's nearness does not mean an avoidance of pain -- it provides a path through which suffering may be endured. Is it more comforting to assert the ultimate meaninglessness of life? Does denial of meaning, even though we cannot know it, bring peace and diminish agony?

No matter how deep our suffering, God is deeper still.

God did not say, "You will never be tempted, you will not suffer," but He does say "You shall not be overcome." ~Donald Spoto, Joan