The Jewish girl who dreamed of saints

An alternative title for my book probably would have been "The Jewish Girl Who Dreamed of Saints." I could have elaborated on that theme for 200 pages just as much as the theme of being a prodigal daughter. I tried to weave them together, but in some places I thought it might have been overkill. So I only mentioned my fascination with Saint Joan of Arc in particular once in the beginning, when I was a little kid and thought I was reincarnated as her (don't ask), and again when I was 21 and visited her memorial in Rouen, where she was executed.

I've never prayed to saints before, or wanted to be confirmed in the name of one (so no, I'm not becoming Catholic). But I've always been fascinated by them. Most likely because, unlike Jesus, they were fully human, fully flawed individuals who still stood up for their faith, many under pain of death. Thus, they seemed more real and approachable to me growing up than a man who was known to be without sin. So I always enjoyed reading about them...but for some reason, it was Joan who stuck out to me more than any other.

Maybe it's because she was still technically a kid when she died. Maybe it's out of morbid curiousity of how she died. I can't really say. But she is a reminder that God is more powerful than any hopeless circumstance. And in her case, being poor, illiterate, and female in 15th-century France was more of a stumbling block than my financial troubles, relationship struggles, and identity crises.

I actually give her much of the credit for inspiring me to remain a virgin until marriage. And when I was thoroughly convinced that I would never marry, I looked to her story even more for inspiration and solace. But in a world where celibacy is considered outdated, and religious fervor is practically equivalent with insanity, her story loses some of its resonance. At a time in my life when I am more than susceptible to temptations, and am once again re-considering my romantic future, it almost seems as if I've outgrown her. And that saddens me, because it feels like losing a part of myself. I even considered making Joan my middle name once, but decided against it because I just didn't like how it paired with Sarahbeth. I wanted to make her legacy part of my identity.

Maybe it's good that I am maturing and re-considering the plans I had before. The downside of admiring someone who died young is not having any way to know how she would have turned out if she had died of natural causes. There is no way of knowing how her life plans may have changed after the war was over. In the case of my own life, it is no surprise that my views on things have been modified with age. That is exactly what is supposed to happen.

Yet, I still pay homage to my childhood hero by watching the 1999 TV movie (my favorite film adaption so far) on this day, her feast day. Weird? Maybe. But my life story is not exactly conventional, as was hers.

Joy re-discovered

I am acutely aware of how drastic the life changes between this year and last have been. A year ago right now I was settling in Estes Park, Colorado, at the lowest point in my life. Who would have thought I'd accomplish the first item on my bucket list by now? Even better...

My first book signing! I was told that religious-themed books don't sell as well, but I figured it was worth a shot. I know at least three people will show up: my boyfriend and his parents :) Other than that...who knows. I've had this silly idea that the success of sharing my story with the world somehow depends on how "together" my life is. I've had many people, from the woman who does landscaping in our yard to my family dentist stop in where I work and tell me they have been praying for me for years, and they are proud of me.

I wish I felt as confident. I feel like the more I grow in my faith, the more aware I am of how messed up I was before. Sometimes it's hard to be dependent on Christ when everything is going so well. But it's during those times that I remember where I used to be...and I thank God I am still here.

Right now I'm just enjoying the time I have left in Ohio. While I wish the summer would hurry up and fly by so I can begin my new life in Colorado, I still need to cherish the time I have left here, where it all began.

Here we go, Summer 2012!

Botanical Gardens with my one and only

These old wings/been a long time, been a long time coming/These old wings/Just gotta be good for something

Burn these strings/So I can see what these old things/What these old wings can do...

 Yep, life is pretty good right now, I think.

On confronting ignorance with patience over anger

This week I experienced an episode of one of life's "teachable moments," giving me a taste of what the difficult days of my future career might look like -- the face-palm worthy parts that might make me wonder why I chose it in the first place.

I misplaced my car keys, and an acquaintance I'll call "Suzy" found them. She noticed that I carry a "rape whistle," which is more for my mother's comfort than my own. In reality, that would be the last thing I'd think to use if I was being attacked. I'd probably be too busy running and/or fighting for my life to bother fumbling through my purse for it.

Anyway, I jokingly said "Yes, that is my rape whistle," to which the teenage girl replied "I wouldn't fight back if that happened to me. I mean hello, it's free sex! And no one will think you're a slut for giving in because, you know, you could say you were raped."

I wasn't the only person to hear this. Another girl standing nearby immediately turned around, and she was just as shocked and dumbfounded as I was. "How could you think something like that, much less say it?!" she demanded.

Suzy simply shrugged and quipped "Well, if you're not getting any..."

I was torn between wanting to literally shake some sense into that girl, walking away and ignoring her completely, or -- God forbid -- taking the time to attempt educating her.

As a future chaplain in a crisis center -- if that's where God still wants me -- I can't shake sense into every ignorant client, obviously. This is not the first bout of ignorance I will face, and it will not be the last. My patience and tolerance levels will have to approve tremendously if I am to succeed in this field. Perhaps this episode is my first training session.

In a strange, back-handed sort of way, I actually envy Suzy for being able to afford that kind of ignorance. More likely than not, she hasn't experienced the trauma of a sexual assault. She's lucky she has not the foggiest clue what she's talking about. As offensive as her comment was, I sincerely hope that she never has to learn first-hand just how wrong her thought process is about this issue.

I consider it a small miracle that I was able to take a breath, compose myself, and say calmly in response "You know Suzy, you wouldn't think that way if it happened to you."

She didn't do much more than shrug me off with a "Whatever," but my point was clear. The other girl who overheard the exchange thanked me for attempting, however feebly, to set Suzy straight.

Episodes like these make me all the more cautious of the words I choose, and how I use them. It also makes me aware of the possible damage that can occur by speaking blithely of things I know nothing about. You never know who might be listening.

Remembrance is key

This summer is going to go by fast, so I need to do a quick re-cap of all the incredible, yet unlikely things that happened during my first year in the post-college "real world," which I expected to be stressful and boring. In the last nine months, I can count the following blessings I never thought possible:

1. Joshua
2. A renewed desire to give on-campus outreach a try, which I swore I'd never do (and had I not done that, I never would have bumped into Blessing #1 above...)
3. My book!
4. Finding a place to live for only $300 per month
5. Dad offering to pay my rent for my first year (!!!)
6. Scholarship for Denver
7. Good, steady job

I'm sure I could go on for a while. This list amazes me, because I am usually such a worrier about everything. Some of my worries are significant, like financial ones, and others are so trivial they aren't worth describing. Regarding the financial ones, I had every reason to be concerned. I've had 4 jobs in the last 9 months, and none but the last one have been able to give me full time hours. I didn't trust God AT ALL with my money situation, because money is tangible, and God is...well, not. I didn't understand how God could provide in that way. I really put his abilities in a box.

Looking at this short list of blessings, though, it's like he's saying to me "Why couldn't you trust me? Told you I'd come through." Makes me feel silly for doubting so much. If I can remember my fear during those months, and how those concerns were taken care of in spite of that, why should I worry about anything else left hanging?

While a significant part of me is sad that I will soon be leaving h2o, my first home church, I know that this is right. The last sermon of the semester was about remembrance, and how it affects our walk with God. Remembrance is huge for me because if I didn't remember all the crappy stuff I dealt with just one year ago, none of the current gifts I've received would mean as much.

And while I'm happy to know for sure that Denver is the school for me, it still stings a little that I never heard back from BU. That probably makes no sense, in light of the fact that I did spend several months praying for a sign to know which school was the right one...but still, I wrote the admissions people an email saying that it was extremely disappointing to have not been given the courtesy of a rejection letter. I was also tempted to include "And please do something about the epidemic of rape culture on your campus!" but that might have been too much, so I didn't.

It's easy to have joy when there's much to look forward to. Sometimes it's a fight to remember that joy and happiness are two different things, but for now, I am grateful to have both.