2012: Wholeness

Instead of New Year’s resolutions in 2012 that I knew (from experience) that I wouldn’t keep, I chose a word for the year.

Or, more accurately, God chose a word for me.

Wholeness.

It was a word that I didn’t hear often; in speech or in writing.  Perhaps that is why when I heard the word on January 1st, I was sure it was meant for me.  And I felt a little like Mary, pondering and treasuring my word and all that it meant for me.  It was a word with such promise and life.  Who wouldn’t want Wholeness?!

The largeness of the word was completely against my character.  I like specific, attainable goals.  Or, I set specific, attainable steps towards my goal.  But I wasn’t given a crystal clear word to chase after (likely on purpose).  Sure, wholeness has a lot of meaning you can go after, but the enormity of it kept me from chasing after it purely on my own accord.  It was too big to master alone.  It could go in so many directions and mean so many things.

And it’s true—Wholeness didn’t turn out exactly like I dreamily envisioned it would last January.

For most of the year it felt like misaligned bones being broken and re-set.  And healing.  Lots and lots of healing. 

I listened and watched for the word.  It popped up surprisingly more often than I thought.  Perhaps I was just more aware of it?  Or perhaps it was on purpose.  And even more surprising, it frequently got paired with other great words that soothed my ragged soul, like Holiness, and Rest, and Peace. 

Those were direction words.  Call-to-action words.  I love those.

So, one year later I sit here, up on a mountain I just scaled (or at least a good ways up), looking down on all the steps, the missteps, and the treacherous parts I went through to get here.  I asked for those painful experiences—counter culture, I know—because I knew that growth comes through “challenge” and not through “easy”.  And today, I’m different than I was last December—for this I am glad, grateful, and encouraged. 

My word allowed focus, where pointless New Year’s resolutions would only bring grief and guilt.  My word allowed growth; it moved me forward and challenged me.  It allowed for all these things because it wasn’t the journey I picked for myself.  It wasn’t the word that I would have chosen.  I didn’t choose it.  It was the journey I was meant to take this year, and I willingly submitted my ideas to the roll of the tide of God’s plan.  Always a wise choice.

So today is December 27^th.  And with such a successful word for 2012, I’m already anxious to have a zinger for 2013.  But it’s not mine to choose.  So I wait; expectantly and submissively.  The journey is so much better and richer when I’m not trying to play the tour guide for a trip I’ve never taken.

In the dark

It’s a good thing that God can do some of His best work in the dark, because that’s exactly where I am today.  I’m groping in the dark for the light switch.  Perhaps I should be content to just sit in the middle of the dark room to contemplate and trust.  But that’s not my natural reaction.  My natural reaction is for control.  I know I have to experience whatever is in the room, but honestly I would prefer to do it in the light, with my back against the wall, fully aware of what’s coming at me.  I don’t want to tackle it in the dark.

But I’m finding that it’s in the moments when we can’t find the light switch that we find God instead.  And instead of continuing to search the wall, I’m choosing instead to cling to Him.  He brought me here.  He will lead me through even though I cannot see.  Because He can.  He knows the way.  This I believe.  This I trust in.

I will continue to seek the Kingdom of God FIRST.  And while I know that I will face troubles along the way, I rest in the assurance of God’s favor, God’s presence, and God’s will.  Because earthly accolades are nothing in comparison to completing the task I have been chosen for; even if it’s uphill the whole way.

27 things I've learned by my 27th birthday.

Here is a random, and possibly useless selection of knowledge I've acquired in my life so far.

1. If you wear white, you will always spill something on yourself.  Or someone will spill on you.  It's some kind of law

2. The book is always better than the movie.

3. Spend as much time as you can doing what makes you feel most alive. It's totally possible that it will be uncomfortable in the beginning.

4. Epoxy glue works like magic.

5. You will probably fail at something.  It's how you react when that happens that matters.

6.  Don't have the equivalent of three shots of coffee the first time you drink coffee.  Especially not on a work night.  You will be up until 2am, and you'll just need more coffee in the morning to stay awake.  The vicious coffee addiction cycle starts right there.

7.  Staying awake (or trying to) for 48 straight hours is what I imagine Hell to be like.  I do not recommended it.

8.  Moderation is key-- in everything.  Except Jesus.

9.  Every once in a while you should do something completely unexpected.

10.  It's okay to admit that you're broken-- and healing.  No one is perfect, so why do we all pretend we are?

11.  Do/prepare/train for something that you think is too difficult.  It'll completely change your framework of "impossible".

12.  If you can't pronounce the ingredients in your food, you probably shouldn't eat it.

13.  Learn how to grieve well (however that looks like for you).  Losses are not limited to just death.  Losses look like lost opportunities, dreams, hopes, relationships, or just life changes.  It's healthy to take the time to grieve these things, even if that's not what society says.  It's also exhausting.

14.  You don't need cable TV.  Especially not with the internet.

15.  The gift of community is priceless.  Find one.  Invest in one.

16.  There is a huge difference between being "Introverted" and "Extroverted".  Learn which one you are, and then embrace it.  But also take the time to learn about both types and you'll be slower to make judgments.

17.  Family is precious.  Cherish every single minute.  You'll wish you did later.

18.  Research before you do something.  Learn from other people's mistakes. 

19.  Mentor and be mentored.  This is life changing.

20.  Laugh.  A lot.  Mostly at yourself.

21.  People hurt people.  But quality people do exist.

22.  Some things just plain don't make sense.  Sometimes you just have to accept that and let it go.

23. Learning how to tell a good story will always be useful.

24.  Don't lose hope.

25.  Do things well.  Complete jobs and obligations.  Your reputation will follow you, and your willingness to follow through and finish well is what will set you apart from the rest.

26.  If you own (or even rent) a home, know how things work before they break.  It makes fixing them easier and less "crisis" worthy.

27.  Busyness is (a lot of the time) an avoidance technique.  What are you (purposefully) too busy to deal with?

My Depth of Field

I haven't posted in a really long time.  A testament to the season of life I find myself in right now.

I'm still on my journey of "wholeness", which sometimes if I let it, can seem like a completely unattainable goal.  I don't think it's a surprise that Balance is the theme I keep coming back to-- it's a recurring theme, one I never really seem to master. 

Balance is really hard.  And I think the reason it's so hard rests in my mindset.

I'm a Destination person.  I thrive on goals, accomplishments, deadlines, and breakneck paces.  I tend to go full throttle and race to the end, see the completed project, enjoy the completion for exactly one second, and then fall straight to the floor in a state of sheer exhaustion.  The kind of exhaustion that requires more than twelve hours of sleep to recover from.  I'm a DO-er.  

And part of me (not so secretly) loves that fact.

I finish things. 

But a lot of times that also means that I miss 99.9% of the journey because I'm wholly focused on the finish line.  And I think that's where the root of my balance problem begins.

One of my favorite photography effects is Depth of Field.  A photograph with a clear focus, and blurry edges.  I love the artistry.  But perhaps I really just love the focus.  The control.  The ability to pick my subject and blur everything else.  I go to great lengths to craft pictures like this.  So it's no surprise that my life looks a lot the same.

I seek validation from completing projects.  Finishing things on time.  Being "responsible."  Isn't that the ideal after all?  And I've met people who marvel over my ability to finish things-- they ask me what my secrets are. 

I smile (inwardly), but how do you tell people that that (the validation of completion) is the motivation that propels me forward.  The ability to impress. 

And since that's the fuel that keeps me going, a "sprinting" pace of project completion is almost necessary.  Because validation is a tricky thing; it comes in spurts and then dries out.  And then you must run to the next thing-- certain you'll find more validation there.  So you continue the silly cycle until you can't move.  Or life doles out pain in other unexpected places.

And then you crumble.  Because the glue that kept everything together was the praise of others.  And you're too weary to even keep going. 

And if you're like me, that's where you land.  Thirsty and lost.  Battered and slightly broken.

Unable to balance.  Unable to shift your focus and correct the blur.  Unable to see any speed but "sprint."

You stare at the canyon in front of you.  Paralyzed by fear.   Because how to do you move forward when you know your motivation needs to change and your old habits won't get you there?

One tiny step at a time.  Or a giant leap.

One practical application.  One detail at a time.

That's the only place to start.

So today I'm working on embracing the journey.  The messy parts of the picture that I generally try to artistically blur out completely.  Because I'm learning that "wholeness" isn't about the finish line, it's more about the character-building journey along the way.

Introvert Meltdown

Over the past few months I've been on a journey to learn more about myself.  In the spirit of "wholeness" (my word for the year), I'm learning to embrace who I am and how I function, as opposed to constantly trying to fit myself into a preexisting "extrovert" mold.

There have been numerous "AHA!" moments and even more "ohh, so that's how extroverts see it...".

Of course, that doesn't mean that I have it all figured out.  In fact, quite the opposite-- today would be a good example of that.

As I sat through a long, dreaded meeting, I hit a new wall.  A conversation went round and round-- long-winded extroverts didn't realize that their chatter was pushing me over the edge-- but no decisions were being made, in fact, most of the talk was doing nothing.  Of course, as the only introvert in the room, how were they to know that I was approaching "no return"?  And at that moment I literally snapped.  Verbally actually.  Then, overwhelmed by everything, I started shaking.  I just escaped from the room before I was reduced to tears.  Sitting on the floor of the bathroom crying uncontrollably-- sucking in breath like I was dying.  It was a mess.  And actually a little bit scary.  There have been many times that I've wanted to leave the room during a meeting, but this was the first time I actually had to.

The saddest part of it was that I felt silly.  Like I had no reasonable explanation for the tears.  Like my reaction was completely off base from the circumstances.  At the time, I felt like I was overreacting.  But as I sit here now, I see the fallacy there.  Sure, if I'm going to grow then I need to learn how to better deal with meeting situations like today, but my reaction were a natural response to extreme overstimulation (for me, at least).  Maybe it sounds egotistical for me to say that in embracing my introvertedness, I'm accepting my feelings and responses as natural.  Don't get me wrong, growth is necessary too.  But I refuse to degrade myself and my response today as petty or silly.

The key is in noting what it was that set me off (to diminish these triggers) and to remove myself (momentarily) from a situation before it escalates to the "meltdown" point.

Baby steps though.

Off Balance

I don't post nearly as often as I should.  But then again, there are a lot of things I don't feel I do often enough.

And that's my problem.

Every couple of months I, figuratively, hit a wall.  It's like my wheels are spinning, but I've completely stopped moving.  Or sometimes it feels like I'm on a very off-kilter merry-go-round and I'm holding on for dear life-- watch out skinned knees!

Regardless, I hit this point where I know something is amiss.  My life's cadence has shifted-- and not in a good way.  My balance is off.  I crave almost nothing but pure, unadulterated time to myself.  To be alone.  Which, of course, isn't bad (especially since I'm an introvert and that's how I replenish my energy), but let's be honest, right now I'm craving alone time like I crave sleep.  In a desperate, "running on fumes" kind of way.

Which pretty much explains the off-balance feelings.  Despite the fact that I've made shifts to volunteer in my strengths, and efforts to connect with good friends, I'm overwhelmed.  Too many people taking up too many of my free nights, and too many of my free nights taken up by projects.  There is no good replenishing going on. 

Too much striving. 
Too much expectation. 
Too much guilt. 
Too much to be done.
Too much.
TOO MUCH.

I'm pretty confident that Wholeness and Balance go hand in hand.  So I suppose it's time to strategically figure out what balance means for me.

Lake Eagleson

In a matter of hours, large portions of my town were underwater.  At least partially, if not wholly.

Our region is in an actual "state of emergency", per the governor.

So it isn't completely surprising that it's past 1 a.m. and I'm sitting here, contemplating the the ironic nature of my day, while water is being pumped out of my cellar.

Asking God questions definitely gets you answers-- I just wasn't expecting mine quite so soon.

It seems like a silly thing to ask for, but I asked for challenges this year.  Challenges that cause me to grow and mature into a woman of God.  The sentiment is this, a comfortable life with few issues warrants few changes, but struggles test us and push us past our limits-- I want to live uncomfortably because that's where the biggest change exists.  But I'm quickly learning that it's really much easier to ask for challenges than it is to deal with challenges when they come. 

Tonight I came home from work to four feet of standing water in my cellar.  Enough water to swim in.  I've decided to call it "Lake Eagleson", for posterity.  I've had an inkling that my sump pump might be broken for a while now, but it never seemed a big enough priority to actually follow through with.

Because a picture is worth a thousand words... and the only thing you're missing with this picture is the other about 800 square feet of cellar behind those doors.

In my panic, I called my parents and texted a good friend nearby.  I asked them to come-- surely one of them would know what to do.  This eventually led to my friend finding a friend with an irrigation pump.  After hours of waiting and worrying, we got started.  It has been about four hours since then.

I was (and still am) truly amazed by the goodness of people who go out of their way to help others-- that they barely know.  That they will come back at 1 a.m. to check and see that the pump is working correctly.  And that are willing to help me get things settled in the morning once the water is all finally gone (and before the clouds open up again).

So I'm left sitting here dumbfounded at my ability to question God.  Do I believe he has a plan for Salem?  Of course.  Do I frequently question how much of an impact we can really have on this city?  All of the time.  Who am I to question this-- when people I barely know are working side by side with me through a crisis?

I guess you could say I asked for it-- not a flood (per se), but a tangible reminder of the power of kindness, hospitality, and grace.

Not exactly how I would have chosen to learn this lesson, but definitely impactful.

Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good flooding story?

New York for New Years - Watching the ball drop

In the spirit of checking things off my list (30 before 30), and seeing a very good friend of mine (who I've promised to visit for over a year now), I ventured off to New York to ring in the New Year in Times Square.  Seriously, who hasn't wanted to put that accomplishment in their hat?

No?  Okay, just me then.

The trip was amazing.  And a lot of walking.  I saw all the iconic sites: Empire State Building, Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square, etc. and ate lots of great NY food.  Plus, I spent a good chunk of my trip pretending I was a "real New Yorker", and I'll admit, I fooled a couple of people.  Apparently I have "in a hurry" and an exasperated "get out of my way" look down pat.

Here's the tree from Rockefeller Center.  Who doesn't love gigantic trees covered in sparkly lights?  (What's that you say?  Probably the people who had to put them all up?  Nah)

But the highlight, and one of the main tenets of the trip itself, was New Years Eve, which was lovingly spent with tens of thousands of my closest buds.  A seven-hour party right in the middle of the street.  My friend and I weren't on Broadway (where the stage was), we were on 7th Avenue (which crosses Broadway, making an "X" at Times Square).  Imagine a triangle, with point at the top (ball) and the two sides (Broadway & 7th) going out from there.  So no, I didn't see (or hear) Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber... and thank goodness for that.  We got down there around 4:30 pm, stuffed ourselves like sardines into metal police fencing (which corralled off the area people were allowed to wait in), had no idea what was going on, and then tried to entertain ourselves for seven hours.  We did crossword puzzles, listened to grossly inappropriate conversations happening around us, and even got mistaken for a mother/daughter duo (I'll let you guess who was confused for who).  Then I got hit on by a 16 year old.  Yep.  Happy New Year, New York.  You've been swell.

Wholeness

At the end of 2011 I read a blog post that challenged me.  A challenge that instead of creating resolutions (that I would likely only keep for a few weeks), that this year I choose a word.  Or more truthfully, allow God to show me the word that will encompass my journey for the next 365 days.

The idea immediately captured my heart, and I started scrambling to figure out what my word was. That's the "planner" in me.  Of course, nothing came to me when I wanted it to--isn't that always how it works?  But on New Years day, while I was sitting alone in a church service in Manhattan, I heard my word: Wholeness.

I let the word roll over my tongue and swirl around my head.  And then I metaphorically set that word on a shelf in my soul--to be looked at and tangibly present during struggles and triumphs this year.  And, strangely enough, I love the largeness of the word.  That I don't know all that it entails.  That I'm not entirely sure what the journey is going to look like.

This word is my journey for the next year.  My battle cry.  And I feel like it captures the desires of my heart well; to seek God more fully, to grow in grace and truth, to impart that truth to others, and to build lasting, solid friendships with those around me.

Here's to a year full of promises and lessons.  Joy and pain.  And growth and maturity.