Week 1 - Advent

Hope?

Do I choose to engage
in hope,
Or do I detach
and avoid?

I fear the pain and devastation
of hope unmet.

Can I enter into longing?
Can I trust that it will be for an end?

Lord, help my unbelief.

Awake - and risk.
Awake - and trust.
Awake - and open.
Awake - and be.

Church Writings

Last week in church I was struck by one of the passages during our readings. I began to write and by the end of the service, had a little poem. This week, I was taken with the idea of Hope as we enter into the season of Advent. So, hopefully this will begin a series of Church/Advent writings.

Here's the first one (beginning with the passage that inspired the poem):

15 For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all God’s people, 16 I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. 17 I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit[a] of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. 18 I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, 19 and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength 20 he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, 21 far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. 22 And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, 23 which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.

-Ephesians 1:15-23

Lord,
Only You can
fill this cavernous
heart of mine.

And yet,
My heart searches
for everything, anything
but the the thing, the who
I truly need.

I cannot quite
internalize the
reality that structures
my life, my existence.

And yet,
This is The Word,
The Truth, The Life;
Thanks be to God.

Meet Harrington

Last weekend my roommates and I were out of town. Upon arriving home, it was discovered that we had a new roomie – a morning dove that had nested on our porch light. I was still making my way back home when I saw the picture L posted on my Facebook. I took one look and immediately christened her Harrington (although it is traditionally a boy’s name). I felt a connection, even before I saw her in person (birdhood?). I loved that this bird felt safe enough to perch on our light. That of all the lights, by all the condos, she chose ours. The next day, as I was recovering from my family reunion and jet lag madness, I thought some more about Harrington. As I passed by her on the way to the laundry room I felt a desire to help her, protect her. As I considered that, I realized that there was nothing I could actually do to encourage that. My greatest gift to Harrington was to allow her space to live and nest and care for her babies when they come. Anything else would interrupt her birdy ways and interfere with her natural instincts. In fact, most anything I could do, runs the risk of harming her.

It reminded me of the ministry of spiritual direction. When I meet with a directee, I am not there to direct his or her life. Neither am I there to fix their problems. Instead, I am there to offer a space. A space to step back. A space to enter in deeper to this life with God. It is a beautiful thing to witness, but I am still tempted to intervene and problem solve. This experience with Harrington has been a gentle reminder as I begin to meet with directees again. I am invited to participate, but I am not called to be God. What a relief!

I do not know how long Harrington will choose to nest here. It may be days, weeks or months. I am grateful that she is here though and how just by being herself, the Lord is teaching and reminding me of how He loves.

Final thought: by having Harrington here, we have literally “put a bird on it”. How hipster of us.

On the Road Again

I both hate and love traveling. I love the excitement of exploring a new place - even an airport. Especially when said airport has yummy french cafes and birds that fly around inside (Terminal 5 at JFK). But trying to sleep on a plane? The worst. I've tried it all, but nothing works. Yet, a day of zombie-like behavior is worth it for an adventure. 

Today's adventure takes me to Syracuse, NY for my Aunt and Uncle's wedding renewal. (On a side note, it was impossible to find a card for that situation. At least it was impossible at Target. How can you give a card saying "Here's to beginning your life together" when they've been married for 30 years?)  The last time I was in Syracuse was 15 years ago - half of my life ago. I was an awkward 15 year old who had just lost all her friends.  This time I come from such a different place. Still a bit awkward, but enjoying it. And more secure with the relationships in my life. Earlier this week I began to feel nervous about the trip, fearing that I would feel left out. It's just now, as I slowly type away on my phone, that I remember the fragile state I was in 15 years ago. And I also remember that I am not there today. I return to New York, holding that 15 year old girl as well as the 30 year old woman, moving forward and allowing this weekend to be what it is. 

Writing a Successful Blog

I met with a friend for lunch yesterday. It was a time to catch up, but also to talk about blogging. I have been more intentional about blogging this past month (mostly because I have had the time in which to do so) and she wanted to pick my brain for any suggestions as she started her own blog. I didn’t have much advice to give. Well, at least not advice that I actually had used in writing my blog. I told her she should have a catchy title, which also captures the essence of what her blog is about. “Jen’s Musings on Life and More”? Well, you know what it’s about (in a very vague way), but it’s not catchy and borders on feeling like a cliché. Although, I do think my other blog follows that advice (Husband Hunters). So, I’m one for two. I told her to set a schedule for regular blogging. Uh…excepting this past month, my posts are few and far between. On both sites. Finally, I recommended she set certain days as theme days (i.e. Wednesdays are funny posts). As that idea came to me I thought to myself “I should try that out”. However, knowing myself, that most likely will not come to fruition.

I have two friends who have started a blog. They have a great concept and have set up a regular rhythm for posting. They’re already being interviewed by other blogs and its one of the pages I follow most regularly right now. I kind of want my site to be that. I keep thinking of “Julie and Julia”, where in the end she gets a book deal. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s this hope that someone will read my blog and that will be the avenue to fame and fortune.

Blogging is a strange thing. There are parts of me that just want this to be a place to write honest words and encourage others into their own honesty. I want it to be a place for friends and family to keep up on my life. Yet, there is this quality about blogging, the fact that anyone could access these words, that hits neurotic places within me. See me, see me, see me! I want my writing here to be an aid to my growth as a creative person, not an aid to fill places of my heart that feel lacking. But some days, I just want to let it fill the places that only God can fill. At the end of the day, it’s a hard line to balance and I continually step onto both sides.

Sings My Heart

Sometimes I find a song that just sings my heart. Somehow it perfectly captures my feelings and expresses them in ways in which I am unable to. It is difficult to explain how or why these moments occur. I only know that I feel understood, expressed, known. The weird thing is, so often these songs are instrumental. But the music itself conveys emotions that I cannot verbalize. These emotions are larger than words. Words can be limiting. They are just not enough.

My heart resonates with the piano. Something about its tone just matches me. It is the perfect shade, with a warm, autumnal sound. Its possibilities are great. It can explode, forte forte, or diminish to pianissimo, barely a whisper. There’s so much range in the piano. It can lull me to asleep, but can also bring tears to my eyes by its somber melodies.

This is what sung my heart Sunday night when I wrote this.

Darn My Stubborn Pride

Disclaimer: I make strong statements about things I dislike. Please don't take offense if something you like is mentioned.

My roommate recently turned me onto the show “Gilmore Girls”. I’m not quite sure how I let her do it, as I had no interest in the show. In my mind, it was some show that you watched if you were a lame, girly girl (even though my roommate was in no way like that). I have no clue how this idea formed in my brain. Such a stupid, unfounded idea. And when I mentioned this to a couple of friends, my realization of the greatness that is “Gilmore Girls”, they just laughed. Apparently, I have done this before. Many times. I make a stance on something (typically a strong stance – I hate it) and occasionally I realize that said thing is actually worthwhile. It was for this same reason that I avoided Paris, France for years. I went a couple of months ago and was enchanted by that lovely city. I kept thinking “why didn’t I come here earlier”. Especially since I had lived in England for almost a year and Paris is ridiculously close to the UK.

Yes, I am stubborn. Extremely so. At times, I glory in my stubbornness. I take pride in it, thinking it makes me stand out as an individual with impeccable taste. While it can save me from some terrible things (like The Twilight series), it can also result in my missing out on other spectacular things (like the band Mumford and Sons). So, I’m still learning and growing in this area in my life. But there are some things I will never like. See below.

Things I’m still holding out on (some of these I have seen or experienced, but am adamant about not liking them):

-The Notebook
-Valentine’s Day (the “holiday”, not the film)
-Mushrooms and olives
-Hawaii as a honeymoon location
-Films involving Jerry Bruckheimer or Michael Bay
-Madonna
-Two and a Half Men
-The Kiera Knightly version of “Pride and Prejudice”

Milk Was a Bad Choice...

Yesterday I was doing some work for one of my jobs before heading to the gym. I go to a turbo kick boxing class every Tuesday night (the highlight of my day). Now, by my admitting this, you may have some fear over my fierceness. “You want to go to McDonalds for dinner?” Round house kick to the face! But rest assured, this class mostly consists of dancing with decorative punches and kicks.

Anyways, I was hungry on my way to class, so I stopped at an AMPM to pick up a snack. In an ideal world, I would have purchased a hearty protein bar, right? Wrong. The protein bars at AMPM are crazy expensive (over $3 a bar)! I just couldn’t bring myself to spend that much. Instead, I bought a Twix PB, figuring that the peanut butter would provide some good protein. The whole class I felt gross. And the whole time I knew it was that darn Twix. I kept thinking “never again”.

Later that night my ordeal with the Twix bar got me to thinking about how my eating habits have changed. Back in the day, my favorite snack was a ridiculously large Dr. Pepper and a bag of peanut butter M&M’s. I always thought my friends who ordered water at restaurants were kind of wimpy. I think what really shifted how I eat was my year in England. The first thing to go was soda. I was a self-avowed Dr. Pepper addict (I even made a short film about it for a class), but soon upon arriving in the UK realized that it was very expensive. Basically, my food budget was such that it was a choice to eat food consistently, or have soda. Food won. Eventually, it got to the point that I didn’t like the taste of soda. Even to this day, my stomach revolts if I ingest any. Literally. It starts yelling to me, almost in the stylings of Samuel L. Jackson. “Woman, why the #%&* are you putting this crap into me?”

OK, so why am I telling you all this? Am I trying to wow you all with my healthy eating and will-power? No. I still eat lots of unhealthy food (maybe not quite so much processed food) and as evidenced by the story above, my quitting soda didn’t require any will-power, just circumstances. I’m writing this, because I am amazed at how much I can change. Things that are so important one year can shift and become non-existent in my life. One day I can paper my wall with ads, pictures, etc. from the film “Titanic”, learn the song on piano, record ridiculous answering machine messages with “Titanic” trivia, dress up as the main character when she is icey and in the water for Halloween, and the next day laugh at how wooden the writing is in that film. (Note: the above example is purely hypothetical. I mean, who would do that? Who would watch the movie 7 times in the theater? ) My friends and I were talking the other night and we ended up briefly discussing how much we change and because of that our interactions with others are always changing. Even though life can seem stagnant, there is always some sort of movement going on. And I find hope in that.

Fear and Loathing in Vocational Wanderings

About a year and a half ago I took a course on vocation. It was a deeply meaningful class to me. One of our assignments was to spend time in prayer with the Lord on various aspects of our vocation. This morning I read through those prayer projects. I think I was able to see themes that weren’t visible to me at the time. I read project after project in which I wrote on my fear in looking at my calling, but also noticed my consistent experience of God’s love through each time. I also came to one project that had me list out my wishes for life. I was amazed to find how similar (even identical) they are to my wishes now. I always talk about how changeful I am, but seeing this list woke me up to the settled parts of my heart. They are there. Coming across this reality felt so reassuring.

I have quite a bit of free time this month and I am taking this space to consider next steps in my life. Part of that has been to research career paths. These are fearful places for me (notice that theme of fear I mentioned in the previous paragraph). I feel as though I have so many possibilities to consider. If I do this, then how does it conflict with this other area of my life? Are they both possible? How much do I wait? How much do I take advantage of the freedom I currently have? And of course the big question, Where is God directing me in the midst of my questions? I tread carefully. Sometimes. I am longing for the moment when it all becomes clear. When I have that realization that this is the direction in which I am to head. This is it! I have had moments before when that has been reality. I am not sure if this experience will follow the same protocol. Do I wait for that a-ha moment, or do I move step by step, guided by God’s whispers? As I type this, I suspect it may be the latter. And maybe this morning has been one of those whispers, a reassurance that the Lord has settled these desires in my heart (for the present time). I still have no idea what it will all look like practically, but I feel some peace, as if His hand is on my back, guiding me.

Check Out My Blog Post!

Hey Friends,

So, back in December I began working as an administrative assistant for the Career Development department at Biola University. Our whole department is taking turns writing blogs for our website and today my post went up.

Check it out!

Infinite

I have a friend, who was recently telling me how God is calling him to learn to receive love and care from God and others. I was excited to hear this for a few reasons. First, he is such a caring person, always giving to others, and I think it wonderful for him to get to spend some time receiving. Second, it reminds me of a season in my life, where God took me on a similar journey. From a very young age I have gloried in my independence. There was even a time in college when I used to secretly think of myself as Wonder Woman. There was nothing I could not do. But years later, through a traumatic experience, I was brought to the stark reality that I am not infinite. Even as I type that now, it is a good reminder. I am not infinite. In the midst of this season of receiving, I went on a mission's trip to Brazil. I was worried prior to leaving. I talked to my therapist about how I feared that I would over work myself, that I would over do it. For me, a mission’s trip was a time to work your butt off to the point of physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. Yet, I knew that the Lord was not calling me to this way of life, to this way of ministry.

So, I left for Brazil, scared about what my experience would be. A couple of days in, I caught a cold. It crept up on me throughout the day and by the evening I was feeling awful. But I didn’t tell anyone on my team. We had an outdoor worship service in the park, in which I was leading worship. Then we sat and listened to a teaching. I continued to feel worse and eventually a few of my team members began to notice. Everyone gathered together and helped me out. One of our team members even allowed me to spit my gum out in his hand so that I could take some medicine. It was frightening to allow others into my messiness. I felt loved by my team members, but also embarrassed. Wonder Woman was nowhere to be found. We traveled that night to a new city and the next morning I still felt ill. As challenging as it was for me, I made the decision to stay in bed, instead of participating in ministry that day. It was so humbling to be on a mission’s trip and not be doing a thing. And yet, I really had no choice. Being stuck in this place, I had to rely on my team members and I realized what a wonderful gift it is to receive.

I began to feel better over the next couple of days, but on the last day of the trip I again got sick. On our second flight I took some night time cold medicine, in hopes that it would knock me out for the rest of the flight. I took the medicine on an empty stomach, which I overlooked since I didn’t feel hungry. I began to feel nauscious and went to use the rest rooms. While waiting for a stall to open up I lost consciousness for a moment. Immediately, the flight staff was around me, asking if I was alright. This part is a foggy for me, but a Brazilian doctor and a medical student from the States both came to the back of the plane to examine me. One of them identified it as a reaction to the meds as a result of my taking it on an empty stomach and the altitude. Within a few minutes, some of the women from my team came back. Although our mission's team consisted of over thirty people, no one realized it was me who was requiring medical attention until a team member went to use the restroom and saw me lying on the floor. I was in capable hands and felt so provided for between two doctors. I had a few moments to myself before going back to my seat and found myself overwhelmed with gratitude. Even though I had passed out and was lying on the floor of the plane, I felt so cared for by God. It's almost hard to describe, but the experience of being taken care of in the midst of a seemingly scary situation was life changing. I think at that moment the reality of my finitude became so real to me. It had been growing and developing in me for the past couple of years, but this is the moment when I saw it and accepted it with open arms. I made peace with my finitude.

I am not in perfect peace with my finitude. It is an ever changing state, but slowly, its roots dig in deeper in my heart. My finitude is not the dirty word it used to be. My finitude is no longer ignored. My finitude has become a means of grace, a means of love. And that is one hundred times better than being Wonder Woman.