Steve, Ellen, and I went to the beach yesterday. It was incredibly gorgeous-- the perfect beach day, really. Sunny skies, low humidity, clean and beautiful beach complete with sand dunes. I couldn't ask for much more! I fell asleep on the beach listening to the waves crashing in the sand. I could have slept there for hours! It's a good thing I didn't though; I'm a lovely shade of pink as it is....
Summer is one of my favorite seasons. I love going to the beach. I love the sun. I love that it stays light later. I love picnics and grilling out. I love throwing a frisbee in the park or on the beach. I love flip-flops. I love that everyone seems more relaxed during the summer.
But fall is my most favorite season. I love the slightly brisker air in the evenings. I love the changing of the leaves. I love wearing a sweatshirt. I love bonfires. I love carving pumpkins. I love Halloween (I know, I know-- I just do!). I love picking apples and then having an apple pie baking party. I love Thanksgiving and playing football Thanksgiving morning. I love going out of my way to crunch through the leaves on the sidewalk. I love raking leaves and then jumping in the pile.
Winter's pretty good too. I love hot chocolate and snuggling under blankets. I love Christmas-- I love shopping for presents, walking around the city looking at Christmas decorations, cutting down and decorating a Christmas tree, singing Christmas carols and listening to Christmas music, Christmas parties, being with family, watching A Muppet Christmas Carol.... this list goes on. I love snow. I love mittens. I love sweaters. I love building snowmen.
And then just when you're getting tired of winter, spring comes! And spring is amazing too. I love freshly blooming flowers. I love how it starts to stay light later again. I love that first day when you don't have to wear your winter coat. I love seeing the buds on the trees. I love the smell of spring.
There's no way around it-- I love the seasons. All four of them. I really do just get excited at the turn of each one. I think fall will always be my favorite, but even as I type that, I think ooh, but I sure do love summer.... oh, and winter... oh, and spring is pretty great too. I'm thankful that as long as the earth remains, springtime and harvest, summer and winter shall not cease.
After the beach I went to one of my best friend's 30th birthday parties over in the Northern Kingdom of the Promised Land (aka North Jersey). I sat there on a blanket in her backyard surrounded by friends from my childhood-- many of whom I have known my whole life. I felt so relaxed, so comfortable with those people from my past. There's something invaluable about spending time with old friends.
But today I went to work, and I felt a little more comfortable with some of my co-workers who I just don't know that well. I was able to joke with them and laugh with them and talk about life with them. And that was an amazing feeling too.
And it just makes me think how life has its own seasons. Each season has amazing things about it, and if one of them went on forever you'd get sick of it. But the changing of the seasons makes us appreciate what each one has. And it's okay to miss old seasons, but you're just going to miss out if you don't embrace what the next season has to offer.
I've had some pretty spectacular seasons in my life already, and now I'm entering another one. I'm getting pretty excited to see what this next one holds.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Year in Review
One year ago today I closed on my first house. I wish I could say it's been everything I hoped it would be and more; but instead I find myself thinking that if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have bought that house.
Don't get me wrong-- it's a great house. I actually love it a lot. I love that friends and family gathered around me and poured so much energy and sweat and love into that house. I love that pretty much every room went from being an eyesore to being homey (or at least that "homey" is in sight!). I love the backyard with the grill and the firepit. I love that the painting that Lauren and I made in our first "grown-up" apartment is hanging on the wall and matches the living room perfectly. I love that my brother made a piece of stained glass to match said painting. I love that I "randomly" found great roommates and that together we made the house feel like a home.
One year ago today I really thought that I was finally "home"-- that I was never going to leave Philly and that I was finally putting down roots. I thought I was up for the challenge of home ownership. I thought that I was ready to commit to that block, that neighborhood, that community.
And then in April I quit my job and decided to move to New York for the summer-- with the possibility of staying longer. What happened?!?! How did I go from being so sure I wanted to be a Philadelphian to picking up and moving to Brooklyn?! What happened to those dreams of being settled, of becoming a committed resident on the best block of Ellsworth Street? The weirdest part to me was that no one disagreed with my decision. Instead, presented with the options, pretty much every single person told me it was clear that this was what I should do! And I kept wondering Why did it seem so right to buy this house if I'm not going to stay in it? When I prayed and prayed and prayed about whether or not to buy this house, why did it always seem like God wanted me to do so if he's now moving me away from here? '
During the house buying process, I was just blown away by how clearly God wanted me to have that house. From the initial desire to be on that block, to conversations with the realtor about how it was never going to happen, to the first tour through the house, to the miraculous price drop-- God clearly orchestrated all of it. So am I walking away from where God wants me to be? or is there some other purpose that I just can't see right now?
I've asked my dad this question (you'll remember that my dad is the wisest man I know). When I've talked to him about my decision of what to do in the fall, it's always with a degree of guilt that he poured so much into that house that I'm now considering walking away from. But you know what he said to me? "We made that decision with the information that we had at the time-- it was the best decision at that time with the information that we had." And I have to find comfort in that. Many of the facts surrounding the decision to buy that house have changed; if I'd known all that back then, it wouldn't have made sense to buy it. But I didn't know back then. And I have to believe that God is sovereign over the timing of what information I receive and when.
I think it's really easy to look back and regret decisions we've made or to second-guess ourselves. But I think my dad's really right-- we have to make decisions based on the information God has chosen to give us at the time and not worry about the what-ifs and the unknowns that God might reveal a bit further down the road.
I'm still really curious to find out the ending to the story of my first house. I wonder why I bought it-- I wonder if it's because I'm going to end up back there someday or if it's a lesson in not buying houses before you're really ready to be a grown-up or if it's just so I'd have to process all these questions about God and his timing. I'm excited that it's a story that's guaranteed to have a happy ending since God is writing it; but I'll also admit (see previous post) that I'm nervous that it's not going to look like anything I would have written for myself.
Don't get me wrong-- it's a great house. I actually love it a lot. I love that friends and family gathered around me and poured so much energy and sweat and love into that house. I love that pretty much every room went from being an eyesore to being homey (or at least that "homey" is in sight!). I love the backyard with the grill and the firepit. I love that the painting that Lauren and I made in our first "grown-up" apartment is hanging on the wall and matches the living room perfectly. I love that my brother made a piece of stained glass to match said painting. I love that I "randomly" found great roommates and that together we made the house feel like a home.
One year ago today I really thought that I was finally "home"-- that I was never going to leave Philly and that I was finally putting down roots. I thought I was up for the challenge of home ownership. I thought that I was ready to commit to that block, that neighborhood, that community.
And then in April I quit my job and decided to move to New York for the summer-- with the possibility of staying longer. What happened?!?! How did I go from being so sure I wanted to be a Philadelphian to picking up and moving to Brooklyn?! What happened to those dreams of being settled, of becoming a committed resident on the best block of Ellsworth Street? The weirdest part to me was that no one disagreed with my decision. Instead, presented with the options, pretty much every single person told me it was clear that this was what I should do! And I kept wondering Why did it seem so right to buy this house if I'm not going to stay in it? When I prayed and prayed and prayed about whether or not to buy this house, why did it always seem like God wanted me to do so if he's now moving me away from here? '
During the house buying process, I was just blown away by how clearly God wanted me to have that house. From the initial desire to be on that block, to conversations with the realtor about how it was never going to happen, to the first tour through the house, to the miraculous price drop-- God clearly orchestrated all of it. So am I walking away from where God wants me to be? or is there some other purpose that I just can't see right now?
I've asked my dad this question (you'll remember that my dad is the wisest man I know). When I've talked to him about my decision of what to do in the fall, it's always with a degree of guilt that he poured so much into that house that I'm now considering walking away from. But you know what he said to me? "We made that decision with the information that we had at the time-- it was the best decision at that time with the information that we had." And I have to find comfort in that. Many of the facts surrounding the decision to buy that house have changed; if I'd known all that back then, it wouldn't have made sense to buy it. But I didn't know back then. And I have to believe that God is sovereign over the timing of what information I receive and when.
I think it's really easy to look back and regret decisions we've made or to second-guess ourselves. But I think my dad's really right-- we have to make decisions based on the information God has chosen to give us at the time and not worry about the what-ifs and the unknowns that God might reveal a bit further down the road.
I'm still really curious to find out the ending to the story of my first house. I wonder why I bought it-- I wonder if it's because I'm going to end up back there someday or if it's a lesson in not buying houses before you're really ready to be a grown-up or if it's just so I'd have to process all these questions about God and his timing. I'm excited that it's a story that's guaranteed to have a happy ending since God is writing it; but I'll also admit (see previous post) that I'm nervous that it's not going to look like anything I would have written for myself.
In fear of a cosmic killjoy
I have long feared that God is a cosmic killjoy. The path of obedience seems to me to be one of self-denial and, therefore, often of hardship and trial. Carried out to its logical conclusion, this means that if I'm happy it's because I'm not where God really wants me to be. It means that when something good happens in my life, I start to get nervous that God's going to take it away to teach me some sort of lesson.
For as long as I've been able to identify this fear, I've also known it's not right. But I'm sorry to say that hasn't changed the deep-seated distrust of biblical truths like "God delights to give good gifts to his children." Really? Or does he delight to give them so he can take them away a little bit later and show me that I had an unhealthy delight in something other than him? is the question that haunts me in the back of my mind.
I thought that I was getting over this; that I was really starting to believe that God is for me. But instead I'm seeing the same fear creep up in different places, in different disguises.
I want to stay in New York-- I told a friend a couple weeks ago.
"Then why don't you?"
It's not that easy.
"Why not??"
It's just not... there are so many details and logistics to work out; I don't know how to make it all fit.
"But if you want to stay here, why don't you just stay and do what you have to do to make it happen?"
I'm not sure that this is where God wants me.
But in the weeks following that conversation, the more I think about it the more I realize that the real subtext of my own thinking is more like this: I'm really happy here, so it must not be right. The Christian life is about self-denial and sacrifice; this doesn't feel like sacrificing. Or to put it more bluntly: Since God doesn't want me to be happy, I can't stay in New York.
Don't worry. I really do know how bogus this line of reasoning is. But I was talking to a good friend tonight who is going through the same What do I do with my life? crisis, and it made me realize that this fear of "God as Cosmic Killjoy" permeates more of our lives than we would like to admit. When I give any credibility to the suspicion that God doesn't really want me to be happy, I start to dread his involvement in my life. I do believe that God wants me to find my joy in him-- but I also often add (albeit subconsciously) and if I find any sort of joy in anything else, he will take it away so I don't have any choice but to be joyful in him alone. I'm afraid I fail to think about all the ways God has used amazing gifts to teach me more about himself and to grow my love for him through the blessings he's given.
As my friend and I-- and so many other people, I'm sure-- wrestle with God about different decisions and events in our lives, I just wonder how our lives would change if we deeply believed that God was excited to give us good things in our lives. I wonder how my life would change if I deeply believed that God is excited to give me good things, that he's not holding back and that he's not a cosmic killjoy.
For as long as I've been able to identify this fear, I've also known it's not right. But I'm sorry to say that hasn't changed the deep-seated distrust of biblical truths like "God delights to give good gifts to his children." Really? Or does he delight to give them so he can take them away a little bit later and show me that I had an unhealthy delight in something other than him? is the question that haunts me in the back of my mind.
I thought that I was getting over this; that I was really starting to believe that God is for me. But instead I'm seeing the same fear creep up in different places, in different disguises.
I want to stay in New York-- I told a friend a couple weeks ago.
"Then why don't you?"
It's not that easy.
"Why not??"
It's just not... there are so many details and logistics to work out; I don't know how to make it all fit.
"But if you want to stay here, why don't you just stay and do what you have to do to make it happen?"
I'm not sure that this is where God wants me.
But in the weeks following that conversation, the more I think about it the more I realize that the real subtext of my own thinking is more like this: I'm really happy here, so it must not be right. The Christian life is about self-denial and sacrifice; this doesn't feel like sacrificing. Or to put it more bluntly: Since God doesn't want me to be happy, I can't stay in New York.
Don't worry. I really do know how bogus this line of reasoning is. But I was talking to a good friend tonight who is going through the same What do I do with my life? crisis, and it made me realize that this fear of "God as Cosmic Killjoy" permeates more of our lives than we would like to admit. When I give any credibility to the suspicion that God doesn't really want me to be happy, I start to dread his involvement in my life. I do believe that God wants me to find my joy in him-- but I also often add (albeit subconsciously) and if I find any sort of joy in anything else, he will take it away so I don't have any choice but to be joyful in him alone. I'm afraid I fail to think about all the ways God has used amazing gifts to teach me more about himself and to grow my love for him through the blessings he's given.
As my friend and I-- and so many other people, I'm sure-- wrestle with God about different decisions and events in our lives, I just wonder how our lives would change if we deeply believed that God was excited to give us good things in our lives. I wonder how my life would change if I deeply believed that God is excited to give me good things, that he's not holding back and that he's not a cosmic killjoy.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Hold up my arms....
I'm a firm believer that everyone's life has a soundtrack-- songs that sum up different phases of life. I know mine does! And it's no contest which song most accurately summarizes the past year and a half for me: "Hold Up My Arms" by Andrew Peterson. The song plays through my head frequently, especially on those days when I struggle to believe that God is for me and have to rely on my friends to remind me of the truths that I know deep in my heart but forget with my head. The chorus, for those not familiar with the song, goes like this--
...hold up my arms
Like Moses in the desert
When the battle ran long
Hold up my arms
We can go at this together
When my arms aren't strong.
Today was just another reminder that I have so many friends who are holding up my arms when the battle is going long, when I'm not strong enough to hold them up myself. I've gotten so many texts, emails, voicemails, Facebook messages-- I don't know how I'm going to return them all! I'm thankful that we don't walk through life alone; I'm thankful that I don't have to "fly solo" (probably the thing I dread most in life). I'm thankful that across the miles and even around the world (literally!), I have friends who are holding up my arms in prayer and with encouraging words and actions.
From friends who reminded me of God's promises in the days leading up to and since Pop-pop's death-- to texts and emails through the day yesterday and today to let me know thoughts and prayers were being offered up during the funeral on our behalf-- to friends who showed up at the funeral or were willing (even though in the end I insisted that they not) to drive from all over to be there-- to new friends who worked for me and offered to work extra days so I could be with my family-- to those who tracked down friends to track down friends to track down my new phone number to assure me of their prayers.... the list goes on. And I am humbled and thankful and honored to have such amazing friends.
I'm thankful that others don't look at me with disgust when my arms aren't strong, but instead they take it upon themselves to hold up my arms and share their strength and their faith with me. I'm a huge believer in "team." I like to think it's because I love people in general; but really if I'm honest, it's mostly because I know I couldn't "do life" alone-- I know I need a team around me. And what an amazing (and huge!) team I have! And for that I am incredibly grateful.
With special thanks to all those who have held up my arms and gone at this together with me when my arms weren't strong. You know who you are. :)
...hold up my arms
Like Moses in the desert
When the battle ran long
Hold up my arms
We can go at this together
When my arms aren't strong.
Today was just another reminder that I have so many friends who are holding up my arms when the battle is going long, when I'm not strong enough to hold them up myself. I've gotten so many texts, emails, voicemails, Facebook messages-- I don't know how I'm going to return them all! I'm thankful that we don't walk through life alone; I'm thankful that I don't have to "fly solo" (probably the thing I dread most in life). I'm thankful that across the miles and even around the world (literally!), I have friends who are holding up my arms in prayer and with encouraging words and actions.
From friends who reminded me of God's promises in the days leading up to and since Pop-pop's death-- to texts and emails through the day yesterday and today to let me know thoughts and prayers were being offered up during the funeral on our behalf-- to friends who showed up at the funeral or were willing (even though in the end I insisted that they not) to drive from all over to be there-- to new friends who worked for me and offered to work extra days so I could be with my family-- to those who tracked down friends to track down friends to track down my new phone number to assure me of their prayers.... the list goes on. And I am humbled and thankful and honored to have such amazing friends.
I'm thankful that others don't look at me with disgust when my arms aren't strong, but instead they take it upon themselves to hold up my arms and share their strength and their faith with me. I'm a huge believer in "team." I like to think it's because I love people in general; but really if I'm honest, it's mostly because I know I couldn't "do life" alone-- I know I need a team around me. And what an amazing (and huge!) team I have! And for that I am incredibly grateful.
With special thanks to all those who have held up my arms and gone at this together with me when my arms weren't strong. You know who you are. :)
Monday, July 26, 2010
A slumber party to remember
Pop-pop's funeral was today. My parents originally planned to drive up from Maryland and back in the same day-- my dad wanted to make sure that my mom was able to get some sleep, and my grandma tends to talk all night long (I thought he was exaggerating, but I can report that this is an accurate statement!); so he thought sharing a hotel room with her the night before the funeral wouldn't be such a great idea.
I heard myself offer to stay with Gramarie if he wanted to get adjoining rooms.
So last night, I packed a duffel bag and headed to North Jersey on the bus. If I'd had any doubt in my mind that it would be an interesting trip, the first two minutes proved that wrong. When I got to the hotel, I could see my parents' car waiting at the front door. My mom and dad were inside, so I walked to the passenger side and opened the car door where Gramarie was sitting.
"Oh, Anne! Where did you come from!"
I just got here-- I took the bus from New York!
"Oh, New York!" and she pointed at my mom who was walking towards the car. "Do you know that woman?"
Um.... do you mean my mother?
"Oh I don't know; I'm so confused. We just drove and drove, like a wild goose chase! And now everyone ended up here! I don't know how it happened!"
Fair enough. I shouldn't have surprised her by walking up to the car out of nowhere.
We headed inside. It was great to have adjoining rooms, and soon even Gramarie was enjoying herself. Until...
"Where's Bill? I can't believe we just left him home by himself. He'll be so worried about us!" So we explained again why we were in a hotel room in New Jersey. "Oh, poor Pop-Pop. I miss him so much." Oh, so do we....
Soon it was time to get ready for bed--
Gramarie, you want to brush your teeth?
"Nah, I'll brush them in the morning. I'm so tired tonight."
No, you need to brush them tonight-- I'll get your toothbrush.
"No, it's okay. I'll brush them in the morning."
Well, I'm gonna brush my teeth too, so let's just brush them together.
And Gramarie and I stood in the bathroom and brushed our teeth together-- I couldn't help but smile; it was a legitimate slumber party now!
"Which bed is mine?"
Your choice.
"I'll take that one!"
Sounds good-- I'll take the other one.
Gramarie climbed into her bed, and I started to climb into the other one.
"You mean no one's sleeping in this bed with me?"
Um.
"There's so much room here! You're not going to sleep here?"
Well, I was going to sleep in this other bed.
She looked at me with a sad face.
Um.... would you sleep a lot better if you didn't have to sleep by yourself?
She smiled and nodded.
Ok-- for you, Gramarie.
So I climbed into her bed, and she squeezed my hand.
"Good night, Anne. How are we going to wake up in the morning?"
Dad's going to wake me up, and I'll wake you up.
"Ok... don't forget to wake me up when you wake up!"
Just like a little kid that doesn't want to miss out on the action.
I won't, I promise.
.... couple minutes of silence....
"You'll wake me up when you wake up?"
Yes, I promise I will.
.... couple more minutes....
"I sure hope I don't oversleep. How will we know when it's time to get up?"
Gramarie, do you trust me?
"Of course I do."
Do you trust me to wake you up?
She laughed. "I do. But if you don't remember, that's okay too."
.... couple more minutes, and then she squeezed my hand....
"I remember when you were born. I was so excited that you were a little girl. I was just so happy."
And you just gave me an amazing gift.
"Goodnight, Anne. I love you."
I love you too, Gramarie. Goodnight.
"Anne?"
Yeah?
"Will you wake me up when you wake up in the morning?"
I heard myself offer to stay with Gramarie if he wanted to get adjoining rooms.
So last night, I packed a duffel bag and headed to North Jersey on the bus. If I'd had any doubt in my mind that it would be an interesting trip, the first two minutes proved that wrong. When I got to the hotel, I could see my parents' car waiting at the front door. My mom and dad were inside, so I walked to the passenger side and opened the car door where Gramarie was sitting.
"Oh, Anne! Where did you come from!"
I just got here-- I took the bus from New York!
"Oh, New York!" and she pointed at my mom who was walking towards the car. "Do you know that woman?"
Um.... do you mean my mother?
"Oh I don't know; I'm so confused. We just drove and drove, like a wild goose chase! And now everyone ended up here! I don't know how it happened!"
Fair enough. I shouldn't have surprised her by walking up to the car out of nowhere.
We headed inside. It was great to have adjoining rooms, and soon even Gramarie was enjoying herself. Until...
"Where's Bill? I can't believe we just left him home by himself. He'll be so worried about us!" So we explained again why we were in a hotel room in New Jersey. "Oh, poor Pop-Pop. I miss him so much." Oh, so do we....
Soon it was time to get ready for bed--
Gramarie, you want to brush your teeth?
"Nah, I'll brush them in the morning. I'm so tired tonight."
No, you need to brush them tonight-- I'll get your toothbrush.
"No, it's okay. I'll brush them in the morning."
Well, I'm gonna brush my teeth too, so let's just brush them together.
And Gramarie and I stood in the bathroom and brushed our teeth together-- I couldn't help but smile; it was a legitimate slumber party now!
"Which bed is mine?"
Your choice.
"I'll take that one!"
Sounds good-- I'll take the other one.
Gramarie climbed into her bed, and I started to climb into the other one.
"You mean no one's sleeping in this bed with me?"
Um.
"There's so much room here! You're not going to sleep here?"
Well, I was going to sleep in this other bed.
She looked at me with a sad face.
Um.... would you sleep a lot better if you didn't have to sleep by yourself?
She smiled and nodded.
Ok-- for you, Gramarie.
So I climbed into her bed, and she squeezed my hand.
"Good night, Anne. How are we going to wake up in the morning?"
Dad's going to wake me up, and I'll wake you up.
"Ok... don't forget to wake me up when you wake up!"
Just like a little kid that doesn't want to miss out on the action.
I won't, I promise.
.... couple minutes of silence....
"You'll wake me up when you wake up?"
Yes, I promise I will.
.... couple more minutes....
"I sure hope I don't oversleep. How will we know when it's time to get up?"
Gramarie, do you trust me?
"Of course I do."
Do you trust me to wake you up?
She laughed. "I do. But if you don't remember, that's okay too."
.... couple more minutes, and then she squeezed my hand....
"I remember when you were born. I was so excited that you were a little girl. I was just so happy."
And you just gave me an amazing gift.
"Goodnight, Anne. I love you."
I love you too, Gramarie. Goodnight.
"Anne?"
Yeah?
"Will you wake me up when you wake up in the morning?"
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Keep steady the pillars
"What a time of emotional upheaval for you," wrote a good friend in an email this week. "How are you doing?"
Emotional upheaval? I feel stable and calm compared to what I was like in Philly. Yet she's right. Lots of changes, lots of uncertainty-- some good and exciting, some hard and confusing. Overall, strange mixes of emotions that range anywhere from joy and enthusiasm to sadness and anxiety. Emotional upheaval-- maybe that's what I've been feeling but not able to name.
And then I read this tonight:
"When the earth totters, and all its inhabitants,
it is I who keep steady its pillars" (Psalm 75:3).
The earth and all its inhabitants are tottering? Sounds to me like that's even worse than emotional upheaval! And yet, even then God's not caught off guard. In fact, he's actually the one that's giving whatever stability there is.
Lord, when my the details of my life totter and my future seems unstable, please keep steady the pillars. Give me peace knowing that you are in control; give me faith to believe that you're holding all the pieces together.
Emotional upheaval? I feel stable and calm compared to what I was like in Philly. Yet she's right. Lots of changes, lots of uncertainty-- some good and exciting, some hard and confusing. Overall, strange mixes of emotions that range anywhere from joy and enthusiasm to sadness and anxiety. Emotional upheaval-- maybe that's what I've been feeling but not able to name.
And then I read this tonight:
"When the earth totters, and all its inhabitants,
it is I who keep steady its pillars" (Psalm 75:3).
The earth and all its inhabitants are tottering? Sounds to me like that's even worse than emotional upheaval! And yet, even then God's not caught off guard. In fact, he's actually the one that's giving whatever stability there is.
Lord, when my the details of my life totter and my future seems unstable, please keep steady the pillars. Give me peace knowing that you are in control; give me faith to believe that you're holding all the pieces together.
Friday, July 23, 2010
The unwanted day off
I don't know that I've ever woken up in the morning and thought Man, I wish I had to work today.
So I guess there really is a first time for everything. Because that's definitely what I thought this morning. Gretchen's showing an out-of-town friend around Brooklyn; Steve, Ellen, and Tim are all working; and I.... well, I'm sitting in my room thinking about stuff I don't want to think about.
I was fine on Wednesday and yesterday, surrounded by friends and family and distracted by work and sharing memories. I guess it has to hit sometime; I guess you can't just go straight to "okay" after someone you love dies-- he's not in pain anymore. But I still miss him. I got to say goodbye. But I have a story I forgot to tell him.
I'm still deeply thankful. But I guess I'm more deeply sad than I want to be.
Maybe I'll clean my room.
So I guess there really is a first time for everything. Because that's definitely what I thought this morning. Gretchen's showing an out-of-town friend around Brooklyn; Steve, Ellen, and Tim are all working; and I.... well, I'm sitting in my room thinking about stuff I don't want to think about.
I was fine on Wednesday and yesterday, surrounded by friends and family and distracted by work and sharing memories. I guess it has to hit sometime; I guess you can't just go straight to "okay" after someone you love dies-- he's not in pain anymore. But I still miss him. I got to say goodbye. But I have a story I forgot to tell him.
I'm still deeply thankful. But I guess I'm more deeply sad than I want to be.
Maybe I'll clean my room.
Brooklyn Parking Wars
Three months and two (hefty) parking tickets later, I think I've finally figured out the parking system in Brooklyn. Well, in my neighborhood of it anyway. If I ever move to another neighborhood, I'm sure I'll be back to Square One!
I drive my car three times pretty much every week. Once on Sunday night to avoid the Monday morning street cleaning. Then on Monday night to avoid the Tuesday morning street cleaning. And then one last time on Wednesday night to avoid the Thursday morning street cleaning. That's it. Often even when I would want to drive somewhere I opt not to because I'd rather not have to deal with finding a parking space when I get home.
Street cleaning only lasts an hour and a half, and it alternates sides of the street and by block. The cleaning times on most of the streets around me are Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday from 9-10:30. Back when I was unemployed, this was pretty easy-- I only had to move my car twice a week. I'd leave my house at 10:20 on a Tuesday morning, drive my car around the block, and park in a "Street Cleaning Tuesdays 9-10:30" spot, starting at 10:31. Then I would do the same thing on Thursday mornings. You would think that with this kind of system it'd be easy to just move from one side of the street to the other. But to my surprise, even this tactic didn't always result in a ready space. How do people beat me to the spots without getting tickets?? I just couldn't figure it out.
And then I got a job. Forget about it! If you can't find a spot at 10:31; good luck finding a spot the night before every single car owner needs to move his vehicle! So three nights a week I would dedicate at least a half hour to moving my car. And every time I would think, Boy I sure am glad I brought my car to New York.... so I can drive it around Brooklyn looking for a place to park it. Not.
I should have moved it last night, but I was out late with Tim and Steve and totally forgot until I fell into bed at 1am. Ugh, I'll just move it in the morning, and I reset my alarm for two hours earlier than I'd wanted to get up.
Little did I know I was about to solve the mystery that has been haunting me for the past few months! Double-parking?!?!?!?! I thought they only did that in South Philly!!! But sure enough, on block after block, the left side of the street was clear and the right side was filled with two lines of parked cars. What have I got to lose? and I pulled in behind a parked car. I just sat there for a while-- really not wanting another ticket, but also really not wanting to continue driving around for no reason (I'd already been circling for twenty minutes, and it was clear no one was going anywhere in the near future).
The street cleaning truck passed by; then the Parking Authority woman. She walked past the whole line of double-parked cars and never once approached to give a ticket. For real? I was starting to get excited. So after she leaves, do I just put my car back where it was? I waited. None of the other cars budged (I could see a few other drivers sitting in their cars, so I decided to let them take the lead). Other drivers had clearly gone back home or to get coffee or run to Trader Joe's. I'm gonna risk it. So I locked my car and headed home. I decided I may as well get ready while I waited for the time to pass, so I took my shower, checked my email-- and then started to get nervous. I really don't want another ticket. I'll just hang out in my car for a bit. So at 10:00 I headed back outside. Lo and behold, a few cars were back on the left side of the street. But not all of them.... and then, upon further inspection, I realized that all the cars on the left side were occupied. Aha! So I, too, moved my car to the left side of the street and just hung out. I made phone calls, sent a few emails, spent some time praying. It was actually a pretty productive half hour! A few Parking Authority employees walked past, but they never bothered any of the cars that were occupied.
At 10:30 car doors started to open, and I guess people just went back to whatever they'd been doing before. It's like it's just part of the weekly schedule: Thursday morning- move car from one side of the street to the other for an hour; then move it back and sit there for a half hour. It's weird, granted. But hey, it's New York. They get away with doing a lot of weird things here!
I drive my car three times pretty much every week. Once on Sunday night to avoid the Monday morning street cleaning. Then on Monday night to avoid the Tuesday morning street cleaning. And then one last time on Wednesday night to avoid the Thursday morning street cleaning. That's it. Often even when I would want to drive somewhere I opt not to because I'd rather not have to deal with finding a parking space when I get home.
Street cleaning only lasts an hour and a half, and it alternates sides of the street and by block. The cleaning times on most of the streets around me are Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday from 9-10:30. Back when I was unemployed, this was pretty easy-- I only had to move my car twice a week. I'd leave my house at 10:20 on a Tuesday morning, drive my car around the block, and park in a "Street Cleaning Tuesdays 9-10:30" spot, starting at 10:31. Then I would do the same thing on Thursday mornings. You would think that with this kind of system it'd be easy to just move from one side of the street to the other. But to my surprise, even this tactic didn't always result in a ready space. How do people beat me to the spots without getting tickets?? I just couldn't figure it out.
And then I got a job. Forget about it! If you can't find a spot at 10:31; good luck finding a spot the night before every single car owner needs to move his vehicle! So three nights a week I would dedicate at least a half hour to moving my car. And every time I would think, Boy I sure am glad I brought my car to New York.... so I can drive it around Brooklyn looking for a place to park it. Not.
I should have moved it last night, but I was out late with Tim and Steve and totally forgot until I fell into bed at 1am. Ugh, I'll just move it in the morning, and I reset my alarm for two hours earlier than I'd wanted to get up.
Little did I know I was about to solve the mystery that has been haunting me for the past few months! Double-parking?!?!?!?! I thought they only did that in South Philly!!! But sure enough, on block after block, the left side of the street was clear and the right side was filled with two lines of parked cars. What have I got to lose? and I pulled in behind a parked car. I just sat there for a while-- really not wanting another ticket, but also really not wanting to continue driving around for no reason (I'd already been circling for twenty minutes, and it was clear no one was going anywhere in the near future).
The street cleaning truck passed by; then the Parking Authority woman. She walked past the whole line of double-parked cars and never once approached to give a ticket. For real? I was starting to get excited. So after she leaves, do I just put my car back where it was? I waited. None of the other cars budged (I could see a few other drivers sitting in their cars, so I decided to let them take the lead). Other drivers had clearly gone back home or to get coffee or run to Trader Joe's. I'm gonna risk it. So I locked my car and headed home. I decided I may as well get ready while I waited for the time to pass, so I took my shower, checked my email-- and then started to get nervous. I really don't want another ticket. I'll just hang out in my car for a bit. So at 10:00 I headed back outside. Lo and behold, a few cars were back on the left side of the street. But not all of them.... and then, upon further inspection, I realized that all the cars on the left side were occupied. Aha! So I, too, moved my car to the left side of the street and just hung out. I made phone calls, sent a few emails, spent some time praying. It was actually a pretty productive half hour! A few Parking Authority employees walked past, but they never bothered any of the cars that were occupied.
At 10:30 car doors started to open, and I guess people just went back to whatever they'd been doing before. It's like it's just part of the weekly schedule: Thursday morning- move car from one side of the street to the other for an hour; then move it back and sit there for a half hour. It's weird, granted. But hey, it's New York. They get away with doing a lot of weird things here!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
William Charles Zuck, 1920-2010
After a week of struggling to breath, Pop-pop died peacefully in his sleep this afternoon. For the last couple days he would breathe for twenty seconds, then not breathe for twenty seconds-- on again, off again. Just to keep them guessing, my dad said. Today there was a CD of hymns playing in his room; when the music stopped, so did his breathing-- and this time it didn't start again.
I'm deeply sad, but I'm also deeply thankful. The chorus that kept playing through my head today was "though he giveth or he taketh, God his children ne'er forsaketh"-- I just keep thinking how, though God took Pop-pop home, he also gave us so many gifts over the last few days. Tim, Steve, and I decided to drive down to Maryland Saturday night after I got off work-- we were there less than 24 hours, but that time was invaluable. I don't know that Pop-pop has recognized us the past several times we've seen him; but when we went to say hello on Sunday morning, there was clear joy and recognition written all over his face. He smiled the biggest smile I've seen on his face in years. Literally. When we said goodbye to him, we knew it was for the last time. I held his hand and told him "Goodbye, Pop-pop. We love you so much"; and he tried so hard to get words out. I said, "Don't worry; we know you love us too" and he squeezed my hand and smiled and nodded.
I snuck back in after we'd said our official goodbyes. I just wanted to see him one more time, to tell him I loved him one more time and to see his bright blue eyes twinkling and sparkling again (I still haven't met anyone with eyes as blue as Pop-pop's). The aide was soothing him with a wet cloth, trying to make him comfortable; but she stepped aside so I could have one more word. "Pop-pop, I love you so much. Next time I see you, you're not going to be in pain anymore." And he looked at me and smiled and squeezed my hand again.
I'm thankful that I got to say goodbye. I'm thankful that he recognized each of us. A couple days before he died, he called my mom by her first name for the first time since his move to Maryland. That doesn't just happen. God gave us each an amazing gift.
I'm thankful that he spent the last four months of his life in Maryland. When we made the decision to move them there, the doctors had said he wouldn't walk again and that he needed to have round-the-clock care. We told him and Gramarie that they were going to live with the person who loved them the most in the world-- my mom. And boy, did she prove that she did! Pop-pop walked again-- often more than he was supposed to (he would constantly forget that he was supposed to use a walker); but he walked again. And he got to be with Gramarie to the very end.
I'm thankful for the role model he was to his family. He taught us not to take family for granted. He showed us that good friends are really just extended family (it took me quite a while to figure out Uncle Ken wasn't actually related to us-- he was "just" Pop-pop's best friend!).
I'm thankful that I'll see him again. I believe that he met Jesus as his Savior and that I'll see him when I get to heaven. I'm excited to see him as I can't even remember him-- free of all physical ailments. Not only will he be talking and walking again; he'll be singing and dancing! Today I was imagining him and Grandpa seeing each other; hanging out waiting for the rest of us to get there and join them in worshiping God. And I can't wait!
I'm thankful that I was in New York when I got the news. I missed the initial phone call, but when I saw I'd missed a call from my dad and had texts from him and Tim, I knew the news that was waiting for me. But close on the heels of the news was Tim's text, asking if I wanted him to come into the city to hang out so I didn't have to spend the evening alone. No sooner had I responded to the text than my phone rang-- this time it was Steve making sure I was okay and asking if I wanted to hang out. So the three of us met up, hung out, and reminisced about Pop-pop.... what he loved, what he taught us, what we loved about him. And yes, we had Manhattans and chocolate ice cream in his honor.
I'm thankful for friends who have been lifting up Pop-pop, my family, and me over the past several days, months, and even years. What a long road it's been from the onset of the Alzheimers until now! I'm thankful for the encouragement of friends who drove to Cape Cod with me to see my grandparents while they were in the home and who drove to Maryland with me to see them when they moved in with Mom and Dad. I'm thankful for friends who never got to meet Pop-pop but still prayed and encouraged from where they were. I'm thankful for all the friends who spoke (and speak!) God's promises to me when I struggle to remember them for myself.
I'm thankful that I knew Pop-pop for 28-- almost 29-- years of my life. I'm sad that my kids will never meet him. But boy, will I have stories to tell them about him!
I'm deeply sad, but I'm also deeply thankful. The chorus that kept playing through my head today was "though he giveth or he taketh, God his children ne'er forsaketh"-- I just keep thinking how, though God took Pop-pop home, he also gave us so many gifts over the last few days. Tim, Steve, and I decided to drive down to Maryland Saturday night after I got off work-- we were there less than 24 hours, but that time was invaluable. I don't know that Pop-pop has recognized us the past several times we've seen him; but when we went to say hello on Sunday morning, there was clear joy and recognition written all over his face. He smiled the biggest smile I've seen on his face in years. Literally. When we said goodbye to him, we knew it was for the last time. I held his hand and told him "Goodbye, Pop-pop. We love you so much"; and he tried so hard to get words out. I said, "Don't worry; we know you love us too" and he squeezed my hand and smiled and nodded.
I snuck back in after we'd said our official goodbyes. I just wanted to see him one more time, to tell him I loved him one more time and to see his bright blue eyes twinkling and sparkling again (I still haven't met anyone with eyes as blue as Pop-pop's). The aide was soothing him with a wet cloth, trying to make him comfortable; but she stepped aside so I could have one more word. "Pop-pop, I love you so much. Next time I see you, you're not going to be in pain anymore." And he looked at me and smiled and squeezed my hand again.
I'm thankful that I got to say goodbye. I'm thankful that he recognized each of us. A couple days before he died, he called my mom by her first name for the first time since his move to Maryland. That doesn't just happen. God gave us each an amazing gift.
I'm thankful that he spent the last four months of his life in Maryland. When we made the decision to move them there, the doctors had said he wouldn't walk again and that he needed to have round-the-clock care. We told him and Gramarie that they were going to live with the person who loved them the most in the world-- my mom. And boy, did she prove that she did! Pop-pop walked again-- often more than he was supposed to (he would constantly forget that he was supposed to use a walker); but he walked again. And he got to be with Gramarie to the very end.
I'm thankful for the role model he was to his family. He taught us not to take family for granted. He showed us that good friends are really just extended family (it took me quite a while to figure out Uncle Ken wasn't actually related to us-- he was "just" Pop-pop's best friend!).
I'm thankful that I'll see him again. I believe that he met Jesus as his Savior and that I'll see him when I get to heaven. I'm excited to see him as I can't even remember him-- free of all physical ailments. Not only will he be talking and walking again; he'll be singing and dancing! Today I was imagining him and Grandpa seeing each other; hanging out waiting for the rest of us to get there and join them in worshiping God. And I can't wait!
I'm thankful that I was in New York when I got the news. I missed the initial phone call, but when I saw I'd missed a call from my dad and had texts from him and Tim, I knew the news that was waiting for me. But close on the heels of the news was Tim's text, asking if I wanted him to come into the city to hang out so I didn't have to spend the evening alone. No sooner had I responded to the text than my phone rang-- this time it was Steve making sure I was okay and asking if I wanted to hang out. So the three of us met up, hung out, and reminisced about Pop-pop.... what he loved, what he taught us, what we loved about him. And yes, we had Manhattans and chocolate ice cream in his honor.
I'm thankful for friends who have been lifting up Pop-pop, my family, and me over the past several days, months, and even years. What a long road it's been from the onset of the Alzheimers until now! I'm thankful for the encouragement of friends who drove to Cape Cod with me to see my grandparents while they were in the home and who drove to Maryland with me to see them when they moved in with Mom and Dad. I'm thankful for friends who never got to meet Pop-pop but still prayed and encouraged from where they were. I'm thankful for all the friends who spoke (and speak!) God's promises to me when I struggle to remember them for myself.
I'm thankful that I knew Pop-pop for 28-- almost 29-- years of my life. I'm sad that my kids will never meet him. But boy, will I have stories to tell them about him!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Revive me again....
Maybe it's the NyQuil that made me lose my place in reading through the Psalms. But more likely, it's that I missed something the last time I read it and God knew it was important for me to see. I read Psalm 71 today (again-- I realized when I finished it. But how did I miss this the first time around?).
"You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again;
from the depths of the earth, you will bring me up again.
You will increase my greatness and comfort me again" (v.20-21).
Revival. Renewal. Comfort. These are the things I've been praying God will grant me this summer. "You just seem so much happier," friends have been saying to me. Is it because New York is more fun? Not necessarily. Is it because it's that great to be near my brothers? Partly. Is it because I don't have a lot of the stresses that I had back in Philly? Maybe. But really, I think God is just "doing his thing"-- he who has made me see many troubles and calamities is reviving me again. He is bringing me up again from the depths of the earth. To be honest, I'm still struggling to see how he's increasing my greatness right now-- I guess that's still to come?-- but I do know that he is comforting me again.
I have been challenged lately to believe more fully the promises of God. It's not that I don't believe them; it's just that I don't want to be presumptuous. Um.... maybe that's a Christian euphemism for lack of faith. Doh.
I read this tonight too--
And as Jesus passed on from there, two blind men followed him, crying aloud, "Have mercy on us, Son of David." When he entered the house, the blind men came to him, and Jesus said to them, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" They said to him, "Yes, Lord." Then he touched their eyes, saying to them, "According to your faith be it done to you." And their eyes were opened (Matt. 9:27-30).
I'm thankful that God doesn't just work in my life on the basis of my faith, because my faith is appallingly weak. But I am also thankful that he is increasing my faith and building in me a deep sense that his promises are to me also as one of his precious children.
Revival. Renewal. Comfort.
"Do you believe that I am able to do this?"
Yes, Lord.
"According to your faith be it done to you."
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.
"You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again;
from the depths of the earth, you will bring me up again.
You will increase my greatness and comfort me again" (v.20-21).
Revival. Renewal. Comfort. These are the things I've been praying God will grant me this summer. "You just seem so much happier," friends have been saying to me. Is it because New York is more fun? Not necessarily. Is it because it's that great to be near my brothers? Partly. Is it because I don't have a lot of the stresses that I had back in Philly? Maybe. But really, I think God is just "doing his thing"-- he who has made me see many troubles and calamities is reviving me again. He is bringing me up again from the depths of the earth. To be honest, I'm still struggling to see how he's increasing my greatness right now-- I guess that's still to come?-- but I do know that he is comforting me again.
I have been challenged lately to believe more fully the promises of God. It's not that I don't believe them; it's just that I don't want to be presumptuous. Um.... maybe that's a Christian euphemism for lack of faith. Doh.
I read this tonight too--
And as Jesus passed on from there, two blind men followed him, crying aloud, "Have mercy on us, Son of David." When he entered the house, the blind men came to him, and Jesus said to them, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" They said to him, "Yes, Lord." Then he touched their eyes, saying to them, "According to your faith be it done to you." And their eyes were opened (Matt. 9:27-30).
I'm thankful that God doesn't just work in my life on the basis of my faith, because my faith is appallingly weak. But I am also thankful that he is increasing my faith and building in me a deep sense that his promises are to me also as one of his precious children.
Revival. Renewal. Comfort.
"Do you believe that I am able to do this?"
Yes, Lord.
"According to your faith be it done to you."
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Home sick and homesick
What is it about having a fever that just makes me want to be at my mom's house? I sure could go for some flaxseed tea right now! and I don't even own any flaxseeds, even if I did know how to make tea out of it like she does! So instead I'm going to take some NyQuil and head for bed.....
Sunday, July 18, 2010
...in sickness and in health....
I think one of the greatest gifts my family has given me is the legacy of keeping wedding vows. My dad's parents were married for over 65 years before my grandpa passed away at age 90 last fall. My mom's parents just celebrated their 62nd anniversary in May. My mom's dad took a turn for the worse earlier this week, and my brothers and I drove down last night to say goodbye and to be together as a family once more during his last days. Gramarie and Pop-pop have been through many years of health, but now he is in the last days of sickness. And my grandma continues to hold him and cherish him as her husband, and every time I see them interact, I am struck by the way they are living out their wedding vows even till death parts them.
Pop-pop can't swallow anything. They gave him swallowing tests at the hospital this week and learned that everything-- everything-- he swallows is going straight to his lungs. They said that if they give him an IV they'll just prolong his agony, that it's actually not the loving thing to do. So he is on modified hospice care, and he came back home to my parents' house yesterday. He's sleeping in a hospital bed so he can sleep in a quasi-sitting position to ease some of his breathing. The big debate his first night home was that Gramarie wanted to know how she was going to sleep in the hospital bed with him since it's only a twin and he's taking up most of the space. I guess if you're used to having someone in your bed every night for sixty-two years, it must feel pretty lonely to sleep alone.
The nurse was here today, massaging Pop-pop's legs, feet, and hands-- trying to give him some relief. Gramarie asked her repeatedly what she could do to help him. Angie (the nurse) told her, "Just massage his hands; he likes that. Or you can wipe his forehead with a wet cloth." Gramarie took his hand and showed it to the nurse: "Have you ever seen such hard-working hands? He's a good one, this guy."
My parents said one of the best gifts they've had over the past few months is the memory of seeing how much my grandparents still enjoy each other. Gramarie can be distracted for a few minutes at a time, but the topic always at the forefront of her mind is "I have to check on Bill-- he might need me." Over the past few months if he was napping, she'd climb into bed next to him, hold his hand, and fall asleep also. If he was sitting at the table, she'd pull her wheelchair up next to his and make sure he had everything he needed-- in the last few meals he ate, she literally spoon-fed him since he didn't have interest in feeding himself.
I'm thankful that all four of my grandparents and both of my parents take their promises seriously. I'm thankful that when they said they were in it for the long haul, they meant it. That when life hasn't been pretty or easy or fun, they've pressed on. And not even grudgingly-- the hard patches have somehow knit them closer together and made them even more in love with each other.
And that's a pretty amazing legacy.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
"Dwell in the land...."
Psalm 37:3-4. My new member verses when I joined Tenth (was that really four years ago?!).
"Trust in the Lord and do good;
dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.
Delight yourself in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart."
I read these verses again the other day, and the phrase "dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness" has been playing over and over again in my head ever since.
Dwell in the land.... that's why I bought my house in Philly. So I could really dwell in the land-- not just float from block to block each year as my lease was up. And now I'm in Brooklyn, with no idea of how long I'll be here. How do I live out this command when I don't even know which land I'm really going to dwell in?
I just got off the phone with one of my good friends, and we were talking about this same thing (funny how your life starts to have certain themes to it). She said, "I think that as long as you don't live like you're leaving, it's okay." Or to say it another way, "Wherever you are, be all there." (Yes, I stole that from Jim Elliott.) But maybe it's true? While I'm in Brooklyn, I will dwell in this land. Maybe it'll be for the rest of my life; maybe it will be until the end of August. But I will live like I'm not leaving. And I will befriend faithfulness. I will "live to the hilt every situation I believe to be the will of God" (that's the rest of Jim Elliott's quote).
"Trust in the Lord and do good;
dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.
Delight yourself in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart."
I read these verses again the other day, and the phrase "dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness" has been playing over and over again in my head ever since.
Dwell in the land.... that's why I bought my house in Philly. So I could really dwell in the land-- not just float from block to block each year as my lease was up. And now I'm in Brooklyn, with no idea of how long I'll be here. How do I live out this command when I don't even know which land I'm really going to dwell in?
I just got off the phone with one of my good friends, and we were talking about this same thing (funny how your life starts to have certain themes to it). She said, "I think that as long as you don't live like you're leaving, it's okay." Or to say it another way, "Wherever you are, be all there." (Yes, I stole that from Jim Elliott.) But maybe it's true? While I'm in Brooklyn, I will dwell in this land. Maybe it'll be for the rest of my life; maybe it will be until the end of August. But I will live like I'm not leaving. And I will befriend faithfulness. I will "live to the hilt every situation I believe to be the will of God" (that's the rest of Jim Elliott's quote).
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Blue Skies Smilin' at Me....
New York Philharmonic. Central Park. Picnic. Fireworks.
Don't mind if I do!
So Steve, Ellen, and I met up with James and Nathafi on the Great Lawn, spread out our blankets and enjoyed sushi and chips with hummus (an interesting combo, I agree) while the New York Philharmonic played on.
It has rained more yesterday and today than it has the rest of the summer combined. The forecast for tonight? More rain. Thunderstorms, even! I wanted to go to this concert so badly; I prayed the rain would hold off. But you know God has more important things to do than to hold off the rain just so you can go to an outdoor concert was the thought in the back of my mind, I have to admit.
On my subway ride to meet Steve and Ellen, I began a book that has been on my reading list for a while now: Francis Chan's Crazy Love. I'm only on the second chapter, but already I am feeling challenged and encouraged. Chan writes, "Whatever God's reasons for such diversity, creativity, and sophistication in the universe, on earth, and in our own bodies, the point of it all is His glory. God's art speaks of Himself, reflecting who He is and what He is like. 'The heavens declare the glory of God: the skies proclaim the work of his hands. . . . Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world' Psalm 19:1-4."
This quote played over in my head as I lay on the blanket and watched the sky and listened to the orchestra play. The sky above us was gorgeous-- and blue. I had to laugh-- ah the weathermen, wrong again! And then I looked to the right. And saw thunderclouds. To the left? Thunderclouds. North? Thunderclouds. I turned around.... South? Yep, thunderclouds there too. And then I really had to laugh. There was literally one patch of blue sky, and it was over the Great Lawn where we were all sitting.
Chan goes on: "It is sobering to realize that this is the same God who is holy and eternal, the Maker of the billions of galaxies and thousands of tree species in the rainforest. This is the God who takes the time to know all the little details about each of us. He does not have to know us so well, but He chooses to."
"The skies proclaim the work of his hands."
And I was wrong again-- God cares about the little details of my life much more than I have dared to hope.
Don't mind if I do!
So Steve, Ellen, and I met up with James and Nathafi on the Great Lawn, spread out our blankets and enjoyed sushi and chips with hummus (an interesting combo, I agree) while the New York Philharmonic played on.
It has rained more yesterday and today than it has the rest of the summer combined. The forecast for tonight? More rain. Thunderstorms, even! I wanted to go to this concert so badly; I prayed the rain would hold off. But you know God has more important things to do than to hold off the rain just so you can go to an outdoor concert was the thought in the back of my mind, I have to admit.
On my subway ride to meet Steve and Ellen, I began a book that has been on my reading list for a while now: Francis Chan's Crazy Love. I'm only on the second chapter, but already I am feeling challenged and encouraged. Chan writes, "Whatever God's reasons for such diversity, creativity, and sophistication in the universe, on earth, and in our own bodies, the point of it all is His glory. God's art speaks of Himself, reflecting who He is and what He is like. 'The heavens declare the glory of God: the skies proclaim the work of his hands. . . . Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world' Psalm 19:1-4."
This quote played over in my head as I lay on the blanket and watched the sky and listened to the orchestra play. The sky above us was gorgeous-- and blue. I had to laugh-- ah the weathermen, wrong again! And then I looked to the right. And saw thunderclouds. To the left? Thunderclouds. North? Thunderclouds. I turned around.... South? Yep, thunderclouds there too. And then I really had to laugh. There was literally one patch of blue sky, and it was over the Great Lawn where we were all sitting.
Chan goes on: "It is sobering to realize that this is the same God who is holy and eternal, the Maker of the billions of galaxies and thousands of tree species in the rainforest. This is the God who takes the time to know all the little details about each of us. He does not have to know us so well, but He chooses to."
"The skies proclaim the work of his hands."
And I was wrong again-- God cares about the little details of my life much more than I have dared to hope.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Birth of a butterfly
I just got off the phone with a wise friend of mine from Philly. She shared an illustration with me that I don't remember hearing before.... I'm not sure if it's a well-known one that I just missed out on, or if it's original to her-- but either way, it hit home with me.
She talked about the butterfly's change from a caterpillar to a butterfly-- how if you try to help it through the painful struggle of shedding its cocoon too soon, you'll actually hurt it. You'll prevent the butterfly's wings from being as strong as they need to be, and it'll be detrimental down the road.
I want so badly to be done with this cocoon of uncertainty. But it's not time yet.
Lord, help me believe that you're just preparing me for what I need in the future-- that you're making something beautiful, and that you'll only keep me in this "cocoon" for as long as I need to be and not a moment longer. Help me to believe-- and to believe deeply!! -- that you are working out my good-- no, my best-- even when it's a painful process.
Just like you do for the butterfly.
She talked about the butterfly's change from a caterpillar to a butterfly-- how if you try to help it through the painful struggle of shedding its cocoon too soon, you'll actually hurt it. You'll prevent the butterfly's wings from being as strong as they need to be, and it'll be detrimental down the road.
I want so badly to be done with this cocoon of uncertainty. But it's not time yet.
Lord, help me believe that you're just preparing me for what I need in the future-- that you're making something beautiful, and that you'll only keep me in this "cocoon" for as long as I need to be and not a moment longer. Help me to believe-- and to believe deeply!! -- that you are working out my good-- no, my best-- even when it's a painful process.
Just like you do for the butterfly.
Rock of Refuge
"Be to me a rock of refuge, to which I may continually come...." (Psalm 71:3)
I know I can sometimes feel like I have "worn out my welcome" by talking repeatedly to friends about what is weighing heavily on my mind. Don't get me wrong-- I have some of the most patient and amazing friends. It's not that they make me feel like I need to stop talking; I just know that sometimes it's gotta get old. It's pretty amazing to think that God wants me to keep bringing those things to him, that he doesn't get tired of having me come to him and share my heart. In fact, he wants me to! It's just one of the many ways he demonstrates his faithfulness.
So how should I respond?
"I will also praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, O my God;
I will sing praises to you with the lyre, O Holy One of Israel.
My lips will shout for joy, when I sing praises to you;
my soul also, which you have redeemed.
And my tongue will talk [not of what I have done, but] of your righteous help all the day long..."
(Psalm 71:22-24)
I know I can sometimes feel like I have "worn out my welcome" by talking repeatedly to friends about what is weighing heavily on my mind. Don't get me wrong-- I have some of the most patient and amazing friends. It's not that they make me feel like I need to stop talking; I just know that sometimes it's gotta get old. It's pretty amazing to think that God wants me to keep bringing those things to him, that he doesn't get tired of having me come to him and share my heart. In fact, he wants me to! It's just one of the many ways he demonstrates his faithfulness.
So how should I respond?
"I will also praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, O my God;
I will sing praises to you with the lyre, O Holy One of Israel.
My lips will shout for joy, when I sing praises to you;
my soul also, which you have redeemed.
And my tongue will talk [not of what I have done, but] of your righteous help all the day long..."
(Psalm 71:22-24)
Monday, July 12, 2010
A walk down Tonset Road....
I stayed with my grandparents tonight so my parents could go to church together. How hard can this be, right? I mean, I know that it's [understandably!] stressful for my mom when she's with them around the clock; but I'm just looking after them for three hours-- max.
We only had two little crises (is that an oxymoron-- little + crises??). Pop-Pop choked once-- this isn't very abnormal because he has Parkinson's, but it's still really scary for me every time. Once we recovered from that spell, all was well for a bit. The three of us sat on the front porch and Gramarie and I worked on a crossword puzzle while Pop-Pop dozed in his rocking chair. But when he woke up, he just wasn't himself. He was half-asleep-- seemingly unable to open his eyes; definitely unable to put together coherent sentences. And he kept shaking. Gramarie was worried, and kept telling me to "do something," which didn't make me feel any calmer about the whole thing. Between the two of us, we finally got him into bed, where he fell asleep immediately and slept until just before my parents got home.
The whole episode was another painful reminder that he's failing, and failing fast. Even just over the three days I've been here, we've seen a drastic change in his health. Tonight made me think about how different he is from the Pop-Pop we used to visit in his house on the Cape; and it made me realize how much I don't want to forget the chipper Pop-Pop of days gone by. I don't want to forget that Pop-Pop once had healthier, happier days....
I remember--
how he always liked to walk down Tonset Road to the Town Cove. 2 miles roundtrip, and he would walk it every day.
how he always met with his best friend ("Uncle Ken" to us) for coffee and a donut on Wednesday mornings.
playing mini-golf with him after a day at the beach... and how he'd tell me not to be so impatient when I took my shots, but to take the time to aim!
when he came to our Montville house to help with all the painting during the house project.
how much pride he took in his lawn, his garden, and especially those gorgeous hydrangeas!
his deep and sincere love for chocolate ice cream. For anything chocolate, really; but especially ice cream.
how he made the best Manhattans in the world.
going clamming with him at Asa's Landing.
how he loved all of us grandkids, but how Steve was always clearly his favorite little buddy.
going into NYC with him to see the Rockefeller Tree-- I think it was the last trip he made to New York.
how much he loved to read; he would devour books!
loving listening to his stories about the war.
his laugh-- and his twinkling blue eyes.
his infamous sandwiches-- to this day when someone in our family makes or wants a good sandwich, we call it a "Pop-Pop sandwich."
long car rides with him and Gramarie, when they would meet my parents half way in Connecticut so we could spend a week or so with them on the Cape (one summer I spent a whole month!).
his love of all things Cape Cod-- especially that daily walk down Tonset Road to the cove.
We only had two little crises (is that an oxymoron-- little + crises??). Pop-Pop choked once-- this isn't very abnormal because he has Parkinson's, but it's still really scary for me every time. Once we recovered from that spell, all was well for a bit. The three of us sat on the front porch and Gramarie and I worked on a crossword puzzle while Pop-Pop dozed in his rocking chair. But when he woke up, he just wasn't himself. He was half-asleep-- seemingly unable to open his eyes; definitely unable to put together coherent sentences. And he kept shaking. Gramarie was worried, and kept telling me to "do something," which didn't make me feel any calmer about the whole thing. Between the two of us, we finally got him into bed, where he fell asleep immediately and slept until just before my parents got home.
The whole episode was another painful reminder that he's failing, and failing fast. Even just over the three days I've been here, we've seen a drastic change in his health. Tonight made me think about how different he is from the Pop-Pop we used to visit in his house on the Cape; and it made me realize how much I don't want to forget the chipper Pop-Pop of days gone by. I don't want to forget that Pop-Pop once had healthier, happier days....
I remember--
how he always liked to walk down Tonset Road to the Town Cove. 2 miles roundtrip, and he would walk it every day.
how he always met with his best friend ("Uncle Ken" to us) for coffee and a donut on Wednesday mornings.
playing mini-golf with him after a day at the beach... and how he'd tell me not to be so impatient when I took my shots, but to take the time to aim!
when he came to our Montville house to help with all the painting during the house project.
how much pride he took in his lawn, his garden, and especially those gorgeous hydrangeas!
his deep and sincere love for chocolate ice cream. For anything chocolate, really; but especially ice cream.
how he made the best Manhattans in the world.
going clamming with him at Asa's Landing.
how he loved all of us grandkids, but how Steve was always clearly his favorite little buddy.
going into NYC with him to see the Rockefeller Tree-- I think it was the last trip he made to New York.
how much he loved to read; he would devour books!
loving listening to his stories about the war.
his laugh-- and his twinkling blue eyes.
his infamous sandwiches-- to this day when someone in our family makes or wants a good sandwich, we call it a "Pop-Pop sandwich."
long car rides with him and Gramarie, when they would meet my parents half way in Connecticut so we could spend a week or so with them on the Cape (one summer I spent a whole month!).
his love of all things Cape Cod-- especially that daily walk down Tonset Road to the cove.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Cell Phone Identity Crisis
I'm sitting on the porch swing at my parents' house in Maryland, sipping a mojito. Ah, the golden days of summer. It's funny-- I love being here because it's not the city; yet at the same time, every visit makes me pretty sure that I'll never live anywhere but the city. Weird, right? But who knows.... today was just another reminder that I have no home; that I have no idea where I'll be living come September; that I have not put down roots anywhere with any success.
I got an iphone today. I found out that I could join my parents' family plan and save money by getting an iphone v. my previous plan with Verizon. Um.... okay!!! So I talked to multiple sales people to make sure I could keep my phone number and still join their plan (even though they're in Maryland) and everyone assured me this would not be a problem. Ha! Not remotely true.
Nine hours later, I have an iphone. And a new phone number. Turns out, to join my parents' family plan I have to be in the same "region" that they are-- so I can choose from Virginia, West Virginia ("Salt in my wound!" I told the salesman when he suggested this one), DC (this is what I chose), or Baltimore. Yes, I did sit at the AT&T store and have a huge inner (ok, and outer) debate about losing my phone number just for the sake of getting a new phone with internet capability. My dad sat there saying, "Anne, you've gotta make a decision." And then he said, "I know this is an emotional decision, but this is going to save you quite a bit of money; I don't think it's worth holding onto your phone number for $500..."
An emotional decision? It's just a phone number. Right? That's what you're thinking, isn't it? That's what the sales guy was probably thinking. To some extent, it's what my dad was probably thinking too; though he knows me well enough to understand a bit more. But here's the deal...
My "201" number is the only tie I have to my life in North Jersey-- the only place where I've lived for more than 3 years. Ever. I can't go back to a house there; my parents have moved to Maryland. I'm not trading my number in for a new phone number that ties me to a place-- I wouldn't even know where to choose. New York? Philly? Even if those were options, I wouldn't know which to choose. Where is home? North Jersey is the closest I can get, but I can't keep/get a phone number there now..... My number is the last tangible link I have to the place I consider "home"; yet here it goes.
And my eyes filled with tears. In the chair at the AT&T store. But this is my blog, so you're not allowed to judge me for that.....
I got an iphone today. I found out that I could join my parents' family plan and save money by getting an iphone v. my previous plan with Verizon. Um.... okay!!! So I talked to multiple sales people to make sure I could keep my phone number and still join their plan (even though they're in Maryland) and everyone assured me this would not be a problem. Ha! Not remotely true.
Nine hours later, I have an iphone. And a new phone number. Turns out, to join my parents' family plan I have to be in the same "region" that they are-- so I can choose from Virginia, West Virginia ("Salt in my wound!" I told the salesman when he suggested this one), DC (this is what I chose), or Baltimore. Yes, I did sit at the AT&T store and have a huge inner (ok, and outer) debate about losing my phone number just for the sake of getting a new phone with internet capability. My dad sat there saying, "Anne, you've gotta make a decision." And then he said, "I know this is an emotional decision, but this is going to save you quite a bit of money; I don't think it's worth holding onto your phone number for $500..."
An emotional decision? It's just a phone number. Right? That's what you're thinking, isn't it? That's what the sales guy was probably thinking. To some extent, it's what my dad was probably thinking too; though he knows me well enough to understand a bit more. But here's the deal...
My "201" number is the only tie I have to my life in North Jersey-- the only place where I've lived for more than 3 years. Ever. I can't go back to a house there; my parents have moved to Maryland. I'm not trading my number in for a new phone number that ties me to a place-- I wouldn't even know where to choose. New York? Philly? Even if those were options, I wouldn't know which to choose. Where is home? North Jersey is the closest I can get, but I can't keep/get a phone number there now..... My number is the last tangible link I have to the place I consider "home"; yet here it goes.
And my eyes filled with tears. In the chair at the AT&T store. But this is my blog, so you're not allowed to judge me for that.....
Friday, July 9, 2010
Blueberries for Sal.... (ok, that's a lie... they were really for us)
We went blueberry picking tonight. I'm in Maryland (not sure where we would have found a Pick-Your-Own-Blueberries place in Brooklyn), and we all went-- me, my parents, my 90 year-old grandpa, and my 92 year-old grandma. Gramarie even had her own pail to fill and was disappointed when we had to leave because she hadn't filled hers yet.
You'll remember that both my grandparents have Alzheimers.... and my parents are some of the most patient people I know. The whole excursion went something like this:
Padre (after dinner): "Who wants to go blueberry picking??"
Gramarie: "Ooh, that would be fun! Bill, do you want to go?"
Pop-pop/Bill: "No."
Gramarie: "Why not? Bill, are you okay?"
Pop-pop: "I don't want to go."
Gramarie: "Bill, are you okay? Are you mad? Why wouldn't you want to go? What's wrong? Do you feel okay?"
Pop-pop: "I just don't want to go."
Gramarie: "Are you going to stay here?"
Pop-pop: "Yes, yes. I'll just stay here."
Padre: "Dad, you should come. You don't have to pick blueberries; you can sit in the car. I think you'll enjoy the ride."
Pop-pop: "Oh, ok."
Gramarie: "Bill, do you want to come with us?"
Pop-pop: "No."
Padre: "Yes, you should come. We're all going to go together. It's a nice ride; you'll enjoy it."
Gramarie: "What's wrong, Bill? Don't you feel okay?"
Pop-pop: "I don't know..."
Padre: "Well, let's get ready to go; I think you'll be glad we did."
[a few minutes later]
Gramarie: "Who's going? Bill, are you going?
Pop-pop: "No, I don't think so. I'm just going to stay here."
Gramarie: "What's wrong? Are you mad?"
Pop-pop: "No, I'm not mad."
Gramarie (to the rest of us): "I just don't understand why people get mad and won't tell you why. It's just not right."
Padre: "Ok, Mom, why don't you get yourself ready and I'll get Dad into the car.
[Somehow this gets accomplished and we start driving. Two minutes in....]
Gramarie: "Why does it say 'E' on the mirror? Are we out of gas?"
Mom: "Wait a minute.... soon it will say 'NE' for Not Empty."
Me: "We're fine, Gramarie. We have almost a full tank."
Padre: "Don't worry; we have plenty of gas.
[One minute later]
Gramarie: "Wow, how far away is this place? Do you know where you're going? How are we on gas?"
Padre: "Uh-oh. We're about to run out; but I'm not worried. You know why I'm not worried?"
Gramarie: "Why?"
Padre: "Because you can push."
Gramarie (laughing): "I'm not pushing this car! This is a really big hill!"
[Two more minutes...]
Gramarie: "How are we on gas? Does anyone even know where we are? What is this?" (We were driving over the Susquehanna River) "Are we in New Jersey?"
Mom: "No... we were in Maryland. And we're still in.... Maryland."
Gramarie: "That doesn't make any sense."
[We got to the farm, and Padj, Pop-pop, and Gramarie went to get peaches while Mom and I got a head-start on picking blueberries. After a bit they joined us. Pop-pop watched us from the front seat, now all smiles.]
Gramarie (to my dad): "You go ahead. I'll catch up."
Padre: "No, I'll stay with you and hold you up while you pick blueberries."
Gramarie: "No, I don't want to hold you back. I can catch up."
Padre: "You're not holding me back; I'm holding you up!"
[Gramarie worked on filling her pail and loved doing it. We paid for our pickings and headed for home]
Mom: "Did you have fun?"
Gramarie: "Yes! That was such fun! Just not long enough! We used to do this with Nanny and Aunt Anna. This was really fun."
I hope I get to do this with my kids and grandkids!
Gramarie: "Bill, did you have fun?"
Pop-pop: "Oh sure."
Gramarie: "How are we on gas?"
[After we got home, we sat on the deck and had ice cream with fresh blueberries.]
Gramarie: "That was a fun day! What a full day!"
Pop-pop: "Sure was!"
Gramarie: "Wow. We sure packed a lot in.... We went to the cemetery and the..."
Mom (interrupting): "You went where?"
Gramarie (incredulous): "The cemetery. Didn't we, Bill?"
Pop-pop: "Yes, of course we did."
Gramarie (to Padj): "We went to the cemetery! Don't you remember?!"
Padre: "I guess you must have gone by yourselves... or with someone else...."
Gramarie (to me): "You were with us, weren't you Anne?"
Me: "Do you mean to pick blueberries?"
Gramarie: "No. To the cem-e-tery."
Me: "Nope, I guess I wasn't here yet....."
Like I said, my parents are some of the most patient people in the world. Patience + good sense of humor = necessary skills for retaining sanity and composure!
You'll remember that both my grandparents have Alzheimers.... and my parents are some of the most patient people I know. The whole excursion went something like this:
Padre (after dinner): "Who wants to go blueberry picking??"
Gramarie: "Ooh, that would be fun! Bill, do you want to go?"
Pop-pop/Bill: "No."
Gramarie: "Why not? Bill, are you okay?"
Pop-pop: "I don't want to go."
Gramarie: "Bill, are you okay? Are you mad? Why wouldn't you want to go? What's wrong? Do you feel okay?"
Pop-pop: "I just don't want to go."
Gramarie: "Are you going to stay here?"
Pop-pop: "Yes, yes. I'll just stay here."
Padre: "Dad, you should come. You don't have to pick blueberries; you can sit in the car. I think you'll enjoy the ride."
Pop-pop: "Oh, ok."
Gramarie: "Bill, do you want to come with us?"
Pop-pop: "No."
Padre: "Yes, you should come. We're all going to go together. It's a nice ride; you'll enjoy it."
Gramarie: "What's wrong, Bill? Don't you feel okay?"
Pop-pop: "I don't know..."
Padre: "Well, let's get ready to go; I think you'll be glad we did."
[a few minutes later]
Gramarie: "Who's going? Bill, are you going?
Pop-pop: "No, I don't think so. I'm just going to stay here."
Gramarie: "What's wrong? Are you mad?"
Pop-pop: "No, I'm not mad."
Gramarie (to the rest of us): "I just don't understand why people get mad and won't tell you why. It's just not right."
Padre: "Ok, Mom, why don't you get yourself ready and I'll get Dad into the car.
[Somehow this gets accomplished and we start driving. Two minutes in....]
Gramarie: "Why does it say 'E' on the mirror? Are we out of gas?"
Mom: "Wait a minute.... soon it will say 'NE' for Not Empty."
Me: "We're fine, Gramarie. We have almost a full tank."
Padre: "Don't worry; we have plenty of gas.
[One minute later]
Gramarie: "Wow, how far away is this place? Do you know where you're going? How are we on gas?"
Padre: "Uh-oh. We're about to run out; but I'm not worried. You know why I'm not worried?"
Gramarie: "Why?"
Padre: "Because you can push."
Gramarie (laughing): "I'm not pushing this car! This is a really big hill!"
[Two more minutes...]
Gramarie: "How are we on gas? Does anyone even know where we are? What is this?" (We were driving over the Susquehanna River) "Are we in New Jersey?"
Mom: "No... we were in Maryland. And we're still in.... Maryland."
Gramarie: "That doesn't make any sense."
[We got to the farm, and Padj, Pop-pop, and Gramarie went to get peaches while Mom and I got a head-start on picking blueberries. After a bit they joined us. Pop-pop watched us from the front seat, now all smiles.]
Gramarie (to my dad): "You go ahead. I'll catch up."
Padre: "No, I'll stay with you and hold you up while you pick blueberries."
Gramarie: "No, I don't want to hold you back. I can catch up."
Padre: "You're not holding me back; I'm holding you up!"
[Gramarie worked on filling her pail and loved doing it. We paid for our pickings and headed for home]
Mom: "Did you have fun?"
Gramarie: "Yes! That was such fun! Just not long enough! We used to do this with Nanny and Aunt Anna. This was really fun."
I hope I get to do this with my kids and grandkids!
Gramarie: "Bill, did you have fun?"
Pop-pop: "Oh sure."
Gramarie: "How are we on gas?"
[After we got home, we sat on the deck and had ice cream with fresh blueberries.]
Gramarie: "That was a fun day! What a full day!"
Pop-pop: "Sure was!"
Gramarie: "Wow. We sure packed a lot in.... We went to the cemetery and the..."
Mom (interrupting): "You went where?"
Gramarie (incredulous): "The cemetery. Didn't we, Bill?"
Pop-pop: "Yes, of course we did."
Gramarie (to Padj): "We went to the cemetery! Don't you remember?!"
Padre: "I guess you must have gone by yourselves... or with someone else...."
Gramarie (to me): "You were with us, weren't you Anne?"
Me: "Do you mean to pick blueberries?"
Gramarie: "No. To the cem-e-tery."
Me: "Nope, I guess I wasn't here yet....."
Like I said, my parents are some of the most patient people in the world. Patience + good sense of humor = necessary skills for retaining sanity and composure!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Is it morning yet?
I am a do-er. I like to set goals and work towards them; I hate sitting around waiting for others to get things done or just hoping that everything somehow will work itself out. Now before you start thinking that this is noble, I'll interrupt your thoughts to tell you this is problematic-- for me, anyway. Because I hate waiting. For emails (see post from two days ago), for jobs (haha, read this whole blog!), for people who are meeting me for dinner, for God.
My "big brother" George always tells me, "Be still and know that He is God." And I'll say, "I know, but...." and he'll interrupt and say a bit louder, "Be still and know that He is God."
So tonight I was journaling about my future and the decisions I have to make and how I wish I knew what God wanted me to do so I could just work towards it (sound familiar? You must have read the rest of my blog....). And then George's voice-- God's words, but George's voice-- playing in my head: "Anne, be still and know that He is God."
So I took out my Bible to look at the rest of the chapter. And I saw stuff that I hadn't seen before. (Note: it makes me nervous to put my personal understandings of Scripture here for everyone to see... I have not gone to seminary; I know I'm in danger of taking this out of context or missing some key nuance of the original Hebrew text. But this is my blog, so bear with me-- this is what God taught me today....)
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. He is with me now, he is real and he is helping me. He is protecting me.
Therefore we will not fear-- why should we, when the God of the universe has declared himself our protector-- though the earth gives way. Though the whole world falls apart-- not just the physical world through natural disasters; but my world.... when it seems like my whole world is falling apart, I will not be afraid. I will hide in God.
....
God is in the midst of [the city of God]; she shall not be moved. And then this..... I hadn't ever seen this before: God will help her when morning dawns. Why not now? Why doesn't it say "God will help her when she is in danger? or scared? or lonely? or overwhelmed?" Why would he wait til morning? Ah, probably because it's peaceful at night so she doesn't need help anyway. Right? No....
The nations rage, the kingdoms totter. The world is falling apart. Hmm... that sounds familiar. Oh right, verse 2: I will not be afraid, even when the world's falling apart. Should I be? No....
He utters his voice, the earth melts. Just a word, that's all it takes. Morning must have dawned, because now he is helping her. He will help her when morning dawns-- his timing is not my timing, but his timing is perfect. And then....
Come behold the works of the Lord...
and there's a whole list of all these things that God has done. Where is the to-do list for the people? What was their job?
Be still, and know that I am God.
What is my job?
Be still, and know that I am God.
And he will help me, when morning dawns. In his perfect timing, he will make everything clear.
Lord, give me grace and faith to wait for morning.
My "big brother" George always tells me, "Be still and know that He is God." And I'll say, "I know, but...." and he'll interrupt and say a bit louder, "Be still and know that He is God."
So tonight I was journaling about my future and the decisions I have to make and how I wish I knew what God wanted me to do so I could just work towards it (sound familiar? You must have read the rest of my blog....). And then George's voice-- God's words, but George's voice-- playing in my head: "Anne, be still and know that He is God."
So I took out my Bible to look at the rest of the chapter. And I saw stuff that I hadn't seen before. (Note: it makes me nervous to put my personal understandings of Scripture here for everyone to see... I have not gone to seminary; I know I'm in danger of taking this out of context or missing some key nuance of the original Hebrew text. But this is my blog, so bear with me-- this is what God taught me today....)
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. He is with me now, he is real and he is helping me. He is protecting me.
Therefore we will not fear-- why should we, when the God of the universe has declared himself our protector-- though the earth gives way. Though the whole world falls apart-- not just the physical world through natural disasters; but my world.... when it seems like my whole world is falling apart, I will not be afraid. I will hide in God.
....
God is in the midst of [the city of God]; she shall not be moved. And then this..... I hadn't ever seen this before: God will help her when morning dawns. Why not now? Why doesn't it say "God will help her when she is in danger? or scared? or lonely? or overwhelmed?" Why would he wait til morning? Ah, probably because it's peaceful at night so she doesn't need help anyway. Right? No....
The nations rage, the kingdoms totter. The world is falling apart. Hmm... that sounds familiar. Oh right, verse 2: I will not be afraid, even when the world's falling apart. Should I be? No....
He utters his voice, the earth melts. Just a word, that's all it takes. Morning must have dawned, because now he is helping her. He will help her when morning dawns-- his timing is not my timing, but his timing is perfect. And then....
Come behold the works of the Lord...
and there's a whole list of all these things that God has done. Where is the to-do list for the people? What was their job?
Be still, and know that I am God.
What is my job?
Be still, and know that I am God.
And he will help me, when morning dawns. In his perfect timing, he will make everything clear.
Lord, give me grace and faith to wait for morning.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Heatwave!
It's at least 100 degrees in the living room of our third floor apartment tonight. No really, I'm not exaggerating. Thankfully my brothers made sure I had an air conditioner (Tim provided; Steve installed) so I'm not in danger of melting in my sleep. We just installed another AC unit in Gretchen's room, so hopefully the temperature is dropping in the living room now.
I am thankful for seasons. Hard to think that this time six months ago I couldn't get warm! But now I have full feeling in my fingers and toes; I am not under piles of blankets with layers of clothes on (ooh, the thought of that is making me sweat!). It's nice to be warm; and maybe it'll make me thankful for winter when I'm cold and remember what it was like to be this crazily hot!
I am thankful for seasons. Hard to think that this time six months ago I couldn't get warm! But now I have full feeling in my fingers and toes; I am not under piles of blankets with layers of clothes on (ooh, the thought of that is making me sweat!). It's nice to be warm; and maybe it'll make me thankful for winter when I'm cold and remember what it was like to be this crazily hot!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Portals of Silence
Do you ever rush home and check your email..... then Facebook..... then your phone (first texts, then voicemails or missed calls).... all to see if someone was thinking about you and contacted you to tell you so?
Have you ever seen the movie He's Just Not That into You? I have a love-hate relationship with that movie. I don't hate it because it's bad-- but because it's true and it hits uncomfortably close to home.
There's this part where Drew Barrymore's character (Mary) is venting about the mess that is communicating with guys. She rants, “I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work, so I called him at home, and then he emailed me to my BlackBerry, and so I texted to his cell, and then he emailed me to my home account, and the whole thing just got out of control, and I miss the days when you had one phone number and one answering machine, and that one answering machine had one casette tape, and that one casette tape either had a message from a guy or it didn’t, and now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It’s exhausting.”
Rejected by seven different technologies. Exhausting? Yeah, I should say so-- and depressing. It all goes back to the Black Hole of Communication. It's not just about guys; it's still about prospective jobs and unreturned emails and just the feeling of "ooh, maybe there will be something exciting in my email"... "on Facebook"... "on my phone"???? and then nothing.
All these different portals that should allow communication to flow more smoothly and more often. In a perfect world, perhaps. But in this world, I'm afraid it means getting rejected by many different portals that remain silent as they guard the door to the Black Hole.
And I am not a fan.
Can you tell I had no exciting email today? ;)
Have you ever seen the movie He's Just Not That into You? I have a love-hate relationship with that movie. I don't hate it because it's bad-- but because it's true and it hits uncomfortably close to home.
There's this part where Drew Barrymore's character (Mary) is venting about the mess that is communicating with guys. She rants, “I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work, so I called him at home, and then he emailed me to my BlackBerry, and so I texted to his cell, and then he emailed me to my home account, and the whole thing just got out of control, and I miss the days when you had one phone number and one answering machine, and that one answering machine had one casette tape, and that one casette tape either had a message from a guy or it didn’t, and now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It’s exhausting.”
Rejected by seven different technologies. Exhausting? Yeah, I should say so-- and depressing. It all goes back to the Black Hole of Communication. It's not just about guys; it's still about prospective jobs and unreturned emails and just the feeling of "ooh, maybe there will be something exciting in my email"... "on Facebook"... "on my phone"???? and then nothing.
All these different portals that should allow communication to flow more smoothly and more often. In a perfect world, perhaps. But in this world, I'm afraid it means getting rejected by many different portals that remain silent as they guard the door to the Black Hole.
And I am not a fan.
Can you tell I had no exciting email today? ;)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Happy Birthday, America! Love, New York
Ah, the Fourth of July-- the day for cookouts, fireworks, and patriotism. But what does one do when one no longer has a backyard with a grill?
You pack a picnic and head to Riverside Park to watch the fireworks on the Hudson River, obviously!
A group of us each grabbed a few choice items and met up to head over to the park. I went to Fairway to get some of the food items, but I finished while Steve and Ellen were still on the bus. So I grabbed an iced tea and sat at a table in Starbucks to spend some time journaling while I waited for them to get there. My table was next to the window, and about twenty minutes later I saw Steve, Ellen, and Ellen's friend Audrey with a bag, a wiffle bat, and a football-- they stood outside the window waving to me and holding up their goodies (we've been talking about playing wiffle ball for quite a while now). I shook my head and mouthed to them that they had the wrong ball. It was like watching a mime show: Ellen held up a finger to tell me to wait, then assumed her position as batter. Steve tossed her the football, and she hit it with the wiffle bat. It went about two feet. They did this a few minutes longer, while passers-by smiled with amusement at their antics.
After a bit, we all headed over to 79th and West End where we were meeting the rest of the gang. Andy (Steve's childhood best friend who just moved to NYC with his wife) and Lorelei (his wife) showed up, more goodies in hand. Then Lorelei's friend Heather. Andy told us he had the perfect location for our picnic in his "mind's eye" so he led the way and we started to head over to Riverside Park. Gretchen called to say she was a few blocks away, so we paused on the sidewalk and threw the football around a bit while she caught up.
By this point we had quite the entourage, and we talked and laughed (mostly at Andy, let's be honest) as we made our way over to our destination. We found a nice baseball field and settled in the outfield, spreading out our blankets and the wide spread of food we'd gathered between all of us. Steve's roommate Josh came, and then Robert, a new guy who is joining their Bible study-- and the group was complete. More throwing of the football, and then a small wiffle ball game (Steve and Audrey v. Ellen and me-- with lots of ghost runners because we didn't hit enough home runs to make it work with only two batters)-- I think Ellen and I won. If Steve tells you otherwise, don't believe him-- his ghost runners were cheating.
We picnicked and hung out and laughed and feasted and played. And then the fireworks. They were behind the trees a little more than we would have liked; but they were still spectacular. We were far enough away that the explosions weren't overly loud; so we were able to continue our conversation and banter while we enjoyed the show. When it was over, we joined the masses of people headed for home.
There's something pretty cool about being surrounded by people enjoying the same spectacle as you. You're united with all these people that you've never met before, because you're celebrating the same thing. You don't know their history, what they do for work, where they live, what they're like-- but you're all there, celebrating America together.
I can't help but think that's what heaven's gonna be like-- surrounded by people that I've never met before; but I'll be celebrating the same thing they are. The same Person they are. I might not know their history, what they did for work, where they lived. I won't even speak the same language as some of them. But we'll all be there, celebrating Jesus together.
You pack a picnic and head to Riverside Park to watch the fireworks on the Hudson River, obviously!
A group of us each grabbed a few choice items and met up to head over to the park. I went to Fairway to get some of the food items, but I finished while Steve and Ellen were still on the bus. So I grabbed an iced tea and sat at a table in Starbucks to spend some time journaling while I waited for them to get there. My table was next to the window, and about twenty minutes later I saw Steve, Ellen, and Ellen's friend Audrey with a bag, a wiffle bat, and a football-- they stood outside the window waving to me and holding up their goodies (we've been talking about playing wiffle ball for quite a while now). I shook my head and mouthed to them that they had the wrong ball. It was like watching a mime show: Ellen held up a finger to tell me to wait, then assumed her position as batter. Steve tossed her the football, and she hit it with the wiffle bat. It went about two feet. They did this a few minutes longer, while passers-by smiled with amusement at their antics.
After a bit, we all headed over to 79th and West End where we were meeting the rest of the gang. Andy (Steve's childhood best friend who just moved to NYC with his wife) and Lorelei (his wife) showed up, more goodies in hand. Then Lorelei's friend Heather. Andy told us he had the perfect location for our picnic in his "mind's eye" so he led the way and we started to head over to Riverside Park. Gretchen called to say she was a few blocks away, so we paused on the sidewalk and threw the football around a bit while she caught up.
By this point we had quite the entourage, and we talked and laughed (mostly at Andy, let's be honest) as we made our way over to our destination. We found a nice baseball field and settled in the outfield, spreading out our blankets and the wide spread of food we'd gathered between all of us. Steve's roommate Josh came, and then Robert, a new guy who is joining their Bible study-- and the group was complete. More throwing of the football, and then a small wiffle ball game (Steve and Audrey v. Ellen and me-- with lots of ghost runners because we didn't hit enough home runs to make it work with only two batters)-- I think Ellen and I won. If Steve tells you otherwise, don't believe him-- his ghost runners were cheating.
We picnicked and hung out and laughed and feasted and played. And then the fireworks. They were behind the trees a little more than we would have liked; but they were still spectacular. We were far enough away that the explosions weren't overly loud; so we were able to continue our conversation and banter while we enjoyed the show. When it was over, we joined the masses of people headed for home.
There's something pretty cool about being surrounded by people enjoying the same spectacle as you. You're united with all these people that you've never met before, because you're celebrating the same thing. You don't know their history, what they do for work, where they live, what they're like-- but you're all there, celebrating America together.
I can't help but think that's what heaven's gonna be like-- surrounded by people that I've never met before; but I'll be celebrating the same thing they are. The same Person they are. I might not know their history, what they did for work, where they lived. I won't even speak the same language as some of them. But we'll all be there, celebrating Jesus together.
To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing to be considered for the position available with your organization. To be quite honest, I have written such a huge number of cover letters that I am beginning to feel it's quite pointless; so I'll just cut to the chase.
I would like to work for your organization because I want to work with inner city kids, and I would like to get paid for it so I can devote all of my time and energy to it instead of just what is "left over" after I do my other-job-that-pays-me. I am not applying for this position just so I can be employed and have my health insurance paid for by someone else. I actually love inner city kids and want to devote my life to working with them full-time. I am organized and can get the job done, but I don't want to sit at a desk for forty hours a week. I would much rather hang out with the kids and "live life" with them.
Please don't just throw this letter and resume in some pile on your desk. I would really like to hear back from you. I am all too familiar with the Black Hole of Communication; please don't let this be another such experience.
I look forward to speaking with you soon.
Sincerely Yours,
Anne K. Davies
(Don't worry; I have not sent this cover letter to anyone. Yet.)
I would like to work for your organization because I want to work with inner city kids, and I would like to get paid for it so I can devote all of my time and energy to it instead of just what is "left over" after I do my other-job-that-pays-me. I am not applying for this position just so I can be employed and have my health insurance paid for by someone else. I actually love inner city kids and want to devote my life to working with them full-time. I am organized and can get the job done, but I don't want to sit at a desk for forty hours a week. I would much rather hang out with the kids and "live life" with them.
Please don't just throw this letter and resume in some pile on your desk. I would really like to hear back from you. I am all too familiar with the Black Hole of Communication; please don't let this be another such experience.
I look forward to speaking with you soon.
Sincerely Yours,
Anne K. Davies
(Don't worry; I have not sent this cover letter to anyone. Yet.)
Saturday, July 3, 2010
"This is your New York"...
...so read the advertisement on the side of the tour bus driving down 14th Street.
That slogan kept running through my mind as I took in the scenery around me. The setting sun shining on the buildings. People-- so many people-- walking on the sidewalks; some tourists, others residents. And then the subway.
So hot. At least 95 degrees on the platform. No joke. Maybe even hotter. Still air; not even a breeze.
But across the tracks on the other platform, a makeshift band. Just a guy with a drumset and a guy with a saxophone. But they were playing their hearts out.
And all of a sudden, I realized how much their music was uniting us as we waited for the subway. My first clue was the couple that started dancing. I smiled, looked around, and saw other people tapping their hands on their legs, bobbing their heads to the beat, or grooving by themselves like they just couldn't help it.
This is your New York, I thought to myself. And I couldn't help but smile-- especially when I realized that I, too, had been tapping my foot to the beat of the drum.
That slogan kept running through my mind as I took in the scenery around me. The setting sun shining on the buildings. People-- so many people-- walking on the sidewalks; some tourists, others residents. And then the subway.
So hot. At least 95 degrees on the platform. No joke. Maybe even hotter. Still air; not even a breeze.
But across the tracks on the other platform, a makeshift band. Just a guy with a drumset and a guy with a saxophone. But they were playing their hearts out.
And all of a sudden, I realized how much their music was uniting us as we waited for the subway. My first clue was the couple that started dancing. I smiled, looked around, and saw other people tapping their hands on their legs, bobbing their heads to the beat, or grooving by themselves like they just couldn't help it.
This is your New York, I thought to myself. And I couldn't help but smile-- especially when I realized that I, too, had been tapping my foot to the beat of the drum.
Friday, July 2, 2010
A Brooklyn Beach Day
One of my favorite things about summer is going to the beach. One of the things, therefore, that made me most apprehensive about spending this summer in NYC was that I thought it meant beach trips would have to be few and far between. I mean really, who thinks "beach" when they think of the Big Apple? I sure didn't.
But the subway line closest to my apartment-- the F train-- always says it's bound for Coney Island. So when Gretchen and I started thinking about trying to find a beach on our day off this week, I said "What about Coney Island??"
We were skeptical, at best. But we figured worst case scenario, the beach would be dirty and we'd still get to enjoy the sun. Not a bad "worst case scenario," right? We didn't think so either.
So we packed a beach blanket and our beach towels and walked the two blocks to the subway. We have monthly transit passes, so our subway ride to the beach cost us an extra.... nothing!!!! The day was beautiful, and the subway traveled above ground most of the way, so we could see parts of Brooklyn we hadn't seen before. And, about thirty minutes later, we pulled into the station at Coney Island! We walked two more blocks and we were at the boardwalk. A hundred more feet, and we were on the beach!
There was no admission charge, the weather was gorgeous, the water was clean (cold! but clean), and we were at the beach within just forty-five minutes of walking out our front door! Turns out, they have fireworks on Fridays during the summer, too. We didn't stay for them, but we look forward to going back!
But the subway line closest to my apartment-- the F train-- always says it's bound for Coney Island. So when Gretchen and I started thinking about trying to find a beach on our day off this week, I said "What about Coney Island??"
We were skeptical, at best. But we figured worst case scenario, the beach would be dirty and we'd still get to enjoy the sun. Not a bad "worst case scenario," right? We didn't think so either.
So we packed a beach blanket and our beach towels and walked the two blocks to the subway. We have monthly transit passes, so our subway ride to the beach cost us an extra.... nothing!!!! The day was beautiful, and the subway traveled above ground most of the way, so we could see parts of Brooklyn we hadn't seen before. And, about thirty minutes later, we pulled into the station at Coney Island! We walked two more blocks and we were at the boardwalk. A hundred more feet, and we were on the beach!
There was no admission charge, the weather was gorgeous, the water was clean (cold! but clean), and we were at the beach within just forty-five minutes of walking out our front door! Turns out, they have fireworks on Fridays during the summer, too. We didn't stay for them, but we look forward to going back!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Thumb Theology
I cut my thumb on a knife today. No idea how; just looked down and there was blood all over my hand. Washed it off, applied pressure, put a band-aid on it (ugh, I left my Curious George ones in Philly!). But then every time I had to wash my hands, the band-aid would start to slide off my thumb. I finally caved in and just took it off all the way. I mean, it's just a little cut, right? How badly can it hurt?
Ha! Nice thought. You know how paper cuts are some of the most unfortunate injuries? This cut falls into the same category. I just can't quite use my thumb-- it really hurts if I put pressure on it. So all the sudden, I'm favoring that hand and doing things I'd usually do with my right hand with my left hand instead.
Dejá vu.
I'm sure some of you remember that I had hand surgery about six months ago. On my right hand. I could barely use my right hand at all-- for about three weeks (and boy, does three weeks drag on forever when you only have the use of one hand!). And then I didn't have full use of it for about another two months. It was one of The Most Frustrating Experiences of my life. I couldn't open a jar, hold a pen, carry anything.... I was totally dependent on my friends to take care of me; kind people from church made me food, and my roommates graciously picked up my slack on household chores.
It was wretched. And then it seemed like it wasn't healing correctly. I had to see a specialist and then go to multiple follow-up appointments. I wondered if I was ever going to have full use of my hand again. I'm not being melodramatic; I really thought I wasn't ever going to get my grip strength back, and I couldn't imagine being able to carry things or write or type without severe pain and discomfort.
How quickly we forget. That was not even six months ago, yet I never think about it. I really just don't think back to the days of praying for God to heal my hand. It seemed at one point like they had damaged nerves during the surgery; they talked about going back in to fix it. That had been my first surgery, and I was perfectly happy for it to be my last as well-- I was not remotely excited about going through the whole ordeal again!
I still don't have full feeling in my fingers (turns out there was already prior nerve damage in other fingers) and I probably won't ever; but honestly, that's fine. The point is, I have returned to normalcy. I don't think about not using my right hand. I don't feel severe pain when I do use it. In an average day, the fact that I had hand surgery doesn't even cross my mind.
Until today. All the sudden, I was back to avoiding using my right hand. It made me remember those months of fear and pain and uncertainty. And that made me realize that I haven't really thanked God that I'm not still feeling overwhelmed by that same set of emotions. I don't have to think about my hand anymore, so I don't. I don't remember that it could have been a lot worse; I don't thank God for the full use of both hands. Why? Not because I'm not grateful-- I "just" don't think about it.
So then I started thinking about all the other places this is true in my life....
Ouch.
Lord, thank you for the many ways that you take care of me-- even when I don't realize it or I fail to acknowledge it. Forgive me for taking your blessings for granted; for not recognizing the little (and big!) miracles that take place every day. Forgive me for not being grateful. Please open my eyes to see your hand at work in my life. Thank you that you give little reminders of your goodness-- even through a cut on my thumb!
Ha! Nice thought. You know how paper cuts are some of the most unfortunate injuries? This cut falls into the same category. I just can't quite use my thumb-- it really hurts if I put pressure on it. So all the sudden, I'm favoring that hand and doing things I'd usually do with my right hand with my left hand instead.
Dejá vu.
I'm sure some of you remember that I had hand surgery about six months ago. On my right hand. I could barely use my right hand at all-- for about three weeks (and boy, does three weeks drag on forever when you only have the use of one hand!). And then I didn't have full use of it for about another two months. It was one of The Most Frustrating Experiences of my life. I couldn't open a jar, hold a pen, carry anything.... I was totally dependent on my friends to take care of me; kind people from church made me food, and my roommates graciously picked up my slack on household chores.
It was wretched. And then it seemed like it wasn't healing correctly. I had to see a specialist and then go to multiple follow-up appointments. I wondered if I was ever going to have full use of my hand again. I'm not being melodramatic; I really thought I wasn't ever going to get my grip strength back, and I couldn't imagine being able to carry things or write or type without severe pain and discomfort.
How quickly we forget. That was not even six months ago, yet I never think about it. I really just don't think back to the days of praying for God to heal my hand. It seemed at one point like they had damaged nerves during the surgery; they talked about going back in to fix it. That had been my first surgery, and I was perfectly happy for it to be my last as well-- I was not remotely excited about going through the whole ordeal again!
I still don't have full feeling in my fingers (turns out there was already prior nerve damage in other fingers) and I probably won't ever; but honestly, that's fine. The point is, I have returned to normalcy. I don't think about not using my right hand. I don't feel severe pain when I do use it. In an average day, the fact that I had hand surgery doesn't even cross my mind.
Until today. All the sudden, I was back to avoiding using my right hand. It made me remember those months of fear and pain and uncertainty. And that made me realize that I haven't really thanked God that I'm not still feeling overwhelmed by that same set of emotions. I don't have to think about my hand anymore, so I don't. I don't remember that it could have been a lot worse; I don't thank God for the full use of both hands. Why? Not because I'm not grateful-- I "just" don't think about it.
So then I started thinking about all the other places this is true in my life....
Ouch.
Lord, thank you for the many ways that you take care of me-- even when I don't realize it or I fail to acknowledge it. Forgive me for taking your blessings for granted; for not recognizing the little (and big!) miracles that take place every day. Forgive me for not being grateful. Please open my eyes to see your hand at work in my life. Thank you that you give little reminders of your goodness-- even through a cut on my thumb!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)