A time for every season

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.

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.

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.

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. :)

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?"

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.

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.