8:29

[I read a book on the bus to and from New Hampshire this weekend. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I'd written it myself. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the author and I live parallel lives. Either way, I'll be blogging about this book a bit in the near future. And you should read it. Seriously. It's called Angry Conversations with God by Susan Isaacs, and it is the most refreshingly honest book I've read in a long time. I feel like I could write pages and pages about what reading this book did for me. But this is going to be just a short blog entry because I'm tired; but I just have to write about this part that made me tear up and smile at the same time because it proved to me that the author and I are, indeed, soulmates.]

There's a part in the book where the author (Susan) is talking to her counselor (Rudy) and have the following conversation when Rudy asks Susan what she has to be thankful for:

Susan: My cat. My friends. And this is really lame, but there's 3:16.
Rudy: Do you mean John 3:16? "For God so loved the world"?
Susan: No. My birthday is 3/16. March 16. It's a dorky, superstitious thing. I keep catching the clock when it's 3:16pm. I've even woken up in the middle of the night, and it's 3:16am. It's bizarre.

I liked this part already. I've had the same experience multiple times, where I keep "catching the clock" at 8:29-- my birthday. And it always makes me happy. But the rest of their conversation is what brought the tears to my eyes--

Rudy: And what do you think God's saying?
Susan: "Hey man, just thinkin' about ya."

Maybe she's right; maybe it's a dorky, superstitious thing. But I think that God uses the little things to encourage us sometimes. So I'll take it.

When Hoping Hurts

I am learning that sometimes it hurts worse to hope than not to.

Maybe this is something that the rest of the world figured out a long time ago; but I'm stubborn, and I've long insisted that being an optimist is The Way Forward and that, really, it is a more enriching and rewarding approach to life.

I'm beginning to think that I've been wrong this whole time. Because the fact of the matter is that if you let yourself hope, you open yourself to a whole lot more risk of getting hurt than if you just expect the worst. If you expect to be let down, then you're either satisfied or pleasantly surprised. Yet if you choose to hope, you open yourself to the possibility of pain.

So just stop hoping, I keep telling myself. Stop expecting big things and you, too, can be satisfied or even pleasantly surprised.

It sounds wonderful. And yet I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe it's my fear of missing out. Because if hope deferred makes the heart sick (and boy, does it!), hope fulfilled must make the heart sing like nothing else.

And there's this-- I can't get away from the fact that we serve a God of hope who wants us to keep hoping, even when it's hard and even when it hurts. One of my favorite prayers in the Bible is from Romans 15:13-- "May the God of hope fill you with joy and peace as you trust in him, that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope." I read this verse last week when I was fighting to hope, and I was relieved to see that there's no expectation that this hope will come from my own strength. Because I don't have that kind of strength. But by the power of the Holy Spirit, I may abound in hope.

It hurts to hope. Because when you hope, you make yourself vulnerable. You open yourself to the possibility of pain and disappointment. And when hope is deferred and your heart is sick, it's so tempting to give up and not go down that road of hope again.

I still want to believe that it's worth it. That because we are called to hope, that it really is the more enriching and rewarding path to take-- even if it's the scarier, and sometimes the harder, one. Man, I wish I had answers; I wish I knew how to keep hoping without risking getting hurt. But the only thing I can figure out right now is to keep clinging to that verse from Romans. I don't even know what it looks like completely, but I want to fight for it because I want my life to be characterized by peace and joy. I want to fight for it because I don't want to give up hope.

But I am weak. Right now especially. And in the midst of the hurt, it's hard for me even to think about opening myself up to more pain. I keep trying to remind myself that it's not up to me, that I don't have to find the strength in myself, and that the Holy Spirit is the one who will enable me and empower me to hope again.

Lord, by the power of your Holy Spirit, help me to trust in you, the God of hope, so that I can continue to abound (to overflow!) in hope.

Even when it hurts.

Masquerading Goodness

Some things you just can't blog about. And that's a shame, since blogging helps me process life. Maybe someday. But for now, I'll share the words of the song that is playing on repeat in my apartment.

Heavenly Father, you always amaze me
Let your kingdom come in my world and in my life
Give me the food I need to live through today
And forgive me as I forgive the people that wrong me
Lead me far from temptation
Deliver me from the evil one

I look out the window the birds are composing
Not a note is out of tune or out of place
I walk to the meadow and stare at the flowers
Better dressed than any girl on her wedding day

So why do I worry?
Why do I freak out?
God knows what I need
You know what I need

Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong

The kingdom of the heavens is now advancing
Invade my heart, invade this broken town
The kingdom of the Heavens is buried treasure
Would you sell yourself to buy the one you've found?

Two things you told me
That you are strong
And you love me
Yes, you love me

Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong

Our God in Heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Above all names
Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
Give us today our daily bread
Forgive us weary sinners
Keep us far away from our vices
And deliver us from these prisons....

At the end of the day, this is all I need to know. That God is for me. So somehow everything God is doing in my life is good. It's just sometimes goodness that I don't recognize because it looks suspiciously like things I fear.

But why do I worry? Why do I freak out? God knows what I need. You know what I need.

On Turning 30...

I've dreaded turning 30 since, well, since I could count that high. For me, 30 has always been a marker for being grown up and, therefore, for having everything figured out. In recent years, the closer I got to the dreaded 3-0, the more it became apparent to me that I wasn't going to be ready to turn 30. Because instead of getting closer to my goals, my goals have shifted and changed until I'm not even sure what I'm reaching for anymore.

I turned 30 two weeks ago today. Not only am I not married with two children like I always thought I would be by now, but I'm also not on any direct or clear path to some elite career in lieu of this motherhood track. I changed my mind about pursuing a PhD a long time ago, and I don't even live in the house I bought when I was sure that Philadelphia was where I would spend the rest of my life. No, I'm nowhere close to where I thought I'd be when I turned 30.

Puzzles have become the theme of my life ever since my move to New York last summer. Last week I got handed a few more puzzle pieces that don't seem to fit anywhere. I guess I always thought that, at the very least, I'd have the frame of my puzzle done by the time I turned 30. No such luck.

I have a friend who has understood my struggle in a unique way, because it has been her struggle as well. We have both been fighting to make sense of what to do with our individual lives. She wrote to me today: "God's already got it all worked out... and he already knows what is best and fulfills my heart's desires and uses all my skills and personality and loves. Remember, he already knows before we even ask, so if he already knows, maybe we need to spend less energy asking and more focus on 1) acknowledging and seeing God's greatness and 2) surrendering to him, letting him be God."

One of my favorite songs is by Andrew Peterson, and it goes like this:

Give us faith to be strong
Father, we are so weak
Our bodies are fragile and weary
As we stagger and stumble to walk where you lead
Give us faith to be strong

Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it's hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong

Give us peace when we're torn
Mend us up when we break
This flesh can be wounded and shaking
When there's much too much trouble for one heart to take
Give us peace when we're torn

Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it's hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong

Give us hearts to find hope
Father, we cannot see
How the sorrow we feel can bring freedom
And as hard as we try, Lord, it's hard to believe
So, give us hearts to find hope

Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it's hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong
Give us peace when we're torn
Give us faith, faith to be strong.

Life isn't long, but it is hard. And the pieces of the puzzle don't always make sense. Especially when you're bad at puzzles, anyway. But I'm glad that God has it all worked out; I'm glad that God's not caught off guard by the fact that I just turned 30 and I'm still staring at all my puzzle pieces. And I'm really glad that he's already got it all worked out and knows exactly where and how each piece will fit with the others.

Lord, give me a heart to find hope. Give me faith to be strong. Give me strength to be faithful. Give me peace when I'm torn. Give me grace to go on, make me willing and able. Give me faith, Lord; please make me strong in your strength.

Who Knew?

I took the bus to and from The Promised Land yesterday. One of my best friends got engaged this week (Congrats, Rach!), and I'd gone to meet her new fiance. I brought them a celebratory cake, which meant I had a huge cake-taker with me on the bus.

After a fun evening of making sushi and hanging out, I caught the bus back to NYC. It was late. It was a Saturday night. And when I got on the bus and a bunch of guys at the back of the bus yelled, "CAAAAAAAKE," I should have known it would be an interesting ride.

Turns out, the guys had had a bit too much to drink. And they decided that this bus ride would be the perfect opportunity to educate each other-- and the rest of us unsuspecting passengers-- about what to look for in a woman.

"All I know," one guy announced loudly, "is that any girl whose name starts with an A is crazy. I've never, never met a girl whose name starts with A who wasn't insane. In fact," he declared even more loudly, "when I have a daughter, I'm going to name her something that starts with a Z because it's as far as you can get from A."

I thought about going back and introducing myself. But I was afraid I might just prove his point....

Cape Cod Sand

"They say once you get Cape Cod sand in your shoes, you'll always come back."

My grandma used to tell me that all the time when I was little. She and my grandpa came here for their honeymoon. It rained the whole time. "But," she said, "we had Cape Cod sand in our shoes. And they say once you get Cape Cod sand in your shoes, you'll always come back."

I think I was born with Cape Cod sand in my shoes. Of all the places I've been in the world, this is my absolute favorite. As soon as we drive across the Bourne Bridge and are greeted by the "Cape Cod" shrubs (yes, they really are shaped to read "Cape Cod"!), it's like everything else melts away and I have a new lease on life.

Driving around town, walking to the town cove, watching the sun set over Rock Harbor, listening to the waves crash on the shore at Nauset Beach, swimming in one of the many ponds, playing mini-golf after a day at the beach or playing card games around the dining room table-- these are a few of my favorite things about the Cape.

I'm on the Cape for the week, and it feels wonderful. I can't explain why I feel like a different person when I'm here-- why life makes more sense, why I am totally relaxed, why everything is more beautiful and I can think more clearly than anywhere else, why the Cape Cod air soothes my soul. But it just does.

My theory is that once you get Cape Cod sand in your shoes, you get it in your soul as well.

It's good to be back.

The Time the Weatherman Was Right....

The forecast said 60% chance of rain today; 70% chance of rain yesterday. We debated and debated, and then we debated some more. And then we decided to go camping anyway.

By yesterday morning, the weatherman said there was a 90% chance of rain-- and thunderstorms.

Don't worry, guys-- I said-- they've been saying all week that there'd be thunderstorms, and it's been nice every single day! I'm sure we'll be fine.

Why is it that weathermen are only right when you need them not to be?

And yet, it was awesome. The rain let up enough for us to go on two hikes (and we even almost made it back from the second hike before it started its torrential downpour-- almost, but not quite); and it stopped raining enough for us to get a fire started for cooking all our meals. Last night it rained the hardest. But we were able to take shelter in our large tent and play some Dutch Blitz and Bananagrams. Pretty hard to feel sad about that!

I haven't been that wet or cold in a while. Not that wet, not that cold-- and not that happy in a while. I'm even glad the weatherman was right.

I don't think I would've changed a thing.