I really need to cut back on my caffeine ... I had a horrible hour this morning where my daily 10:57AM caffeine rush happened to coincide with my tiny-dieting-breakfast blood sugar crash ... still haven't fully recovered. I think I'll have tea tomorrow.
Just got home a little while ago from an awesome performance by one of the theater troupes at my university ... they all did a fantastic job and I had a great time!
Thanks also to Katherine Sophia for reminding me last night that Jesus' public ministry didn't begin until He was 30 ... that helped me a lot. I try to remind myself that there's really no such thing as being "on time" or "behind" or "ahead" in life, since each life has its own timing in God's plan and no one can say when is the right time for another person to reach a certain milestone; but it does get difficult sometimes to be moving at such a dramatically different pace than my peers. Maybe they said the same things about Jesus. :-) I like to think He was still living at home and helping His earthly parents with His younger siblings, too.
And yikes, it's almost 1:30 in the morning! I'd better head for bed!!!
I've been busy this week exploring the different levels of "tired". That word seems pretty straightforward, but it isn't.
There's the tiredness that means you sink happily into your cozy chair at the end of a good day's work, and feel the softness cradle your weary bones. There's the tiredness that means that you crawl into bed early, just ahead of the final insistent wave of sleep. There's the tiredness that means you need to push away everything and everyone for an hour or two, and lose yourself in a book or a movie or something that gives your mind rest from the thousand pressing questions of the day.
And then there's the tiredness that means you wander aimlessly into the middle of the kitchen, see the hamper overflowing with clothes and the sink overflowing with dishes, flap your hands frantically in the air, and start to cry.
Yeah.
It's difficult to see the changes that mean I'm getting older. The little sag in my cheeks and chin, the ugly belly fat that seems more and more ineradicable, the ever more persistent crick in my neck. And most noticeably, the waning ability to stay up until 2AM and still function normally the next day.
I'm moving quickly toward 30 ... past my physical prime, into the years of tiredness and aches and pains. I'm really struggling with this. Some women's beauty just gets fuller, riper, and more mature as they approach 30. But I can see my skin getting paler and duller, my eyes getting wrinkled and sad, and my shape getting lumpier and doughier. Especially when I keep trying to start movies at midnight like a college student.
I haven't done enough to be approaching this age. I haven't borne any children, finished any worthwhile work, or completed any significant projects. My life is slipping away and I have nothing to show for it.
I am so fascinated by, and in awe of, people who are suited to a nice, quiet, "average" life and are truly content in it. People who can appreciate the joyful service in emptying the dishwasher, or who genuinely take pleasure in things like trying a new recipe, building a sturdy bookshelf, redecorating the house, or tinkering with the car. As in, they truly enjoy these tasks, without trying to find some lofty meaning behind them or sending their brain off on a melodrama while their hands work their tasks.
People like this may think they're not "special," but trust me, as a twitchy, disengaged person who lives her whole life waiting for some vague Adventure somewhere just around the riverbend, you are very special. Being able to truly pay attention to the details of your home project is special. It makes your work better and more reliable. Noticing the details in whether the flowers should be on this end of the bookshelf or that end is special. It makes your home cheerier. Truly investing yourself in the little things that keep our homes and businesses and entire society running, and truly living those things rather than just enduring them, is special.
I barely notice the muddy boot lying in the middle of the hall; I step over it (this really happened this evening, true story) and run to grab my computer or my book or my camera to continue whatever fantasy story I've been unraveling in my head all day. I sit red-faced in teleconferences, listening to executives laughing about the funny typos they found in my FINAL DRAFT WHICH I HAD SUBMITTED FOR FINAL APPROVAL, probably because I was listening to Rick Astley at the time or dreaming up a music video. I walk run out the door late every morning because I was up late the night before (just like I am tonight), listening to bad 80's rock ballads and writing dramatic comments on people's Facebook pages.
Solid, hardworking people like to pretend that we floaty, absent-minded people are something special, probably just because literature tends to portray us that way. But please believe me when I say that there is so much more value in the "little" things you actually do, than the "big" things I just sit on the couch and think about. And most of us know it, if we're honest. We cocoon ourselves in this little bubble of feeling "special" and "unique," but the reality is that most of us are just lazy, selfish, apathetic, and short-sighted.
Please feel free to give us a kick in the pants when our Anne Shirley-ing interrupts your good solid Gilbert Blythe-ing. Turns out we Annes need a little more reality than we think we do.
I genuinely can't believe it's still Monday! What a busy day this was! "Vicki, take care of this ... Vicki, make a note of that ... Vicki, check on this for me ... go ask Vicki, she'll help you out ... Vicki, could you spearhead this, please? ... Vicki, make sure this gets done, please and thanks ... Vicki, please track this down and let me know what you find ... Vicki, send me a message as soon as you complete those edits ..."
...
I am incredibly grateful to work as assistant to a supervisor whom I've known for three years and whom I greatly admire and feel honored to work with. I'm also incredibly grateful that he trusts me to complete jobs accurately, graciously, and on time. With trust, of course, comes responsibility. And I feel very ... trusted ... so far this week. :-) It'll be nice to come in and know exactly what I have waiting for me, though - I much prefer coming in and getting right to work, over coming in and having to drift around waiting for something to do. It's interesting - when I'm at work, I hate to be idle; I have to be busy. And yet, when I'm at home, I hate to be busy; I much prefer to be idle. Go figure ...
***
And you tell me that you find it hard to grow
Well, I know, I know, I know
And you tell me that you've many seeds to sow
Well, I know, I know, I know ...
~ "Fool's Overture" | Roger Hodgson (Supertramp)
I had an interesting encounter this evening ... I was sitting on a bench, eating a very messy Middle Eastern sandwich whose proper name I forget, scrubbing mayonnaise off my face with my wrist while scrolling through Facebook with my elbow; when a very young, very lost Chinese boy came up to me and asked directions to another hall on campus.
I told him how to get where he was going, and he nodded and said he understood; after which he asked hopefully if I was a freshman, like him. I laughed and mentally blessed him and said no, I had just graduated. He asked if I liked it here. I said yes, I did, and asked if he liked it here.
A conversation unfolded ... he had only been here for a few weeks; his paperwork was all confused and he didn't know how long he would even get to stay, but he liked it here and didn't want to leave; he wanted to learn about American culture and civics; he was under a lot of pressure from his parents to choose the "correct" major; he envied me for having four younger siblings, as he was, of course, an only child. He shared his fear that his education would be interrupted and he would be older than everyone else when he finally got into his groove; and so I shared my unconventional educational story with him, and his face lit up with relief as he asked me about how I felt (old), whether I still had friends (yes), if I still felt accepted (absolutely), and so on. I could see fears and questions calming as I talked about my life as a 26-year-old undergraduate and he realized it wasn't as bad as he had thought.
Heather joined us at that point, and since we were leaving anyway, I offered to walk with him to where he was going. He accepted happily, I think more because he was eager to have someone to talk with than because he needed help ... on the way we talked about the cold weather, the campus food, and how to orient himself to the campus landmarks in case he got lost. When we got to the building he needed, we made sure he knew which classroom he was going to, then we said goodbye. He reached out for a handshake. I gave him a hug instead and told him to take care of himself.
I know I'll never see him again.
There are so many lonely little guys and girls on campus ... I've thought about this abstractly many times, but it's different when you get to talk with one of them and hear his life's story, his goals, his fears, and his hopes. There wouldn't have been any way to ask to check in on him without being creepy and weird; but I think I'd like to get more involved at the international student center on campus and see if I can make life a little less lonely and scary for these students who are so far away from their homes and families.
***
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow
Praise Him, all creatures here below
Praise Him above, ye heav'nly host
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Amen
~ Doxology | Traditional Hymn
Father God, please lead me to a body of believers who follow you with their whole hearts, truly loving one another and reaching out in love and care to the world around them ... make me a worthy Christian to join such a group of believers ... help me keep the needs of my family in mind, and not make things difficult for them ... and keep my heart soft, not shunning the company of my brothers and sisters because of shyness or pride or laziness or apathy.
I was super encouraged by this little blog post from John Piper's blog this evening, "Communing with Christ on a Crazy Day." The post offered some concrete, practical tips for how to stay connected with and relying on God even in days when we can't fit in our regular devotions; but I really liked how it encouraged us to maintain a spirit of devotion and dependence throughout the day, regardless of whether we've read our normal Bible reading or not. I know that the days when I don't get my devotions completely done are rarely because of an actual schedule anomaly as much as they are because of my own laziness (staying up until 3AM the night before, or sleeping in an extra half-hour in the morning), so I don't feel quite justified in taking advantage of most of those tips; but I was definitely very encouraged by the overall message of taking small Bible snippets and thinking about God's truth throughout the day.
Today was another quiet weekend day. I felt quite sad and irritated for much of it, thanks to my lovely feminine hormones; but I did get a chance to take a drive with my parents and youngest brother during the late afternoon, and it was just a beautiful day:
I've been trying, in the last few days, to rediscover some ways to be creative during the evenings and weekends. My excusable habit during my undergraduate studies of coming home from a long day and vegging out in front of Farm Heroes Saga for an hour or so is not quite as excusable anymore, now that I have no homework and many more hours of free time to myself. I did wrestle myself down and read a chapter or two of Jane Eyre last night, as I mentioned; today I began crocheting the first few rows of a lightweight mohair scarf for spring, and I've been putting quite a few hours' work into my music video hobby these past couple of weeks, as well. My hope is to make myself read and crochet and do things with my hands for longer stretches of time, and try to wean myself off of Internet games and habits that waste time and give nothing in return.
And now I'd better head for bed - I have two important meetings tomorrow, and unfortunately, it's not as socially acceptable to fall asleep in staff meetings as it was to fall asleep in class. ;-)
Have a wonderful night's sleep, and may the Lord shower blessings on your Mondays tomorrow!!
Wowww, that last post was poorly timed ... I genuinely didn't even realize I was spewing my crotchety thoughts right before VALENTINE'S DAY. *cue sarcastic trumpet riff*
Today was a lovely Valentine's Day. I spent half an hour catching up on my year-long Bible reading plan this morning, then ventured out into the Arctic blizzard winds to buy some little gifts for my mom and sister and stop at the discount bakery outlet with my mom. After getting home and thawing a bit, we all ordered Chinese takeout and had a fun lunch/dinner/whatever-you-call-the-meal-when-you-didn't-eat-breakfast-until-11AM. After lunch I tinkered with some of the music videos I'm making, and which are quite promising, if I may say so; I read Jane Eyre while I ate my dinner of toast and oatmeal, then I watched all of my favorite Saturday night shows while finishing crocheting Dan a pair of slippers (and giggling over Sims jokes on Pinterest). Now I'm about to read my evening devotions and head for bed.
I'm not at all upset or jealous of anyone on this Valentine's Day. It's a day for celebrating love; and I'm surrounded by more love than I could ever comprehend, beginning with the love of God and going on down the list. My prayer is, in fact, that I would learn not to be afraid of loving and being loved - in friend and family relationships too, but especially in potential romantic ones. I want to let go of all the hurtful, self-protecting ideas about men that have formed a little crust around my heart, and see them as just fellow human beings and friends to get to know. Some of the ideas I mean are the ones the media propagates, like portraying men as dangerous and lustful; and on the flip side, some of them are from the anti-dating movement, the man-made regulations about exactly how to modestly speak to a man and keep such-and-such a distance between us and so forth. If I met a nice man who was afraid to talk to me because he either thought I was a gold-digger, or because he was afraid of saying or doing something immodest, I would be very sad and hurt. I'm just a thoughtful, quirky, sensitive, lazy human being who happens to be a woman. I want to see men as unique, interesting, individually special and complex human beings who just happen to be men, and therefore not be afraid or shielding myself when I talk with them.
So on this Valentine's Day, I celebrate and thank the Lord for love. For the love of my wonderful family, for the love of my beautiful friends at college, for the love of the new friends I'm making at work and the old friends from long ago who still care for me from afar, and for the love of my future husband, wherever and whatever he is doing on this day. And most beautifully and importantly, for the Lover of my soul, the God-Man who literally gave up everything to save my life. For this, the tears of blood and the lashed back and the torn hands and feet - THIS is love.
Okay, here's the thing about love songs. I was talking with a friend today about our favorite music, and I mentioned that my favorites tend not to be love songs. She was so completely shocked that I could tell I wouldn't get anywhere if I tried to explain myself; but I would feel so much better if I explained.
Firstly, the radio is so saturated with love songs that I just get tired of them sometimes. Really, listen to almost any station that plays music with words, and you'll be hearing 98% love songs all the time.
Secondly, when it comes to love songs, it's all been done before. Seriously. You or I could wake up tomorrow and, with a little bit of luck and some good rhyming ability, we could hit YouTube and become Internet sensations with the next hit love song. It's easy. You start with a heavy base of "you're beautiful"; mix in a healthy dose of "I need you", "I want you", and "I can't live without you"; and finish with "marry me" if you want to appeal to the older crowd, or "let's get together tonight" if you want to appeal to the younger crowd; and you've got it. You're done. In contrast, it takes a lot more thought and depth to write about other emotions like joy, grief, frustration, anger, or pride.
In that same vein, doesn't anyone ever get tired of writing about love? Of course it's a wonderful thing; but there are so many other life-changing things to write songs about. Why not write about war - why not write about the suffering of the children in Syria and Ukraine? What about race relations in the U.S.? Why not write songs like they did back in the 60's about getting along and supporting each other? Why not write about what it's like for a new immigrant to come to the United States? Or about the importance of the family? Or about the beauty of young people's dreams and aspirations?
I understand that people do indeed write these kinds of songs; and they tend to be my favorites. We've heard a thousand times in song that love is about butterflies, desire, pride, wonder, etc. etc. etc., but love (which actually just means the first stages of romance, not true, long-lasting, sacrificial love) is only one small part of the overall spectrum of human experience. Is it the only part of life that deserves to be put to song?
Just a few random late-night falling-asleep-at-the-computer thoughts. :-) What do you think? Do you ever tire of love songs?
Well, I was wrong - life hasn't been any calmer this week. It's been one of those weeks where I laugh during the day and say cheerfully, "yeah, it's been kind of a crazy day!"; but then I come home and sit by myself in the middle of a dark room with my head low over my knees singing "Hunter's Moon."
Yeah, kind of like that. But darker. Alone. And singing.
I'm pretty sure I'm doing something wrong. I'm not delegating, or I'm working too slowly so I don't get things done, or I'm doing too many things at once ... I'm not quite sure what I'm doing wrong. I go through this phase in pretty much every job I work; but sometimes I settle in and find my groove, and sometimes I don't. In my last office job, I settled in nicely and found a comfortable routine. In my kitchen and childcare jobs, I never did. (There was a lot of lonely singing back then, too.)
Part of it is also that I'm a supervisor now, and that stresses me. I always thought I wanted to be the "idea" person in charge of everybody else, so I could run things my way; and indeed I am that way when I'm working on school projects or things in my area of expertise. But when I'm handed someone else's rulebook and told to make sure everybody under me is following the correct procedures and protocols, I get very stressed. Right now, the only person immediately over me is one of the top-level administrators, because I'm that person's assistant; so while I have peers I can consult with, and while I can take the big questions to my administrator, I often don't have anyone to go to with my little everyday questions, like "do you think this will get where it needs to go if I mail it in the morning?", or "how should we group the levels of the new filing system?", or even "where does this thing even GO??".
Officey stuff. Humph.
I'd better get a few paltry hours of sleep to help me keep the ship afloat one more day ... O weekend, I hail thy approach with the greatest of joy and exaltation!!
Why is it so easy to slip into a constant attitude of fear, dread, guilt, and shame? Of dreading coming to evening devotions because I feel like He's going to frown disapprovingly at the list of sins and mistakes I've made that day and send me to the corner in punishment? Why is it so easy to get up heavy and dark in the morning, feeling the weight of all the rules and standards I'm supposed to live up to somehow?
Why, instead, don't I get up every morning light-hearted and joyful, because I'm leaping up into the embrace of a Father who delights in me and wants to carry me lovingly through my day? Why don't I come eagerly to devotions every evening, eager to drop all the day's problems and hurts and mistakes at His feet, confessing my sins and letting Him wash them away? Why don't I spend time gazing up into His face in peace, knowing I am forgiven, resting in His presence and letting Him fill me with healing?
How could it be easier to carry around weight and fear, than it is to throw that all to the wind and run, free and lifted high on the wings of peace?
But it is.
Abba, please help me to stop being a worried, performance-driven Martha, and learn how to be a trusting, affectionate Mary!
