City Mouse, City House

We moved!

About two and half months ago we packed up our home and traded in our windmill and fields for the city life. We had talked about this move for a long time and the closer it got to my graduation the more serious the conversation got, until all of a sudden we were packing boxes and renting trucks. When the day finally came to leave I was surprised how sad it was to say goodbye to that beautiful little country home.

It was the home I came back to after my wedding.
It was the home I decorated and arranged with my brand new husband.
It was where we had our first Christmas (and 2nd and 3rd).
We found our first dog behind the woods of that house.
I completed my entire graduate degree studying on the floors, tables, and couches of that home (sometimes all at once).
We celebrated and ate with countless friends in that home.
We learned how to be a married couple in that home. All of the growth and setbacks we endured along the way were contained in that home. Our entire married life was in that home.

So you can see why it was a little hard to leave? I sometimes still miss the creaky windmill and the big sky but I think its more than just the house. I cherish the moments that took place in that home, and the beautiful setting that it created for the start of our life together.

And now, a new chapter begins in a new setting, a new home, and with new adventures.

My current favorite thing about this home is the sound of O'Sister, Brother in my living room. Adam listens to it loud to check for imperfections in the mix and I sit back and breathe in the big and beautiful sounds that fill our cozy living room. It fills every corner and you can't help but be moved by the earnestness of the voices and the truth of the words. If you haven't heard them, you should.

Long time, no see

So much has happened in the last four months - good things, and not so good things. But before I can relish in the exciting, happy, ‘all the waiting has paid off’ parts I have to look honestly at the last four months.

I’d like to say the reason I haven’t been writing is because of my busy schedule, but that’s not why. The past four months have been some of the most challenging months I’ve faced in a long time. They brought about a heaviness that I tried to ignore until I could not ignore it any longer. This heaviness silenced me, in so many ways because it’s not the kind of heaviness that pushes the artist to write beautiful poetry or paint a masterpiece. It’s the kind of heaviness that can’t come out in words. It settles deep in your heart, dropping on your chest with a thud, making it impossible to speak. So it comes out in kicking the dirt, in ugly, messy sobs that seem to come from nowhere, and it pushes you into hiding. You can hide pretty well for a good long while if you are a busy person, and I was, so I could.

But not for long because then suddenly you graduate, Christmas time is over, and you are finally alone and forced to be face to face with this heaviness that’s been growing in your heart. You realize how heavy it really is, how carrying the weight has curved the posture of your back and taken you further away then you ever intended to be. You feel confused, angry, desperate, and so drained of life.

You sit in this chaos, in this hurt- until God speaks.

That’s when you hear your husband’s voice singing these words on a Sunday morning:

“Fragments of brokenness

Salvaged by the art of grace

You craft life from our mistakes

Oh Your cross, it changes everything

There my world begins again with You

Oh Your cross, it's where my hope restarts

A second chance is Heaven's heart”

So I start again.

I let God recreate me.

I let Him patch me together like a messy, mismatched quilt.

I remind myself that my hope is not in Christians but that my hope is in Christ.

I remember my God loved me so much He died so I could have this hope.

And I know my God is not a God of confusion and chaos. He is a my handyman God.

This is where my hope restarts.

Discombobulated

“For just as each of us has one body with many parts, and these parts do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us.” Romans 12:4-6

A couple weeks ago I did a lesson for the kids at church on this verse. I’m a very visual/experiential person so to demonstrate the lesson better I drew a person on a big piece of paper that was as tall as me (which actually isn’t that tall I guess). He had two ears, two eyes, one nose, one mouth, two hands and feet - he was a normal looking guy is what I’m getting at here. Then I talked to the kids about this verse and about how one of them might be an eye and one might be a foot but we all can work together to do good things just like all the parts of a body function to help us do what we need to do. They seemingly accepted this and snickered a little at the thought of being a foot or a hand.

Then I brought out some extra eyes, hands, mouths, feet, etc. I told the kids how sometimes the mouth gets jealous of the hand and thinks he’s not doing as good of a thing as the hand gets to do and so he wishes he were a hand. At this point I put the extra mouth where a hand should be on our model and the laughter starts to build. Then I say the hand does not see much value in what she is doing either so she really wants to be an ear because ears seem more special and important. A hand goes where an ear should be. This continues until the poor paper model is all discombobulated and the kids are giggling uncontrollably. “Does this look right to you guys?” A loud, unanimous vote of NO!

We talked about what this looks like in our own lives when we know we are good at something but it’s hard to remember that when we see that other people are good at things that we aren’t great at. And inside we wish we were something else because we don’t see how important it is that we all need to be different.

I have been thinking on this lesson a lot lately, as I see more and more articles popping up about pinterest stress and the comparison syndrome epidemics fueled by social media. We all feel it at some point. We are looking at facebook or instagram and seeing someone with a great talent or going somewhere cool and suddenly we forget that we have any talents or ever go cool places. We want their talent or lifestyle because we forget that we are supposed to be different from them. We can’t all be the same thing. We can’t all play beautiful music, we can’t all be business savy, or all crafty or all computer wizards. Just like we can’t have a body made of only ears, or a body of only feet. That’s weird and doesn’t make any sense, any kid can tell you that.

I like simple things and kids usually make complicated thoughts seem pretty simple, so I’m trying to remember this lesson for myself. When I see someone whose great at something I’m not and I feel those nasty comparison feelings creeping up I think, ‘they are an eye and I am a hand, and that’s ok.’ We learn and grow from uniqueness, we see things from different perspectives. We appreciate things we didn’t know about before when we have friends that are different from us. And that’s how things should look - ear’s doing ear’s work, foot doing foot’s work and all functioning together to make things right and good, each of us appreciating how we work together.  

We are all valuable, we are all essential and we are all different.

Love is heaven on earth.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another,

God lives in us and His love is made complete in us.”

1 John 4:12

Every time I read this verse I just stare at the words with my mouth gaping. The weight of these unassuming words is so powerful. Often we glance over it just seeing a string of repetitive verses in 1 John 4 telling us to love other people and we are like, “yeah, yeah we get it – love people” like a teenager being lectured by his parents for the one hundred millionth time. But this is so much more.

This verse is telling me that I am able to bring God into the lives of others and I am able to make His love complete. He lets me do this. Me who works a nine to five job, me who gets frustrated with people, me who needs sleep and food and shelter. The God of the whole universe offers me the chance to bring heaven to earth.

This is every little child’s dream. It would be something like their favorite superhero zapping them to give them their own powers and asking for their help to make the world a better place. What kid doesn’t hope and pray for that to happen to them? 

God offers that to you and me. He says work hard to love others because when you do people can see me whom they have never seen and they can feel me whom they have never touched. Love can finally be made complete. With me.

            Regardless of the effort it takes to smile at the co-worker you secretly despise, the time it takes to do something unexpectedly kind for your spouse, or the money it takes to help someone struggling - would it not be worth it to know you are partnering with God to bring eternity near? That in those moments you have just worked with God to make His work complete?

            We seek meaning and purpose in our lives, we want to feel accomplished and know that our life is ‘making a difference’. But so often we do not have a sense of fulfillment in this way. I have no doubt that it is not because the offer is not there; it is because we have not answered the charge.

            This is the cause of all causes. Join in. Make the infinite tangible, bring heaven to earth, and complete the ultimate love.

Why I still do arts and crafts at 25

    Yesterday I was feeling pensive on my drives to and from my internship and I began thinking about how much I enjoy sewing and crafting and generally making things of all sorts.

And I was thinking that sometimes it feels essential for me.

    I am entering into a field where progress is often slow, subtle, and difficult. People’s lives do not fix quickly. Hope is there, light is there, but it takes time and great effort to find it. So I celebrate the small victories in people’s lives and continue to hope.

That’s where crafting comes in. 

    When I want to make something I have a vision of what it could be, the beauty to be found and then, right before my very eyes I can make it come to be.  There may be small setbacks and frustrations but by the end of the night I can usually see the product of my hopes and vision. I accomplish and see the fruits of my labor. I can create something new. When I often find myself among brokenness and so much darkness it feeds my soul to create. I can mend torn seams, give new love to old fabrics, and display beauty in discarded scraps. And it helps me remember the importance of creation, hope, and vision in working with people’s hurts. 

And you know what else? It reminds me that my God is a crafter. He crafts beauty from ashes, creates joy where there is mourning, and sews together a garment of praise out of scraps of despair.

If dogs could talk

   Tonight mine would tell you that when I'm home alone baking I blast music from the stereo in the kitchen and dance like fool all around the room.

   He would tell you that when it gets to the loudest part of a song I lean down and sing loudly in his face to share the moment with him. He would also want you to know how much this confuses him.

   He would tell you that when I start to get warm from the oven being on I stick my face at the precise angle necessary to steal some of the cool, country breeze coming from the window facing the field. He would tell you the breeze blows and makes the wisps of my hair that have fallen out of my ponytail dance around my face and that I look very much like a dog hanging out a car window.

   He would probably tell you that nights when I'm baking are some of his favorite nights because while all this dancing and singing and face in the breeze is happening I am carrying around a spoon in my hand covered in sugary goodness. He would tell you I get a little clumsy with this sugary goodness at times and that usually means I fling some chocolate or dough or sugary batter onto his face.

   He would tell you he does not mind this a bit.

24 going on 25

    As the hours of my 24th year are slowing counting down I am trying to think back about what I know now that I did not know before this year. The one thing I keep coming back to, that I have learned maybe just in the past few months, is to be good to myself. Now this is not something I just learned, I knew I should be good to myself for a long time, I was a psych major after all. But I don't think until this year I actually practiced being good to myself. It does not come naturally and I think because of this very often I would just give up on ever trying. This year, however, I made a list of 25 things I wanted to do for myself before I turned 25 and I was able to see how that list helped me be kinder to myself in many ways, ways that were not even on my list. If I was having a long, hard day I let myself get a small Starbucks drink  and it was exhilarating. It was so ridiculously exciting for me to treat myself. I would tell Adam how silly I felt for being so stinking exciting over a $3 drink from Starbucks in the middle of the day or a Ben&Jerry's pint at the end of a long day. You would have literally thought I was purchasing a brand new car. Now mind you I would not call myself an expert in this area because when I went to buy myself something from Anthropologie I think I nearly had a panic attack, haha. But I am beginning to see that its ok to use gift cards for myself or let myself buy some lovely tulips in the grocery store.
       I am definitely taking baby steps but I'm proud of what I've done so far. It feels so good and it's a reminder for me that I am valued and loved and that it's alright for me to tell myself that sometimes through taking care of myself in little ways. I think especially as I begin to counsel more clients and enter into the messiness and darkness they face I need ways to acknowledge myself and my needs and find ways to infuse some light into my days.
    As I look over this I can't help but laugh at myself that a Starbucks drink, fresh flowers, and a pint of ice cream in a year of my life has made such an impact on me. But I think it's good, it reminds me that any size growth is still growth.