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Archive for July, 2009

This week I moved out of my perfect little ivy house. This turned out to be quite an adventure because I have a sprained ankle and we somehow have a shit ton of stuff. (Yes, it’s a scientific word).

We slept on couches and futon pads even though they weren’t comfortable just so we could stay up late soaking in the goodness that was our house and to watch lots of Sex and the City and recount beautiful memories that happened within our walls in the past year. Great joys, great sorrows, more laughter than one can count, and all sorts of crazy shenanigans.

And then last night we slept in what will be my home for the next 2 weeks as I continue to pack up and say goodbye to my dear city. It will be hard, but I believe that this next step of life will be good. And who knows where it will take me?

Still, the whole process of moving is exhausting. Not just physically packing up all your stuff, but finding new places for your life, and knowing that some of it can’t go with you. So, if you want to hang out this weekend, let me tell you, we’ll most likely be doing one of two things…moving the last few boxes or laying around.

Still, this is good. Life is funny. I will trust in this place.

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Sometimes, I…

Sometimes, I’m scared I’ll wake up and too much life will have passed by without my permission.

Sometimes, I worry that I’ll get stuck in a job I hate.

Sometimes, I’m scared if I get stuck in a job I hate, I won’t leave because it’s too hard.

Sometimes, I worry I’m doing this all wrong.

Sometimes, I’m scared I’ll grow lukewarm.

Sometimes, I worry my friends will forget me.

Sometimes, I’m scared I talk bigger than I should.

And sometimes, I worry that my mascara is smudged.

So, I try to hold on, cling to for dear life, the knowledge that all of that worry isn’t even the point. God’s love is. And my fears and worries are important to God, yet incredibly small. I try to remember that no matter which of those things or others come to fruition or don’t, I belong to God. And I’m trying to learn that that is truly enough.

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And not do this week.

I don’t want to pack and move things. I don’t want to work. I want to have a woe is me week. I want to curl up in a ball and watch movies with Chelsey while our stuff gets packed and moved for us. I want to spend time with people without feeling like, “Oh…this is an almost goodbye.” And at the same time, I just want to be home. I just want to be moved.

Which just makes the kind of nonsense I like the best.

So, aside from crying all the time. Aside from trying to move with a sprained ankle. Aside from the weariness. I’m just sad. It’s not a horrible sad, and this post is kinda whiney. But, I just am. I am sad and extremely exhausted.

Good thing, in the back of my head and deep in my heart there is the knowledge that I am not how I feel right now, and that it will be all right.

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It has been a long time since I’ve done some of the things that I used to do all the time. Like paint or art of any sort. Like spent a day writing just because it helps. My creative juices seem too often limited to blogs, facebook statuses, and text messages. I need something more.

And today, limping around Estes Park, looking at all the art in galleries, my heart quickened with the possibility of it all. All the art that’s yet to be created. All the truth yet to be expressed in a different way. It’s all beautiful.

I feel like I can do it again. But, I can’t help but to also feel a little terrified.

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Let me tell you a fateful story about a girl and a bike.

Once upon a time there was a girl named…Britney. She never took much to riding bikes, and in fact, never really got passed training wheels before she decided she just wait until she could drive to move along on wheels. However, in recent years, the thought of riding a bike had become somewhat appealing to her. And she did try on two separate occasions, both with veritable success, however, she was terrified the entire time.

Especially going downhill.

Now, when her roommate…Belsey…came home one day and asked her if she wanted to go on a little bike ride, a shot of adventure ran through her. She was a college graduate. A grown woman, practically. She could ride a bike. And so, she threw on a pair of shorts and her favorite fringey boots, and off she went. It was an interesting endevaor, but mostly she didn’t enjoy it.

Especially going downhill.

But, Belsey told her that it would be ok. That going slow made it harder for her to control the bike. So, as they approached their devestatingly perfect house, going downhill, Britney decided to let go a little. To enjoy the wind in her face. Because, she figured, even if she crashed, she probably wouldn’t break anything.

Until she realize she wasn’t sure how to stop.

At that moment, there was only one thing to do. Try to crash in a way that would prove the least damaging. She took the turn, hoping she’d naturally slow down on the flatter ground. She did. But, she also lost control and starting heading for a curb…and a tree. Naturally, she started breaking, put her foot down, and in hopes of not hitting the tree, tried to get off a moving bike.

This did not go well.

In fact, it went so poorly that she now has a sprained ankle a mere few days before she is to go Colorado with her family. But, Belsey did tell her she crashed gracefully. And for that, we’ll count the bicycle ride a success.

And besides, she had a lot of fun right before she crashed.

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I realize, that by that title, this post could be about a great many things.

However, it’s just about one thing.

I’m already feeling myself checking out of here. I feel myself shrugging off hanging out to sit and home and read or watch tv with Chelsey. Which isn’t all bad. But, certainly isn’t all good. And I’m a little uncertain how to stay engaged here while I’m here. Or maybe, there is a certain level of checking out and detangling that is necessary. All in all, I don’t know.

And then, there is this other part of me, the part of me that wants to check completely out. The part of me that’s still sitting in the cafeteria in jr. high feeling so awkward. The part of me that’s super insecure and is arbitrarily taken by bouts of, “none of my friends here will talk to me when I move.”

And deep down, I know it’s silly, because I’ve moved before and some people talk to you and some people don’t. But, all in all, it’s ok, because when other people move, some people you talk to and some people you don’t. But, I can’t help but to feel a little scared that some of my favorites won’t.

Still, until mid-August, I’ll work, read, watch tv, and regularly laugh off the day with Chelsey, grab coffee with Jess, spend Sundays with Lauren, and miss everyone in Washington.

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I’ve been thinking, as I can barely open my eyes this Monday after the holiday weekend, and feel as though I’ve been a glutton, about holidays. And more still, about Holy Days.

I think about the calendar and rhythm I live in. 12 months in a year. With 5 day work weeks. With 2 day weekends. 1 day for doing whatever I want. And 1 day for church and rest. Every month or two, there’s a three day weekend. Memorial Day, 4th of July, Labor Day, Martin Luther King Day, maybe a good Friday, President’s Day, or Columbus Day thrown in. And every few months we get longer breaks, Thanksgiving, Christmas, a vacation of some sort in the summer. And then the spattering of holidays that just provide fun. Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, New Year’s, Halloween, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, a birthday, an anniversary, a few just because parties, and there’s the year.

And then, I got to thinking about the liturgical calendar. But, also the Jewish calendar. I started wondering what it would be like, not to orient myself around 3-day weekends, vacations, and just because parties, but to orient myself to a calendar like this, which, of course, was and is meant to orient me toward God and the gospel.

Of course there are pitfalls, but if there is one thing I’ve learned in life it’s that there are always pitfalls. But, holiness and being set apart, these things have an important to them, or we wouldn’t be called to them. Pitfalls and all, God doesn’t ask things of us in vain.

So, I wonder. How we do this. How every part of our life is pointed toward rhythming with God. How we get out of what everyone else says rest and work looks like.

But, I can’t wonder too long, because the holiday has made me tired. And something doesn’t seem right about that.

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