I'll Take Some Social Justice and a Frappuchino, Please

A few weeks ago I met up with my supervisor from Mission Waco and a good friend. Dining in a restaurant in downtown Raleigh during biker week, we caught up on life and I told stories of the time I got a bunch of my fellow interns to seek out Bush's ranch in Crawford and how much my time as an intern in Waco changed my life.

Shortly after, we were joined by some friends of Kathy (my former supervisor) and Rebecca (other friend from NC) and conversation shifted to church. We talked about Church Under the Bridge in Waco, about more traditional churches, and about struggling churches.

Shortly after, I penned a Facebook status and mentioned that we talked about what it meant to be church. As much as that statement was true,  something about the way I worded it seemed somewhat cliche. Aren't people always talking about what it means to be church? Aren't thoughts and ideas about community and relationships discussed over cups of $4 lattes on a regular basis? Isn't that the millennial thing to do?

What new idea did I have to bring to the conversation?

My story. My perspective. The things God is teaching me.

I have no groundbreaking theological insight about the church, I just know what I've experienced. When I think about Mission Waco, I think about experiencing church.

I think about playing Scrabble with my brothers and sisters living in a shelter and laughing out loud as a resident attempted to persuade the group that "glover" was a word, defining it as "one who gloves."  I think about when I discovered those friends hanging out in the library one summer afternoon and the library not kicking them out "because they were loitering." I think of these people and I remember their faces, and remember our friendship when I see a picture, and feel the love Paul talks about in Philippians 1:3 when he says he thanks God every time he thinks of the church at Philippi.... because I thank God for the church in Waco.

I remember partaking in a poverty simulation, my first weekend in the Texas sun, and finally going back to the intern house and thinking, "The walls are so white." I had spent the weekend living and sleeping outside and when I finally got back to the intern house, I marveled at the color of the walls. Something so simple seemed so luxurious.

I remember the passion and clear God-given gift that summer was and I think of the nine years since then.

I think about my passion for biblical social justice, and my tendency for pride. Tendency for having misplaced pride in not desiring lofty expenses or a large house; not throwing money into each new technology that comes around and patting myself on the back because I appreciate "living simply". I think about the fact that I live in a gated apartment community and how it bothered me, and yet it doesn't bother me to hit that Starbucks drive-thru 4 times a week.

Living simply means so much more than cutting back on spending. Sometimes I wonder if I even know what it means anymore.

I want to get back to the fierce conviction for biblical social justice I had throughout my years in divinity school.... before I found out social justice is a catch phrase often thrown around, back when all it meant to me was a strong calling on my life.

I want to re-experience how biblical social justice, relationships, living simply, and the command to care for others in Matthew 25 are all a part of being church.

I'd appreciate prayers as I continue to learn what this looks like for my life.
...

The Kind of Optimism That'll Get You Slapped

Not long ago I was sitting with a few coworkers, getting ready for a meeting, when a couple colleagues started to lament the negative stories in the news. I piped up, "As a communications professor I once had said, the media focuses on sensationalism; things that are out of the ordinary. Isn't it great that things aren't so bad on a daily basis that the news only reports positive stories because that is out of the ordinary?"

What followed was comments such as, "That's a good point" and blank stares that visually communicated, "What just happened here?"

Another time a coworker was complaining about the cop sitting in a speed trap in town, waiting to catch unsuspecting drivers. At first I felt annoyed, but then I thought, "Isn't it great that there isn't so much crime that the police have time to sit and catch speeders?"

That is the kind of optimism that'll get you slapped.

I've been a gregarious and optimistic person as long as I can remember, and probably about 95% of the time I have a positive outlook. (The other 5% may be spent lamenting about not having a husband or children and possibly shedding a tear that there is no one who needs to list me as an emergency contact. You know, hypothetically.)

When I was a kid I would be excited for days about an upcoming field trip. Those were the days mom let us pick any flavor of Giant brand soda I wanted (for you North Carolina readers, that's a grocery store of the Northeast) and get a package of those Hostess cupcakes with the lowercase cursive e's across the top. I once asked my brother on a pre-field trip day, "Aren't you excited?" To which he responded, "The field trip isn't until tomorrow." I had to think about that one, because it didn't seem a good enough reason to temper the field trip celebration.

The optimism continued as I grew older. Not only did I have the miraculous experience of enjoying middle school, I continued my excitement for life into my teen years. 15 was a very exciting year, if for no other reason than I woke up each morning, thanked God for the day, and thought about the fact that anything could happen that day.... I had a whole day ahead of me! Who knew....I could even get a boyfriend that day! (I never did. Not in high school, anyway.)

As an adult my optimism usually has a more mature theme (usually). I recently plunked down $53 on a flea treatment for my dog that didn't work. At first I was frustrated, then I thought about the fact that the money wasn't wasted, because it allowed me to eliminate one brand of flea prevention in the future, which got me a step closer to finding what works.

When I was 26 I found myself with a masters degree and a job at Bojangles. I'd vacuum sweep that dining room carpet, wondering where my life was headed, but be able to run the drive through the next day, throwing my hands in the air in victory when a coworker and I met another sales goal.

I truly believe optimism is a gift God gave me. For a while I thought I lost it. In 2010 I felt like my world had turned upside down and there was a period of time during which I had almost chronic anxiety. Things worked out and I went back to work at a job I couldn't stand getting out of bed for. I amused myself by setting Eye of the Tiger as my alarm clock ringtone and jumped out of bed with a smile and a will to get through the day.

I realize many others don't easily have the same outlook on life and it isn't always because of pessimism. I am aware that many struggle with depression or other mood disorders that make life feel more difficult than it does for others. I don't think optimism is a gift God is witholding from them anymore than I think depression is something God gave them (to be clear: it isn't). For most of my life I have struggled with an anxiety disorder and maybe one day I'll be brave enough to blog about that. The point is, even in the midst of feelings of anxiety, I have a character trait God gave me that reminds me of the His hand print on my life. We all face challenges that come from a variety of sources: diseases, unhealthy relationships, negative perceptions of self-worth, etc., but we also have incredible marks of grace on our lives. Optimism is one of my marks of grace.

On a lighter note, anytime you feel disgruntled about being underpaid or not having some of the things you want in life, download the Starbucks finder app. As I recently told some friends, "I really can't feel poor when I have a smartphone with a Starbucks finder app on it. I mean, that basically makes me rich! I have a whole app just to find a Starbucks! I'm spoiled!"

Optimism and excitement are some of my favorite traits.

Back to Blogging!

It's hard to believe it's been 4 years (to the day) since my last blog post. Over the years I've thought now and then about picking up the electronic pen, but never got much closer to actually restarting my online musings. A recent Facebook conversation with a friend inspired me to consider giving blogging another try.

As a starting point, I reviewed some old entries and realized there are quite a few life events I had forgotten! One only has to look at my last blog post to see the seemingly random situations I often get myself into, and that one included an unexpected small town karaoke night, followed by a discussion on race and immigration with a tow truck driver.

The thing is, I often easily tire of keeping a journal no one sees. I once lamented, "Why do I need to write my thoughts? I know what I'm thinking!" Without an audience, I didn't consider the effort always worthwhile, which is one reason I'm more apt to blog than hand write my thoughts and tuck them away on a bookshelf. Yet, whether I look back at journals others haven't read or the blogs others have read, I am reminded that regardless of the method, keeping a narrative shows some pretty amazing events, people, and places that are woven into my life story. I am reminded of the faithfulness and provision of God and enjoy seeing events come together to form a rather interesting life story. 

I've often comically thought to myself that I could write a great memoir based on my experiences from ages 25-30. I'd call that book, "Seriously?: My Journey through Functional Dysfunction." Though it would be accurate, I imagine I'd have to change some names, dates, and places to satisfy those who would take up space on its pages. Even though I may not expound upon certain aspects of those years, the point remains that documenting one's journey is a worthwhile and meaningful endeavor.

With my fresh understanding of the value of recording my thoughts, feelings, and experiences, I decided I could take on the task of keeping a journal and still have an audience, hence the revival of this blog. I realize many people will not be interested, but for the ones who are, I'm pretty sure future blog entries are going to cover humor, thoughtfulness, and point to the miraculous power of God to create a beautifully woven together life story. He's quite the benevolent author.

The Charm of Micro on a Friday Evening

I have a knack for turning ordinary events into exceptional ones. That's one of the best ways I can think of to reframe my ability to get into odd situations. For instance, over the past two and half weeks my car has broken down twice. Did I get stranded in a shopping center in Raleigh or even along the side of the road in Cary? Of course not.

The first incident occuring in the tiny township of Pilot, NC, but that one is far less interesting, so I'll direct your attention to last Friday's breakdown.

I was driving home to visit my parents to interview them for a grad school paper when that familiar blinking exclamation point was back on my dashboard in full-force. I thought I had gotten rid of that thing, what with the expensive car repairs from the Pilot episode and all.

So, I pulled off I-95 and made my way to what I would come to find out was the Backdoor Cafe. In a huff I called AAA and attempted to describe my surroundings to the representative. "Um, there's the Backdoor Cafe....it's a town called Micro.....there's a fire department and a BB&T...and a little park across the street." There wasn't much to give her beause there wasn't much there.

I went in to inquire as to the exact physical address and was stunned. If you've ever seen "Sweet Home Alabama" with Reese Witherspoon, you could appreciate the scene. Many older couples and some families sat at various tables, dressed in stereotypical rural fashions. (Hey, I'm not judging, I'm just trying to explain the movie-like scene I walked into.) A hodgepodge of antiques and country-like collectables donned the walls of the loud room. The reason the room was loud? That would have been the girl in the corner singing a Taylor Swift karaoke song.

Feeling a slight wave of culture shock, I was at the front of the cafe where everyone was facing and blurted out to the AAA representative still on the phone, "Wow...there's karaoke" and I hope the music drowned out my comment. Cell phone to my ear, I made my way through the center of the cafe to the back counter and asked the waitress for the physical address. A couple of people later, I found out. In their complete defense, I don't think people generally need a street address to locate things in really small towns like Micro.

I decided to settle in, even though it was clear that I wasn't a local. I began this dialogue with the waitress:

Me: "Do you take debit?"
Kind Waitress: "I don't even have a credit card machine. But there's an ATM right down the road."
Me: "Yea, my car broke down."
Kind waitress: (In a sympathetic tone,) "And you got stuck here?"
Me: "Yea. I don't know about walking to the Cashpoints and having people see me withdrawl money and walking back."
Kind waitress: "I understand."
Me: (thinking about the hour long wait ahead of me) "But maybe I'll risk it." (And going on the notion that you don't know if you don't ask, I proceeded to inquire,) "Do you have wireless internet?"
Kind waitress: "No, we don't."

So I went to the CashPoints machine on the other side of the track. Yes, it was on the other side of a train track and there was only one so I don't really feel like I can say the other side of the tracks. Either way, I got my money and returned. Ordering breakfast for dinner, I began to continue to take in the room.

Someone else was in the karaoke corner singing an old country song I was not at all familiar with and a few kids here and there entertained themselves among the adults. As the karaoke continued, the dancing began. First an older couple, then a single woman; I think she was linedancing.

As I waited for my meal the man in the booth in front of me turned around and showed me a picture of him as a boy. I complimented him and later committed what I now consider a slight social mishap.

This was no ordinary night, it was also a birthday celebration. Peices of the cut cake were being passed out and my newfound aquaintance asked if I would like a peice. Now, the cake did look good but I didn't know these people and it was their celebration so I kindly responded, "I'm alright, but thank you."

I do not think that labeled me as Micro-friendly. I got the feeling that this man considered that an unfriendly outsider response. Don't worry, I later made it up when we laughed about how loud the train was when it passed by and how it rattled the building. Awesome, I was back in the good graces of this friendly older man.

As I dined on an omelet and coffee I received a couple glances and began to think I did have the capability to do that stereotypical up-and-leave your hometown, head to the midwest, and stop in little towns along the way thing.

Around this time my friend was up singing his own karaoke song. He later sat down and asked if I liked Elvis songs. I replied that I did and he told me he did a great renedition of "Now or Never" and maybe he'd sing that later. I really did appreciate his hospitality and friendliness.

After a little more karaoke, the happy birthday chorus, and the fascinated stares of a small child looking at me and me looking and smiling back, the tow truck came. Now, it seemed to me the tow truck was one of the more interesting things to happen in Micro on a Friday night because the men standing around in the parking lot stopped to watch the truck pull up.

Finally I was on my way, with the tow truck driver, back to Greenville. I'm glad I'm outgoing and an extrovert because it was too long of a ride to say nothing. We talked about education, the economy, race, and brushed upon the topic of immigration and the labor force.

So, no, I didn't get home this weekened, but I was able to interview my parents on the phone. And apart from a few more car repairs, I appreciated the experience. I might not be a small town kind of girl, but rural locals definitely have their charm.

A New Season

Roughly every 6-8 months I am determined to begin blogging again. Usually I post one or two times and let my online writing determination drift away again. If nothing else, the semi-annual timing of my literary inspiration coincides with needed trips to the dentist. So, even if I don't keep up with the blogging sphere, I can remember to call to get my teeth checked every time I am inspired to blog.

In more pressing news, I finished my CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) Residency last Friday. As I walked about on my last day working at the hospital, I was reminded of the movie "Ocean's 11." Here's what I mean:

In the movie a group of mostly strangers get together, engage in a crazy, adverterous task, and then individually disperse in front of a fountain show in downtown Las Vegas, returning to their individual lives. Minus the whole casino robbing and waterworks display, that kind of resembled my residency.

A group of women came together, most not knowing each other prior, and engaged in ministry, self-discovery, and a certain kind of bonding that comes through difficulty. Then, over the course of the last two days, we individually left the hospital to continue our lives. Fortunately, we have the ability to stay in touch, but, of course, it will be different. It's an interesting thing that a year ago we didn't know each other and now we leave our chaplain positions as sisters.

Well, some are continuing on in the chaplain journey at the hospital. I, however, am busy at school pursuing my Master of Social Work and am sure there will be plenty of adventerous to come with that.

I feel like God is moving in a great and powerful way. But really, should I be surprised? He's God, he's good, and he's taking care of me. And I'm excited to see what he will do in this new season of my life.

On Being Full

I've decided to follow through with a conviction I had a while back: to stop using the word busy.

What does it mean when one says he or she is busy? For me, I find that I tend to use the word in the form of a complaint. For others, that might not be the case.

Busyness does not always indicate being productive. You can busily avoid things in life you need to deal with, people you need to talk to, or truly important things you need to accomplish.

Being busy simply means you are filling your time. But being busy in and of itself does not mean you are making a difference.

This post isn't about encouraging others to give up the word 'busy,' rather it's about my use of the word. Instead of saying, "I'm so busy this weekend!" which, for me, often has the underlying meaning of complaint about all I have to do I'd rather say, "I have a really full weekend ahead of me."

Does it really mean anything if you just substitute another word for busy? For me it does. By saying my life, schedule, day, etc. is full gets me to thinking about opportunity, not obligation. When I focus on being busy I feel that I am performing obligations. When I focus on life being full, I focus on the opportunity I have through doing the things I need to do.

This may not work for everyone, but I find for me that my thoughts have a strong influence on my mood and attitude. By doing something as simple as redirecting the nature of my thoughts I find myself naturally more optimistic, ambitious, and light-hearted.

I think there's a reason God's Word speaks so much about our thoughts. But that's another post for another day.

Simplicity

I'm sitting cross-legged on my couch with my laptop. My apartment is a mess, I'm eating microwaved oatmeal because my stove/oven died, and I'm listening to music I like. I'm trying to figure out how to make my paycheck stretch and cover my bills and I'm concerned about my car's ability to run for much longer without some costly repairs.

Yet, I'm content.

Even in the mist of financial insecurity I find myself in my own apartment with the lights on, fresh water available, and something to eat. I have enough money to have downloaded the songs I'm listening to on itunes. I have itunes. Kind of ridiculous to think I'm poor.

So much about my future is unknown to me. Where will I be in a year? For all I know, I could be in Wisconsin (seriously).

I really feel like I'm beginning to grow again in my relationship with God. For the past year someone else has been such a vital part of my life. So much so that I put most of my effort into that. When I finally gave it up to God, amazing things started to happen. Mainly, I started to move on.

Now that I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders, I feel content. I'm free to pursue the incredible possibilities God is laying before me without wondering how someone else will fit into the picture. That's not to say I wouldn't like for there to one day be someone else, but for now, I find where I'm at in life to be rather enjoyable.

There's something to be said about simplicity.

By the River

When I was in divinity school I took a devotional classics class in which we read the book, "Sayings of the Desert Fathers."

A large number of men in the monastic groups were going to the river. For what, I wasn't sure. So many sayings included phrases such as, "I went down to the river one day....."

I finally asked my professor, "Why do all these guys keep going to the river?" I honestly don't remember what my professor said, but I have been thinking about it recently.

Not too long after I moved to Greenville I took a journal and went to a local park, spending some time writing my thoughts and praying.

You know what I realized? I was sitting by a river.

I don't know what it is about bodies of water that invite us to them: rivers, oceans, lakes. Water can be a very serene and peaceful thing, or it can be a vast rush of change, depending on the conditions.

But what I realized from my time by the river is how wonderfully connected we are to all generations of faith. The God who never changes is God of each generation. Just as monks thousands of years ago were drawn to the river, I, too, was drawn to a river of my own in the 21st century.

I like to think how generations of believers are united in our faith and common practices.

And I suppose I will take quite a few more trips to the river.

Oh, Golly

Warning: Do not read if you don't want to hear about me being sick!

Alright, so a couple weeks ago was pretty rough. I had gotten off from an on-call at the hospital on a Thursday and drove back to Harnett County. I stopped to get my nails done since I was headed to Ohio that night to be in the wedding of a good friend.

I was driving down a road I had driven tons of times and came to an intersection I have crossed just as many times. I was distracted somehow because I ran the stop sign and that's when I saw the truck. I tried my best to stop, but I didn't have time and I ran into the side of the other vehicle. My little Aveo stopped where it was, but I hit the side of the bed of the truck so the other vehicle went spinning. I sat there thinking, "Did that really just happen?" My car was still running, so I just turned off the ignition.

I sat there in disbelief for a bit and then got out and went to see if the other guy was alright. He asked me the same and then we started making phone calls. The fire department, paramedics, and police arrived. And, thankfully, my mom did too!

Thankfully, the other driver is fine.

By the time the police took the report, I talked to the paramedics, and got stuff out of my car that was going to be towed, I had gotten a really bad sunburn (as is evidenced by the Facebook pictures from the wedding!). And trust me, the wedding guests commented repeatedly that I had gotten too much sun.

My parents knew half the people who responded to the scene and go to church with quite a few of them. They asked my parents how I was that next Sunday. (Although, they may think my parents have the dumb daughter who ran into a vounteer firefighter's car!) While still at the scene, I noticed that I was feeling a little sore, so mom and I went to a local urgent care where they took x-rays. I was exhausted from the on-call and lack of sleep even prior to that, and I almost fell asleep right on the x-ray table! I had a neck spasm (where my neck was straight and I didn't have the natural curve, but the doctor said that would fix itself in time). I got some prescriptions and that night I was off to Ohio with a friend and fellow bridesmaid.

Were that the only thing, the weekend may have been different. However, I had woken up with a slight sore throat that morning. 'No big deal' I figured, but the sore throat began to get worse and worse. It got so bad that the night before the wedding some of us bridesmaids and the bride were gonna go to Starbucks and I decided to stay in the hotel room. If you know me at all, I'm not one to pass up Starbucks!

I had chills and felt horrible. My throat hurt so bad that I started taking the painkillers from the accident for my throat.

The next day a few of us went to get our hair done. Now, I had taken two of the percocets in the past 24 hours and they were knocking me out! I started dozing off in the salon chair and I also began to feel really sick and had to run to the bathroom in case I threw up right there. I'm almost positive the salon staff thought I was hung over. No- just totaled my car and was really sick. I did, however, throw up in the parking lot. I took more painkillers and they knocked me out so bad that I was sitting at a computer and kept dozing off while on Facebook. I laid down in the bed and was texting a friend and kept falling asleep and getting startled when my cell phone made a noise to alert me that a text came through. I was having trouble typing on my phone. Finally I went to sleep!

At the wedding reception I could barely eat the food and I began to feel worse and worse. On the ride home from Ohio to North Carolina I slept for all but an hour or less.

That night I decided that I really did need to go to the emergency room. I got really sick in the parking lot and was on my hands and knees trying to throw up, but I couldn't because I hadn't eaten anything that day for fear of getting sick. After waiting a bit I went back and found out I had a throat infection (the paper said it was acute tonsilitis) and they hooked me up to an IV and gave me steroids and antibiotics. I was hooked up to the IV for over an hour and finally went home with some more prescriptions. Eventually my throat got better.

After two days off of work I began to feel a lot better. My poor little Aveo (which I had named 'The Laura Ingalls') was totaled. The funny thing is, the engine would still run! I asked the man at the collision center if he could get my cd out of the cd player and the car cranked right up!

Since the car was new and still under warranty, I got a good amount for it from the insurance company and it won't take long to pay the rest off.

My health insurance? Well, that turned out to be horrible and I have a giant medical bill, but hey- it could be worse.

So, that's how I totaled my car and got a throat infection at about the same time.

Thankfully, I'm feeling better now!

A Year Already

The Bible talks about not knowing what the future will bring. God knows, but we don't.

The last year of my life- whoa.

It's been a year I was hooded, attended baccalaureate, and walked across the stage at graduation to receive my MDiv. I went through so many emotions and it was such a sacred time. I was taking a job with the Salvation Army and life was gonna move ahead.

Then things changed. The past year has been one of the biggest years for growth that I have ever had. I have experienced so much. The thing is, I didn't expect about 99% of it, and yet God has been faithful.

A look at the past year:

~I started my first "real" career job. I moved into my own apartment. I never struggled with depression but it hit me hard. Financially I couldn't make it, I felt a lack of community, I didn't even want to get up and go to work in the mornings. I moved back home within a month and a half.

~The economy was bad, couldn't get a desk job so I rejoined the Bojangles team I had worked with my last semester of divinity school to pay my unexpected new car bills. Only this time I had my degree and was still working fast food. So many people I knew came through- including the assistant dean of the divinity school who was in my exit interview. Humiliating and yet I found a great deal of fellowship with my co-workers. Suprisingly, I was able to make it fun sometimes.

~I stood as a bridesmaid and watched my only sibling get married.

~I had my first real dating relationship. I fell head over heels for him and watched him walk away. Contrary to what I felt at the time, I survived the heartache.

~I have, at times, felt incredibly far from God and yet have also experienced his faithfulness and renewal in new ways.

~I visited my grandmother in the NICU at WakeMed, having no idea I'd be visiting that unit as a chaplain several months later. As a chaplain I have done things I never thought I'd do and I have loved it.

~I've lost about 37 pounds

~I was offered a great job, then it was taken away. I was incredibly upset. Then something better came along and I have a great job now. I love my co-workers, the management team, and the kids. I'm defintely looking forward to working there this summer without the crazy schedule I've had since I started.

~Speaking of jobs, I was so scared about CPE. No guarentee of a residency, and yet I got one.

~I have been so exhausted that I felt like I could be sick. I have cried to God in my car, expressing how tired and worn out I was. These past few months have been more demanding than any other point in my life.

~I have been impatient and short-tempered with those closest to me. I let my anger get the best of me sometimes and yet I feel these relationships are on the mend.

~I have grown so much in my "real world" (not a huge fan of that phrase) experience and have gotten a better hold of finances, but I still have a long way to go.

You know, as I write these things I realize that a blog cannot capture everything I have experienced, learned, and loved this past year. I have gone from feeling like I ruined my life to thanking God for incredible days. Those reading this may not think these experiences are that big of a deal, but I feel that I have grown so much in the past year.

So, no, I can't capture the past 365 days in a blog post. But trust me, God's mercies are new every morning- even when the morning doesn't seem to come for months.