I've been in the Raleigh area for a little over a year. It's finally starting to feel like home. I often drive back to Greenville for meetings and I realized the last couple times that it no longer feels like home; it no longer feels more familiar than Apex. I find myself having to think a little harder about the fastest way to get across the crowded streets of Greenville when before the traffic-evading routes seemed almost mechanical.
A little over a year.
It was hard to leave that Eastern North Carolina town. I can't say all my reasons for moving there were the best and I can't say the first year wasn't somewhat traumatic, but despite all of that I can see this mosaic in which the pieces God has designed fill out and give meaning to the rugged shards of glass that I sometimes experienced during my early years there.
The day I moved into my Apex apartment, I remember standing on my parents' driveway, getting ready to make the quick trip in my car, with dad in the U-Haul, and something about our plans changed slightly. I don't remember what it was, but it was enough to bring on the tears over emotions that had been building up. There, in the middle of my parents' concrete driveway, I began to cry. Mom asked what was wrong and with words that could have belonged to a five year old I replied, "I like my friends."
Greenville was the first place I really built an adult life post-college. I made some really strong friendships and as much as I love being closer to a city, I have to admit, I'd rather have a mid-size town surrounded by people I love than a city of isolation. Of course, one could argue it IS possible to have friends in the city (let me know if any of you want to rent a place in Chicago!).
I'd like to say there's a profound reason I wrote this post; that I had some grand insight I needed to share with others. But the truth is, I think I just needed to let my friends know how much they mean to me. I've been blessed with wonderful friends in Apex, but there were also times I longed to hang out with many of you in Greenville.
So friends from Greenville and Apex and other places where my life has crossed paths with good friends, I appreciate you. I love you. And I suppose to communicate that is the grand reason for this post.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
When Church Made Me Cry
I admit it: I've cried in church.
This time I'm not talking about the soft cry of thankfulness or the more forceful cry of repentance.
I'm talking about the quick tear of loneliness and self-pity.
It doesn't happen often. I think the most recent was Father's Day. On Mother's Day Facebook seems to blow up with comments and articles about how unfair the day is and how the church should recognize it can be painful for childless women, and so I pretty much feel like society has got my back. Father's Day, though? No one seems to comment on the pain of men who desire to be fathers but aren't, and maybe my tears that day were some kind of stance of solidarity with that forgotten group.
Whatever the reason for the occasional teary eyes, church is one of the places that I can feel the most lonely. Take for instance the two words that can instill nervousness in me: Church Directory. When I was a kid I liked to look at all of the pictures of families in the church and found it a little sad when a person was in this family-oriented photo album by his or herself. I can confidently say that if my church came out with a photo directory next week, I would be listed in black ink under the heading "Members Not Pictured."
I'm a pretty extroverted person, so asking to join people in a pew or around a table isn't a problem. Sunday School can be a little tricky though. I go to a church with very few young singles and often find myself listening to conversations about high school activities and dealing with adolescent attitudes.
Then I put up my own barriers.
My intermittent feelings of isolation aren't related to my singleness as much as it is to the messages I've come to believe over the years. In churches we break a lot of things up by stages of life, which can be incredibly appropriate. Singles groups, married with young kids, senior adults.... it's a great opportunity for fellowship and building relationships with others in similar walks of life. But sometimes it's easy to get pigeon-holed into those labels.
I absolutely love the church I've become a part of since moving to Apex, but I haven't been immune to my self-made barriers here either. I stopped going to Sunday School because I didn't know which class I would really fit in with (I went to a single's movie night.... I was the youngest by at least 20 years), I even got a little panicky when I thought about joining the church; walking up front and wondering if people wondered what my deep issue was and then discovering I was joining the church and wondering if those people thought it was a little sad that I had no family with me (like I said: my self-made barriers.... and my imagination).
But this past Sunday, things seemed to click. I came to believe a little more what I already knew: church isn't about me. It doesn't matter if I bring a family or not, I bring myself and that's enough. Church is about believers coming together and worshiping our Creator; that's the main point. It's about having a servant's heart and caring for others, particularly the marginalized in our society. If a church has various Bible study and fellowship options for various age groups and backgrounds, that's wonderful. That's a fantastic addition to the corporate worship of the church, but it does not take the place of the larger unity of a church.
The enemy would love for me to focus negatively on my marital status, my childless state, basically completely on me and my perceived deficits. As long as I'm focused on what I don't have and what I feel I should, I am not focused on the gifts God has given me and the integral part of the body of Christ he has made me. Feelings of isolation are very much a product of my own beliefs about what I should bring with me to church. And I really don't think other people are nearly as focused on my marital status as I sometimes am myself. I'm ready to trade those self-doubting thoughts of seeming isolation for greater community with my brothers and sisters. After all, being married if you're over 30 was never a requisite for following Jesus.
Church has nothing to do with whether or not I have a spouse. It has everything to do with God.
I'm not saying I won't have occasional tears in the future or that it's wrong to feel momentary sadness over dreams waiting to be fulfilled, but I am saying I had a pretty powerful a-ha moment yesterday.
I'm excited about next Sunday.
This time I'm not talking about the soft cry of thankfulness or the more forceful cry of repentance.
I'm talking about the quick tear of loneliness and self-pity.
It doesn't happen often. I think the most recent was Father's Day. On Mother's Day Facebook seems to blow up with comments and articles about how unfair the day is and how the church should recognize it can be painful for childless women, and so I pretty much feel like society has got my back. Father's Day, though? No one seems to comment on the pain of men who desire to be fathers but aren't, and maybe my tears that day were some kind of stance of solidarity with that forgotten group.
Whatever the reason for the occasional teary eyes, church is one of the places that I can feel the most lonely. Take for instance the two words that can instill nervousness in me: Church Directory. When I was a kid I liked to look at all of the pictures of families in the church and found it a little sad when a person was in this family-oriented photo album by his or herself. I can confidently say that if my church came out with a photo directory next week, I would be listed in black ink under the heading "Members Not Pictured."
I'm a pretty extroverted person, so asking to join people in a pew or around a table isn't a problem. Sunday School can be a little tricky though. I go to a church with very few young singles and often find myself listening to conversations about high school activities and dealing with adolescent attitudes.
Then I put up my own barriers.
My intermittent feelings of isolation aren't related to my singleness as much as it is to the messages I've come to believe over the years. In churches we break a lot of things up by stages of life, which can be incredibly appropriate. Singles groups, married with young kids, senior adults.... it's a great opportunity for fellowship and building relationships with others in similar walks of life. But sometimes it's easy to get pigeon-holed into those labels.
I absolutely love the church I've become a part of since moving to Apex, but I haven't been immune to my self-made barriers here either. I stopped going to Sunday School because I didn't know which class I would really fit in with (I went to a single's movie night.... I was the youngest by at least 20 years), I even got a little panicky when I thought about joining the church; walking up front and wondering if people wondered what my deep issue was and then discovering I was joining the church and wondering if those people thought it was a little sad that I had no family with me (like I said: my self-made barriers.... and my imagination).
But this past Sunday, things seemed to click. I came to believe a little more what I already knew: church isn't about me. It doesn't matter if I bring a family or not, I bring myself and that's enough. Church is about believers coming together and worshiping our Creator; that's the main point. It's about having a servant's heart and caring for others, particularly the marginalized in our society. If a church has various Bible study and fellowship options for various age groups and backgrounds, that's wonderful. That's a fantastic addition to the corporate worship of the church, but it does not take the place of the larger unity of a church.
The enemy would love for me to focus negatively on my marital status, my childless state, basically completely on me and my perceived deficits. As long as I'm focused on what I don't have and what I feel I should, I am not focused on the gifts God has given me and the integral part of the body of Christ he has made me. Feelings of isolation are very much a product of my own beliefs about what I should bring with me to church. And I really don't think other people are nearly as focused on my marital status as I sometimes am myself. I'm ready to trade those self-doubting thoughts of seeming isolation for greater community with my brothers and sisters. After all, being married if you're over 30 was never a requisite for following Jesus.
Church has nothing to do with whether or not I have a spouse. It has everything to do with God.
I'm not saying I won't have occasional tears in the future or that it's wrong to feel momentary sadness over dreams waiting to be fulfilled, but I am saying I had a pretty powerful a-ha moment yesterday.
I'm excited about next Sunday.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
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.
...
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.
...
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, September 19, 2014
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.
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