Choices

What a long while it has been since I've written--about five months. It always surprises me how quickly time goes. I trust that the things I have been occupied with the past five months have been fruitful and not frivolous. But it's so hard to tell, as I don't necessary have anything to "show" for my five months of work with my clients at Compass Health or my papers I've written for school at Mars Hill Graduate School or Seattle University.

Nothing to "show" for it, yet somehow I feel stronger and have a clearer sense of who I am and what I'm about compared to five months ago. I have become more and more aware that to shape a life that is worth living, decisions must be made: not all of the options that were once available to me are available anymore (and perhaps they never were!)... I'm thinking about my childhood ambitions to be an actress or a fiction novelist.

Somehow that is okay with me, too. I feel like I have a more settled, content existence, and a sharper focus. It is okay to not invest in everything. It is necessary and so much more fulfilling in the long run to choose.

As I reflect on these past five months and how they have been filled with transitions away from working at Compass to an intern position, working at Mars Hill, going to Orcas Island on our anniversary: (sea-kayaking, eating the most amazing anniversary dinner ever!), life-giving and challenging conversations with Joel, meeting new friends, therapy, the ups and downs of hardly having any money this semester with both Joel and I in school, a refreshed vision of what it means to be part of a church--our church, Crosspoint Greenlake, a transformative experience with the Prayer class at Mars Hill, small steps of growth in relationships, an amazing fall trip to the Finger Lakes in New York in the fall, Thanksgiving dinner in our apartment with friends (the first one we've ever hosted as a couple!), running the Seattle Half-Marathon, finishing up papers, and hurling towards Christmas. Time flies. And it flies in the face of all our grandiose plans.

Oh, how I want my life to reflect what God wants for me. I want to be a strong woman who makes a difference--who isn't so caught up in the silliness of finding an "authentic self" that I forget to tune into the world around me; that I forget to love and reach outside of myself in tangible ways.

I think about this as I reflect on this past year and as I go into the New Year. This year, I did not "accomplish" most of what I had thought I might: like taking an acting class or writing two short stories. And somehow that is okay with me right now. I have nothing to prove, and I desire to hear what the Lord might have for Joel and I next year--I hope that it will involve more service to others. I hope it will mean the strength to voice my thoughts and convictions to others. I hope it will mean less vanity and more substance. And I will admit that I would like to begin to exercise some of my creative inclinations, too, but that I will have the discipline to choose and to commit. It is far too easy for me to choose something and then abort it because I feel like I will fail or be disappointed.

May God have his way with us as we invest ourselves!

Retrospective Childhood

I just got about a week's worth of sun in about two days, but I'm reveling in what feels like a "welcome home" party for the sun.  She has been gone for far too long. It's time like these when heaven seems like a consolation prize! It is be-au-ti-ful. 

It's about 90 degrees here in Seattle but it feels a perfect 75 because there is literally no humidity. Green Lake is swarming with rollerbladers, dogs, dogs in strollers, kids on leashes, pregnant bikini-tummies, mother ducks and ducklings nestled in the marshy grass, waddling out for a synchronized swim. 

I've spent the whole day here after a morning at VBS at our church with the kiddos, and plan to do a week of this. It was the inaugural festivities today--an "Olympian"-themed VBS, where the self-assured marathoners are duelling against the runners on God's team. We all know who winners will be :)   It's cute and cheesy like any good evangelical kids' church program should be.

 I do have to say that reading the material has has inspired me to ask for God's help to be "strong and courageous," to quote Joshua, and to let the Lord win more of my battles.

I think it feels strange to be a teacher for VBS when it just seems like yesterday that I was throwing water balloons into a plastic pool and making coffee coasters out of wooden stirrers, complete with puff paint.  I LIVED for VBS in the summer. I seriously would go through the newspaper (because where we lived was so conservative they actually had VBS listings competing with the Entertainment section), and select which ones I would attend, and write them on my puppy and kitty calendar.

I was such good girl.  Sometimes I wish that had been different, as I read the written accounts of dad David Sheff, author of Beautiful Boy. He writes about his son, Nic, who became addicted to meth, but before his soul was taken by meth, he was literally the most charismatic, charming, witty, and intelligent kid. But then maybe that's just a dad's bias. But seriously, after reading that book today out on the lawn in front of Green lake, I found myself getting a bit jealous and angry. (I didn't realize that's what I was feeling until just now, but I pinpointed it).

I'm jealous because I imagine myself as being the perfect, most accomplished grown-up if I had only had the opportunities Nic had. I'm jealous because he fucked them up, and I would have done such a better job. I would have been so studious, so responsible on my semester at the American University in Paris, brushing up on my French and my fashion sense and cultural aesthetic before the ripe old age of 18, freshman year at Berkeley; no drugs or drinking, maybe a romantic rendezvous on the steps of the Rue Beethoven, but always discreet with Parisian sophistication. 

Damn him.  Why couldn't God have distributed his gifts a little more judiciously?

...The commercial he landed, just because he happened to be at the right playdate at the right time. One of his pre-adolescent buddies had a parent who was in the business.

Yet I have a feeling that therein lies the irony--that a parent can give a kid every opportunity and they can still end up in an alleyway camped out next to a trashcan. 

And I lie caught between my fury of "what the hell were you thinking, kid--you had everything I ever wanted!  A progressive learning environment with organic cookies made with cane sugar, drama classes, and all forms of self-expression;  a literary diet of Steinbeck, Kerouac, and Salinger, surfing at Santa Cruz....

And I say, if only my life had been different. Our life contexts--our families, our neighborhoods, our schools, whether one takes the subway or bus, whether one travels to the Hamptons for the summer or Baldwin Oaks Campground, whether one's parents let them play videogames all day or made them practice the piano, whether there were art supplies available, or whether the parents projected their own selves to such a degree on their children that they weren't able to even really see their gifts.... Limitations. No escape. The gift of being born, the curse of not being able to choose when and to whom and so many other things along the way. I guess some things are better left decided to chance, providence, God. 

On second thought, maybe I will trade in a few days of sun in Seattle for a heaven in which acting lessons and surfing and music and writing abound, and there is no timidity or shyness or limited finances or parents who demand gratitude and kids who are so naively prodigal. 

... So here's a future toast to an endless summer that will give way to the colors of fall and the purity of winter without the dying.  To when we will Know and Love completely.

to be in want

Eternal moments resist being calcified into artifacts. Is that why they're so damn fleeting?

Where does feeling go when it is languishing? Where does passion go when it is no longer... passion? Or was it ever?

I want passion to be constant. It does not feel constant. It is annoyingly ineffable. Liquid. Graspable for, oh, maybe a few seconds in the blurp of God's outer-space--

His own world that feels so out of sync with mine.

Is there a second-hand store that sells old feelings? Fashions that were once all the rage, but are now stained?

Pieces of clothing that held so much promise of beauty and success and fitting in with the 7th grade lunch crowd.... But now the era has past--and the magenta bodysuits and corduroy Levi's and flannel shirts seem more stinky than sexy. And I don't need them anymore.

What to do when the clothes don't seem to fit...

I could patch them up, but I don't know how to sew. And it's far more fun to go on a shopping spree.

But there's no money. And those same clothes will end up in Goodwill in three years; five if we're lucky.

I love to be in want; I hate to be in want. Clothes that do not wear out. A drink that does not dry up. Always satisfied. Would that be boring or would it be fulfillment? Clothes that don't wear out seem like no clothes at all. Does fulfillment even fit into this order of things?

...want to be naked, want to be covered. I want.

My "eureka" moment

I have definitely had much more clarity in the past couple of days about my direction. I am convinced that God speaks to me through my journaling process. I was reading through some old journals and reminded of the reasons why I believe I was drawn to Mars Hill in the first place--the hope of creativity. Yet I have not felt very creative in the past few months, and I think when I'm in places like that, I just want to kill my creativity off... it is painful to be in a school where there are so many artistic people, and I feel mediocre. When I feel mediocre, it is appealing to imagine myself in a more traditional school so I don't feel so out of it. 

I'm rambling a bit, but I am aware of how important it is for me to finish a season--to bring something to completion before I rush on ahead to think of the other possibilities. I do think sometime in the next several years I would like to start a Psy.D or Ph.D program, but I feel right now I am getting ahead of myself. Right now I desire to cultivate the creative/intuitive side of myself--the poet and writer in me who wants to live life artfully and passionately, with some dramatic flair! I was reading journals last night that reminded me of those desires.

So, to that end, instead of focusing on pursuing research opportunities at the UW this summer and studying for the GRE like I was thinking, I am going to carve out at least 15-30 minutes per day to WRITE--maybe more as the summer progresses when I am done with my summer classes at MH. My hope for August is to take the Intro level acting class at Freehold Theatre that I dropped this past January. (that is such a pattern for me: approach with passion, then withdraw out of fear).  God, I am such a perfectionist. So afraid of failing; of not being good enough at something.

Since one of my initial goals for the year was to take an acting class, I want to do that, after I've had to settle into my job and summer classes have ended, and before I amp up for the '08-

'09 school year. 

Everything in its time.... I have a deep-seated belief that I need to reconnect with the creative pursuits I enjoyed in my childhood (acting, writing, singing...) before I integrate that with my intellectual/academic side. Not that I want to keep them apart, I just think there is something that scares me about really delving into my artistic side because it feels so chaotic and free-form and so open... akin to jumping off a cliff. I just remember being a little girl and getting up i the middle of the night to write and being so inspired... where has that gone? I have a sense of where it's gone... I became so obsessed with my studies in college--getting all As and doing everything right and having my life boxed and organized, but I just don't think that's me. Sure, i like to feel organized and productive, but I think I'm more spontaneous than I've let myself be. It's interesting, because as I've started to become free from obsessive eating and exercise over the past year, I also do not feel as strong of a need to control my external environment (i.e. kitchen mess, bills, papers, etc.). Mess and clutter within reason are okay with me now, because I feel like I can contextualize it within a bigger life picture (like, we just got done painting our bedroom, and our house was a disaster for over a month, but it was okay because I was able to see the end goal). I just know that dealing with a lot of mundane activities (controlling my life) was often what stole any creative/imaginative drive I had: it all when into making lists, doing groceries, paying bills, doing dishes and laundry. yuck. Those things are necessary tasks of life, but when there is so much anxiety that goes towards making sure those things are done at all cost, I am left with no energy for the things I really care about.

Whew.

So, I'm asking God for grace to focus on my classes, starting my new job, and trying to build in writing and prayer within a more regular routine. And hopefully have enough time and energy this summer to dive into the acting class!

Mars Hill Grad. School

I am trying to make decisions about whether to finish my Master's in 2009 or 2010. I just got a new job working as a clinician at a mental health counseling center in Lynnwood , WA, which is pretty sweet, but it is a full time job 36+ hours a week, which will be a full plate with classes next year. I could go more slowly through my Master's degree (yet I've already been working on it for 2 full years), just taking one class next fall, and delay my internship till the fall of 2009, but that seems so s-l-o-w to me. The good thing would be that it would allow me to possibly do an acting class along the way or do some research (which will beef up my Psy.D application). But the thought of not graduating for two years... that kills me.

Things have been complicated because my school, Mars Hill Graduate School, is in the midst of getting its regional accreditation which is a pretty big deal for licensure and being able to transfer in credits to a Psy.D program. The projected date for that is 2010, but no one knows for sure. And chances are, with being such a young school, they may not get approved right away. And if that's the case, that would be really depressing to have waited just for nothing... that would also mean that my degree would have taken 4.5 years to complete. Ick. That is way too long for a Master's degree. Part of me would just hurry up already and get this degree DONE, and take a year break between my Master's and Psy.D. I could do my research and acting class then. 

It's just been stressful to think about. Joel and I are going to check some Psy. D/ Ph.D schools out in CA in three weeks , and for a while I thought I might just quit Mars Hill and just apply directly to the Psy.D... but that doesn't seem wise to me, after all I've invested. It would be sad to leave Seattle with nothing to show for all the time I've spent in school (since that's the reason we came out here in the first place).

We're really praying about discernment. It just feels so crazy right now. I feel peace about finishing out Mars Hill, though. For my own sake and sanity, I need to finish what I started. 

Unglamorous grace

I'm sitting here, nursing my most recent narcissistic wound--that being no one ever comments on my blog!! :) I say that half-jokingly.... I suppose the upside of that is that I can be as candid as I wish, and treat this as if it were a diary if no one reads it anyway! (maybe that will hook you--a promise of confessions and secrets only to rival a junior-high girl's).

It's Friday night, and Joel and I just went to Happy Hour at Salty's in Seattle for some delish fish n' chips. We sat ourselves right in front of the fireplace that was cascading with fresh easter lilies--a visual commemoration of the first day of spring today, and Easter Sunday in two days.
Speaking of Easter, I have felt quite disconnected from the observance of Lent this year. Amidst a lot of soul-searching for both Joel and I, we ironically have lost connection with feeding our souls. Instead, I've been feeding on way too many Cadbury mini-eggs.
Last night at the Maundy Thursday service was the first time this Lent when I felt centered and was able to take in the experience of God's grace in an acutely powerful way. As we sang the song, "Not What My Hands Can Do," (or something akin to that), I thought of how often I put trust in my ability to go through life with a clean-slate; be a good girl who can jump life's hoops and not step on too many toes, all for the sake of securing a reputation that gets me where I need to go.
What shaky ground and how exhausting to go through life trying to carefully walk on tip-toe so as not to offend anyone. For the sake of peace? What I've noticed about myself is that I keep all of my feelings to myself for so long, but then in one moment that can burst forth, often to the surprise of the person who's the recipient of them (my feelings). And then I end up feeling like crap like I've done so much damage. And then I feel destructive and that I've just shot myself in the foot all for the sake of candor and emotional honesty.
That happened with my job, and I got so frustrated with how the dynamics played out between my boss and I, and how I felt belittled and alienated and all of that, that I just decided on the spot to be done (but much more abruptly than I'd planned). There's so much more backstory, but it didn't end the way I would have hoped.
I had an interview yesterday to be a mental health clinician at Compass Health, and I was so paranoid that I didn't have a perfect reference from my last employer. I decided to take a risk, though, and explain the situation to the interviewers, and they were so graceful about it. They were just like, "It happens. Miscommunications happen. It happens to all of us; it happens here. We're human."
Can I just say what a relief that was to hear that? After that "confession" the conversation noticeably relaxed and loosened up.. I no longer felt like perfection was a requirement for rights to live as an earthling. I had a fear that I might be some sort of insect/ human hybrid, undeserving of the right to occupy space on this planet. The fact that I was imperfect and could get angry and punitive when I felt controlled (which is kind of what happened). I can get so impassioned that I lose sight of the long-range. But it's okay. There's grace. And most people, unless they have superegos the density of Ezekiel bread (really, really thick bread that tastes really gross), they probably have room for forgiveness for others.
So that's what I'm chewing on these next couple of days... how much I'm in need of grace from God.

Music is Museum of Feelings that Have been Hidden Away

I love how certain songs can transport me back to a specific moment in time, I pause at that moment and see my life unfold from that moment forth like a movie reel of my life. I am sitting here right now indulging in a little "Dido," from her For Rent album. God, how it arouses so much longing in me. I can remember driving in my white Protege flying down Market Avenue in Grand Rapids, from appointment to appointment in preparation for the madness of wedding planning. It was spring of 2004 and emotions were always close to the surface--you know, family disagreements about what meat would be served at the wedding, would we have punch, what time would the ceremony be at? Close to sunset or in full daylight? So many questions... that felt so, so important at the time. Nearly three years ago. I am tempted to think through what it is exactly we've "accomplished" in these past three years. Well, more financial debt, but more emotional security; Certainly not a tangible manifestation of our dreams, but we live in a beautiful one-bedroom with a view of the Puget Sound. We're not rich and I don't that's on our agenda for 2008, and probably won't be, until I get out the cul-de-sac of graduate school.
I don't even know what I want to write, but I feel tears brimming, because somehow amidst all the uncertainty and unpaid bills and frustation with feeling so invisible at school, I do know that I am loved by my husband. I feel thankful for that as I think to so many times when we felt so tenuous.
Dido is that bittersweet reminder of how time hangs together in some odd sort of way, there has been so much back-and-forth and crashing and burning in these past three years, but I still feel my passionate core is still there for life in general and for Joel specifically.
Next week we are going on a vacation with my parents to St. John, which is where we(Joel and I, sans the parents) went for our honeymoon almost four years ago. God, time eludes me--i can't believe it has been four years, yet something feels like it has shifted and settled. Happiness isn't reflected in our paychecks (ha), but I think we laugh more than we used to, which is good medicine. It's still hard, though, wondering if we're on the right track or if we're going around in circles, me with school, and Joel with trying to run (begin) a faux painting business, or maybe pursue graphic design, and eventually start a retreat center. For me, i have hopes of teaching someday as well as counseling and writing, but feel like my "voice" has gone to pot... so I ask, "Will I ever be able to articulate what matters to me in some manner that is inspiring to other?"
Sometimes I feel less strong and confident in what I think and write than I did before I entered Mars Hill. I have never been so assaulted with doubts in general as I have in my mid-twenties, and specifically doubts about school.
Where was the confidence I had in high school and parts of college? Will I find it again? It just doesn't feel right that a school should leave one more frayed at the edges than one began....
I want in every waking moment for there to be the acknowledgment of my finitude; my limits, so that I can run like hell and with grace towards the end of it all.... May I live into the questions.