words

I am jumping back in the saddle, pressing my rusty fingers to the keys again and attempting to make something of these words that bounce around in my brain and fight for my attention. These words that attempt to jump out, to elbow their way out of the shadows of my brain and onto paper. But I’ve rejected the echoes of my mind. I’ve avoided thinking beyond the necessary and the clean and the in-a-box. And I’ve pushed these words back into this cob-webby brain of mine and duct taped their mouths shut. It’s safer to not let me think full thoughts or risky thoughts or thoughts at all.

I have been a drama queen lately. Lamenting and dragging my feet about anything inconvenient. I’ve mastered the art of apathy. Doing just what is necessary to brush by. Not being a bad person, but not being all that good either. Blaming my electronic devices for my inability to focus, pointing fingers at everything but me. It’s not an original struggle. I’ve frequented this spot. I am the billboard for just getting by.

But here’s the thing: I need these words to spill out of me. Otherwise I remain mute. I need them to fall out of my head so that I can understand my spiritual innards. Otherwise I am spiritually dead. I need to pull back the quilts and the sheets to see what is in bed with me. Otherwise, before long I’ll forget who I am.

ask me how i am.

yesterday, i ran into this guy who went to high school with me.
truth be told, i saw him from across the room, assumed he wouldn't remember me, and bashfully looked the other way. but he shouted "hello" an auditorium-length away and threw his arms up in a boisterous wave.
obviously, i had to match his enthusiasm, so i walked over to him. smiley and enthusiastic and said hello up close and personal.

i asked him how he'd been.
good, thank you.
he asked me how i'd been.
i'm okay. ugh. so-so, it depends on the day. i don't know. (shut-up, laura, shut-up). i mean, i'll be okay, thanks for asking.

i just couldn't stop being overly honest with him. i literally hadn't seen the poor guy in 11 years and i was treating this random encounter like a priestly confessional.

i was feeling particularly gloomy at that moment because we had just finished hearing John Perkins speak. John Perkins is the granddaddy of Biblical-based Urban Studies. Everything anyone else says about incarnational urban living is just a reinvention of what God or Dr. Perkins already said.

i have a master's in urban studies. Dr. Perkins wrote my textbooks. i planned on making a difference by now. i planned on being inspiring and reconciling the masses. right now, i'm doing little, and find the reminder of my stale-passion offensive. i can hardly even find a job.

My point here is not to conjure up pity. i'm not okay with how i am. i am not okay with where i am. so, if you ask me, i'll tell you i'm so-so, i'm okay, i'm struggling, i've been better.
meanwhile, i'll be trying really hard to find a way to cultivate a life steeped in depth and passion and purpose.

cliches, i know.

but i keep asking myself, "if my life consistently lets me down and i never feel like i've found a place where i can thrive and i struggle till my last day to feel successful at anything, will i be able to live a life of purpose regardless?"

i cannot answer "fine, thank you" until i can answer "yes" to that.

my proverbial box

we spend our lives carrying around every raw secret about us in our personal proverbial box. we tuck these boxes neatly under our armpits, and walk with them fully sealed up tidy and safe.
raw friendship happens when we settle into someone enough that we start exposing the inside of the box.
unloading our stories and vulnerabilities and opinions.
pulling it all out.
one-by-one.
putting it on the table.
therapeutically letting light expose shame and darkness and embarrassment and pride.
letting someone in enough to want to push them out. and then inviting them to stay uncomfortably close.

we need to let others in. this is good. this is healthy. this is life-giving. we must necessarily let others into our souls. into our boxes.

i venture to say that this is the worst thing about being single. no one is ceremoniously committed to know the contents of my box. i need people to know. and, selfishly, i need people to care.

i just spent the last month unloading my box. i was with a friend who knows me better than anyone. and our friendship is a wonderful thing.
but, as easy as it was to unload my box with her, she is now six states away again. and i realize that i am still prone to pack it all away again and pretend that i am fine.

don't believe the lie, none of us are fine.

in spite of me

there are certain chord progressions that bring me closer to God. sometimes songs that have nothing to do with him push me into his presence because they move my soul, and remind me of his greatness. there are photographs and sunsets and meals that do it too. when life comes rushing at me, startling me into inspiration, i find that i can't help myself from wanting to worship.
because, though the song or the recipe may not be the inspired word of God, it does remind me of my humanity, which in contrast to God's godliness, stirs in me a reverence and love for him.
Yes, worship in the praise-band-hand-clapping-power-point-words-on-the-screen sense is worship that i can love as well. but, sometimes i wonder if i love that kind only because it is tradition and nostalgic for me. that kind of worship moves my soul, but sometimes it just amplifies my stale heart. but, worship that is unplanned, unprovoked and full-hearted is the worship that jumps out at me from real life and gives me no choice but to whisper love to God. it explodes out of me.
the smattering of great things that saturate my every day life cause me to worship God. i see things and i can't help myself...the only possible reaction is to raise God up.
even when i feel like i am doing life so poorly. even when i feel so emotionally low. i am able to find things that cause me to want nothing more than to honor and love God in that moment.

and i know this all. it is a lesson from the basics of childhood sunday school, but i forget it often: even though i am not worthy of God, he accepts my worship with arms wide. in spite of me.

2010.

2010. a tired year for me.
it was a year marked by waiting and impatience.
a year layered in reminders of things i already knew...
but how quickly selfishness blinds me.
i relearned that patience is harder when vision is dim.
vision is harder when hope is lacking.
hope is harder if bitterness is king.

the year reminded me that selflessness will never come naturally apart from grace.
and that God is plentiful in his distribution of grace, of mercy, of love.
for me.
for my friends.
for life.

if i am bitter, i will not grow.
if i dwell on what i lack, i will always lack in joy.
if i want to be better, i have to stop being what i have learned makes me worse.

a good day: future. present. past.

a good day?
for me, i easily conjure up delicate visions of future good days. i imagine future coffee dates with friends i miss. i imagine getting a job that's finally satisfying. i imagine love. i imagine rekindling passion for God that pales so often these days. i imagine enthusiasm again. for a visionary like me, it is quite effortless to imagine the things to come. i see images of a more rosy-cheeked version of me, doing lots of skipping and jumping and sappy-song-singing.
and then i see a reality check.
the good days of now? that's harder. the pessimism comes out of nowhere. i forget so easily where i come from and where i am going. i glance around in present time and see lots and lots of glasses sitting around; all of them half-empty. i see more of the same...sitting, waiting, wondering, wishing.
i see "everyone else" happy.
i see "everyone else" successful.
i see the bitterness, the frustration, the resent swelling without warning in my heart.
and then i remember the good days of past.
the glory days of college, the wonderful moments of loving life and loving God. i remember that i have been given much. i remember many loving friends circling me like cheerful vulchers, waiting to overdose me with appreciation, with love, with fullness of life.
and there it is.
i know a good day when i see it. yet i tend to forget that God is as good today as he was yesterday. he is as good today as he will be tomorrow. he is not oblivious to my frustrations or to my pain. he is not torturing me with silence, he is allowing me to become refined.
for, i would rather suffer my whole life and be better for it then drink up a blissful (but meaningless) life that leads to a shallow grave.

a few things i love...

i hate when people ask me to list my favorite music, food, movie, friend, etc. i hate choices. i even once made a list of my top 10 best friends because i couldn't imagine having only one (are you all wondering if you made that list?).

but these are some things i certainly love:

#1. to eat and to drink coffee. the joy of life. most of the food/drink places that i love are those that are connected to wonderful memories with wonderful people. i will always love third coast cafe on dearborn st. in chicago. their scones will bring you to tears. it is the only place i have found in this country that satisfies every occasion i ever have for an eating establishment. it was the place to study, the place to go have a heart-to-heart with a good friend, the place to gather, the place for wine, coffee, dinner, breakfast, conversation.
(http://www.3rdcoastcafe.com/3rd_Coast_Cafe/home.html)

#2. i especially hate the favorite music question. i love almost all of it. and, i don't say that in a "i'm too shallow to think for myself" kind of way. i really do love music in most forms. i do, however, find myself drawn to music that is sad and calming. like, william fitzsimmons, for example. that man sings about mostly sadness and goodbyes. but his songs are so beautiful, so heart-wrenching, so fresh. he sings about divorce and leaving, and i feel like a teenager who is pretending she knows adult-sadness when i listen. but, i find the tears that he provokes weirdly encouraging in a "oh good, your life is periodically awful too" kind of way.


#3. i love a good dark belgian beer. the one that has impressed me most in the last 6 months was the Ommegang Abbey Ale. that beer moved my soul and it could move yours as well.

happy birthday to me.

It is no secret among friends and loved ones; I love birthdays. Especially my own. Yesterday, I turned 29.
Birthdays in years 1 through 21 were pure bliss. 22 will go down in history as "the year of the 22 dates" (which requires an entire blog at a later date posting for explanation). 23 was the nose piercing birthday (my attempt at rebellion). 24 was lonely after all the celebratory college years. I distinctly remember a slight panic attack at 25. Turning 26 was devastating because I was in Korea and my birthday celebration was combined with a farewell dinner for the only in-country friend I had. 27 made me feel old without warning. 28 was calm and made me feel overly adult. And now, it's 29.
It is easy to compare myself to every other 29 year old. Am I equally successful? Have I accomplished enough for these 29 years? Do I have less wrinkles? Am I wasting my life? Does it even matter?
My desire is to live my life to the fullest, to find joy in what I have been given, to trust God in what I have not been given. And, to never dread a single birthday. That would be such a waste.

ungrateful=me

at an hour shy of december, i've managed to squeeze in a blog on november's favorite theme. or rather, the opposite of thanksgiving.
i quit my job over a year ago in the hope (read: assumption) that getting another/better/fulfilling job couldn't possibly be so hard. yet, i am still without a job. after the thrill of quitting wore off, i started to feel a bit worrisome about my prospects. out of necessity, i moved backed into my parent's house which is very much the opposite of growing up. and, i've been content to spend most days searching in vain for employment that seems impossible to come by.
a couple of months ago a "job" stumbled upon me. this job was very much not what i wanted. it required no skills beyond junior high math, it belittled me, humbled me, offended me. but it was money, so i took it and i've been forced to swallow my pride one shift at a time. but, it does not feel natural at all for me to be thankful for it. instead, i feel frustration and bitterness because i feel entitled to something better. and, i wouldn't say this outloud, but i feel like God owes me more.
it is absolutely unnatural for me to feel thankful in most things. most of my best friends live in other states. i feel ugly most days. i wish for things that never come. i wait on promises that fall flat. or, so it seems.
in reality, grace is ever present. hope is screamingly obvious through my life. sometimes i get the good stuff, sometimes i get the shit. regarding God, there are implications and explanations for all of this. regarding emotions, i would obviously choose happy over sad. i imagine that we all would.
as much as i hate to sound all sunday school-like, i really need to consistently remind myself to stop the ungratefulness. because for me, ungratefulness is the most natural way to think. but, i have a job, even though i hate it. i have wonderful friends, even if they don't live so close. and, i am loved. i've got limbs and a brain and skills and ideas and passion...
i have a hope and a future. even if it's tainted by my ever-grumpy self.

now is my joy

Judging by the year and a half gap between this post and the last, you may assume these last 17 months have been void of inspiration for me. True and not.
The pages of my journal have been uncharacteristically blank, but my heart is still cluttered with passion and dreams. It's been a rough time, but I still remember my dreams of a few years ago. I still remember my desires to connect with others. To share life with people and discuss God (and other less daunting things) over coffee.
My passion is still here, but it's been playing hard to get. I feel numbed by disappointment, by unemployment, by loneliness.

I stuck a sticker on my computer this fall that reads, "travel is my joy". Anyone who knows me, knows this is fully true. Seeing the world inspires me. But that little phrase alone doesn't cover it. For me, coffee is my joy, delicious food is my joy, learning about new cultures, having a good conversation, hearing a good song,...joy, joy, joy. I am a person enthused by much.

And for me, one of the most joy-inducing moments comes in realizing that even when it's been 17 months since I've written a word beyond facebook statuses, cover letters and resumes, I've still got it in me. I am still inspired by the things that inspired me before. I still love God. I still care about justice and connecting with people in genuine relationships. My heart still has the capacity to feel the thrill of inspiration. I've made it a circumstantial thing. I've lacked inspiration because I've lacked joy. I've lacked joy because I've refused to see beyond the numbness of now. But I can do this, I can push through. I can feel inspired and find joy even in spite of now. And that brings me joy.

shattered hearts

this is something i wrote a few weeks ago. not really completely about me, but not really not about me either.

Shattered hearts.

If I’m fully honest, I confess that I prefer to balance somewhere between spiritual safely and spiritual securely—between being just Christian enough not to go to hell and just bad enough to not stand out as so righteous that God would find it necessary to send afflictions my way. Because, “many are the afflictions of the righteous” and, God knows, I do not want bad days. In the safely of bright church lights and soft sermons I might say I do, but I don’t. When I am truly honest, I want comfort and normality and typical situations. I do not willfully send invitations for pain to come my way.
I like to believe that God builds a strong, mighty, powerful fortress around my emotional self—protecting, guiding, shielding, strengthening my heart to safely co-exist with other safe hearts. I proclaim that my God is a protector and a shield. He is a strong fortress and he absolutely holds me double fisted in his great grip.
Sometimes, in his unusual grace, God throws our hearts to the wolves. This truth, this idea, this invariable reality I can’t imagine he expects us to fathom. How could he? We could never really wrap our minds around it. He is our safety but he is not safe.
He sometimes tosses our hearts out to be eaten alive by pain and suffering because he is wise beyond the moment and far kinder than our immediate pain. His love songs come often in deep inarticulate murmurs that shake and rattle and convulse us to the core.
He throws us into pain—he throws us straight into the stinging pain. He allows it. Then he lovingly picks up the pieces. Other times he holds us in firm arms where grace can wrap around our broken hearts like a cast. The miracle is this grace. This magical, medicinally healing grace moves into our brokenness and creates incomprehensible joy. The shattered heart can unexpectedly dance again only because of this unusual grace.
If any of us dare question God, which I suspect we all do in the darkness of our private prayers, we challenge him. “How dare you!” We throw the pain back in his face, we ask him “why”, but the question in itself is insufficient. We ask him, “why me why now why this?” We throw the questions around but the words can never quite articulate the sting we feel. All we can do is point, mute and sobbing, to our shattered hearts.
We pile up our tears and our sorrow and our fresh wounds and throw them back at God giving him an impossible ultimatum—either You are punishing me because I am evil or You hate me because You are evil.
But we know it is neither. He cannot be either of those things.

God is love. He is goodness. He is faithfulness. He is peace. He is hope. He is sustenance and salvation.

He must be. He is. He is.

And our shattered hearts will dance again.

awkward

awkwardly i'm still where i was 8 months ago. i just celebrated my 8 month anniversary of being post-korea, stuck-in-this-funky-funk-life. i never saw that coming.

so, here's to change. hoping and praying it'll come soon.
it can't come fast enough.

one month down, nowhere to go

unbelievably and astonishingly it was one month ago from right about now that i arrived back in this fine land after my little stint in asia. one month.
and, i suppose, considering that a month is not that long, i've accomplished quite a lot. the changes i've faced have been considerable.
i got a job. way too fast, honestly. i'm now a full-time workin' woman. which feels a bit like being in a well-paying cage. a cage with health insurance.

i feel homesick for korea and yet, strangely relieved to be gone from there.
i have doubted my choices, doubted my new job, doubted that i should even be in this country. i feel like i belong somewhere else.
i've always belonged someone else.
not here.
maybe not there.
but somewhere. else.

i've got about a thousand things to say. but, honestly, i still feel like i haven't unpacked. i haven't settled. i'm having doubts.
i feel unmotivated because i feel unstimulated.
even though korea was bad sometimes, it was good because it was hard and being hard made it stimulating which kept me active and helped me to survive.
but, considering that a month has passed, i'm not allowed to play the jet-lag/culture shock card anymore. even though, being jet-lagged makes me feel safe because it gives me an excuse to feel out of place. and, a month later, i still feel out of place.
and i have no idea what i'm doing here.

english breakfast

my layover from hong kong was in london. i didn't get to leave the airport but at least i got to have my english breakfast. :)

the rest of hong kong...

most of these shots are from the last day in hong kong, the day of the typhoon. in case you wondered what a typhoon looked like.