Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Monday, June 30, 2014
About Roller Coasters
I'm in a crappy season, friends, and today strikes me as the pinnacle. I want to write; I write in my head a great deal, actually. But what comes out doesn't feel valuable for you - it's too raw, too frustrating really to transcribe. And so ye olde blog languishes, awaiting my keystrokes.
I won't go into it all, at this point in time. I'm sure it will all make good blog fodder when all is said & done but for now, suffice it to say that those closest to me are riding the roller coaster with me: trying to make me keep my hands inside the ride, wear my safety belt, and stop trying to stand up in the moving car...every.damn.day. I really am quite a challenge sometimes. Thank God they love me anyway.
I won't go into it all, at this point in time. I'm sure it will all make good blog fodder when all is said & done but for now, suffice it to say that those closest to me are riding the roller coaster with me: trying to make me keep my hands inside the ride, wear my safety belt, and stop trying to stand up in the moving car...every.damn.day. I really am quite a challenge sometimes. Thank God they love me anyway.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Book Review: What Alice Forgot
My book club's choice for May was by Liane Moriarty, who is fast becoming one of my favorite authors. I had read The Husband's Secret a few months back and suggested What Alice Forgot selfishly, so that I would have an opportunity to read it and discuss.
The story is about Alice (clearly); following an incident at the gym, Alice has amnesia. Interestingly, she thinks she is in her 20s with her first child on the way. She can't figure out why in the world she was at the gym or why those closest to her, including her husband, are acting oddly with her when she reaches out from the hospital. In actuality, Alice is now about to turn 40 with three children and an impending divorce. Without giving much else away, suffice it to say that Alice has changed quite a bit over the years and simply can't believe it when she hears how she - and things in her life - have changed so dramatically.
This, of course, was great fodder for a book club discussion. If you were going to sent back to any age, what would it be? For me, this was a tough one. Part of me would probably enjoy being back in my early twenties but there was a lot of angst and upheaval in my life at that time that I'd really rather not relive. And frankly, I'm happier and more "me" than I've ever been right now. That's certainly not to say things are perfect; far from it. But I think I've grown and matured so I deal and cope with those things differently. I can recognize that I am resilient now and I'm certain I couldn't say that about younger me.
The other deep question that came out of our discussion was this: what would surprise your 20 year old self about your life today? There was a lot of quiet reflection on this one; some chose not to share. I think emotions were running fairly high and this could have proven to be a tipping point. I had no trouble finding my answer. My younger self would be stunned, frankly stunned, to learn what it is I do for a living. As long as I can remember growing up, once I got passed the weekly ever-changing dreams of what I wanted to be when I grew up (teacher, lawyer, firefighter), which were all fairly dependent on what we were learning about in school or who had come to visit our class that week, I wanted to be a writer. Any opportunity to write a story or even a paper felt like a win to me. In high school, I was on the school paper - first, writing sports which, if you know anything about me, was rather ridiculous. But I did it because it was what I was assigned and because I got to write. I worked on the paper all through high school, managing to be co-editor with my best friend of the time our senior year. I wrote creatively a bit as well during that time but the goal and all I worked toward was journalism.
Each year, our newspaper adviser packed us in her station wagon and drove us to downtown Philly for a high school press competition at Temple University. It was there that I decided where I was going to college - there was no question. I applied elsewhere because I felt like I should "in case" but I was accepted into Temple's journalism program by September 9 of my senior year in high school and it was done deal. I was going to a writer!
But as I started classes and heard what the real life of a journalist often was, I started to doubt myself. I started to wonder how or if I could make it. I had no desire to write obituaries or real estate postings for my livelihood. I wanted to write exciting things, to chase stories that made a difference.
But time and time again I was told that I'd have to start at the bottom...and the bottom held no appeal to me. So when the time came to pick a concentration, I went with the "safe" bet and chose public relations. Little did I know, until I had my first PR job, how difficult THAT could be. Oh, I could write a heck of a press release but I loathed pitching the story to editors and, even more than that, I loathed that any placement I got us was never enough (not even The Today Show or CNN; come on!!) And so when the opportunity arose to move into planning healthcare events full-time, I was more than happy to do so. But my 20 year old self? She'd be shocked, appalled, and probably more than a little let down.
I won't give away the end of What Alice Forgot. It's got some twists and turns and in some ways, I was surprised by how completely unsurprising parts were - but isn't that true to life? I'd give this book two thumbs up and definitely recommend it for summer reading...but I'd also recommend you spend some time thinking on the questions posed above. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
The story is about Alice (clearly); following an incident at the gym, Alice has amnesia. Interestingly, she thinks she is in her 20s with her first child on the way. She can't figure out why in the world she was at the gym or why those closest to her, including her husband, are acting oddly with her when she reaches out from the hospital. In actuality, Alice is now about to turn 40 with three children and an impending divorce. Without giving much else away, suffice it to say that Alice has changed quite a bit over the years and simply can't believe it when she hears how she - and things in her life - have changed so dramatically.
This, of course, was great fodder for a book club discussion. If you were going to sent back to any age, what would it be? For me, this was a tough one. Part of me would probably enjoy being back in my early twenties but there was a lot of angst and upheaval in my life at that time that I'd really rather not relive. And frankly, I'm happier and more "me" than I've ever been right now. That's certainly not to say things are perfect; far from it. But I think I've grown and matured so I deal and cope with those things differently. I can recognize that I am resilient now and I'm certain I couldn't say that about younger me.
The other deep question that came out of our discussion was this: what would surprise your 20 year old self about your life today? There was a lot of quiet reflection on this one; some chose not to share. I think emotions were running fairly high and this could have proven to be a tipping point. I had no trouble finding my answer. My younger self would be stunned, frankly stunned, to learn what it is I do for a living. As long as I can remember growing up, once I got passed the weekly ever-changing dreams of what I wanted to be when I grew up (teacher, lawyer, firefighter), which were all fairly dependent on what we were learning about in school or who had come to visit our class that week, I wanted to be a writer. Any opportunity to write a story or even a paper felt like a win to me. In high school, I was on the school paper - first, writing sports which, if you know anything about me, was rather ridiculous. But I did it because it was what I was assigned and because I got to write. I worked on the paper all through high school, managing to be co-editor with my best friend of the time our senior year. I wrote creatively a bit as well during that time but the goal and all I worked toward was journalism.
Each year, our newspaper adviser packed us in her station wagon and drove us to downtown Philly for a high school press competition at Temple University. It was there that I decided where I was going to college - there was no question. I applied elsewhere because I felt like I should "in case" but I was accepted into Temple's journalism program by September 9 of my senior year in high school and it was done deal. I was going to a writer!
But as I started classes and heard what the real life of a journalist often was, I started to doubt myself. I started to wonder how or if I could make it. I had no desire to write obituaries or real estate postings for my livelihood. I wanted to write exciting things, to chase stories that made a difference.
But time and time again I was told that I'd have to start at the bottom...and the bottom held no appeal to me. So when the time came to pick a concentration, I went with the "safe" bet and chose public relations. Little did I know, until I had my first PR job, how difficult THAT could be. Oh, I could write a heck of a press release but I loathed pitching the story to editors and, even more than that, I loathed that any placement I got us was never enough (not even The Today Show or CNN; come on!!) And so when the opportunity arose to move into planning healthcare events full-time, I was more than happy to do so. But my 20 year old self? She'd be shocked, appalled, and probably more than a little let down.
I won't give away the end of What Alice Forgot. It's got some twists and turns and in some ways, I was surprised by how completely unsurprising parts were - but isn't that true to life? I'd give this book two thumbs up and definitely recommend it for summer reading...but I'd also recommend you spend some time thinking on the questions posed above. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Five Minute Friday: Nothing
This week's Five Minute Friday word is nothing, so here goes...well, nothing.
<start 5 minutes>
<start 5 minutes>
I believe in this quote wholeheartedly and I try in earnest to live it out. But sometimes, I don't do so well. A few weeks ago, I was waiting for the bus. I stepped into the bus shelter because it was raining. As usual, I pulled out my phone and started checking my social media accounts. A few seconds later, an older woman stepped into the shelter and confronted a man sitting on the bench inside who was smoking. She told him that he needed to put out his cigarette and pointed him to the sign that stated it was no allowed. He flipped out, screaming and cursing at her. No one turned, no one looked. She turned and walked away. And left me ashamed for not saying a word. He ended up putting out his cigarette and going back into the building. Even still, my shame stood with me. I watched the woman, trying to will myself to go over and thank her for her bravery and apologize for my lack. I watched her until she got on the bus and pulled away. And weeks later, I'm still ashamed of myself. If I didn't stand up and side with right in something as minor as that, how can I expect to in a situation where the stakes are higher? I have but history clearly does not always repeat.
<stop>
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
The Secret Life of a Good Story
I am not an avid movie watcher.
I like movies; don't get me wrong. As someone who loves the written word immeasurably, I'm often just as struck by dialogue and character development as I am in a good book. But for many years, I found it hard to sit still to watch unless I was in a theater. It drives my friends bats. They recommend what are likely very good movies or television series and I hem and haw. If they loan me something, I've learned to give them the disclaimer, "I'm REALLY BAD about watching. I need to be in the "right" mood; it may be a WHILE." Often, I end up sheepishly returning the DVDs without having watched at all because I feel like I've borrowed them way beyond the time that is reasonable.
In the past two days, I've watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty twice.
I can't recall if I read James Thurber's story; if I haven't, I likely should.
The gist is that Walter is living a fairly anonymous life but he daydreams of wild adventures, adventures he may have embarked on if circumstances hadn't derailed his life's plans early on. Through the encouragement of his love interest, he embarks on the adventure of a thousand lifetimes in search of something he thinks lost.
Beyond the amazing cast, storyline, and pop culture references, I loved the movie for another reason. It harkens back to my favorite book, a book I've hinted many times over changed my life: A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller. The premise of the book is what led me to Romania and ultimately to the adventure I'm currently on; it'll lead me to my next and more after that, too, I'm certain. It encouraged me to look at the kind of story I was living. It was not, by any stretch, a bad one but not one of courage or bravery or, most importantly, change and growth; it was about the fear and comfort and settling. Miller says this of story:
And isn't that just what life is about, anyway? I think so.
I like movies; don't get me wrong. As someone who loves the written word immeasurably, I'm often just as struck by dialogue and character development as I am in a good book. But for many years, I found it hard to sit still to watch unless I was in a theater. It drives my friends bats. They recommend what are likely very good movies or television series and I hem and haw. If they loan me something, I've learned to give them the disclaimer, "I'm REALLY BAD about watching. I need to be in the "right" mood; it may be a WHILE." Often, I end up sheepishly returning the DVDs without having watched at all because I feel like I've borrowed them way beyond the time that is reasonable.
In the past two days, I've watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty twice.
I can't recall if I read James Thurber's story; if I haven't, I likely should.
The gist is that Walter is living a fairly anonymous life but he daydreams of wild adventures, adventures he may have embarked on if circumstances hadn't derailed his life's plans early on. Through the encouragement of his love interest, he embarks on the adventure of a thousand lifetimes in search of something he thinks lost.
Beyond the amazing cast, storyline, and pop culture references, I loved the movie for another reason. It harkens back to my favorite book, a book I've hinted many times over changed my life: A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller. The premise of the book is what led me to Romania and ultimately to the adventure I'm currently on; it'll lead me to my next and more after that, too, I'm certain. It encouraged me to look at the kind of story I was living. It was not, by any stretch, a bad one but not one of courage or bravery or, most importantly, change and growth; it was about the fear and comfort and settling. Miller says this of story:
If the point of life is the same as the point of the story, the point of life is character transformation. If I got any comfort as I set out on my first story, it was that, in nearly every story, the protagonist is transformed. He's a jerk at the beginning and nice at the end, or a coward in the beginning and brave in the end. If the character doesn't change, the story hasn't happened yet. And if story is derived from real life, if story is just a condensed version of life then life itself might be designed to change us so that we evolve from one kind of person to another.
And isn't that just what life is about, anyway? I think so.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
About Wayfinding
I headed back the homeland last weekend for a triple graduation extravaganza. I was blessed to be able to spend the weekend with my bestie and her family and to top it off with the party, where I got to celebrate three of the most amazing college grads I have the privilege to know and see a lot of folks I hadn't seen in some time.
It's a long drive from my place to where my people are and I had a lot of time to think. I had had a conversation with a friend in town the evening before about some areas of my life with which I'm increasingly unhappy. I've been slowly but surely trying to look at them a little deeper and plot out a course for the inevitable change that is needed; my friend's viewpoint was that I was not being open to all the possibilities that were before me. And frankly, I'm not. There are some non-negotiables that ARE limiting but I don't see them as negatives. Like a lot of things, they just are. It's part of growing and maturing, I think. In the past several years, I've come to realize that I like what I like and I don't like what I don't like - and that's ok. It's so much easier for me to say, today, "No, thank you. I really don't feel like" doing XYZ. Or to say, "Yeah, no, I'm not into opera." I'm certainly willing to try new things but there is a degree to which they have to first appeal to me in some way and some things simply don't.
Sometimes, though, it's hard to see what you do want to do.
My best friend and I spent a long while on her sofa hashing out what's been going on and how I can actively pursue healthy changes going forward. We're of the list-writing variety and so she acted as scribe; I can't tell you what it means to me to have these plans we created written in her handwriting, to know that she cares and that she is a PART of it all. I knew that before, of course, but this is the tangible reminder I need while we are far away and I often feel like I'm out here on my own.
The idea of what I want to do and where I want to end up is fairly nebulous...or at least it was. I spent some time at the graduation party talking with a pastor friend of mine. We both served in youth ministries and he knows my heart will always be there. He knows my struggles in my current place to kind of replicate that experience. We went back and forth a bit about what I want with me hemming and hawing about finances, debt, etc. quite a bit. But his bottom line was this: if money and location were not issues, what would you want to do? I didn't hesitate to repeat what I've said to others in the past few weeks: I'd work with at-risk teenagers.
Yet I had no idea what that should look like.
I've served in church youth ministry for more than 12 years. For various reasons, that hasn't come "easy" here and I'm willing to bet there is a larger, bigger picture reason I can't see right now. I thought that serving as a CASA would help to fill that hole and it has, somewhat. I totally get that my role there is exceptionally important, especially to the child(ren) we serve. Yet it doesn't feel like that, by itself, is"it".
Several weeks ago, a bunch of local organizations spoke at my church about their missions. One was Young Lives, an offshoot of Young Life. They mentor pregnant teens and teen moms. It took me about half a second to pull out my business card and write my personal information on it. I had to cut out quickly after service to meet some friends for lunch but made sure I stopped and talked to the Young Lives person first. I ended up getting a call from the director of the program a few weeks later and we talked for a long time about what they were doing and how I might fit in. Yet the end of the year was coming for them and I was held back by my own what ifs (which were totally unrelated). But my bestie and I put it on the list and so I headed out on Monday evening, after driving six hours home, to check it out.
It felt like home.
The next day, I got an email about a new CASA program called Fostering Futures. It's specifically designed to match teens in foster care with mentors in the community to help better equip them for when they "age out" (I hate that term and the idea of it) of the system.
Again, my heart was stirred.
I don't know what will come of any of this or of the plans we wrote out. But I do know that God is working, even when I can't see or feel it.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Five Minute Friday: Close
This week, I'm participating in Five Minute Friday, hosted by Lisa-Jo over at Surprised by Motherhood. Each week, Lisa-Jo provides a topic and the goal is to write whatever comes to mind in five minutes: no overthinking, no editing, and that's that. So, here we are...
When I decided to move, I looked at it as a grand adventure. I felt stuck, overall, in my life and I felt I needed something to jolt me out of that and into the next era. I was so eager to meet new people, try new things, and have a new life. Don't get me wrong - my life was pretty great. I'm blessed with a wonderful support system of friends and family that I've known for years and years and I just assumed that being five plus hours away wouldn't change that one iota.
Turns out there is something about proximity; something about being close.
Some of my relationships have changed for the better but some have drifted further afield. But what I realized is that I really desire that proximity, that closeness. I posted early on that I didn't realize that homesickness could be a real, physical ache; it has been for me, anyway. There is something about the nearness of those you love, beyond the innate need and desire for hugs and physical contact. It's talking to your best friend in 3-D, live and in technicolor. It's looking in the eyes of her little guy while he tells you a story. It's having a sing-a-long in the car as you travel back from a party together. You can't replicate that through a phone call, Facebook, email, or even Facetime or Skype. There's just something about being close...
When I decided to move, I looked at it as a grand adventure. I felt stuck, overall, in my life and I felt I needed something to jolt me out of that and into the next era. I was so eager to meet new people, try new things, and have a new life. Don't get me wrong - my life was pretty great. I'm blessed with a wonderful support system of friends and family that I've known for years and years and I just assumed that being five plus hours away wouldn't change that one iota.
Turns out there is something about proximity; something about being close.
Some of my relationships have changed for the better but some have drifted further afield. But what I realized is that I really desire that proximity, that closeness. I posted early on that I didn't realize that homesickness could be a real, physical ache; it has been for me, anyway. There is something about the nearness of those you love, beyond the innate need and desire for hugs and physical contact. It's talking to your best friend in 3-D, live and in technicolor. It's looking in the eyes of her little guy while he tells you a story. It's having a sing-a-long in the car as you travel back from a party together. You can't replicate that through a phone call, Facebook, email, or even Facetime or Skype. There's just something about being close...
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