Fact #40

Things never go as you plan.


This is going to sound crazy-odd, but, had I had my way the first time, Allen and I would not be celebrating our real one-year anniversary at this very moment.

Thank God I lost.

I don't think I could live without this brand of insanity.

Where do you see God working?

In this relationship, for sure.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're welcome."

How do you see God working?

Teaching Allen and I how we function differently, so we can communicate and work together even better.

Fact #39

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars." -Charles A. Beard


This was a quote featured in the book we're supposed to be reading for my Formations class.  I haven't quoted anything from it, because amidst all of the other thought-provoking material I have been bombarded with the past month, the devotional On Being a Servant of God by Warren W. Wiersbe struggled to stay at the forefront of my mind.  It's not a bad read, though.

It's been plenty dark here, as you've been reading, and my mind's already rebelling at the understanding that it'll be winter soon.  Less daylight = more insanity.  I honestly balked at the idea of leaving my weekend vacation with friends to go back to the seminary.  Having felt attacked spiritually, emotionally, and now mentally from all sides, the idea of giving up was, for the first time in a long time, starting to look like a rational possibility.  Maybe this seminary thing wasn't for me.  Maybe I should actually become a waitress, act on the weekends, passing along my screenplays for wary producers to read while I refilled their coffees.  Maybe the ministry assessment guy was right.  I am simply not strong enough.


No.

Whenever someone outright told me "you can't," "too hard," or "you're not x-y-z enough," it hits a point where I'm ready to give in, then someone, be it Bekah, Bethany, or my mom says, "You're kidding, right?"  and I go through with the plans, as scheduled, only to realize if I hadn't something profoundly God-centered occurs.  Pursued acting, won an award, spurred me onto Judson, despite skeptics due to my appearance.  Wrote Judson's first "serious one-act," inspired mass theological discussion on campus even thought my co-leader tore it down the night before our performance.  Applied to Northern and for a scholarship, received both against all odds.  God revealed himself to me and to others in each.  I believe God would have completed his work had I decided not to do any of these things...but then I wouldn't have been gifted such unforgettable experiences.  And I'm pretty sure God wants his children in on the adventure.

So, regardless of my feet dragging, I came back.  I put my things away, went to John, Rick, and Dougal's to watch some Dr. Who, and realized that, even if the gradual dark is disconcerting and causes me to fumble about, once I settle, it's actually pretty peaceful.  And one by one, the stars start revealing themselves.

Where do you see God working?
In solidifying my relationships here, at seminary, so I feel supported, not condemned.

What do you hear God saying?
"Rest in me."

How do you see God working?
By bringing up difficult subjects so I learn how to lean not on my own understanding.

Fact #38

There's a fine line between conviction and condemnation. 


"I want you to seek out a clinical psychologist.  Your depression is making you feel sorry for yourself."

My heart felt like an invisible hand were attempting to quiet it as it pound through my sternum.  After bashing my church, skeptically looking at my personality results, suggesting tact was really a lack of assertiveness, and disregarding my own attempts at mental wellness, he drops the D-bomb on me.

I had been aware of my tendency towards melancholy since Sophomore year of high school.  There was a reason sought out a mentor, Bekah, checked into a counselor for awhile, read books on conditions, and sought out strong friends.  There was also a reason I got the heck out of dodge, moving to an unfamiliar place to force myself out of my comfort zone, show myself I could succeed independently instead of allowing myself to feed off of the superiority I downright harvest in Kewaunee.  I haven't been studying the book Spiritual Depression for three months for jollies.  There is a reason this blog is titled "The Unfortunate Facts of Being an Earthling" instead of "Golly, I Love Life."  This world is broken, I am broken, and I recognize that.  I'm not about to lie to any of you.

So when he so blithely commands that I see a clinical psychologist, that I have clinical depression, I could not help but think, "Well, no shit Sherlock."

That's why I'm in seminary.  To grow and armor myself so I don't allow it to seep into any ministry I go into.  I focus on the humor in these unfortunate facts because light does shine through the cracks.  And I thank all of you for your encouragement, letters, and the occasional package (thanks Megan).

I don't think it's wrong to yearn for community, or to be honest when you feel stuck, or recognize that some classes you just don't have a voice in yet.  When I told my roommate, Caitlyn, how the assessment went, she laughed.  "You?  Not assertive enough?"  Then she prayed over me, asking God to refill me with love, and assurance in my calling.  And as the day went on, the dark clouds lifted, one by one.

I don't want to outright dismiss what the counselor had to say.  Perhaps I should check into a psychologist, just to keep me accountable of my head.  But I can't let this assessment allow me to forget that I received a full ride here for a reason.  God wouldn't be leading me into ministry if he thought I'd royally mess people up.  Dr. Quicke wouldn't tell me I had a "brilliant interview" if he thought I was incompetent or self-serving.  And I wouldn't be sticking this out if I felt sorry for myself every day.  I listen to show tunes, for crying out loud.

Ah, the joys of clinical skepticism.


Where do you see God working?
In my mind, bolstering it against condemnation.

What do you hear God saying?
Ephesians 4:29-32

How do you see God working?
With my support network outside of seminary, reassuring me I'm not crazy.

Fact #37

We can't possibly know everything.


I have been witnessing a lot of heated debates about the usual trending church topics: women in leadership, homosexuality, literal Bible reading, etc, etc...etc.  And you know what's missing from every single one of those debates?

Grace.

I have plenty of opinions and convictions about all of the following and then some, but I rarely communicate them unsolicited.  Conviction is meant to be considered and prayed about and researched.  It is not meant to be wielded with careless abandon.  And this is not another seminarian rant; I'm seeing it everywhere.

I feel like I'm white-knuckling my grasp on the fundamentals of Jesus' ministry as people attempt to rip me away from it to see things their way.  Since when did our options become enemy or lobbyist?  "You're either for us, or you're against us."  Uh, how about I'm not interested until the vein in your forehead quits pulsing?

Where do you see God working?
In my heart, as I discern what is a salvitic issue...and what is just annoying as hell.

What do you hear God saying?
"Stop living inside your head.  Hold on to your childlike faith.  Eyes on me."

How do you see God working?
Highlighting where Satan is attempting to divide, showing how to make peace, rather than simply keep it.

Fact #36

There are Pharisees at seminary.


I have a tendency to worship intellect more than God.  It's gotten better, as God has been revealing himself to me through things outside of the seminary...but outside of the seminary is not where my problem is.

One would think, after studying the Bible and doctrine and ministry all day, that you'd grow to be more patient and kind and loving.  Heck no, techno.

"That's undergrad thinking."

"Oh, but is it class-interesting, or small group-interesting?" 

"He wrote a good book, but he only teaches undergrad."

It's come to the point where I'm afraid to have friends visit, worried that they'll just be torn down.  Some of the most wise people I have met don't even have a basic college education, let alone experience in master's level coursework.  But they're still brilliant at what they do.  Yet those things aren't being respected.  It's as if they believe that the only way God recognizes you is if you work in a church, or work in affiliation with a church.  If that's true, I'm probably going to hell.

The term "pharisee," you probably recognize.  They're featured in the New Testament regularly as pompous bigots who stomped all over Christ's ministry.  In Hebrew, prushim means "separated."  In Arimaic, pĕrīshayyā means "separated ones."  In Christianity, while we are set apart, I don't think God called us to be separated.  And yet it's all I'm seeing.

Psalm 19:7  

The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple.

Proverbs 3:7 

Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil. 

Romans 12:16

Live in harmony with one another.  Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.  Never be wise in your own sight.

In my theology class, Prof. Bacote said, "Grace turns information into wisdom."  Grace is easy for God, who is grace, but we do have to try.  It is essential to our faith, it is demanded from our ministry.  I struggle with it (see Fact #35) plenty, but I do see enormous cause for concern here.  When I didn't feel welcome here right away, I assumed it was just me.  Now I'm wondering.

Where do you see God working?
In my discernment.  He's showing me who may be acting this way out of brokenness, and telling me to care for them gently.  He's also showing me who should know better by now.  Those...I have a feeling me might prompt me to speak against.  With just as much tact and care, of course, but probably not with a hug.

What do you hear God saying?
"Careful with this one.  You're right, but come to me first.  Patience...patience..."

How do you see God working?
He's begun blessing me with several strong women-friends.  We realized we were struggling very much in the same way, and it's calming to know I have a support network closer by.

Fact #35

Love doesn't always feel good.


Allen and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary ten days early, because we're both too busy next weekend.  We started Friday, with Mothership organic beer (which is a fantastic must-try) biscuits and gravy (they make vegetarian gravy now, so I was safe), puzzles, and an attempt at homemade crème brulèe.  I say attempted, because I realized halfway through I didn't have a torch for the crispy top, which in my opinion, is a necessity.  Either way, it's good, but so rich you can only have three bites a day, otherwise you feel like Violet Beauregarde.

Yesterday we got up early to make the 9:05 am train to Chicago, to go to a film festival being held at the Gene Siskel Film Center.  The film(s) we were planning on seeing didn't start 3pm, but we wanted to get a head start to take some photos, grab lunch and have tea at Argo, maybe bum around a few shops beforehand.

Of course, most of that never happened.

Regrettably, I am quick to anger.  It's not something I'm proud of, but it is a huge hitch in this whole "being a Christian" thing.  And while both Allen and I woke up on time, we did not make it to our train due to our differences in interpretation of the phrase "on time."

Allen's "On Time": Leave with the exact amount of time it takes for you to walk in at scheduled time.


My "On Time": Leave with a 30 minute cushion for Murphy's Law, an hour if it's a stressful situation, i.e. job interviews, meetings with profs, family functions, etc. 


We left for Allen's "On Time."  We arrived at the station, unsure of parking or layout, with five minutes to spare.  Bolting up the stairs, I realized we parked in a "Residents Only" space.  Allen sprinted to the car, and I waited on the other side of the tracks.  Five minutes later, he returned.  "You have my wallet." He grabbed it and laughed, sprinting back to move the car and pay for our space.  As he did so, the train arrived.  I called him.

Me: "Allen, the train's here.  You need to run under the bridge and get to my side."

Allen: "Wait, what?"  (sprinting sounds) "I'm coming as fast as I can."

Me: "A man next to me said to tie my shoe to stall them.  Please hurry."

Conductor: "Whoever you're waiting for better hurry up...we got a schedule to keep."

Me: "Allen, they're going to leave.  Please hurry."

Allen: (Click.)

Conductor:  (Impatient look.)

Me: Frustrated noise.  "Go.  Just...go."

Train leaves.  

Allen was on the other side of the train.  I exploded.  "Why can't we...ever...be on *cussing* time?!  Why?!"  I stormed off, knowing my rage was unwarranted and I was a loose cannon.  There were witnesses, of course, as any good tantrum requires.  

Time, for whatever reason, is infinitely important to me.  Waste mine, and you're a thorn in my side.  Poor Allen was mine from the moment the train left.

He didn't catch me until I made it back to the car.  We sat there, in thick silence, as I closed myself off and he hypothesized what he could have done better.  Allen makes the best of things, and I critique the worst of them.  It's how I knew I should date him; other guys I dated were just as pessimistic and hyper-critical as I was.  Past relationships were destructive from the inside and out.  Allen sparred me without fighting.  He lets me rampage until I run out.  And it's what he was doing this time, and it was driving me nuts.

Eventually, of course, I did chill out, and we found a hometown diner to sit at and wait for the next train.  We talked out the morning, I apologized, after some coffee, and became determined to have a restart.  "Well, at least we got our one mess up for the day complete." 

Wrong.  Dead wrong.

Several forgotten ids, overdrawn accounts, and missed appointments later, we came back home, hungry, tired, and defeated.

He and I both knew regardless of the frustrations of the day, they revealed a great number of things we had never noticed about our relationship that we had let slide, and much to our unaware detriment. 

For example, we stopped communicating spiritually.  We had had basic, "How was your day?" "What's going on at seminary/Judson?" "What did you think of the sermon?" conversations, but we had failed at asking the intentional question of "How is your soul doing today?"  When we got to it, it was like I was meeting Allen all over again.  

It opened up a lot of old wounds we thought we'd settled, because, believe it or not, couples argue, even the good ones.  There were tears and more yelling (on my part) and hard truths being pulled out that both of us thought we buried well within ourselves.  God was working and it was a bitch.

Somehow, after a lot of hugging, prayer, and grace (on Allen's part) we came out determined to work and grow.  This was hard for me to wrap my mind around, at first, because I had become so used to huge moments like this ending in a break up.  Instead, it ended in us attempting to eat the rest of our homemade cème brulèe, realizing without a crispy top, it hardly seems finished.

And so goes our relationship.  Unfinished, but still sweet enough to make you puke.

Much like this ending.


Where do you see God working?
In my pride and anger, slowly drawing it out like poison.

What do you hear God saying?
"I still love you.  But this will hurt."

How do you see God working?
By prompting Allen to tell me when I'm getting out of hand.

Fact #34

God doesn't let things lie until He's done with them.

This can be a wicked-frustrating thing; luckily this time is brilliantly awesome.

You know that song I said was playing when I was prompted by God to see what I was painting?  Ìllgresi?  These are the lyrics, translated from Icelandic to English:

You sleep till noon
You die but come to life
The leaves change their colours

You ache - get up and dress
In a raincoat - you keep going into the bleak day

You tear out heart-roots that you stamp on
With your hands in your pockets, been through enough
Walking in wet grass until

It shines on me through the branches
I look up and revive - the leaves change their colours

We feel warmth, create roots
Undress our hearts
We head towards a good day

We plant and we give life and we blossom
With our hands out of the pockets in earth you delve
Now we remove an ugly thought

Time will heal all things, gives life, kindles fires
Flames of the soul
No longer cold, start life again
My soul comes to life, paints the world


I don't have any words right now.  I'm still processing in awe. 

Where do you see God moving?
In all art, drawing me into a new sense of worship.

What do you hear God saying?
"I save the kicker for last.  You're on a grand adventure."

How do you see God moving?
With things I don't understand right away.

Fact #33

"Art is a collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better."
                                                      -Andre Gide

Last night I had a major God-moment.  I'm still kinda reeling from it, so bear with me as I muddle through it.

I had been feeling a strong urge to paint for the past couple weeks, but "couldn't find the time."  You know the excuse; you actually have plenty of time, but Glee sucks you in with its catchy mash-ups and trendy conflict.  The reason, I now believe, I hadn't yet was because I wasn't ready to touch grandpa's paint set.

Dad bought grandpa a really nice paint set for a past birthday, but never had a chance to use it because his health tanked so quickly.  Grandpa was a great advocate for the arts, even if he projected more John Wayne than Van Gogh.  He had all of his kids involved in some sort of artistic expression, for my dad it was dance.  Grandpa himself was a painter.  His subject was usually seascapes, or at least, those were the only ones I had ever seen growing up.  We had one in our house for the longest time, before the divorce.  It was the beach, I think possibly by Lake Michigan, with a disgruntled looking seagull bracing himself against the wind on a dock pole.  On the bottom, right-hand corner, "Bill" is scrawled in all caps.

I couldn't bring myself to use the set because it contained too much of grandpa, the core of grandpa, the grandpa I was privileged to know, and I didn't feel worthy to try something he was so good at.  But last night God prompted me to the point where I couldn't ignore it anymore.  I got out the set and placed it carefully on a bar chair from the dining room, in front of the window.  It was night by then, but it still felt necessary to paint light despite the dark.  And in a way, it kept me from simply replicating something that was already there.  I had thought and argued with myself all day what it was I should paint, and now that it was out, I decidedly landed on keeping my mind as blank as the canvas.  I set my laptop on the table, and began the Sigur Ros album I just purchased, Med Sud Ì Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (look for the one with naked people running in a field), and began praying as I slipped open the acrylics drawer.

What I assume was God prompted me to grab spring and emerald greens, deep brown and mellow beige.  I paused to take in my palette.  Scrape brown smear green.  Broad commands, but I followed to the best of my ability.  Add orange more red beige to the corner no too much back to dark brown now spread that out with emerald dot white and yellow more on top...

It went on like that for three hours.  When I got stuck, I paused to pray again.

Halfway through, the song Ìllgresi started, and for some reason, the words "indian summer" drifted in and out of my mind.  I stopped painting to listen.  Look... I opened my eyes and looked at the painting, and immediately had a lump in my throat.  I was looking at a wooded path in the fall, light coming through the trees.  Grandpa's favorite season was fall, but he always called it "indian summer."  In my gut, I felt like God was showing me his side of heaven.  I put down my materials and sat on the couch, crying.  Not tears of upset.  Tears of joy.

When grandpa died, I focused on healing, skipping over actual grief.  It felt like I allowed skin to heal over shrapnel, and God was now pulling it out.  It hurts now, but you'll heal fully this time.

The painting's still sitting on the chair.  I haven't touched it again yet.  It doesn't feel finished; I'll wait until I'm prompted again.

Where do you see God moving?
In talents and interests I haven't allowed myself to exercise since high school.


What do you hear God saying?

"He's safe.  You're safe.  We're both proud."

How do you see God moving? 
In nostalgia, realized. 

Fact #32

We all fall short.

We're all sinners.  I know.  Scary thought, once you recognize it.

No one, not even your husband/wife/honorstudent/favoriteuncle gets away with this one.  We've all screwed up, we all continue to screw up.  And I'm not going to give you the warm fuzzies and tell you that's okay.  It's not.  Sin separates us from God, and separating yourself from God is embracing death.  Unfortunately, it is impossible for us to be perfect, and yet we expect each other to be.  "Give me grace, while I guilt trip you for your faults."

I started falling into this mentality a couple days ago.  Well, no, scratch that.  I've probably always thought this way, and I'm just beginning to recognize it now.  A friend said something that hurt me, and immediately I was putting on the war paint.  Dougal, being a native Scotsman, would kill me for this illustration, but think Braveheart.  I was William Wallace, and I was on a murderous rampage deep within my soul.

Luckily, God prompted me to text Anna and Bethany, call Allen and my mom, and run over to John and Dougal's before I talked to my friend.  I needed the counsel of six people before my rage was checked.

And people say community is overrated.

The point is, I wasn't recognizing that my anger, while maybe justified, was definitely not righteous.  She didn't know she had upset me, and I never knew this person to be vindictive.  But I let my anger overpower my reason and my relationship.

Matthew 5:21-26
"You have heard that it was said to those of old, 'You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.'  But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, 'You fool!' will be liable to the hell of fire.  So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift."


After I calmed down, and John and Dougal prayed over me, I went to my friend with a renewed sense of peace.  We talked, and we were both open and honest.  And I would say, from my vantage at least, that we're actually better friends because we talked.  


Some of us are prone to great anger and messy conflict, and some of us are more comfortable with quiet acceptance and avoidance.  One appears to be "more Christian," but neither is productive.  


Check your frustrations, give them over to God, and communicate.


Where do you see God moving?
In my relationships with my roommates.  He's growing and stretching us, and we're learning how to live and forgive, sin, baggage, and all.

What do you hear God saying?
I was listening to Sigur Ros' "Festival" before I answered this question, and I don't speak or read Icelandic, but for some reason, one of the lyrics being repeated sounded like he was singing, "I have solved it all...I have solved it all..."  I know for a fact that that's not what it means, as I looked it up to be sure, but the thought is comforting, and true of God where this subject is concerned anyway.  If you're interested in the actual lyrical translation, you can click here.

How do you see God moving?
In music and acrylic paints, for today.  Actually gonna bust out grandpa's paint set today.  Big step.

Fact #31

Community is essential.

That's right, you introverts.  You done need people too.

Community is something that has been on my mind a lot lately. My next John's roommate Dougal and I were discussing sub and counter-cultures a couple of nights ago.  It was fascinating, hearing him explain how each functions and what their importance was. Coming from where I do, the concept isn't even a thought, so I was thankful with his patience and knowledge.

sub·cul·ture   noun \ˈsəb-ˌkəl-chər\                                                 a cultural group within a larger culture, often having beliefs or interests at variance with those of the larger culture, but seeking out the power of that larger culture.

coun·ter·cul·ture

noun \ˈkau̇n-tər-ˌkəl-chər\                                    a culture with values and mores opposed to or at variance with the prevailing social norm, refusing to seek out the power of the larger culture, but rather to destroy it from the outside.

Speaking plainly, subculture is Second City, and counterculture is Monty Python.  Emo and punk.  Wes Anderson and Quentin Tarantino.  You get the picture.  If you think I'm wrong, comment, please.  I'm still mulling all of this over.

My friend Anna and I were discussing this video that's been trending lately, How to Be Alone.  I really liked it when I first watched it, but lately, after, essentially, being alone for three weeks, I can't say I can be one of its fans anymore.  Anna, apparently, never liked it, and I'm beginning to see why.

Both of us have been contemplating the idea of community, how to preserve it, why it's important, etc.  What's odd is, the people that need it most seem to want it the least.  "My sister has been trying to get a hold of me all week.  She can tell when I'm avoiding talking."  So even Anna and I, two introverts, recognize that as little as we may admit to needing it, we do recognize that it is necessary to a healthy life, be it physically, mentally, or spiritually.  For me, I dang straight need it for all three.  Without at least one human contact a day, lasting a half-hour or more, I go pretty nuts.

Last night, the children's movie Monster House made me cry.  Here are these kids, having adventures and becoming heroes, and I couldn't even finish my online assignment, much less save my friends or find the answers to historic, unsolved mysteries.  And yes, I know Monster House is an animated movie; it was the essence of the thing.  I feel like I'm letter my inner child down because I'm not the person I was hoping I'd be.

But, I also recognize that this is a feeling that becomes strong within me when I am most alone.  With Anna, Allen, and Patrick over tonight, just doing homework and playing cards, those concerns of "Am I a failure?" dissolved almost to the point of never having been there.  Not because they were a distraction.  Because they reminded me I'm not, in fact, failing anyone or anything.

We need people; God called us to be in community with one another.  I know a lot of churches and groups are attempting to figure out how to do that effectively.  My concern doesn't lie in the doing it perfectly, it's in the doing it at all.

Hebrews 10:23-25
"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.  And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."

Where do you see God moving?
In those three friends.  They keep me well-rounded, pull me out when I'm in too deep.


What do you hear God saying?
"You're not alone, and you're definitely not failing me or my plan for you."


How do you see God moving?
Still pushing me to find an artistic outlet.  Today for some reason I've felt really compelled to find an art class.

Fact #30

People die.

It was my grandpa's birthday this past Tuesday.  He died March 10th of this year, while Allen and I were visiting for spring break.  If I were to be honest (and at this point, why lie?), his death was bittersweet.  We were very close, and I had the blessing of see him acquire a strong faith late in his life.  However, his health was going down hill for a long time.  While he was as stubborn as a mule and as spirited as...some incredibly spirited thing...the fight, to him, was futile.  And I don't blame him for growing tired of more and more medications, hospital visits, and nurse attention.  I can't say I wouldn't be the same.

Regardless, Tuesday was hard.  At the end of the week like this, I would normally give him a call and not even have to explain.  He'd quote his regular puns, ("A hard-boiled egg is hard to beat!") and I'd quickly forget about my problem altogether.  This time I found myself reaching for my phone, only to realize that I had no one to call.  No one like grandpa, at least.

On top of that, Allen's dad's death was reminded to us as I made the mistake of having Allen watch Big Fish.  If you haven't seen it, it is a great movie...so long as you're okay with crying a little.  In this case, we cried a lot.  "A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories.  They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal."  I could say the same for both of those men; as they were filled with nothing but stories, oftentimes.  

Where do I see God moving?
In myself, reminding me I'm not alone.

What do I hear God saying?
"I am here. Find the quiet, and listen."

How do I see God work?
In art. I need to find an outlet to commune with God more.

Fact #29

Money isn't everything, even in America.

One of my roommates, Cassy, was finally home for a solid eighteen hours.  It was glorious.  We watched three hysterically cheesy classic horror films on TCM, then went to bed, nervous Hugo the Dummy was going to kill us in our sleep.  The next morning, I had someone to talk to over breakfast!  Amazing!  I love this revolutionary invention, this..."conversation," I think they call it.

Afterwards, we went to the mall.  She needed to buy black pants for work, and I needed to do something else besides read South African philosophy for two hours.  To be honest, I was a little nervous about going.  When I go to work, I put in my ear buds and make a beeline for the store, avoiding any eye contact with the trendy storefronts lasting longer that 1/9 minute, lest I regain that longing to be hip, fashionable, and soul less again.  It had been awhile since I went to the mall to actually be a patron.  Malls became hubs for employment, and now that I was a part of its inner-workings, I couldn't risk becoming a customer again.  I couldn't afford to be a customer again.

With the hours and wage C&B was giving me, I had $24.32 at the end of each month, after the rent, insurance, and phone bill was due.  Certainly not enough to buy the new $69.79 Editor pant being sold at Express.  But as Cass went in to try things on, and I wandered around the store, casually browsing the rows and rows of various styles of boot cut jeans I have never understood, I suddenly felt a peace wash over me.

It's good to have less in this moment, so you may be more generous in the future.

I finally felt my finances become a joy, rather than a burden.  God gifts us money, we don't earn it from him, or anyone else, for that matter.  It's not mine to have, and it's not mine to hoard.  I have what I have, and it's keeping me here, right where God put me.  And I'm okay with that.

But hey, if he wants me to be rich, I'd totally be okay with that too.

Where do I see God moving?
In my heart, calming me down.

What do I hear God saying?
"By jove, I think she's got it!"

How do I see God work?

Teaching me and building my self-control. 

Fact #28

Town festivals cater to pedestrians. 


Yesterday I had a second interview with REI.  This is a Big Freaking Deal.  That's right, not just a big deal.  It's made its way to BFD status.

My interview was at 1 pm, the Schaumburg location.  It takes roughly 25 minutes to get from Elgin to Schaumburg.  Church is at 10:30 am, in St. Charles.  Normally, we make it back to Elgin where my car is parked by 12 pm.  That is how it works every Sunday.
Unfortunately, not this Sunday.

The pastor went over in his sermon for the first time I've ever been there.  Upon realizing this, my stomach went into panic mode, because I'm one of those anal people that needs to be at an interview a half an hour beforehand to assimilate to her surroundings.  When it came to my scholarship interview, I was there two hours early because I budged extra time, then got there earlier than I had anticipated anyway.  That's how anal I am.

Moving on.

So Joe went over time, I started to panic, but then I thought, Ashley.  Chill.  God gave you the interview, he'll take care of the rest.  So I stayed put, and I listened.  No worries, I'll just be twenty minutes early, not a half hour.  Then he announced we were going to have a church prayer over two families.  Well obviously I can't leave during those.  How rude is that?  I can spare five minutes.  So I prayed.  And I can't lie, I glanced at Anna's watch.  Okay, maybe I'll just be fifteen minutes early.  That's still okay.

Prayer was done, told my compadres to meet me at the car while I got Allen from the children's lesson (to clarify, he teaches, he does not, in fact, participate).  On the road.  Check my phone.  12:15 pm.  Okay, time to boogie.  


Then....bam.  Somehow, magically, over the course of an hour and a half, St. Charles suddenly became Fall Festival Traffic Maze.  And not the fun kind like Frogger.  This was the evil kind, where streets are blocked off, traffic cops actually get distracted by donuts, and the pedestrians take their dear sweet time.  It took us fifteen minutes to get out of there.  12:30 pm.  Still have to make it to Elgin.

After hitting every red light along the way (four, to be exact), we finally made it to my car, where I did a sweet tuck and roll move while simultaneously unlocking my car and leaping inside.  I'm just kidding.  But seriously.

12:42 pm and I am speeding...no, not speeding, drag racing down I-90.  I am not going to miss this interview.  Allen texts me the number to their location, I call up the manager, warn him I may be five to ten minutes late.  "We have another interview at three," he says cheerily, "You want to come in for that one instead?"  "I can't," I bemoan, passing a semi truck and ducking into a narrow gap in the left lane, "I have a wedding at three."  "Oh, uh...well, get here as soon as you can then."

With a renewed sense of purpose I toss the phone behind me into the back seat, grip with wheel tightly and glide through the I-Pass with swift reassurance, the sight of Schaumburg ahead.  12:50 pm.  Dang, I'm good.

I turn onto Higgins and weave through traffic like I'm Dirty Harry... or some cheesy 80's cop that weaves through traffic a lot.  I make a turn to get onto Golf Rd and... No.  No, I did not make a wrong turn.  I COULD NOT have made a wrong turn TODAY.  


I made a wrong turn.  I was too far east on Golf Rd.  I had to turn around.

I was still five minutes late, just missing the introductions to the point where I was simply the last person to introduce myself.  I answered the questions to the best of my ability.  I chatted with one of the other employees.  I was honest, I was receptive, but I was still late, and I don't know how they're going to take that.

So now I wait.  They let me know whether I got the job sometime this week, by the 16th, they said.  I really don't know what to think, and I'm trying my darndest to just give it up to God and let him take care of it.  But still.  This is REI.

After I left the interview, I proceeded to get lost on my way to the wedding.  There are two Main Streets going down Roosevelt Road, did you know?

C'mon God.  Throw me a bone.

Where do I see God moving?

In my relationship with Allen.  I'm astounded at how calmly he took my hysterics over the phone as he tried to direct me to the ceremony.  And I dropped a lot of f-bombs.

What do you hear God saying?

"You need to calm the heck down."

How do I see God at work?

Teaching me how much I really do need to work on when it comes to my patience with others and trust in Him.

Fact #27

The grass is always greener on the other side, but some people use Astro Turf.

Had my first day at C&B on Tuesday. Today’s my second.

It’s not so bad. Really, really boring, but luckily not stressful. Still no luck on the humor front. Hadn’t expected them to take me seriously when I joked about having interpretive dance competitions to our terrible store music to attract customers. Maybe I should bring my unitard, just in case.

Very much having a day of rebellion. Woke up feeling like protesting something, just to be loud. Dressed like a beatnik. Need to remember to invest in bongos and a beret.

I know that God has me here for something, even if it is just to work through my crap, but at this point I’ve just stopped caring. God’s going to do whatever, so I’ll take the same route and just let his plans happen to me. I’m too emotionally drained to try and be excited about them right now.

Not looking to Formations class, because I don’t want to talk about where I’m from, what I think, or where I’m going.  I don’t know these people well enough to that honest.  I had been pulled aside in the hall last week and told not to talk about my scholarship to anyone because it “causes conflict among the students.”  I didn’t know. I had no idea it upset people. The person who pulled me aside said my mentioning that I had a scholarship angered a lot of people in my Building Reconciled Communities class. I was asked what my journey was to seminary, and thought that was something I could be honest about. I just answered the question.  Honestly, I thought most of the people were on some form of scholarship here, so I thought it’d be a commonality, not a line of difference. If I can’t be honest about how I got here, how can I be honest about my baggage?

Geeze, now I’m crying. I hope it doesn’t short-circuit my keyboard.

Where do I see God moving?
Outside, where the life is.

What do you hear God saying?
Nada.

How do I see God at work?
In everyone else.

Fact #26

"Can't pay the rent if you ain't got the dough."

That was a line in a camp song we used to sing at Wabansi. I hate that song right now.

It hasn’t been a particularly hard day. More like an uneventful one. Christopher & Banks offered me a job.  It's a store at the neighboring mall; they sell clothing to women 40+ that makes them look even older.  I took it knowing that I can’t bank on the REI job until I know if I get a second interview or not, and rent’s due on Wednesday.  I start tomorrow.

School hasn't gotten much better.  The students still feel foreign to me.  In a way, I kind of feel like Alice falling into Wonderland. The White Rabbit is education, it led me down and not up, and now I’m meeting a bunch of confusing people who hold me to a social code I do not understand. Still trying to figure out who the Red Queen is.

I sound like a brat, I know. But I’ve been making a genuine effort to get to know people. I’ve gone to all the events, talked to people, made my door open.  I’ve made friends with my neighbors Rick, Dougal, and John…John has kind of become my Paul that I prayed for in my first entry.  He said, “I think we’re friends so I can make sure you don’t get kicked out.” Safe bet.  I can vent to him all I want and he knows it’s just hot air.  Generally speaking, I’m all bark and no bite. Generally why I like satire so much.

It’s not the same though; it’s great to have a big brother now, but I need female friends.  My roommates were supposed to be that, but they’re never home.  I started becoming friends with a woman named Janine, but we're still trying to find common ground.  We're in different stages, and I'm not quite comfortable being completely open yet.

God, you gave me a Paul, now give me an Elizabeth. Someone I have commonality with, and can confide in.  In no way am I attempting to equate myself with Mary, but their bond was unmistakable.  I need that sort of friendship right now.

Or at least someone who laughs at my jokes.

Where Do I See God At Work?

In my attitude.  It certainly needs a tune-up.

What Do I Hear God Saying?

"Be open.  Give grace."

Where Do I see God moving?

In my friendships with John and Janine.  I've gained more insight from them than anyone here, so far.

Fact #25

Hippies can be business-savvy too.

Normally I drive to St. Charles for church at Redeemer Fellowship on Sunday mornings.  I meet up with Allen, Patrick, Kelsey, Anna, and anyone else who feels like tagging along, at Judson, and we all trek over there for the morning.  Not today though.  Had a job interview at REI in Schaumburg.

REI is a co-op for outdoor gear.  My cousin Joe works there on the weekends and helped me get an interview.  They donate 10% of their yearly profits before they divide it up for raises, bonuses, promotions, etc. to local non-profit organizations and schools so they can include outdoor programs.  They clean up their local nature centers and forest preserves, and they go on kayak and climbing tours on the weekends.  Because they like each other. And they like their community. And they care.

The more they spoke at the hiring presentation, the more I prayed for God to give me this opportunity.  I never thought work had the potential to be an escape, but this definitely felt like a safe-haven.  I was so energized by everyone I spoke to!  And it was a funny thing…when I had sent in an application for employment a week ago, it had clearly said to not include anything involving religious persuasions or convictions because they try to be an “open, non-judgmental environment.”  But in my interview when they asked me why I loved the outdoors, and I talked about how it was God’s creation and we needed to be stewards of it and enjoy the blessing it is.  I told them about Restoring Eden (a Christian ecology activist group) and what my old roommate and I did with the LEED evaluations of Judson and the fact that I was in seminary and they were excited.  I was shocked, because I hadn’t meant to say anything about any of it, and it just…came out.  And they loved it.

I really hope God’s preparing something for me there, because that interview filled me more than anything has all week.

I told Leesa, Dr. Brown, and Dr. Quicke that I felt more comfortable around non-Christians than Christians. I’m afraid that now I’m just running from the very thing I wanted to work on.  But I don’t know if that’s even what I’m doing.  Maybe God actually wants me to do something there.

God, make things clear.  I feel like that’s the first breath of fresh air I’ve had outside of these devotions so far.

Psalm 116: 1-4


“I love the Lord, because he had heard my voice and my pleas for mercy.  Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live.  The snares of death encompassed me; the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me; I suffered in distress and anguish. Then I called on the name of the Lord:  O Lord, I pray, deliver my soul!”

Where Do I See God At Work?

At REI, whether I'm there or not.

What Do I Hear God Saying?

"Don't get ahead of yourself.  Trust me first."

Where Do I see God moving?

Unsure yet.

Fact #24

Some people you know.  Some people you don't.  Either one is capable of screwing you over.

Our fourth roommate backed out of moving in the day before she was planned to, and now we don't know how to afford rent.

A close, family friend of Allen's, much like a surrogate father, called me "small minded, foolish, and scared."

Today was supposed to be mine and Allen's 11 month anniversary.  Happy anniversary to me...

I made a joke about Winston Churchill.  Dear lord, everyone does.  Allen's friend...we'll call him...Tom...started a conversation about American history.  Someone we got onto the topic of Churchill, and he said, “Churchill had the balls to do things other men weren’t brave enough to.”  And I said, in the most obvious joking tone I could muster, said “Yeah, because Churchill drank enough to do so.”  Without so much as a pause, he exploded.  “Ashley, that is what small-minded, stupid, foolish people say when they have no other reason to dislike him."

Everyone knows Churchill drank profusely.  It's not dirty laundry, it was an well-known fact.  And I love Churchill.  He’s one of my favorite historical figures.  I was speaking with the thought that we were on common ground with a similar understanding. 

Anyway, the table became very quiet and awkward.  I didn’t say anything because I was afraid to.  The conversation eventually picked up again, but I didn’t participate.  Later I asked Allen if I could have the keys to his car because I “had to make a phone call.”  I cried for the better part of 30 minutes.  Allen had to find me.  He made us stay the rest of the night, and by the time we left it was 11pm, way too late to still go out and celebrate.  The mood was killed anyway.

Everyone I found commonality with and comfort in is now somehow becoming what I try to get away from here.  I feel like these journaling periods are the only times I get to breathe again.  And then when the hour is over, I have to take one last breath before I go under again. 

Cognitively, I know God is with me.  But I don’t feel him anymore.  It’s been a long time since I felt like that.  Moving is scary enough, I don’t want to do it alone, or feel like I’m doing it alone.

Where do I see God at work?

Unsure.

What do I hear God saying?

"Go to bed.  Try again in the morning."

Where do I see God moving?

 I don't.