On Authority and Noserings or "Because I'm Willing"

Who I was in college is no secret.

With my long, blonde curls, my loose fitting clothing, my barefootedness, my hooped nosering, and my refusal to wear makeup, I was your classic flower child. Shoot, I was even in an indie band. 

My favorite story was the time I spoke in a board meeting in my hot pink, tye dye sundress, mud on my ankles included. 

Needless to say, my transition to "professional" has been difficult. 

I have had to have "conference room tweaking chats" about things I never would have dreamed would be a problem, like walking on the grass or my nosering (okay, yes, I did have a couple nightmares about that one). 

Wearing shoes, sitting at a desk, learning how to be a classy, polished lady, does not come naturally, and, though I ask for direction often, I don't always feel as though I'm given clear paths. Mostly, because a lot of the things I have come into conflict with have been things that a lot of people would implicitly understand. 

Being an extremely literal person (and a drugless hippie), that implicit understanding skipped me. And, to be honest, sometimes the direction I'm given goes so completely against everything I am. 

For example, it's difficult for me to have a sunny attitude about A. keeping my shoes on and B. keeping my bare feet out of the grass. 

Yesterday, there was a pretty brutal "tweaking" conversation with me that took me wholly off-guard. 

I left it frustrated and confused and sad, confused at why God had brought me back here to fail again and again and again. 

Then, last night, I went to my craigslist Bible study with my boyfriend Julius (the only one in the group who would be able to appreciate the irony of the topic for the evening). 

You ever read First or Second Peter? Yah? Good. Then you know where I'm going with this. 

No? Well, let me tell you. 

The main focus is pursuing harmony, repaying evil with good, submitting to authority with a humble heart, and prayer. 

KEY POINT A: 

1 Peter 4 talks about keeping a clear mind and self control in order that you may pray. 

Now, you may think, "What???!" 

But it makes sense. Track with me here. 

You are attacked with a mixture of truth and anger. 

You respond with cortisol (stress hormone), a mess of tears, confusion, frustration, and all kinds of other stuff. Your heart and mind are so stuffed with hot emotion that there isn't any room to understand. 

It's when you take every thought captive (self  control) and quiet yourself (clear your mind) that you can glean the truth, humble yourself, see areas of need for both growth and grace, and learn how to pray well, both for yourself and the other party involved. 

KEY POINT B: 

1 Peter 5 speaks to the elders of the church about taking care of those underneath them, but what Peter says I think is applicable to us all. He exhorts them to do good "not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not pursuing dishonest gain, but eager to serve".

I used to be a debater, so I read a lot about Jean Lacques' social contract.
When you enter into a society, there is an implicit (sometimes explicit) set of social rules and regulations that you agree to adhere to (again, formal or informal). 

When you break that social contract, you open yourself to correction because you have removed yourself from the "society". You following? 

I entered into this world and this job and this university willingly. The things they have asked of me are not things which come naturally, but they are things that I will adjust, not because I must but because I am willing; because I love my job and my university and my students/families alike. 

My approach has been with the wrong heart. I'm not sure I would go so far as to say it's been for "dishonest gain", but it also hasn't been with an "eager to serve" spirit. 

So, it's time to take a Devil Wears Prada attitude and amp it up. 

The hoop is gone, the heels are on, and, with coffee cup in hand and a smile on my face, I'm tearlessly, fearlessly here, at my desk, ready to recruit. 

Notice What You Notice

For the past 3 weeks, on Tuesdays and Thursdays at freaking six in the morning, I have been going to yoga.

It's one of my "support your housemate" attempts because she would appreciate accountability to going because working out is supposed to be good for you or something.

I am oddly chipper at 6am. Oh God forbid my alarm go off at 7:30, but shoot. Set it for 5:45am and I'll pop right up by myself 3 minutes before it goes off. Who am I?

Periodically throughout each session, our instructor tells us to "notice what you notice".

Yoga instructors can get a little...up in the clouds. ha. So the first time I heard her say that, I thought she was a little on the looney side. I mean, what does that even mean?

I get it now. She makes a good point. It's all about perception. My experience is absolutely not the same as what my housemate is experiencing. My thoughts, my shaking muscles, my breath is all set to a different level.

Additionally, we could even be having the exact same experience and be noticing different things, thus the point to actively notice what we are noticing.

She--as she explained to me in the car this morning--notices what her body does in comparison to other people and to how she knows she used to be able to facilitate movement.

I notice my hands. Unless I've been directed to pay attention to something else, I am generally focused on how my hands will handle (sorry...pun) the different poses because I've got pathetically thin wrists, and each new move requires that I am very conscious of how I distribute weight to take care of them.

Sometimes, what we should be noticing isn't body-related at all. Notice thoughts. What goes through the mind during yoga. For some, I'm sure it's nothing, it being 6am and all.
For others, it's a fight against their body demons.
For me? It's a lot of different things. I think about the people I'm with, wonder how they fill their other hours, think about whatever music I heard that morning getting ready, question what I need to do during the day, maybe pray for people on my mind.

It's not restricted to yoga, though.
Notice what you notice in the daily life. You might be surprised at what you find.

Craigslist Friendship

Things started getting desperate, folks.

Moving to a small college town is rough.
No matter where you go, what you do, the only people you find yourself surrounded by are University folk: students, faculty, and alumni.

Now, let's get one thing straight: I adore University folk. Obviously.
However, I spend all day every day working with them, and I go to church with them. I really needed to find a group of people to spend time with that are unaffiliated with my life.

Furthermore, I've found myself in a very natural post-grad state of feeling like I'm floating.
There's no goal.
There's no timeline.

I will come to work tomorrow and the next day and the next day and this summer and the next summer for as long as we both shall live.

Talk about depressing...

A second Master's degree was put back on the table just to give me an outlet (they don't offer cosmo school at night. Weird, right?).

Over the weekend, two of my dearest friends came in to town for a wedding.
I had such constructive, deep, and refreshing conversations with them, and it tipped me past my "toleration of my current life" point, by virtue of reminding me what it is that I'm missing out on by not really having any friends in this place.

Abby, though, told me about this place called meetup.com.
It's like craigslist for friendship.
Yes. Please be shocked at my desperate measures.

I found and RSVPd to a Bible study in Fayetteville.
And I actually went.

Upon arrival, I realized that I had no way of knowing who they were and began to inwardly panic, but thanks to my profile and RSVP, they found me.

About 7 of us from all stages of life talked through 1&2 Timothy, Titus, and Philemon chapter by chapter, challenging one another, sharing questions and insights.

It was SO GOOD for my soul, just being around people who had nothing to do with my school or town and talking about Jesus in a constructive manner.

Relief is what I felt. I know I'm not in school anymore, and I do need a break, but not having anything to sharpen my mind and learn was driving me to distraction.

In post-college life, friends aren't just handed to you anymore. These days, it takes being courageous, being bold, being darling, and being daring to make friends. I'm working on it.

We're Okay

To begin, I had my first Momference yesterday, and "pleased as punch" is an accurate diction representation of my sentiments. Four moms with fifteen kids between them came, drank Panera PSLs, and talked "college search" with me for over two hours. It was a blast.

While I was waiting for them to arrive, though, I was privy to a conversation between two women. 

They spoke together of what they had imagined their lives to be by this point, a conversation I have both had with others and heard from others many times in the past couple years. 

The speaker told of how she had, at this point, imagined that she would have had a man, a bundle of kids, and a job with direction. And she hadn't. 

She lamented for a good long while more but culminated the story with saying--tearfully--that she truly believed that "Lola" was the answer to God's promise to her as a 21 year old of having a daughter. 

A few more sentences cleared up Lola's canine identity. She talked about Lola's habits, her moods, her fears, as though she were a non-dog creature. At this point, I'm getting a little weirded out, like, this woman needs some help.

"I feel like a mama."
And the girl with her, whom, I had noticed, spoke only not-crazy things, responded very calmly to that with, "You are."

It took me aback.

See, I would have started telling that woman something with rationality to it or try to help her understand that a dog is not a person and that she's somehow misguided in what I perceive as lunacy. I would have tried to make her "normal" about the whole thing, and she would have left perhaps reconsidering the "promise fulfillment" she had believed in.

And maybe she would have been a little more on this planet, but would it have been better? Perhaps no. Her joy in her creature and in what she believed its role in her life to be would have been marred, and she would have reverted to lamenting the fact that God, who had "promised" her a child, did not follow-through. Who am I to say that she's wrong? I ain't in the club with her and Jesus.

It was her friend, though, that spoke to her soul in such a short sentence: "You are."

She didn't say, "Oh yah totally that mutt is for sure God's promise child." No, she confirmed the heart of the matter. She made herself a trustworthy friend in that moment by choosing to love and affirm her friend in a moment of intimacy instead of correct.

How many times has someone shared something with us that was dear to them and we have responded as though it were small beans? We missed out on an opportunity for intimacy and have, perhaps, destroyed forever future opportunities for intimacy for them because we demonstrated ourselves to be an unsafe place.

More than that, what is our heart issue with hearing out people like the dog-mom?
It makes us feel squeamish.
We would never think like that.

So what?
What does it matter if we would think like that?
Unless what they are experiencing comes into direct conflict with scripture, who's to say that that isn't what them and Jesus are up to in the spiritual realm?

You are okay.
They are okay.

It's something I have to often remind myself of in many situations, not just spiritual.
Friends that are loud and obnoxious embarrass me. Why? I'm not doing those things. If they aren't embarrassed, why should I be on their behalf?

Similarly, if I am doing something absurd in my own free time--such as jumping into the ocean fully clothed with business wear--why is it anyone's duty to be horrified that I would be undignified in my exuberance for the ocean and creation. I know David and his soon-to-be-forever-barren wife came into the same struggle.

If it ain't you, and you aren't being graded as a team, and your buddy is aware of how silly or loud they are being, then be secure enough in yourself to be okay with you and let you be okay with them. They are okay with them. 

Apropos

I believe in you readers. You know that word is "ahpp-roah-proah" and not "a-pro-pros", a kitchy short for "appropriate".

Now that that vocab lesson is covered, onto the real business at hand: the bestie.
Travel season brought me straight into the apartment of my best friend of 7 years: Miss Hannah Lee Kira Kramer. :)

I get to stay with her and Bijou (wee pup) and then drive to Tulsa with her on Thursday.
The last time we had a chance to be with one another truly was on my birthday this past January, which was a miracle in and of itself. The next time I came home from NI for her wedding to Tyler.

Now, 10 months later, we finally get some time to just be with one another.
And, granted, we are exhausted and not very exciting to be around, but that's more than we have gotten in a really long time.

Out of my tight little circle of best friends, K is the one I spend the most time in communication with, whether it be through pins sent to one another on pinterest or texting about our future dream of opening a coffee shop with one another.

The design process is pretty complex; we're pretty dead set on accomplishing this before we die, and also of living together when we're old and our husbands have gone on to the great big coffee shop in the sky.

It's a beautiful thing we've got going.

What it Takes

Recently, I've been contemplating the concept of the "best friend."

What does it mean to be a best friend or to have a best friend?
Are best friends only to be added in the "teen years"?
Does one ever cease to be a best friend?

At various points in my life, I have claimed and have been claimed as best friend.
However, the entire institution no longer makes sense to me.

As a child and high schooler, the best friend was the one I had sleepovers with, kidnapped other best friends with, ran through wal-mart (and, okay, maybe deserted her in a shopping cart when she broke her leg...sans her crutches-turned-oars).
The best friend is the one that calls you at 11pm to show up, let yourself in to the house (because of course you know the garage code), and help zip her into a suitcase (because of course).
The one who kicks it with you in a movie theater parking lot drinking cocktails out of quik trip cups because it's your birthday.
The one who belts Muppet Treasure Island quotes/songs with you in inappropriate places.

But now?

We're all separated. We can't do life together. We get updates but not the live-action.
So does that mean that a best friend is the one you want to see when you go home? Or the one you still call to talk through the minutia of life? Or the one you talk to bi-annually? Or are best friends situational?

I posed my question to my best friend Haley (to which she would say, "your very very best friend Haley?")

Haley's solution to my query was that there are your best friends in various situations and then there are your long-term friends and then there are those who used to be both, who may one day become both, or the lucky ones who were, are, and will be both.

This answer helped me in my classification process because it takes more than mere consistency to be a best friend (though that is important). It's not mere furniture, though.
It's a combination of consistency, of no crap taking, of conflict resolution, of clear communication, of charm and laughter, of compatibility, and of care to understand who you are, even when that person changes.

The long-term beffers have been with you before you became "you" and have weathered the changes and breakups and insanity and distance and all the other pieces that have contributed to your personhood. They stay.