Trying Our Best

My husband and I decided that power couples, more than anything, are two people doing their best. With how many different monkeys we have spinning on plates, I'd say that for us, we aren't doing our best, but we're sure trying. 

This semester I have felt like I was falling to pieces, dissolving into a human puddle person. Between family medical emergencies, computers that crash when you've just finished an 8 page research paper due that day, huge cracks in your windowshield that you could have prevented but didn't quite make it in time, deceased dogs, fat jeans that don't even fit anymore, 50 students, the work to grade of 50 students, 300 pages of required reading a week for my grad classes, and my never-just-40 hour work weeks, I have been barely holding it together. 

Meanwhile, the hubs stopped working full time in order to work full time for no pay at the same place he had been working full time for full pay. Hooray internships!!!! He also took 12 hours of classes on top of that. 

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo you could say that we're a little stretched thin. 

Moments of this semester, I have felt truly thankful and blessed. I love my students. I love them. And I love seeing the students I helped get here around campus, making friends, growing up. 

I have been thankful for the continued life of my grandmother, after she scared us pretty good at Thanksgiving. 

I have been thankful for classmates that I have enjoyed very much in my grad classes this semester. 

I have been thankful for time spent with my brother's family from Atlanta last month. Only seeing them once a year makes me feel like they grow 6 inches and 6 years of maturity each time I see them. I can't believe how much they've grown. 

I've been thankful for time spent in Arizona for my cousin's wedding and the good memories made climbing mountains and laughing with my family. 

and I've been thankful for having my husband as the light at the end of the tunnel of this semester. He makes sure I eat food and take care of myself. And he gives me all the snuggles. Marriage is so hard sometimes with all the stressors of life, but having a human there to love you and bring you shoes when you forget them and bring you snacks to work when you get a meeting scheduled--again--over your lunch break and squeeze you when you're panicking and squeeze you when you have a migraine and try really hard to make you laugh when you're grumpy is the best. He's the best. 

So, at the close of a really hard semester, when I feel like I am dragging my empty body across the finish line by one bloody arm, I can really only be thankful. Anything else might feel justified, but it wouldn't be true. I am loved, I love others, and I am loved by God. At the end of a difficult season, that's the part that's most important. 

To Be and Not to Be

Face in my hands, eye rubs, deep breaths, a pill every so often, arm wraps, ultra tight hugs when I go home, visions of beaver tranquilizers dancing through my head.

Life with chronic anxiety really is "taking life one anxiety attack at a time."
Recently, my mother told me that she sees my life as one crisis to the next.

That has bothered and stuck with me like a dumb kid who puts super glue between his finger and his thumb.

It bothers me because I worry that others might look at me and think that.
It bothers me because it's probably true.
It bothers me because it isn't true.

Is that my life?
Is that who I am?

My flair to the dramatic I use for storytelling, but I don't feel things deeply like that.
The thinks I feel deeply, I'm probably not talking about. Probably, those deep feelings are getting subverted into random energy for other stories.

So it's true. And it isn't true.

Those who know me probably think it's true, but they would likely describe those "crises" much differently than I would.

It's the difference between a symbol and a motif.
A symbol can stand alone in a story. It is one and it can be done. Some symbols might "transcend" stories: for instance, a dove in any story can generally be seen as a symbol of peace or of Christ. Its use in a short story, though, can be singular.

A motif is something that doesn't necessarily transcend stories from different authors, though it might in a single author's work. It is a symbol that recurs. It is different than a theme in that its appearance may not be discussed or wholly pertinent to a story's meaning, though analyzing its use assuredly deepens understanding to the story. An example of this is in Derek Mahon's poetry. His use of meteorological terms throughout his poetry is so pervasive that I developed, while in graduate school, a multiple page index of his use. Single spaced.

All my "crises" are varied. Boys. Not fitting in. Eating disorders. Female friends because girls are the worst. Housemates. Parental fights.

The roots, though, are all the same. The deep, scathing, inescapable anxiety.
In all honesty, every single one of my life crises probably has that as its center. I was consumed by my own nature, and I did something weird, socially unaware, or straight up mean. Or, maybe worse maybe not, my body tried to soak up my anxiety before it could do those things and accidentally harmed me. The manifestations of which included, but are certainly not limited to: anorexia, vasovagal synchope, trichotillomania, depression, teeth grinding, gum recession because of teeth grinding, the need for a root canal because of teeth grinding, chronic migraines from teeth grinding, friend loss, boyfriend loss, family conflict, job conflict, panic attacks, being the worst at parties, people thinking I'm a B, coming off as a B, reclusion, crying in Walmart, in Starbucks, on the playground in elementary school, various libraries, various countries, various continents.

Hi, my name is Jamie, and I'm going to tell you a really lively story about going to the post office because I have tubs of aching, crippling anxiety that I have no story for but that are driving me to act out.

I talk. I hate my self for talking. I am silent. I worry people will think I'm anti-social. I can't win, even with myself.

That's my motif.
It's not a very good one, and I'm sure many people in my life would respond with something well-intentioned about Jesus, and I would caution them against that. Jesus is great, but Paul had his thorn too. Loving Jesus doesn't make bad stuff go away. He helps give a path to learn where to gain peace from and give breaths of respite, but it doesn't remove the darkness from my nature.

So yeah. My life is a series of crises. I wish that weren't true. But it is. That doesn't mean it's the whole story, though. Maybe that's why it bothers me.
My life goes through one crisis then the next, it isn't just one crisis then the next.
I am not a crisis. I am a person.

Pretense and Prayers

This week, I have found myself caught in a difficult place I have found myself so many times before.

To families I work with, I have often called myself a "nontraditional Christian". Perhaps that's prideful, perhaps it's a cop-out so that I avoid judgment, but I'm really not 100% sure of my motivation. A professor in college once called my personality "slippery". I didn't like that, but he's not wrong. I avoid, as much as possible, any and all definition, even though there's nothing more satisfying than feeling known.

I am a question asker. I am a person who needs to know "why". I am a fighter and a seeker, and that can come off wrong. Many times, people have judged that as not being a faithful Christian because they see it as a sign of doubt or disbelief. In my mind, I see it as a sign of faithfulness, of belief. Why fight for something you don't believe in? No, you fight for that you do believe in.

Throughout my life as well, I have been in puddles of "perfect" people while at the same time having a knack for collecting broken people. Maybe I love the broken because I know that we are all broken. Everyone is broken. Everybody has their fissures and canyons in their life. That's why we need Jesus. But there's something beautiful about broken people's inability to hide theirs. You can see Jesus better when you can't hide where he's working, or wants to be working.

Perfect people, people with rock solid testimonies and veneers, bother me. They bother me at some level because I distrust them and their stories. God is good; yes, all the time. But he is also working all the time. In true community, you share. If we are supposed to be in true community spiritually, then why are we not sharing? Why are we judging instead? I posit that we judge out of our own insecurity, out of our fear that we ourselves are seen as being imperfect. Because maybe we won't be respected anymore or get that job at that Christian foundation or be thought of as a "struggler."

Because we have seen how those labels have power and have seen their impact on lives, as people start to believe what they are called. We're responsible for our own development, but it is hard not to feel the sear of the rejections and the names.

My broken collective has all gone different directions. Some have become their labels, some have overcome their labels. All grow, just in different ways.

Have you ever sat down to "judge" someone's faith walk for one reason or another? Walk that line with prayer and petition. Just because one person has chosen to be vulnerable and share where they honestly stand does not mean that they are necessarily more or less "solid" than the person who stands in front of you and says that they're rock solid in Jesus. No man knows another's soul. No one has "arrived" in their spirituality or their walk with Christ. One man's plateau or peak period may be during another's valley. Give them six months. The man you thought couldn't be shaken might have proven himself weak and the "weak" man may still be standing strong.

We are called to love, to lead back to Christ, to be diligent and prayerful and gracious. We correct when we need to correct, but we should always start with love and with God.

I am a person with the propensity for very strongly worded opinions, This is something I am challenged about daily and something I try daily to be more wise about. However, with regards to this topic, I know that I speak truly when I say that above all other subjects, this one should be treated with more gentleness, wisdom, diligence, and prayer than any others before words come out of our mouths.

Paul writes, "may your love abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight so that you maybe able to discern", "approve what is excellent" "and may be sincere and blameless for the day of Christ--filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ".

The first definition that comes up for "sincerity" is "without pretense." Without our masks.
When I read this verse, I hear, "If you are following God with your whole heart, then he will cast aside all human-coated thoughts, leaving behind only what is true and good and holy."

Follow God, listen to his voice while turning yours off, and speak out with a voice that is not your own, one not coated all over with your pride, your position, your particular brand of sinful.

Crawlspace Creatures

The groundhogs have to go.

For more than a year, they have hunted us, and we them.

Since the raid began, we have captured 2 chinchilla rats, 4 groundhogs, 1 opossum, and one very angry raccoon who, admittedly, was framed by the groundhogs.

You'd think we had rid ourselves.

Currently, one groundhog lies deceased in our "humane" trap as a warning to the others.

Their response? A sit in protest in the front yard.

One would also think our cat would do something. Anything.

But no. She is also on strike. We have the dog during one of the rainiest weeks in Siloam, so she can't come inside. Thus, she watches the groundhog with this look in her eye like, "See if I care, human."

My Amazon wishlist is full of murder devices.
My "humane release" heart has hardened.

Julius doesn't believe me that they could have found their way back across two tributaries and 10 miles.

But he doesn't know them like I know them.

Fools, well-meaning fools, have suggested we just "fill in the hole" into the crawlspace.
AS THOUGH WE HADN'T CONSIDERED THAT.

The heart wants what the heart wants, though, and they want in. Filling a hole won't deter them.
They'll just dig another.
We'll fill it.
They'll dig another.
We'll fill it.
They'll dig another.
And then the house sucks down into the ground like a Florida sinkhole. We've read the testimonies of fellow victims.

We will not make their mistakes. "[W]e are going to fight and our fight will be merciless".

26 Flippin' Kicks

It's another year come and gone. I cannot even begin to believe that I am now in my late-mid twenties. For sure still routinely tell families that I'm 22. I'm not a liar, it just doesn't occur to me that I've aged.

In my 25th year, I:

• Watched every season of Survivor with Julius
• Taught my very first college class, which was amazing. Yes, it was 7:30 in the morning and yes, I got a really bad dose of the flu partway through (and continued to teach...), but it was the fulfilment of a degree and a lot of hopes.
• Taught Seamus Heaney's Field Work
• and Hamilton
• and The Book Thief
• and Oscar Wilde's short stories
• Saw 21 Pilots in concert in Little Rock (because I won a radio contest!!!)
• Saw Panic! At the Disco in concert in Tulsa (which turned out to be incredibly weird)
• Attended a Redesign Summit with our office that ended both badly and great. I got a little sassy, which landed me in the "please make a public apology" arena, but it also was a huge opportunity for me to step up at work.
• I made a gigantic excel sheet of all the ideas and organized the living daylights out of it
• then broke up our office into committees
• and instigated us toward actually achieving goals we set during a group retreat.
• Got rejected for a PhD
• Got really into community Zumba classes
• Found and hired a new regional recruiter for Dallas to work under me
• Helped us hire a new admissions counselor
• Helped to create an Early Commit Track and a Community Changers Scholarship
• Went to Colorado for admissions counselor camp

• Helped Julius build and paint 5 sets of Corn Hole (complete with bean bags)
• Got a sweet little AirBnb with Julius in the middle-of-nowhere Texas
• it had a pool
• and roaches
• and an outdoor shower
• but we loved it
• Travelled to Odomfest and spent some gooooood family time at the lake
• Named Assistant Director of Admissions
• Attended my first Global Leadership Summit
• Completed my fourth travel season in Texas
• while also teaching my second in-person English II class
• I loved them. I LOVED them. It was emotional and connecting and challenging and all kinds of wonderful.
• Caught:
• 2 chinchilla rats
• 1 opossum
• 3 groundhogs
• and 1 very angry raccoom
• Attended the wedding of my best friend's much loved older sister
• Had Best Friend Weekend 2017 with Kira and Tyler (a beta test of things to come)
• notably, we went to the Gentry Safari, a movie in a cave, and ate all the foods.
• Ripped out and replaced our kitchen countertops and kitchen sink. By ourselves.
• Started "teaching" an online English I course for a school in Virginia.
• Got my first root canal
• Put together the facts and discovered that my chronic migraines were being caused by teeth grinding
• bought a $5 mouth guard that has, quite literally, altered my whole life.
• Decided I was unhappy with what desk life has turned my body into and lost 12 pounds (until travel season decided to squash my goals of pushing further into that goal)
• Went to Arizona with Julius thanks to my parents
• for my cousin's wedding to his sweet new wife
• and to see my bestie Sarah Cowles.

• Discovered Outlook Task Manager and fell deeply in love with it
• Got a brand new baby nephew!
• Wrote my third article for the faculty excellence magazine
• adopted a stray cat we named Ootzyde Ket (Oots for short)
• Got in a plane and went to Australia to celebrate 10 years of friendship with Kira and Tyler

My 26th year is starting strong with sunshine, friendship, a true break from my work (if we're being honest, it's my first true "unplugging" since I started this job 3.5 years ago).
I'm just so happy and deeply thankful.