Into the Fold

I cried at work today.

We were doing our morning devotions, and today, we decided to do a devotional thought over "O Come O Come Emmanuel", which happens to be my favorite Christmas song.

It also happens to correlate with my favorite Bible verse, which had been weighing on me heavily for the past week or so. This is what I shared and what brought me to big tears of remembrance and of thankfulness and humility.

It re-appeared in my heart last Thursday. I was sitting there beside my boyfriend, our mothers, and our fathers, in the Candlelight service at my university.

As I sat there, I marveled at how far removed and redeemed both our families (and us) had been in the past two years. In the past two years, both our parents had been at places where they thought they had lost their children to darkness forever.

We had thought the same about ourselves.

And in the past two years, we have been restored to joy, to God, and to our families. Granted, more work is yet to be done, but God is so good.

My heart felt full to burst, and the words of Psalm 126 pushed their way into my thoughts:

When the people returned to Jerusalem from captivity in Babylon, they became as those who dreamed. Their hearts were filled with laughter; their tongues with shouts of praise. The people of Earth said to them, "The Lord has done great things for you." Indeed, the Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.

That's the verse I shared this morning after we sang.

I reflected on my own "return from Babylon" two years ago tomorrow.

I was broken. I was ugly. I was beyond all reckoning.

And my parents opened their arms up and loved me. My aunt, my uncle, my cousin, my grandmother. They loved me and took me as I was: broken. ugly. lost.

And yet, and yet!! the Lord has done great things for me. 
Though Decembers cause me to get way too deep in my head and heart and ache with the past woundedness, I know too of the deep joy of restoration to hope and light and life.

The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.

Duties and Doodies

Babies poop.

It's a thing.

Also, when does talking about your child's bodily functions stop being an acceptable people to discuss in public places?

Some would argue, "ALWAYS! No one NO ONE wants to know about that!"
Others, not so much.

The other week in a staff meeting, we talked about all the different things that are acceptable to comment on and discuss about babies that is ABSOLUTELY NOT ACCEPTABLE to comment on and discuss later in their little lives.

Things such as, but not limited to: bodily functions, weight fluctuation, everything related to nursing ("latching"), chubby thighs, etc.

Personally, I think all babies look like trolls.
They can be absolutely adorable trolls that I will love unconditionally (i.e. each and every one of my nieces and nephews), but trolls nonetheless. Just for a few months until they start to grow into their person.

Yesterday, I traveled on over to the ole O-K-L-A-HOMA to attend the baptism of my cousin Kristina's daughter.
Krissy and I, much like our mothers, are near exact replicas of one another, give or take a few years. She's my family go-to, my saving grace at holidays get-togethers, and an endless source of sass and side comments.

She is 10 years older than me and had her first child, Fiona Marie, just a couple months ago.
We're all pretty floored about it. Jeff (her husband) and Kristina are absolutely adorable with one another and that, matched with our thankfulness and wonder at them finding one another to begin with, makes Fiona one very special little human.

Jury is still out on who her name is dedicated to (Daisy Marie-->Joyce Marie-->Kristina Marie-->Fiona Marie), but it's safe to say all three of her predecessors love her pretty fiercely.

And now, after a question and a yes, that little bundle of love is my goddaughter.
I'm so honored to get to be Fiona's "person".
Don't worry, kid. I've got your back. (and your neck, just until you gain a little muscle mass)

Forbearance: Patient Endurance

I know what I said about girls calling boys their "little brother" but, like many stereotypical girl moves I make fun of, I am an exception to this rule (don't worry. I'm guilty of a whole host of other things).

Today, I co-babysat with my "little brother" from high school, Taylor Pride. I don't think he and I have seen each other or talked for about two years, but my senior year of high school? We were besties. His word, not mine.

Junior-Senior prom. Caity and I robbed the cradle and went with Juniors. Taylor asked Caity & Will (Tay's best friend) asked me. It. Was. Epic.

By co-babysat, I mean LibbyRosie slept, and Taylor and I chatted it up. He's doing International Relations up at Wheaton in Chicago.

Meeting new friends at University or even reconnecting with old friends is often frustrating. Either you have to give 22 years of backstory for the current story to make sense, or you have to catch up on however long you've been absent in order for your story to make sense.

But then there are those people that the story doesn't matter as much as the heart. I try to collect (or at least keep) as many of those people as I can. Taylor is one of them.

We spent the better part of our time together "real talk[ing]", as he puts it.

Along with arranged marriages, divorce, cross-cultural differences about both of those topics, and being a spy, one of his main proposed topic questions was, "Why do people of our generation try to avoid pain and hardship?"

My response? "It's painful. And hard."

It was a good question, though. We're a pretty hedonistic society.

When something stops "feeling" good, we take it as a sign that it isn't good anymore, and we go seeking for the nearest available thing that will give us that feel-good feeling again as quickly as possible. A very processed sugar society.

But insta-happiness, like processed sugar, only lasts so long, and the crash hits hard. Because you're not spinning life with anything substantive. When the crises of life come, you think that cotton candy is going to protect you or give you the strength you need for a long-term struggle? No.

My cousin Kristina said that in the army, they repeated to themselves the mantra, "Embrace the suck."
They'd be sweating and feeling like Hell out on the field, but there wasn't any way to make it end sooner, so, they just had to engage with it. Accept that it was going to happen.

They survived it. "The Suck", while sucky, made them strong.

I think it's about time more of us learned to embrace the suck, suck it up, and start taking the time to seek out and build our lives with complex sugars. They may not taste as good on the go-down, but when the fight comes, they will be what give fortitude enough to continue on in a manner which will bring glory to the one who created us.

The Christmas that Could

I love my family.

Anyone that knows me knows that one fact. That, and my deep love for the three best friends, but that's a given. :)

My family, no matter how uncommunicative or overcommunicative or awkward or spazzy, is where I intrinsically sense to go when I feel unsure or so sure. They're the ones I want to share my most happy moments with and the ones my heart immediately needs when it gets broken.

They're the base line. Even when I lose sight of my identity and everything else in my life, I know who I am with them. I am a little sister to three big brothers, a sister-in-law to three as well, a niece, a cousin, an aunt of five, a daughter. I am my family. And what a wonderful one to be known by.

I needed them. And by the grace of God I got them.

Christmas Eve went as expected. Jansie and Daisy Ree whirlwind cleaned, and I putsed about, wandering, disappearing, holding the dog so it looked like I was actually doing something. Useless creature, me. I think it's my learned defensive behavior. My ma gets frenzied near holidays (or any event of any kind at our home. Though, admittedly, she has gotten so much better) and cleans/throws away everything in sight. It ain't pretty. You'd hide, too. I've never gotten as good as Chon, though. He was a master at getting out of things without anyone noticing that he was doing nothing.

The evening was at First Methodist Church, a lovely carol service. Our wee group was comprised of my parents and me, my aunt Joycer, uncle ed, Krissy, her husband Jeff, and my cousins Crista and Noah.

I'm not going to lie. I almost didn't make it. Christmas Eve, I didn't pull it together. I tried. The heaviness took me. I felt like the grinch, and I could see how my darkness was hurting my parents and grandma. I just wanted to be alone and cry. Throw it in my face: "But you so wanted to come home!" Yeah, I know. But not yet. You've got to understand. I so wanted to come home because nobody else wanted me, and the idea of sitting 4,000 miles away from familiar, soaking in minute by minute that knowledge on top of the horrors of the past four months? Acid to my soul. I could not do it.

Yes, I want to be home. I am so terribly thankful to be home, but being home and having to reconcile my brokenness with the expectations of behaving like a normal creature and contributing to a positive atmosphere is hard. And it's hard on my family. I'm hard for my family.

That's who I went into that Christmas Eve service as. Amazing how a guy snoring behind you, really great black singing, and family that can make you laugh and forget can change your inner atmosphere. (nerd moment: laughter really does chemically alter your mood.) I came out better. So much better.

I'd like to give a shout-out of thanks to serotonin for carrying over until today. Despite bad, exhausting dreams (usually a signal for an awful day ahead), it was a truly wonderful Christmas.

A skype with my brother joey, his wife Cristin, and their two kiddos: harrison and gianna.

Later, we were joined by my other two siblings, the kids opened a few presents (the siblings decided to skip Christmas with one another) [side note: thank you to whoever invented gift bags. Honestly, if you ever receive a present from me which is wrapped in something other than a gift bag or a sweat shirt, I probably love you more than any other person in my acquaintance arsenal], and we snacked while watching home movies. It's kind of a tradition of ours. One of my absolute favorites. In a way, it makes it feel as though we're all a part. With them, my Jesus-resting Papa can be with us (now who was in the manger? mary and joseph and the baby.) and my uncle johnnie, aunt lynne, cousins, ruthie and charlie, jojo, all of us.

It's funny how our personalities really haven't changed either. Chon trying to steal the camera, incessantly talking, and being goofy always, Jacob the ultimate caretaker (I dare you to find a single scene in any picture or video from my childhood which features me without him), and Joey...well...Joey actually has changed. He didn't really know he was alive back then. He was sweet boy. He became a great man.
And my niecer Ella actually looks a ton like what I did at her age. Hadn't noticed before.

The rest of the day, we ate, drank, made merry, and were rejoined by joycie, ed, kris and jeff, and daisy marie. We were all relaxed, played some games, doted on the darling kiddos, and were just your basic, garden variety happy. It was very nice.

Merry Christmas from the Odoms.
We probably love you.
Or we will learn to.
Or we will relearn to.
Or we've never met you, but we're sure you're very nice.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

and Eamonn reads my nostril flares.

Belfast dialectics and intonations are often beyond my delicate grasp of the language, thus, Eamonn has begun to analyze my nose as closely as the text.

Without saying a single syllable, he knows the moment I've hung myself up on a particular word or concept and goes about to redefine it.

The best moment of class today was the moment he said, "Well, as they say, there are many ways to skin a cat" and I responded immediately with, "ah yes, but the tail is most difficult."

He didn't quite know what to do with me.

And, unlike my last class presentation with him (the class period I fell asleep right after he told me I had completely missed the point of my presentation topic), this one went by without a remark against its verity. WIN.

I will also mention that my apple cinnamon muffins were a hit. I'm starting to drown in apple-based food items, so I've been pawning them off to anyone who'll eat them.

Course today was on Seamus Heaney. His poem "Digging" is quite good as well as it contains the word "squelching," which makes it awesome. It'll dredge up coursemates' reminiscing about their childhood days harvesting peat (really.) and mine of squishing my feet in mud back behind our fence.

I was asked by my classmates to read the poem aloud because they like my "exotic accent." Welcome, Oklahoma. Betcha never got that one before. :)

This picture brought to you by the strangers in front of me on the bus.

Maybe a little creepy that I took this, but I just think it's precious when boys are still young enough that they will still nestle into their mum's shoulder in public. Ooh. Better yet. One of my professors at JBU also goes to my church FirstPrez. His son, probably aged 14 or so, always puts his head on his dad's shoulder during church. Very affectionate. Front row, too! It's the most wonderful, endearing thing. 

At home, I fixed myself dinner and baked apple popovers. Also the easiest recipe and my LifeGroup loved them. Leslie, wife of our leader and from The States, told me they taste like home in America. 

There's not a better place to stick that mural picture, but that's what "graffiti" in Belfast looks like. This one is in East Belfast. Catholic area. Nationalist area. Super dangerous area during The Troubles and certain parts of the year now even (Scary guys, if you can't tell from that blood-freezing image. They are compared to the US KKK. To be fair, though, their opposition was just as terrorous).  

Next up on my list of activities was small group (Did I mention that my small group is in East Belfast..?). Both of my normal friend drivers were out, so I got creative and called up a randomer from the group. Claire and  Malcolm drove me there and Megan drove me home. 

Let's talk about be courageous, be bold, make friends, my friends. 

Maybe that's an area I'm growing in. I'm often assertive on behalf of others, but I am loathe to ask for help or favors myself. Sometimes, though, what I really need to do is take a hit to my pride and be honest, even if it's something as simple as, "I need a lift." And then let somebody else help you. No excuses or justifications about why you had to ask for help this one time. Be gracious and thankful. 

You cannot do life on your own. I cannot do life on my own. It's okay to be the pathetic or weak one sometimes. Don't live there or make it your identity, but don't begrudge yourself that part of the journey either. 

Speaking of identities, LifeGroup tonight was over the topic of taking every thought captive and the false narratives we feed ourselves. Let's talk about group discussions perfectly suited to my present situation. Restructuring my neurological thought patternings is a definite struggle. 

Not a struggle I have any intention of losing, but a struggle nonetheless. And the difficult part about rewriting personal narratives is that a lot of them have roots in truth. I am deeply afraid of being someone not worth remembering, of being forgettable. 

I have been forgotten. My fears in that area have been confirmed many times over. That is a truth. 

That does not make ME forgettable, though, or someone not worth remembering. Therein comes the lie. 

Megan and I, through small group small group time, found we had much in common and that's how she ended up being the one to drive me home. We actually ended up sitting and chatting in her car for a half hour or so after we had pulled up to my house. 

[Offshoot: when people first come over to pick me up or drop me off, they always have the same remark: "so...you live in a castle..." "yeah....." It is quite funny.]

Back to Megan. It was an exhausting, fast-paced chat, but I felt understood for the first time since coming here. There was, if not friend chemistry, a kinship of spirit, a general recognition of and comprehension of where we were both at (sorry Jansie) in life. Our thoughts made sense to one another. 

After four months of trying to make friends and liking people but not feeling "gotten", it was a really nice moment. 

AND, when I walked in the door, I found a package I'd missed earlier from my cousin Krissy. 

A package of love and chocolate and Flarp. That's another person I feel "gotten" by. Maybe it's because our mothers are practically the same person, but Kristina and I are freakishly similar and require very little to completely understand the other. Despite our age difference and our distance, hers is a friendship of great value to me and not one I fear diminishment. 

There was lots of laughter and good thought and good music (Gungor, if you must know). 

Today was a gift. From start to end. I feel relieved of weight today, both in specific areas and in general. 

When the people returned to Jerusalem from captivity in Babylon, they became as men who dreamed. Their mouths were filled with laughter, their tongues with shouts of joy. Then the peoples of the Earth said "the Lord has done great things for them." Indeed. The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. Psalm 126. 

December, Day 9: Complete. 

Stop. Collaborate and Listen.

It's that special time of year! No, not Christmas. THANKSGIVING!

My all-time favorite holiday. It used to be a close runner-up to Christmas Eve, but since we've grown out of our old Christmas traditions, Thanksgiving has taken its rightful place at the top.

Every year growing up, Chon and I would watch the Macy's parade for hours, then he would...well...I don't actually know where he would go, but I would get changed (usually more than once. Jansie usually called my first attempts "homeless") and ready for the day and help the women in the kitchen.

Mashed potatoes are only right one way. Once they are in mountain form, a spoon forms a crater, a slice of butter goes in, and a dash of paprika sprinkles across the top.

My food roles are cranberry sauce and stuffing. My stuffing recipe is absolutely incredible. The cranberries, though, I never get exactly right. It's a delicate art, cranberry sauce.

When she's there, Krissy joins me in our joint role of table setting. We are in charge of putting ice in the cups. That's it. It's a lonely job without her. There's nobody to hide escaped ice cubes under various table toppers with. Or roll eyes when my mother or aunt cracks a joke about finally letting us in on the family secret recipe for ice cubes. (One day, we'll get that recipe...:))

From there, it's just a mess of singing, people, food, getting trapped at the table (literally), games, pie, mass naps, food, rifling through the black friday ads, and maybe a drive down to Utica Square for Lights On.

The very best part of this tradition is the way my family collects people.

I don't remember a single Thanksgiving where I was related (or knew) everyone at my table. Friends, family, friends of family, teachers of family, random college students with nowhere to go, random church members with nowhere to go, etc. And for that one day, they are my family.

Today, we had Thanksgiving Irish Style with a few splashes of home.

The Macy's Day Parade was on all afternoon, the food was everywhere, and gathered around the table were friends, family, and a stranger. The students, who have become my friends and family; Hadden and Betty, who are a very sweet and sparky older couple who look after us and are also like our family; and Naomi, who is a friend to me and a stranger to them.

And the very best thing happened. All this was good and well, but I received two phone calls that made my day. Two of my brothers FaceTimed me. I don't know. It seems like a silly thing to care so much about, but being remembered is a big deal to me. I met my nephew Superfly for the first time (met is a liberal word for staring at a phone pointed at a sleeping baby) and got air kisses from two of my nieces. Here's a silly, unclear screen shot of my oldest brother and his family.

Jansie, too, has sent me various pictures from the day's festivities. It's a quiet year for the Odom's. The siblings are due for their Thanksgiving with our family next year, so this year was just my ma and daddy, my aunt and uncle, and my sweet grandmother.

Check out my mother's impressive edible arrangement (she really has quite a gift. At my graduation, she made my face, nosering and all).

What am I thankful for?

1. My full handful of nieces and nephews. They completely changed my family and my life. They're so itty bitty, but they've made such a dynamic impact. One they won't ever completely understand. I love them with my whole heart. And while I'm at it, I'm thankful for the technology that allows me to be a part of their lives even while I'm so far away.

2. My family. My brothers, sisters, parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. I'm sure everyone has a wonderful family, but mine...man. Lord has blessed us.

3. I am thankful for a God who forges unlikely relationships between unlikely people and gives us the grace to break and grow with one another as we pass in and out of seasons in our lives. Freak accident friendships. The three I have in mind are with Haley, Caity, and Kira.

I know the top one's blurry, but it captures us perfectly. Always in motion. Always laughing. Always doing something ridiculous and silly and fun. Just fun. And yet, they are the first people I go to when I need to talk through matters of the soul. These pictures in particular are taken in Haley Nelle's room by her boyfriend who met all of us simultaneously. That's how we like to do things. He survived the vetting. We kept him. He's a good one, David is. 

4. I'm thankful for my amazing college friends, professors, and mentors who continue to impact my life. Rabbi, Tracy, Abby, Becca, Peter, Adam, Maddie, Anna, Carli. I'm sure there are others.

5. I'm thankful for change. Like the change of me living here, the changes of family additions and marriages of my best friends, the changes God is making in my own life.

There is no need to make a specific number for God. The rest of the list simply doesn't exist without him.

To close this incredibly long post, I leave you with the song we sing around our Thanksgiving table (hands held so nobody sneaks food. Grandma...):

Father, we thank thee. Father we thank thee. Father in Heaven, we thank thee

*Cue male family members attempts at prayer and successes at tears.*