Texting a friend overseas today about the life-crushing "disorder" of perceived self-rejection.
It's a topic currently dominating her life and one I am not unfamiliar with in the least.
My childhood was full of love, but I was not a happy child. In fact, I spent the majority of my first 17 years wallowing in a depressive state I could not escape from. I was utterly convinced everyone hated me, thought I was ugly and stupid and were talking about me. I didn't get invited to the parties and, when I was, I was convinced they invited me because they pitied me.
One of my "life philosophies" is the theory of capacity. I've mentioned it before, and it's not complicated or wise. I just think about it a lot when I'm processing past actions.
At each stage of life, though many choices may be available, I believe that you are only capable of making a select few of those many choices based on your emotional/spiritual/psychological capacity at that time. And, unfortunately, it takes making some "life growing" choices to increase that capacity. Good doesn't always feel good.
When I was 17, I saw a sign advertising a new sport in my high school. The word saber was mentioned. For the first time in my teenage life, I went alone: autonomous action. Not one person in that meeting understood why I was there, as they were all band members, and I had no connection to their world. I joined. The next two years were full of spandex, face-hits from wandering flags, and mockery from classmates that I would be involved in something so absolutely ridiculous. For the first time, though, I did not give one flying crap what they thought. Winter guard made me indescribably happy. There was mockery, but there was not shame.
I felt more comfortable dancing in a blue spandex onesie than I ever had in my own skin. My freedom started to seep into my real life, as I was happy. I was truly happy. Clearly, I was a teenager, so happiness is relative to whatever mood swing was going on that day, but it was a marked difference in personhood. I began to believe good things and behave out of that perception. The last two years of high school were fun.
Sometimes, the solutions to problems come in unconventional solutions. I wasn't in counseling or doing any mental exercises. I was doing something silly that had no direct or obvious "purpose."
The devil doesn't always speak to us like a trenchcoated man trying to sell contraband in a dark alleyway. Sometimes, he helps us "focus". And we focus and focus and focus on the problem until we can't see the solution without somehow spiraling deeper into the problem.
Alleviate. Escape. Breathe. Do things that scare you, that inspire you, that refine you.
Stop trying to force a solution and start letting yourself live your life.
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Thursday, May 18, 2017
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Happiness is: Haley
I've known my best friend Haley for two decades now.
Fairly, the first was spent in bitter enmity. She'll recall my bossiness, I
recall her wild ways.
When you grow up, though, sometimes the things that prevented
friendship are the very parts that keep it together.
Tempered, my bossiness turned into a general maintenance of stability.
Tempered, she learned to understand when to whip out the fun.
Together, we can go out or stay in and make a party out
of anything, keeping it small (for me) but raucous (for her).
My mom loves when Haley is around because she's the only
person who can evoke a true gut laugh from me, and so easily.
I love when Haley is around because everything seems to
have more sparkle and sun when she's with me.
It's been a really long time since we've gotten to hang out but have pieced our long distance together through phone calls and Pinterest
and the single hour we shared in person a month or so ago when she was down for her
sister's wedding.
It was a great relief and great joy, then, to hear she
was coming down from Denver and coming over to me in Arkansas for a day.
I got off work early, we girl talked, went grocery
shopping, made enchiladas, went on a run to Goodwill for a Twister search that
ended in a blue sequin spandex onesie, had friends over, ate ice cream on the
kitchen floor, played games, and talked late into the night.
Growing up can be especially hard on friendships, as you
move around or move out of them.
It makes you especially thankful for those friendships
which grow with you, flex and form and flow.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
It's Good to be Smart
It's better to be kind.
The wife of my smallgroup leader, a lady named Heather, was a teeny tiny, quiet woman with a gush of energy inside her, helpful considering she has two boys and now a sweet little girl.
My second semester in Belfast, Heather really took after me, bringing me over for tea, getting me little gifts (like a measuring cup with American conversion rates on it, so I could bake easier), and just showing me kindness.
In small group, she didn't talk a whole lot--I would definitely put her on highly on the introvert scale. But one-on-one, she really connected well with others. I was most thankful for her.
One time, when we were talking about her older son who is wicked smart, she told me that with her boy, she is often drawn to tell him, "It is good to be smart; it is better to be kind."
Being someone who has been born into American competitiveness, a culture where getting ahead by whatever means possible is the only way, this was kind of shocking to me to hear a mother praising her son's braininess but pushing him toward a lifestyle characterized not by wits but by wisdom and gentleness.
In a month, I'll have all 58 of my new students (450 overall oh my goodness) arriving on campus. Some of them I know to be both very smart and very kind. Some are very kind and lack in educational prowess. Others, I know to be intelligent but I have some doubts as to their inter-social tendencies.
I guess as an education facilitator, I'm supposed to cheer on the smart ones. That makes sense. They're the ones who supposedly will do best here.
I was one of those.
But was I kind?
At my core, kindness and gentleness toward others is something very important to me. The manifestation of that, though, is something I have had to work hard to express well.
You see, I can't make myself get on-board with the smarties. Life is more than being smart. University community, not just high data GPAs and test scores, is what makes being at college "the best four years of your life".
Curious, kind students who want to learn and connect beat out brilliance.
Naturally being the best can lead you to believe that you don't need help, that you don't need to connect, that you don't need contribute and respond. And the worst part is, you don't even see that that is hurting you longterm. You see it as a point of pride that you have all that you need tucked inside you.
The thing is, that doesn't stay inside the classroom.
We aren't as compartmentalized as we would like to believe.
Who we are inside BBL_3003 directly relates to who we are at home or church or work.
It all comes down to who we believe we are.
If you believe yourself to be someone entirely self-sufficient, when push comes to shove in your relationship, will you not pull away, throw up walls, and cut out your significant other from relating to you, helping you, or making decisions with you? Will you not turn away from God in the rough times because you can fix the problem better yourself? Will you not miss out from good ideas from coworkers when you are working on a new project?
We are build to relate to one another and to fail and to learn together.
It is good for us to be smart, but it is better for us to be kind.
The wife of my smallgroup leader, a lady named Heather, was a teeny tiny, quiet woman with a gush of energy inside her, helpful considering she has two boys and now a sweet little girl.
My second semester in Belfast, Heather really took after me, bringing me over for tea, getting me little gifts (like a measuring cup with American conversion rates on it, so I could bake easier), and just showing me kindness.
In small group, she didn't talk a whole lot--I would definitely put her on highly on the introvert scale. But one-on-one, she really connected well with others. I was most thankful for her.
One time, when we were talking about her older son who is wicked smart, she told me that with her boy, she is often drawn to tell him, "It is good to be smart; it is better to be kind."
Being someone who has been born into American competitiveness, a culture where getting ahead by whatever means possible is the only way, this was kind of shocking to me to hear a mother praising her son's braininess but pushing him toward a lifestyle characterized not by wits but by wisdom and gentleness.
In a month, I'll have all 58 of my new students (450 overall oh my goodness) arriving on campus. Some of them I know to be both very smart and very kind. Some are very kind and lack in educational prowess. Others, I know to be intelligent but I have some doubts as to their inter-social tendencies.
I guess as an education facilitator, I'm supposed to cheer on the smart ones. That makes sense. They're the ones who supposedly will do best here.
I was one of those.
But was I kind?
At my core, kindness and gentleness toward others is something very important to me. The manifestation of that, though, is something I have had to work hard to express well.
You see, I can't make myself get on-board with the smarties. Life is more than being smart. University community, not just high data GPAs and test scores, is what makes being at college "the best four years of your life".
Curious, kind students who want to learn and connect beat out brilliance.
Naturally being the best can lead you to believe that you don't need help, that you don't need to connect, that you don't need contribute and respond. And the worst part is, you don't even see that that is hurting you longterm. You see it as a point of pride that you have all that you need tucked inside you.
The thing is, that doesn't stay inside the classroom.
We aren't as compartmentalized as we would like to believe.
Who we are inside BBL_3003 directly relates to who we are at home or church or work.
It all comes down to who we believe we are.
If you believe yourself to be someone entirely self-sufficient, when push comes to shove in your relationship, will you not pull away, throw up walls, and cut out your significant other from relating to you, helping you, or making decisions with you? Will you not turn away from God in the rough times because you can fix the problem better yourself? Will you not miss out from good ideas from coworkers when you are working on a new project?
We are build to relate to one another and to fail and to learn together.
It is good for us to be smart, but it is better for us to be kind.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
F is for Fitness
And other words.
My two housemates and I are often on vastly differing schedules from one another, and that often causes us to pass like ships in the night. If we didn't like each other, this would actually be pretty nice, but we do like each other.
For this reason, M and I decided to go on a run last night, despite the fact that it is 1000 degrees of humid outside, and neither of us have run in over a month and never super consistently before that (save my training for my 5K).
And, because we love her, we invited S, too, who apologized profusely for how slow she was, for how she trots instead of runs, and how she was going to inevitably slow us down.
M and I assured her that our "running" was really more of a meander, how our ideal run involved 3 minutes running, 3 minutes walking.
S started the canter straight out of the gate, and we didn't stop until we reached home 3.4 miles later.
We lost M after mile 2--it was a valiant effort.
I'm not sure how I held on, but I'm putting it to sheer curiosity. I really wanted to see how long S was going to hold out for. Forever is the answer. I'm pretty sure she could have gone farther and faster than her pace due to me.
When we turned on to our street, she told me she was going to speed up a bit. That's fine, I thought, I'll speed up a bit too.
She disappeared in some kind of time warp.
When I reached the house, the two of us turned around and walked to go find M.
The moral of the story is, when someone makes apologies for their running, ask more questions or you will end up on an impromptu 5K.
My two housemates and I are often on vastly differing schedules from one another, and that often causes us to pass like ships in the night. If we didn't like each other, this would actually be pretty nice, but we do like each other.
For this reason, M and I decided to go on a run last night, despite the fact that it is 1000 degrees of humid outside, and neither of us have run in over a month and never super consistently before that (save my training for my 5K).
And, because we love her, we invited S, too, who apologized profusely for how slow she was, for how she trots instead of runs, and how she was going to inevitably slow us down.
M and I assured her that our "running" was really more of a meander, how our ideal run involved 3 minutes running, 3 minutes walking.
S started the canter straight out of the gate, and we didn't stop until we reached home 3.4 miles later.
We lost M after mile 2--it was a valiant effort.
I'm not sure how I held on, but I'm putting it to sheer curiosity. I really wanted to see how long S was going to hold out for. Forever is the answer. I'm pretty sure she could have gone farther and faster than her pace due to me.
When we turned on to our street, she told me she was going to speed up a bit. That's fine, I thought, I'll speed up a bit too.
She disappeared in some kind of time warp.
When I reached the house, the two of us turned around and walked to go find M.
The moral of the story is, when someone makes apologies for their running, ask more questions or you will end up on an impromptu 5K.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Yard Work and Summer Good Feels
At Glenwood Gables, our yard owns us.
A few months ago, I attacked two of the three enormous bushes (fondly known as Monster and Devil).
They grew back.
We poured poison on them, chocked their roots full of epsom salt before a rain storm, hacked at them.
They grew. In fact, our efforts seemed to fuel them.
Monster grew back with a vengence and took over a huge section of the back corner.
And then there's Demon.
Trunk to tip thorns, and it was growing by the day, gaining speed and covering an entire kitchen window as well as part of the gate to the fence.
I don't think they would have bothered me so much, but from my spot at the kitchen table, they were all that I could see.
I needed them dead.
I needed backup.
Enter: The Julius.
We put our bets on him, and we were proven correct with our choice.
Down went Demon.
The garden was a whole other situation, and Makayla (and some me as well, but I mostly handled the irises and a strange buried stack of bricks that was preventing mowing) tackled it with perseverance weeding, cutting down the outer levels of grass, and mulching.
We're all very busy and usually stressed (the life of an introvert doesn't take much to overwhelm) but finally our house is starting to look less like a fairy tale villain lair and more like a cozy cottage, complete with gnome.
Then, with our two-day yard work extravaganza done, we went to the pool, put together some delicious homemade pizza, played games, and napped.
Happiness is: friendship and achieving goals.
A few months ago, I attacked two of the three enormous bushes (fondly known as Monster and Devil).
They grew back.
We poured poison on them, chocked their roots full of epsom salt before a rain storm, hacked at them.
They grew. In fact, our efforts seemed to fuel them.
Monster grew back with a vengence and took over a huge section of the back corner.
And then there's Demon.
Trunk to tip thorns, and it was growing by the day, gaining speed and covering an entire kitchen window as well as part of the gate to the fence.
I don't think they would have bothered me so much, but from my spot at the kitchen table, they were all that I could see.
I needed them dead.
I needed backup.
Enter: The Julius.
We put our bets on him, and we were proven correct with our choice.
Down went Demon.
The garden was a whole other situation, and Makayla (and some me as well, but I mostly handled the irises and a strange buried stack of bricks that was preventing mowing) tackled it with perseverance weeding, cutting down the outer levels of grass, and mulching.
We're all very busy and usually stressed (the life of an introvert doesn't take much to overwhelm) but finally our house is starting to look less like a fairy tale villain lair and more like a cozy cottage, complete with gnome.
Then, with our two-day yard work extravaganza done, we went to the pool, put together some delicious homemade pizza, played games, and napped.
Happiness is: friendship and achieving goals.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
The Ultimate Penultimate
'Twas the day before the day before I leave and all through the house, there were traces that I'd worn makeup and a blouse.
Megs came to fetch me in her tea-time ensemble, and we met up with the girls on the Lisburn Road.
For my departure, high tea was called for, and we sat in a dainty room with dainty plates and cups and sandwiches and sweets and felt very proper. Pinkies up indeed.
Except for the fact that our conversation was all over the place from discussion on times we'd accidentally had soured milk (Lauren claimed it made her tea taste of strawberries) to manroasting to medical stories. Every once in a while we'd chuckle about how everyone else in the room was probably talking about tea-appropriate topics, such as the weather. Or doilies.
We ended our time together with failed selfies (memories must be documented) and a prayer. Until that last bit there, I'd held it together but, like every single member of my family, one word into talking to the Lord, and I crumpled. We hugged, I gave them letters, and we parted. But not forever.
 |
| The girls that started it all when they adopted me in October. |
 |
| Fancy tea. The pot with the flowers in it says, "Belfast Tease", which I think is darling. |
 |
| Snuggles and disgust at airplanes and America |
 |
| Megs. :) And my practically iridescent skin that so does not know what it's in for soon |
 |
| Walking into the sunset together. Bye bye besties.
No time for tears, though!
When Megan dropped me back off at the house, I changed shoes and went right back into the city with Steve and Hot Greg (nickname since Freshman year of uni. It ain't changed).
We got dinner at Lee Gardens and could not have had more fun with the ambiance. It was still bright outside, but they lit a candle on our table. From the ceiling were downward twisting light fixtures made of glass daisies. Along the railing (there was an upstairs, too) were blue icicle lights which lit up in sections bottom to top instead of top to bottom.
And, to top it off, playing from the speakers was a playlist including "Heart of Worship", "My Heart Will Go On", and "Trouble".
We made silly faces and talked ridiculously and seriously and just had a really good time. Both of those guys have been my friends since the very beginning of JBU and both just graduated and are moving to Florida. So it was nice having a chance to get some facetime with them before we all go off in separate directions.
The day quieted down then. We got home and played Spoons as well as Resistance, then Nadia and I retired to "our" room to watch a few episodes of The Office while I messaged a friend from home.
Over, right?
Not quite.
Around midnight thirty, I got a text from Lauren asking if I was awake.
A few minutes after, she showed up in my driveway, having been on her way home from the cinema with her mum and wanting one last snuggle.
As quickly as I could, I unbolted all 9 bolts and burst into the moonlight where she jumped into my arms.
It was definitely a movie moment and a little tearful, I'll admit.
Don't know when I'll see these folks again--any of them--but I do know it's not forever.
|
Monday, May 12, 2014
A Week in Review: Fun for Me and Fun for You
Lots of changes here at Lakeside.
I've got Americans all over the place.
As of last week, my cook had gotten deported, we didn't have food, and I was unsure as to when my three different sets of humans were to arrive.
Now, though, food arrived on my doorstep (Thanks, Tesco!), I was here to receive my people (all of them), and my cook and two supervisors are on their way up from Dublin, all legal and whatnot.
This past week was a blur of fun and activities.
MONDAY:
My MA coursemates and I got together for a wee dinner party before my house filled up. We didn't get any photos together, but fun was had by all.
Amy Finlay brought a delectable asparagus soup, Emma brought lasagna as I've never seen made before, Amy Burnside provided garlic bread and the contextual beverage of the evening, and I made homemade ice cream and chocolate sheet cake.
We wined, we dined, and we watched chick flicks as they submitted to my fiddling with bobby pins and their long locks.
Classroom friendships are one thing but actually getting out and bonding is another.
TUESDAY:
Not only were Lauren and I individually tired of being studious, but I also needed to practice some wedding hair tactics and have aid in eating the rest of my cake.
Therefore, she lifted me from the house and we went off in the rain for a cinema night. After the movie, we sat in her car for an hour or so just talking until the windows were fogged from our warm conversation meeting with the cool rain outside.
Back at home, we popped in another movie but didn't watch it. It just gave us some background noise while I worked some magic on her hair. Don't believe me?
WEDNESDAY:
I may or may not have mentioned this before, but the salsa portions in this country are nothing short of pathetic. Just pathetic. One jar is the equivalent to half a serving size in The States. Where I come from, we buy our salsa by the jug.
Naomi feels similarly. She grew up in Ecuador and her family is now in Spain, so salsa is something she knows and loves as well.
Therefore, Craig fetched me Wednesday over to Naomi's house, and we (Naomi) made homemade salsa and watched Modern Family. Very chill evening, but we were all pretty exhausted. And, the wee gem, sent me home with some. I was a happy girl.
THURSDAY:
Thursday brought me Americans.
FRIDAY:
More Americans arrived, so I spent a good portion of my day chatting with them and making sure they were settled and comfortable.
Then, that night, I went out on the town with my girlies.
However, the Giro d'Italia was on (international bike race being held in NI this year), so Lynsey, Lauren, and I were trapped on the wrong side of the road from Kiera and our pub.
Eventually, we made it over and ate some lovely food before heading over to a pub for drinks and dancing.
I did leave early, unfortunately, but only because the buses were wacked out from the race, and I was nervous to get home. Not about to make that 6 mile night walk alone again. Made some lovely bus stop friends, though, as all bus stop friends are good friends.
SATURDAY:
I didn't originally have Saturday plans, but I wanted them.
So, on a whim, I texted my friend Amy to drop everything and bond with me.
She did.
Came over with pints of ice cream and we chatted over boys and Jesus for about five hours in the library, stopping only when we realized that it was nearly 3am.
I left that conversation liking Jesus a whole lot.
That sounds a bit daft, of course I love Jesus. But liking and loving aren't the same.
I was reminded just how great I think he is. I enjoy knowing him and being around him.
I was nudged into that sentiment by the way God demonstrated, by way of my conversation with Amy, the way that he makes pain practical.
Our experiences, while personally and intrinsically good, are not meant to affect us alone. No, all the rocks which smash into our souls create ripples and waves that effect all those around us, even when we don't realize it.
And the crazy times, the beautiful times, are when you're having a conversation with someone and can see an edge of the bigger picture, how your story and their stories intertwine with one another and speak into one another.
And when we are bold, when we are willing, we get the chance to actively participate in sharing with another what you see, where you've been, and what the Lord has done.
I've got Americans all over the place.
As of last week, my cook had gotten deported, we didn't have food, and I was unsure as to when my three different sets of humans were to arrive.
Now, though, food arrived on my doorstep (Thanks, Tesco!), I was here to receive my people (all of them), and my cook and two supervisors are on their way up from Dublin, all legal and whatnot.
This past week was a blur of fun and activities.
MONDAY:
My MA coursemates and I got together for a wee dinner party before my house filled up. We didn't get any photos together, but fun was had by all.
Amy Finlay brought a delectable asparagus soup, Emma brought lasagna as I've never seen made before, Amy Burnside provided garlic bread and the contextual beverage of the evening, and I made homemade ice cream and chocolate sheet cake.
We wined, we dined, and we watched chick flicks as they submitted to my fiddling with bobby pins and their long locks.
 |
| It took 3 blondes (minus me) to get open that bottle. Way to go, Amy! |
Classroom friendships are one thing but actually getting out and bonding is another.
TUESDAY:
Not only were Lauren and I individually tired of being studious, but I also needed to practice some wedding hair tactics and have aid in eating the rest of my cake.
Therefore, she lifted me from the house and we went off in the rain for a cinema night. After the movie, we sat in her car for an hour or so just talking until the windows were fogged from our warm conversation meeting with the cool rain outside.
Back at home, we popped in another movie but didn't watch it. It just gave us some background noise while I worked some magic on her hair. Don't believe me?
WEDNESDAY:
I may or may not have mentioned this before, but the salsa portions in this country are nothing short of pathetic. Just pathetic. One jar is the equivalent to half a serving size in The States. Where I come from, we buy our salsa by the jug.
Naomi feels similarly. She grew up in Ecuador and her family is now in Spain, so salsa is something she knows and loves as well.
Therefore, Craig fetched me Wednesday over to Naomi's house, and we (Naomi) made homemade salsa and watched Modern Family. Very chill evening, but we were all pretty exhausted. And, the wee gem, sent me home with some. I was a happy girl.
THURSDAY:
Thursday brought me Americans.
FRIDAY:
More Americans arrived, so I spent a good portion of my day chatting with them and making sure they were settled and comfortable.
Then, that night, I went out on the town with my girlies.
However, the Giro d'Italia was on (international bike race being held in NI this year), so Lynsey, Lauren, and I were trapped on the wrong side of the road from Kiera and our pub.
Eventually, we made it over and ate some lovely food before heading over to a pub for drinks and dancing.
SATURDAY:
I didn't originally have Saturday plans, but I wanted them.
So, on a whim, I texted my friend Amy to drop everything and bond with me.
She did.
Came over with pints of ice cream and we chatted over boys and Jesus for about five hours in the library, stopping only when we realized that it was nearly 3am.
I left that conversation liking Jesus a whole lot.
That sounds a bit daft, of course I love Jesus. But liking and loving aren't the same.
I was reminded just how great I think he is. I enjoy knowing him and being around him.
I was nudged into that sentiment by the way God demonstrated, by way of my conversation with Amy, the way that he makes pain practical.
Our experiences, while personally and intrinsically good, are not meant to affect us alone. No, all the rocks which smash into our souls create ripples and waves that effect all those around us, even when we don't realize it.
And the crazy times, the beautiful times, are when you're having a conversation with someone and can see an edge of the bigger picture, how your story and their stories intertwine with one another and speak into one another.
And when we are bold, when we are willing, we get the chance to actively participate in sharing with another what you see, where you've been, and what the Lord has done.
Monday, May 5, 2014
F is for Friendship
For the past few Sunday evenings, I’ve attended Newtonbreda
Baptist with my friends. And, afterward, gone out for ice cream before landing
back in my living room.
Have I mentioned that I am now the sole Lady of the Manor
these days? I’ve got to admit: it feels pretty good.
It also feels good to have friends to host.
Last evening, we sat around chatting and, randomly, one of
the guys decided it was a good idea to have a circle of testimonies time (while
I pinterested one of the girl’s hair).
It was pretty fitting, since the morning message at Vineyard
was about the power of sharing stories. On
Easter, as they did baptisms, each
person had a friend read aloud the baptee’s cliffnotes spiritual journey.
I cried pretty steadily through the whole thing. The power
and encouragement which comes from hearing of
God’s good work is more than
emotional walls can withstand.
So we went around the circle and shared our spiritual
journey with Jesus.
Stories and handwriting are similar.
I’ve got this handwriting analysis book (no memory of where
I got it or why I have it) that I used to use to casually analyse the
handwriting of my friends. It’s pretty dead on, surprisingly. Or, rather, not
surprisingly. Either way.
It’s part of why I miss letters. 70% of communication is
non-verbal. Emails and type face just don’t get across the same kinds of things
a pen can.
When people tell their story, the way in which they
construct it reveals just as much about them as the content. It also
demonstrates their level of comfortability with their cohorts and with
themselves.
What do they include? Are they jittery when they speak? Eye
contact? Tone? Do they even share at all?
For an hour or so, I got to hear the honest hearts of my friends as they told of heartbreaks and inconsistencies and screwups and the desperate knowledge of their need for Jesus. It amazed me yet again of how different we, as humans, all are. And at the same time, how very similarly we fall apart.The circumstances may all be different (or eerily similar), but all people hurt the same. We're pretty fragile things.
Every day here I all more in love with Jesus and this
country and these friendships.
And there’s a part of me that wonders how and why I didn’t
have these people 8 months ago when I was so desperate for them. At the same
time, I maintain that I would have been incapable of engaging in their friendship.
Emotionally unavailable, as someone once told me.
Day by day, I come more alive and my spirit more free. There’s
still that voice and my calendar which remind me of the tick tick ticking of my
countdown here, but I refuse to live inhibited by the fear of that. I serve a
God of anomalies and impossible things. What I have right now is what I thought
was an impossible thing. I’m gonna revel in it.
Ain’t that good? Isn’t he just so good?
Monday, April 28, 2014
Life is Like a Box of Chocolates
THURSDAY:
Though it is very nearly impossible to get "in" with a friendgroup here in NI (they've all known one another since the dawn of time it seems. and is.), I had the fortune to have been adopted by Lynsey and Lauren at a Newcomer's meal, a month after arriving here. Later, we were joined by Kiera, their other best friend.
Yes, their reasons were that my friend Shelby (last semester's cook, now gone) looks like Zooey Deschanel and we're Americans, but it happened nonetheless.
Through them, I had a support system, rides to small group, and, to be blunt, a way to stay sane.
This semester, though, that desperation for somebody to talk to me has melted into genuine friendship. I feel safe to be silly with them. They're tops.
On Thursday evening, we had a fancy dinner party and movie night.
Each one of us contributed a course, and we sat about and ate and talked and laughed.
After, we hopped around in my backyard before retiring in my living room for a movie and Ruth's Salon.
When my hair was long, I used to do all sorts of Pinteresty things to it, so my buddies graciously allowed me to pin them up.
FRIDAY
After a long day of work, my friend Megan (from small group) came to fetch me, and we headed down the Lisburn Road toward ice cream. We thought we were going for coffee, but obviously ice cream's voice was like a Siren call. Irresistible, really, as we had forgotten our beeswax.
Our date lasted for probably four hours as we talked over God's direction for our lives, our recent travel ventures (she spent a month or so in Thailand in January), and what's been running rampant in our minds.
SATURDAY
Remember Craig from the Naomi/Craig combo?
Well, it was his birthday! Yay!!!
I, along with Naomi and a whole bunch of his friends, went out. We sat at a table under a pavilion outside a pub and "had the banter" with one another.
Fun fact, suspenders don't mean suspenders here. Brackets are to suspenders what suspenders are to lingerie/panty hose holder uppers.
You know, just easy ways to make myself look silly.
People don't think I'm funny here.
I was funny in the states! I know because I asked when nobody would laugh at my jokes!!!
Conversely, I don't often find the people here funny.
People laugh, and I just sit there stupidly wondering what I've missed. Happens all the time.
I may not be super thrilled about a lot of the aspects involved with American culture, but I am indeed looking forward to people chuckling at more than my stupidity. Oh they'll still laugh at my stupid moments, but at least it'll be tempered with actual witicisms.
SUNDAY
Part I:
After church at Vineyard, Megan (same one from the evening of ice cream) and I went to the Titanic Quarter. She had heard about a Thai Culture Festival and wanted company. I was all too delighted to oblige.
It took a good deal of walking around confused to find the place but, amidst the vast area of what once was an immense shipyard, we found it: T13.
T13 is a big-ish warehouse (she thought it was huge. I'm american. Ees medium size) which has since turned into a skate park.
It was so Belfast I can't even tell you.
Amidst the "festival" (8 booths, one of which was for dohnuts, one for coffee, and a stage), there were ramps and clusters of kids on bikes, skateboards, and scooters.
We ate pad thai and dohnuts (neither of us suggest combining those), walked around people watching, took selfies with the oil rig outside I think looks like a giant octopus and the cranes used to build the Titanic.
On the drive home, we chatted over the end of the world and how we're all already chipped. Technology is creepy with the degree to which it knows me: exactly where I am, my likes and dislikes, my friends, everything I say and do.
Twas good. She's a valuable friend. We always have such constructive conversations.
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Part II:
I miss having guy friends.
As a girl who grew up with brothers and has always found guys to be easier to bond with than girls, not having a single guy friend on this continent for months and months has been a serious gap.
However, I must have passed some sort of test, because Kiera, Lauren, and Lynsey started bringing me around the rest of their massive friend group, as well as night church at Newtonbreda Baptist (which is wonderful, by the way).
Last evening, post service, we all went out for Maud's (again. Man. Ice cream never ever gets old to me), hung out there until they closed, then headed over to my house for games and just hang out time.
Yes, I've only got a month or so left here and yes, that is a little late to make new friends.
But despite what deepening my friendships and making new ones is going to do to my heart when I leave, I would rather leave with the memory of having risked living boldly and actually having the opportunity to miss people than to leave just as separated as when I came.
Though it is very nearly impossible to get "in" with a friendgroup here in NI (they've all known one another since the dawn of time it seems. and is.), I had the fortune to have been adopted by Lynsey and Lauren at a Newcomer's meal, a month after arriving here. Later, we were joined by Kiera, their other best friend.
Yes, their reasons were that my friend Shelby (last semester's cook, now gone) looks like Zooey Deschanel and we're Americans, but it happened nonetheless.
Through them, I had a support system, rides to small group, and, to be blunt, a way to stay sane.
This semester, though, that desperation for somebody to talk to me has melted into genuine friendship. I feel safe to be silly with them. They're tops.
On Thursday evening, we had a fancy dinner party and movie night.
Each one of us contributed a course, and we sat about and ate and talked and laughed.
After, we hopped around in my backyard before retiring in my living room for a movie and Ruth's Salon.
FRIDAY
After a long day of work, my friend Megan (from small group) came to fetch me, and we headed down the Lisburn Road toward ice cream. We thought we were going for coffee, but obviously ice cream's voice was like a Siren call. Irresistible, really, as we had forgotten our beeswax.
Our date lasted for probably four hours as we talked over God's direction for our lives, our recent travel ventures (she spent a month or so in Thailand in January), and what's been running rampant in our minds.
 |
| That ice cream? Honeycomb with snickers and nutella. Drooling is acceptable and expected. |
Remember Craig from the Naomi/Craig combo?
Well, it was his birthday! Yay!!!
I, along with Naomi and a whole bunch of his friends, went out. We sat at a table under a pavilion outside a pub and "had the banter" with one another.
Fun fact, suspenders don't mean suspenders here. Brackets are to suspenders what suspenders are to lingerie/panty hose holder uppers.
You know, just easy ways to make myself look silly.
People don't think I'm funny here.
I was funny in the states! I know because I asked when nobody would laugh at my jokes!!!
Conversely, I don't often find the people here funny.
People laugh, and I just sit there stupidly wondering what I've missed. Happens all the time.
I may not be super thrilled about a lot of the aspects involved with American culture, but I am indeed looking forward to people chuckling at more than my stupidity. Oh they'll still laugh at my stupid moments, but at least it'll be tempered with actual witicisms.
SUNDAY
Part I:
After church at Vineyard, Megan (same one from the evening of ice cream) and I went to the Titanic Quarter. She had heard about a Thai Culture Festival and wanted company. I was all too delighted to oblige.
It took a good deal of walking around confused to find the place but, amidst the vast area of what once was an immense shipyard, we found it: T13.
T13 is a big-ish warehouse (she thought it was huge. I'm american. Ees medium size) which has since turned into a skate park.
It was so Belfast I can't even tell you.
Amidst the "festival" (8 booths, one of which was for dohnuts, one for coffee, and a stage), there were ramps and clusters of kids on bikes, skateboards, and scooters.
We ate pad thai and dohnuts (neither of us suggest combining those), walked around people watching, took selfies with the oil rig outside I think looks like a giant octopus and the cranes used to build the Titanic.
On the drive home, we chatted over the end of the world and how we're all already chipped. Technology is creepy with the degree to which it knows me: exactly where I am, my likes and dislikes, my friends, everything I say and do.
Twas good. She's a valuable friend. We always have such constructive conversations.
 |
| The tugboat used to tote people out to board the Titanic. |
Part II:
I miss having guy friends.
As a girl who grew up with brothers and has always found guys to be easier to bond with than girls, not having a single guy friend on this continent for months and months has been a serious gap.
However, I must have passed some sort of test, because Kiera, Lauren, and Lynsey started bringing me around the rest of their massive friend group, as well as night church at Newtonbreda Baptist (which is wonderful, by the way).
Last evening, post service, we all went out for Maud's (again. Man. Ice cream never ever gets old to me), hung out there until they closed, then headed over to my house for games and just hang out time.
Yes, I've only got a month or so left here and yes, that is a little late to make new friends.
But despite what deepening my friendships and making new ones is going to do to my heart when I leave, I would rather leave with the memory of having risked living boldly and actually having the opportunity to miss people than to leave just as separated as when I came.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
A Little Craic Never Hurt Nobody
Try saying that in an American airport...
Also, if you haven't caught the fact that nearly every single one of my titles is the name or line of a song. As a general suggestion, you should google them, except insert "party" for "craic" here. :)
Saturday was a right ole 4* day. If it were 5*, it just wouldn't be Irish.
The day started with Naomi and Craig. We were meant to go climb Slemish Mountain, but it was, as Naomi says, "pishin' out the skies" with rain, so we kept it close instead.
After we'd grabbed Craig, we drove to Brown's Bay, which is north of Carrickfergus on the coast.
They said when it's super sunny, the place is packed, but for us it was quiet and just downright gorgeous.
It's this lovely little sand beach with a hill overlooking it stuffed full of these yellow flowers. Extending out past the high grass hill and into the water are these large boulders you can climb all over.
We climbed, we saw cool birds and swimming seals, we breathed in salty fresh air, and we listened to the curls of the waves as they twisted round the rocks.
Post dander, involving Naomi and I sinking into bog up to our calves, we drove down to Port Muck (yuck!) for a wee BBQ.
Muck Island, where Port Muck is located, is actually a bird sanctuary, fun fact.
It was crazy windy, so Craig's first attempts at lighting the instagrill were kind of a fail. So, we hid behind a wall (which seemed to be there without purpose in the middle of a field) and tried again.
Did I mention that we also forgot a knife? Yeah. So, Craig brandished a stick to flip the sausages and tear them apart. he may or may not have burnt his fingers, but those sausages were finger-licking good and put in between two slices of white bread.
After sausages, we (and by we I mean Craig) decided it was a good idea to put my lemon glazed cookies and the Chips Ahoy (or, at least, the British equivalent) on grill.
Oh, the caramelized sugar. :)
A little wet-butted for wear and smelling like smoke, we peaced out and I headed off to my next suaree.
Part B of the evening was a birthday party for my MA friend Emma.
The whole class (yes, all 4 of us) were there! Wait! Not true. Jo didn't come. But 4 out of 5 is still pretty good odds.
We started out at Made in Belfast for dinner. Since I had had lunch not an hour previous, I got soup. Unsurprisingly potato. Surprisingly delicious. Possibly the best potato soup I've ever tried.
Chocolate torte with salted caramel ice cream for dessert.
Later, we landed at Lavery's Pub to get our dance on.
Dance we did, the whole night long, attracting fun strangers to join us as we went on.
What can I say? Wherever we go, that's where the party's at.
Also, if you haven't caught the fact that nearly every single one of my titles is the name or line of a song. As a general suggestion, you should google them, except insert "party" for "craic" here. :)
Saturday was a right ole 4* day. If it were 5*, it just wouldn't be Irish.
The day started with Naomi and Craig. We were meant to go climb Slemish Mountain, but it was, as Naomi says, "pishin' out the skies" with rain, so we kept it close instead.
After we'd grabbed Craig, we drove to Brown's Bay, which is north of Carrickfergus on the coast.
They said when it's super sunny, the place is packed, but for us it was quiet and just downright gorgeous.
It's this lovely little sand beach with a hill overlooking it stuffed full of these yellow flowers. Extending out past the high grass hill and into the water are these large boulders you can climb all over.
We climbed, we saw cool birds and swimming seals, we breathed in salty fresh air, and we listened to the curls of the waves as they twisted round the rocks.
Muck Island, where Port Muck is located, is actually a bird sanctuary, fun fact.
It was crazy windy, so Craig's first attempts at lighting the instagrill were kind of a fail. So, we hid behind a wall (which seemed to be there without purpose in the middle of a field) and tried again.
After sausages, we (and by we I mean Craig) decided it was a good idea to put my lemon glazed cookies and the Chips Ahoy (or, at least, the British equivalent) on grill.
Oh, the caramelized sugar. :)
A little wet-butted for wear and smelling like smoke, we peaced out and I headed off to my next suaree.
Part B of the evening was a birthday party for my MA friend Emma.
The whole class (yes, all 4 of us) were there! Wait! Not true. Jo didn't come. But 4 out of 5 is still pretty good odds.
We started out at Made in Belfast for dinner. Since I had had lunch not an hour previous, I got soup. Unsurprisingly potato. Surprisingly delicious. Possibly the best potato soup I've ever tried.
Later, we landed at Lavery's Pub to get our dance on.
Dance we did, the whole night long, attracting fun strangers to join us as we went on.
What can I say? Wherever we go, that's where the party's at.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
It's the Climb
Slieve Donnard is the second tallest mountain in Northern Ireland (I am more than 98% sure that is correct. Please don't Google).
It resides up on the Northern Coast in my favorite town Newcastle. I suppose there's no particularly obvious reason why I should like Newcastle more than any other town around that area.
To other people, they would think it's just like the others. Coastal, quaint, a chippie, a Maud's, and hiking trails.
To me, that place is full of just such a good memory.
When I came here two years ago with the Family and Human Services team (I was the only minor with 18 majors. It was painfully obvious when it came to feely-talks), we took a day trip to Newcastle and on that trip, starting with a very carsick busride, I got to know Madison Blakeley (now Stewart).
I'll get back to Maddie dear, but I want to make a general statement. While I was there, and even in the direct months after coming home, I didn't see a "point" to my trip. It was fun, but no tangible growth was present, I didn't think. In the two years since coming back, though, I have seen more fruit from that one month than I could have possible imagined.
Not only is is the ultimate reason why I am physically where I am, but it also gave me three of my most treasured friendships, a lot of good introspection, and forced me to read a few books that I really enjoyed and like having in my memory stores.
That to say, things that seem a mere playful trifle now may prove to have lasting influence.
Now then, Madison.
She and I got to talking and discovered our mutual upbringing in the Assemblies of God church (a HUGE deal to find in common) and other personality and communication similarities.
When we got off the bus, we just kinda stuck together, trailed behind the group, and enjoyed the town on our own pace without the energy level of our classmates.
We spent the whole of the afternoon alone, getting ice cream (that spectacular sundae is called a KnickerBocker, and no, I have have no clue what was in it. But I can tell you it was churned with love and heaven), getting chased and creeped on by a local, walking barefoot on the shoreline, and plunking down on some spongy grass. It was the perfect day.
No matter what memories are made there after that, it serves as my core memory and not the comparison. It cannot be compared or tarnished in any way.
The Kanukuk group and I returned to Newcastle twice. The first time, we got a wee lunch and ice cream (Poor Bear honeycomb from Maud's. A local best and must-have). The second time to climb Slieve Donnard.
Words to describe that experience: exhausting, hilarious, beautiful, windy.
The wind.
Seriously.
The wind.
At one point, I was literally thrown on the rocks in front of me it was so strong. I now have new appreciation for the Irish blessing, "May the road rise to meet you; may the wind be always at your back."
Our 64 year old bus driver was smoking all of us by half a mile and runners made it up and back down again before we'd even made half our journey.
You don't talk much when you climb. You don't think much when you climb.
Mostly, you climb.
And try to breathe.
And take off layers and put layers back on without getting them and you thrown off the edge by the wind.
And climb.
This was the second of the two final activities which I required coercion to participate in by my friends who refused to let me antisocialize myself, but I'm very glad I did it.
As my Grandma Ruth would say, good or bad, "We're making memories!"
It resides up on the Northern Coast in my favorite town Newcastle. I suppose there's no particularly obvious reason why I should like Newcastle more than any other town around that area.
To other people, they would think it's just like the others. Coastal, quaint, a chippie, a Maud's, and hiking trails.
To me, that place is full of just such a good memory.
When I came here two years ago with the Family and Human Services team (I was the only minor with 18 majors. It was painfully obvious when it came to feely-talks), we took a day trip to Newcastle and on that trip, starting with a very carsick busride, I got to know Madison Blakeley (now Stewart).
I'll get back to Maddie dear, but I want to make a general statement. While I was there, and even in the direct months after coming home, I didn't see a "point" to my trip. It was fun, but no tangible growth was present, I didn't think. In the two years since coming back, though, I have seen more fruit from that one month than I could have possible imagined.
Not only is is the ultimate reason why I am physically where I am, but it also gave me three of my most treasured friendships, a lot of good introspection, and forced me to read a few books that I really enjoyed and like having in my memory stores.
That to say, things that seem a mere playful trifle now may prove to have lasting influence.
She and I got to talking and discovered our mutual upbringing in the Assemblies of God church (a HUGE deal to find in common) and other personality and communication similarities.
When we got off the bus, we just kinda stuck together, trailed behind the group, and enjoyed the town on our own pace without the energy level of our classmates.
We spent the whole of the afternoon alone, getting ice cream (that spectacular sundae is called a KnickerBocker, and no, I have have no clue what was in it. But I can tell you it was churned with love and heaven), getting chased and creeped on by a local, walking barefoot on the shoreline, and plunking down on some spongy grass. It was the perfect day.
No matter what memories are made there after that, it serves as my core memory and not the comparison. It cannot be compared or tarnished in any way.
The Kanukuk group and I returned to Newcastle twice. The first time, we got a wee lunch and ice cream (Poor Bear honeycomb from Maud's. A local best and must-have). The second time to climb Slieve Donnard.
Words to describe that experience: exhausting, hilarious, beautiful, windy.
The wind.
Seriously.
The wind.
At one point, I was literally thrown on the rocks in front of me it was so strong. I now have new appreciation for the Irish blessing, "May the road rise to meet you; may the wind be always at your back."
Our 64 year old bus driver was smoking all of us by half a mile and runners made it up and back down again before we'd even made half our journey.
You don't talk much when you climb. You don't think much when you climb.
Mostly, you climb.
And try to breathe.
And take off layers and put layers back on without getting them and you thrown off the edge by the wind.
And climb.
This was the second of the two final activities which I required coercion to participate in by my friends who refused to let me antisocialize myself, but I'm very glad I did it.
As my Grandma Ruth would say, good or bad, "We're making memories!"
Saturday, March 8, 2014
A Page of Heaven
The last Friday Kanukuk was with us, we all took a day trip down to Dublin.
The Belle in all of you just died a little bit.
Those of you who are unaware of the makeup of Ireland, that means we went to an entirely different country. Odd, yes?
You can tell a Dubliner accent straightaway if you ask them to say the number three. If you hear "tree," then you've got a local. Feel free to shoot them your questions on directions.
I suggest asking directions for Gino's Gelato. Rich, creamy, and not a bad price. My favorite, which they have since seemed to discontinue, is rum raisin. This past time, I got a side by side of muffin and pistaccio cookie.
Pistaccio is one of my favorite ice cream flavors, if not my favorite. However, I recently learned that there is not a speck of actual pistaccio in Blue Bell ice cream. It's almond flavoring. But what about the nut pieces, you say? Almonds. It's the ice cream of beautiful lies.
MOVING ON.
The day started with a trip to view the Book of Kells in the Trinity Library.
The book itself is a gorgeous illuminated (fancy word for illustrated) version of the Bible and so old you wonder how it made it's made it so long. It hasn't. Only half the book still exists now.
The book itself was lovely to look at, but it was the library that made me tingle.
The Belle in all of you just died a little bit.
I have nothing further to say on the subject. They say enough for themselves.
The rest of the day was spent between walking about doing silly things and staying out of trouble, in the National Gallery, and in the Chester Beatty Library.
The Chester Beatty Library is composed of the collections purchased by Sir Alfred Chester Beatty of the United States, otherwise known as the King of Copper.
A miner by trade, Sir Alfred made his fortune and bought up others' fortunes of books, eventually donating them all to Dublin, gaining an honorary citizenry during the same time period.
Without his bibliophilia, this century may not have even had the chance of discovering or seeing some of the oldest print versions of the New Testament and countless other artifacts from the western and eastern worlds alike.
I love what I do, this reading and studying of mine.
It may not be of any great or significant importance, but if I were a writer (and I am sometimes), I would like to know that somewhere out there, some person is "wasting their time" experiencing what I penned into life.
This library, this sort of cemetery for authors, is their living legacy.
They've died, but every time someone opens up one of their books, their voice is alive and well again in the pages as old as the story. At least these pages.
You lose that in electronic books, the history of the book itself.
People like Sir Alfred seem to get that.
Thank you for giving it back to us.
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