A Book, A Box, and a Blessing

Gifts are not my favorite.

It makes me anxious to think of people spending money on me, especially if they're doing so after a misplaced sense of obligation: I'M SO HAPPY TO JUST HAVE YOU WITH ME LET'S PLAY JENGA!!! 

But thoughtful gifts stick with me absolutely forever and make me feel warm and sunny inside. 

Until yesterday, two were tied for first place. 

1. When I was a freshman in college, my boyfriend gave me an old copy of Oliver Twist. I actually dislike Dickens. A lot. But our first bonding moment involved me quoting OT and him mistaking it for "Little Orphan Annie". It was a cute thing. He even stole my mom's number, called and asked her if I already had it. Then, remembering I love old books, he went out and found it special for me. It was such a great, tangible moment of, "I know you!!!"

2. A second moment like that was the year after when my best friend of that semester presented me with a small gold-enameled jewelry box. It has daffodils (my favorite flower) engraved into it and it's delicate and beautiful without being too frilly and fussy. She had found it in an antique shop and thought of me. I use it every morning and think of her. It's practical and lovely both.   

Both of these were off the beaten track. Not mass manufactured or easily found and very...deliberate. Not like what I do sometimes and drop in Target to pick up something real fast before heading to the party. 

However, yesterday, something arrived on my desk that now ties for third place. 

On Monday, I got to spend time with my friend Leslie, who has been my penpal and confidante for what...? Three years now? She roomed with me when I went and visited NI for the first time, and we have written each other letters since (despite being on the same campus for one of those years). 

This is the same girl who whittled me an elephant with an eerily dead-on note attached. Sometimes, she Charles Wallace-es me. 

Yesterday, atop my desk, appeared two glasses (with lemon slice pictures on the sides) and a pitcher, all three filled to the brim with lemons, and a note stating:

 "Jamie Odom

Found these and thought you might put them to a worthy use.

Abundantly yours, 

Life" 

All day, when people passed my aromatic workspace and asked after my fruit, I'd tell them Life sent them to me. 

It was thoughtful, timely, unexpected, and so very sweet. Brightened my whole day. 

Day Date

I spent the entirety of yesterday with prong two of the Trifecta: Caity Ruth (Kullen) Roberts. Try saying that five times fast.

At long last, we found a slot of time between her married life and busy schedule and my unmarried life and apparent inability to accomplish the one goal which would enable me to go and see her (paper writing...I finished, by the way! Only edits and online submission stand between me and freedom now). 

The day started with coffee, as it should. We sat and chatted for I don't know how long in my living room, Cubby ever watchful. 

Then, after what seemed like an endless struggle against mutual indecisiveness, we headed on down to Brookside. It's this super trendy part of town with restaurants, coffee shops, and shops with stuff that are super cool, but you can't help but wonder who the heck buys from them. 

In Brookside, we split lunch and had high-five one of three for the day. When you share food and end up with the perfect amount, you need to high-five. There's an unspoken law. 

Shades of Lame came next. It's actually called Shades of Brown, but my camp friend Annie Paige always used to refer to it as Shades of Lame, and I've never been able to rewrite it back to the original in my mind. 

Probably because I think it's a definite shade of lame. It's like if a hipster were on hipster steroids. Except that it's so hipster, it's not even hipster anymore. It's just kind of uppity and I feel judged when I go in. Because they are, in fact, judging me. 

But Caity likes it, and anything with Caity is fun. So, we drank an eggnog latte and a brown sugar latte and talked and talked (so sorry to fellow coffee goers). On the list of subjects were people we went to high school with, how everyone we've ever met seems to be getting engaged, Joel Osteen, books we're reading or want to read, and how creepy the guy across from us was. 

Seriously, he was either tripping or had some sort of serious social dysfunction, but this guy across from us just sat there, blatantly staring, grinning, shaking his head, grunting or chuckling in response to our conversation, and giving us thumbs-ups. 

Then he'd leave. 

Then he'd come back. 

In the end, we left and went on a quest to find little HayHay a Christmas present (SHE'S CURRENTLY ON A PLANE HOME TO US OHMYGOSH). 

Mostly it just ended in us feeling really bad for the overly friendly store owners. "Well, she doesn't wear jewelry, she doesn't like trinkets, she doesn't do a whole lot of recreational reading, she lives in China, so it has to be small, no, still no trinkets"...etc. 

Usually, to find her a present, we just have to wander around stores until the muse reveals the correct gift. It's a serious struggle. Thus, the reason I didn't come up with anything to give her from NI. 

Caity, on the other hand, has a veritable stash in my closet. She's the easiest person for me to find gifts for. 

The rest of the evening was a blur of more chatting, searching, food, and ice cream on the kitchen floor. 

The best purchase (only purchase) of the day was a bowl shaped like a lettuce leaf. Since my freshman year of college, I've kind of been amassing ceramic cups, plates, bowls in the shape of fruits and vegetables. Not like have pictures of fruits or veggies, they actually look like they're made of them. 

I have a plumb cup, an apple cup, an asparagus cup, a lettuce bowl, and I used to have three more cups made of carrots, cabbage, and corn, respectively, but I have since given those away.  Jansie hates them. I think they're great. 

It was great, having Caity back. I'm never worried about our friendship, but it's such a pleasure to interact in-person instead of Skyping. 

I guess we sort of take each other for granted in that way, but it's a good way. We can move apart, make new friends, and alter the make-up of our everyday lives, but I always know she'll answer her phone if I need her to think up a word for me and she knows I'll always edit her writing. 

We'll forever share inside jokes, books, and our life stories. She's my best friend, what can I say? 

Hold Up, Wait a Minute; Put a Little Love in It

Missed last evening's post because I was pleasantly detailed by excellent banter. I'm sure you understand.

Well, I see fit to fill you in on the true highlights of the past three days. 

Friday and Saturday, I reached the end. Not like I was on suicide watch or anything (I hope), and I'm not entirely certain what I even mean consequence wise. The best way I can explain is there wasn't a single area of figurative skin left that wasn't bruised to the bone. 

And then, things changed. 

My first stop was the French Village where my friend Lynsey works. 

Lucky for me, the place was about empty. She took one look at me, assessed my emotional state, hugged me, and gave me a cupcake. And I said my friends here don't get me...

Next stop was home. Elaine had some missionary friends over. I had been pretty heavily rained on, so I ignored them to go dry off when I got home, but when I came out, it was to the most delightful family. They were so bubbly and welcoming and warm and just easy to be around. I weirdly felt as though I were the guest. [Elaine I think had forewarned them about me...Don't you love when you're the worrisome child?] 

While I was hiding in my room, I was looking at flight changes. Not encouraging. The prices for every single way out of here were unbelievably high. Then, I clicked on Tuesday. Tuesday, my friends, was fractional. Miracle miracle miracle and mercy. 

Cue explosive weeping. 

Then I went out and, like I said, bonded with the family. That, and danced about like a freaking fool. I don't think I've ever felt such a pure form of gratefulness and joy. 

While Sunday afternoon Christmas shopping:

 I knew I liked rugby...

Sunday night was "Carols and Candles." 

I was late. Very. ha. It was dark and cold and wet outside, and I wasn't doing so well on the self-persuasion that being on time was all that important. Besides, I was sitting next to a heater and enjoying a conversation and contextual beverage. 

Received call: 

"Ruth? Where are you?" 

"...home...I'm leaving now, though!" 

"No you aren't. Stay. I'll be there in two." 

Two minute later, a car containing Lauren, Lynsey, Lauren's Mark, and Kiera as driver. Thought for a moment they'd been on their way into town. Nope! They just all wanted to come along to fetch me. 

Candles and carols was lovely. Candlelit (duh...) with mulled juice and whole families and hymns and stories of struggle and grace. Jesus is very present in Belfast City Vineyard, let me tell you. 

Had to leave a bit early to make sure I was actually at my home when Naomi showed up, so I scampered out, only to receive a text within moments from Megan (last week's friend from after lifegroup) asking if I were okay. I hadn't even seen her at the service. Little things, my friends. 

Ran into the driveway as Naomi and Craig (the boyfriend? or boy friend?) pulled in. 

Despicable Me 2 was in store for us at her home, surrounded by her housemates Josh and Allen. I don't know if it was because I was seeing the world with rosy glasses or so encouraged by my unexpected liberty that I was silly and myself. Also, that movie is hilarious. 

Today was class: I finally figured out how to work the wifi network of Queen's (4 months later...), so I spent it phone out and taking creeper shots of my classmates to keep me awake. I've been time-zoning myself, so the sleep thing has been very off. 

Meet Eamonn! 

Paddy. (Eyes match that shirt)

Philip, Amy, and Emma. They did a really nice job of making this picture look staged.

 Amy and Johanna.

Tonight was the last lifegroup of the semester. I've never actually enjoyed small groups of any kind, but I can't imagine my life here without my NewComers' LifeGroup. It's the highlight of my every week.

Tonight, as our wee ice breaker, we were asked to reintroduce ourselves (everyone chimes your name back like an AA meeting) and tell about our most favorite anticipated Christmas gift.

Then it was my turn. My answer was home. I have spent the past three and a half months answering the question: "Are you going home for Christmas or what are you doing?" with an out of nowhere choked throat. My family drives me up the attic insane. But they're my family. And I've never wanted them more. This Christmas, I get the gift of going home and into the arms of people that truly and unconditionally love me.

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. 

A Wilde Box of Kindness

It's been a weird day. Strange talks I never actually imagined happening, strange emails with job ideas, strange packages in the mail, strange feedback from professors, strange behavior from myself. You know I skipped a class today? I've skipped two classes ever. We're talking elementary school until now.

The strange feedback was about my Wilde paper. I made some pretty stupid mistakes (re: started a sentence with a lowercase letter and without a subject, quoted a Wilde letter from "1989," etc), but they liked it. I scored 11 points higher than I anticipated and was told I have eloquence and flair in my writing. The paper doesn't actually count toward any class points, but it was enough to make me feel like the next three are in my realm of do-ables.

For so much of my life, being good at school has been the only thing that's mattered to me. This score and review of my work would have, at one point, been worthy of the refrigerator and a call home.

Their remarks gave me some much needed academic encouragement, but I've heard some other words recently that have stuck more strongly in my mind.

There's a couple in my small group with a math genius son (lucky freakin kid. I struggle with basic addition). Jonny told us that Heather's mantra for her son is this: "It's good to be smart. It's better to be kind."

I am good at doing smart. I am learning kindness.

Kindness is not only offering a spirit of grace and love. It's also knowing how to receive grace and love without flippancy or dismissiveness. It's a gentle gift, but it's a powerful gift.

I received in the mail today a powerful gift of another sort.

My mama sent me Thanksgiving in a box. :) Remember that poppyseed bread I talked up in a recent post?

Actual tears were shed over this box and bread. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It was really nice to come home to. Parents get it. Somewhere in those nine months before the kid comes, parents gain this incredible gift of third sight. They know when something's up, they know the right time to send you thanksgiving boxes or glitter glue in the mail so that it arrives on exactly the day you need it, they know exactly how to drive you completely insane with one single word, and they know exactly how to make everything better. All parents. Related or not. 

One month till I get to be driven crazy by mine in person.