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.

In Decembers

In Decembers, I miss God.

I recognize that that's an odd sentiment to share (and to have) but it's the closest way I can think to communicate how I feel.

Belfast and I have reconciled. We are good friends now. My second semester there was beautiful in every way, and even the first semester was necessary.

But in Decembers....I get in my own head. Can't shake it.

Decembers taste like unending, UK-attempted green bean casserole, apples, puzzle dust, cold tea, grief, and vomit. It smells like I need to shower. It sounds like "Merry Christmas, Here's to Many More" and "Dark Horse" and songs I still can't listen to. It feels like darkness crushing into each cell.

Last December, I spent my time with friends at graduation in Belfast, laughing with my housemates, loving and being loved by my handsome boyfriend, holding my family. It was a good time.

This December, I'm so happy at work, at home, in Tulsa. I am so blessed. I am so happy.

and yet.
and yet.

In Decembers...I feel it all. As though nothing present were present.
As though I were still there.

Still alone.
Still dying.

Which, I recognize, seems like an incredibly hyperbolic thing to say. But I never felt as dead-souled as then. In all the other months, I don't think about it, I don't feel about it, I don't write about it. In this month, though, it is around every email, song choice, nap, bend in my drive.

You know when you're sick and all you want is your mom?
No matter your age or situation, your mom is your first instinct to call out for. You want her. You need her.

Even though I'm better--wonderful, in fact--that's how I feel. I feel sick. My mom wasn't there, couldn't be there, the first time it happened. The one who took care of me--geez. the only one in that whole stinking country who cared about me, it seemed at the time--was God.

So now, when I feel sick at heart and soul from feel-backs and uncontrollable sentiments, I miss God. We aren't separated, but we aren't together in the same way.

My mom and I talk all the time. We go shopping, we enjoy one another, but our relationship is very different when I'm ill.

It's the same with God. We spend time together, but it just isn't the same kind of need.

Either way, here I am. Feeling. Sick at heart with no reason to be. Missing God, and thankful for my savior. Thankful to have been saved and loved and have my life and my favorite country redeemed.

How I Casse-Roll

Thanksgiving food reminds me of Belfast.

Historically, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
The morning is spent watching the Macy's day parade (this year with cuddles from two of my nieces and nephews), then time to clean up before family members start to appear.

My auntie Joyce gets there first.
Every year, that evokes, "Oh gosh, they're here already?!" from my mama Jansie.

Then, as she panics and I kind of putz about the house, everyone else shows up.

Trout, veggies, and other random hors d'oeuvres are consumed and then my family crams themselves around the dining room table (at their assigned seat).

At this point, we grab hands, sing "Father, We Thank Thee" and then my father tries to pray. Tries, because he always ends up choked up, which is very precious.
It doesn't matter if Daddy prays of if one of the boys prays, the Odom men cry when they pray. I like that.

Then we sit and enjoy one another and eat all the random, delicious dishes that we have all contributed. "Oh my gosh! This ______ casserole is so scrumptious! Who made this?!"

And then the rest of the day kind of twiddles about, but all in all, the entire thing is all the fun of Christmas without the presents, which I love.

Why then, with all these warm and bright memories, would Belfast the Cold be my mental trigger?

Last year, right before the fall semester team left, we had a Thanksgiving feast.

There were enough leftovers to make up an entire feast. Like, whole casseroles.



Then they left me.

The woman I lived with was passionate about not having leftovers. Passionate to the point of...extremism. Like, digging thrown-out food out of the trashcans.
She had good intentions.
However, she also experienced a lot of allergy-type reactions to most foods.

Thus, it was up to me to eat everything the team left. It was character building and waistline widening both.

I'm sure you remember post after post after post of things I baked with my 11 pounds of apples (just one example of my mass food eateries). I also had to eat Thanksgiving.

Meal after meal.

It was exciting the first week.

But, like all casseroles, it's day 9 that things start getting rough.

After that, I had to make meal baggies, a heft spoonful of each dish into a ziplock.

Then I'd pull one out, rip off the bag, and microwave it.

Rough times, friends.
Good thing I really like Thanksgiving food.

When I came back from my sojourn to Oklahoma, though, guess what had been thrown out of the freezer.
I can't even remember if I was more sad or more amused by the irony.

Hola Praha

To be frank, geography is not my keenest skill.

When Sonya asked me how I felt about the Czech Republic, I thought it was in Africa.

Turns out, it is right up there by Austria and much cheaper to fly to.

Fine by me. Then, by some sort of providential pintervention, I discovered the most beautiful library I've ever seen and looked to see its locale: Prague, Czech Republic. Yep, yep. Definitely fine by me.

We arrived in Prague mid-Monday and were greeted by a gust of warm air and sunbeams. We very nearly lay on the sidewalk and wept.

I knew she and I would get on well when, upon walking into the city and seeing some native american dancing (because, of course), she said, "Ok. First order of business: ice cream." Praha was a little disappointing in that region, but that's the only one.

Our hostel was just on the outskirts of the old town square, where we arrived just in time to experience their Easter Market.

Trdelnik is a local favorite. It's like slow-roasted dough on a spit. Looks like a sugar-coated napkin ring. Vanilla, almond, sugar, and dough. 

That tree has sombreros, giant eggs, and streamers all up in it 

 While in the Czech republic, we had several run-ins with adorable dogs. People had dogs everywhere off their leashes. Weird breeds, too.

My favorite (not pictured) was a wee white dog that looked like the puppy version of a polar bear. Seriously, it had cub ears not dog ears. I could have snuggled it all day long.

This, of course, led to a discussion between myself and Sonya on the nature of dogs and leashes. Do we dog-leashers condition our animals to yearn for freedom and, thus, run off when unleashed? Do these unleashed foreign dogs behave because they are entrusted with their freedom?

So many questions.

The dog on the right there, Sally, we saw running around a bagel shop in Prague. Just happy as a bug running all about. Nobody minding at all.

Her owner, Lucien, we learned is actually a Seattle native who just kind of ended up in the Czech republic. He's part of a blue grass band there, and it's awesome. 

Lucien also informed us that the US imports their German Shepherd police dogs from CZ because they are some of the best dog trainers in the world.

 Betcha didn't remember that Prague is the hometown of Franz Kafka! Blanking on Kafka? It's ok. Not all of us are English majors.

Kafka. Think "The Metamorphosis." Think man gets turned into a giant bug. There you go! Now you're with me.

Fun fact: Kafka, though from Prague, was only popular after death, largely due to the fact that he wrote only in German. Not Czech. In fact, Czech was language #13 for his works to be translated into. WHAT. Crazy, I know.

Beautiful, no? No wonder Hitler wanted to make Prague his summer home following his victory in World War II. 

An example of a principle I learned from a horrid Freshman reading requirement called..oh shoot! What is it?Something to the effect of Transcendent Grace, or, to define it instead, the idea that even non-Christians and non-Christian things can teach us more about and be used for the Kingdom of God. 

Now then, that example. Hitler. 

Because he wanted to make Prague his summer home, he ensured that the entire Jewish sector of the city be left untouched. Yes, it was in the major floodzone, but not to be touched by man. He wanted it to be used later on as a commemoration over his enemies. 

Yet, because he lost the war, the Jewish section of the city is one of the only untouched areas of Judaism that remains intact to the core. 

The music hall (which I could not get a good shot of) has six statues on the roof. 

I think it was Mozart, but it could have been Beethoven--I am seriously losing credibility here--played in that hall. But the statues! 

One of the musicians up there was a Jewish man. The German dude who took over the building wouldn't stand for that, so he sent his lackies out to go shove it off the building.

However, they didn't know which one it was, so they measured the noses and wrecked the statue which had the longest. Ironically, it was the only German musician up there. Pissed the leader off in the extreme, but the Jew stayed. :) 

One of those bridges, by the way, is called "Most Legii," which looks like Most Legit. Soooo we walked across it. 

I'm rather certain that what's featured below is the senate building, with gardens named after some family whose name I didn't catch while eavesdropping on a segway tour group. 

It was also a peacock garden 

 Okay this is my favorite part of the garden. This is a faux-natural dripping rock wall. I think I like it particarly well because I didn't know it was fake until I reached the plaque at the end.

On my way down the wall, though, I had been noticing things that looked like trapped faces or trap doors or huts with feet (the picture on the left if that dang plant hadn't been there).

Then, upon reaching the plaque, I learned that that was the whole point. the wall was designed with an air of magic and mystery about it. There are all kinds of hidden little tricks in it. So whimsical. I loved it.

Then there's the astronomical clock.
Let me tell ya. They are dang proud of their astronomical clock.
At the top of every hour, two little windows open and saints go round and round peekaboo style (as in the picture), while a skeleton rings a bell (up there by the upper circle on the right). Then, for the finale, that golden rooster shakes its feathers, does a little dance, and crows.

The clock itself tells you basically everything from position of the sun, the season, the time, where on the star chart we are, and the phase of the moon. The moon part, though, is manually changed every single day, but nobody has any idea who does it. It's all very smokey and mysterious, Quasimodo like.

Oh! By the way, all the historical information I'm pulling out is from our gorgeous Australian tour guide named Ashley. He also specializes in pies.

Snapshots Sans Snapshots

Family Christmas: 

Joey, Cristin, and their two not-so-wee ones Harrison and Gianna finally, finally made it back to Tulsa from their new home in Georgia to spend a few days. 

Therefore, family Christmas!! That means, tons of children (and Jacob) running about crazy, just so excited to have some cousin time. We ex-kid table-ers were pretty excited about it, too. :) 

I've never been a huge fan of children. They're loud, they have altogether too much energy, they're easy to step on, and they're sticky. HOWEVER, nieces and nephews seem to slip right on past that rule. 

There are few sounds more precious than hearing my nieces or nephew (Sam can't talk yet) yell "Aunt Jamie!", or any form of that. 

And I get the great honor and privilege of filling their heads with complete nonsense. I love them. Even if I don't necessarily spend tons of time with them in town, just knowing that they are near is comforting. When I leave, I always hurt to know that there are whole tracts of their lives I will miss. Shoot, Harrison and Gianna are giants compared to when I saw them last. 

But then we're all back together, and all is well. 

Trifecta Christmas:  

I guess we're officially adults now because no selfies were taken whatsoever.

On the other hand, we did put together a puzzle made from one of our particularly favorite selfies thanks to Hayhay.

The evening was spent as it darn well should. Food, friendship, and ice cream on the kitchen floor. 

We're rather simple in our fun-having with one another, but I think that's how it should be. We don't require diversion to be totally satisfied in the presence of each other. We may require Rocky Road and the occasional cocktail, but those are just perks. 

I'm always pleasantly surprised and thankful at the way our friendship has flexed, adjusted, and grown over the past five years. We've made it through breakdowns, boyfriends, cross-country and cross-cultural moves, and all sorts of in-betweens. 

None of us really understand how or why we work together, but we appreciate the fact that we do. We make for a good team, the three of us (and occasionally the lovely Kira).  

"I'm Just a Girl Who Can't SayNo": 

I personally struggle with boundaries. I say yes to just about everything, so long as it isn't destructive or dangerous. Or a practical joke, because those suckers just escalate, and ain't no way I want to be in that cross-fire. You're on your own. 

If I don't have a really, really good reason (or a superior good reason to their good reason) I can't help but say yes because I know if I were in the other person's position, I would want them to say yes to me. 

That's how I ended up judging a high school debate tournament yesterday, yet again. 

Don't get me wrong at all! I love debate. It’s like fencing: calculated, classy, and intelligent.

I've judged tournaments every year since I graduated, upon request. It's interesting, I learn things, and it gives me an opportunity to provide constructive feedback. 

However, with only a few days left in the country, I wasn't exactly thrilled to be asked. 

Nevertheless, I came. 

THIS TIME, though, I set boundaries! I said I'd stay till 8. I did. Then, when they handed me new judging ballots (for a round to which I had not agreed), I said no politely and went on my merry way to watch Snow White with my niece and nephew. 

Then, (I was on a roll, I tell ya), I said no to suggested Saturday social plans. I didn't have alternative plans, I just didn't want to go. And that is what I said, nicely.

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.

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.

Touchdown Turnaround

Today's morning could be described best by one of my favorite lines of poetry: "I wake to sleep and take my waking slow." However, the rest of the day was characterized by a different line from that same poem: "I learn by going where I have to go."

Despite the three alarms I set for myself and the fact that I was actually outside my bed on three different occasions, I did not make it awake and alive until nearly 11. Shoot. All those big plans of research and productivity went as dim as the pathetic attempt at daylight outside.

However, by noon, I was washed up and out the door with a chunk of banana bread in my hand and a Translink journey router on my phone.

DRUMROLL PLEASE

I had to take a bus and a connector and go to a different side of town and I DID NOT GET LOST. I did make friends with two bus drivers and a handful of strangers, though.

My destination was in East Belfast, across the river. I've talked about the danger of East Belfast before, but perhaps I should explain better what I mean. They aren't as much dangerous as they are paranoid. East Belfast is mainly Catholic Nationalist populace.

They're angry and bullied. Like the kid who was made fun of and beat up so much as a kid that he eventually goes crazy in a school shooting or ends up as the exec of a major business and wrecks eternal psychological damage on others forever in retribution for his own past.

They were made into who they are. It's actually pretty beautiful, their anger, in a way. The murals, their sheer passion, the fact that what they're fighting for (brutally) is a united Ireland; it's admirable.

I wasn't there for anthropology, though, I was there to help in the Vineyard church office stuffing newcomer packets.

After a few hours of my methodical, independent task (I truly love methodical, independent tasks), I took the bus and my connection back, got off at Queen's, and read another chunk of my homework.

The book I need, Stepping Stones, is only in the special collections room. I had the brilliant realization that I don't actually need to buy my school books. I get them all from the library. Then, if I really like it or need it for research, I buy it online off the American Amazon, and have it shipped to my home in Oklahoma. That way I won't have 40 pounds of books when I travel back.

Merry  Christmas from Queen's!

Rushed home, made myself a bowl of soup and another yummy quesadilla, and then went for coffee with a lovely woman from my church named Lynne. She's one of those ladies that the word "dazzling" fits well.

She's got this wee blonde pixie cut, bright white teeth (a real anomaly here), and a sparkly little personality and person. Her whole self just glitters. You want to be around her.

So she asked me out to coffee. We had a very nice talk. Not so surfacey that I wanted to claw my eyes out with small talk fever and not so depthy that I felt as though I was prostituting my personal stories for the sake of conversation. A winner of a coffee date, I'd say.

Lynne also gave me this!

 

Holiday ice trays! The snarky packaging could not have been more dead on. I really have been craving ice. I think  I've had it all of once since moving here. They just don't do ice. Her husband got them random free from his company, and she thought I'd find it funny. Didn't expect me to be so exuberant. Like the year my grandma ree gave me a sham wow for Christmas. Man, aside from the forever lazy she gave me last year, that sham wow was the best gift. Practical but whimsical. 

Last but not least, I made an important life change today. 

Those, ladies and gentlemen, are burn-on bracelets. 

Not just any burn-on bracelets. 

Bracelets I've been wearing for 8 years. 

My wrist is actually slightly bent in from how long I've worn them. The time-worn tan line that's left behind is actually a little embarrassing now that I've cut them and stopped wearing a watch. 

The purple one is my Staff bracelet from New Life Ranch, and the blue and green one is from my first year at NLR as a Nehemiah. Nehi was the year I met Kira (my best friend from day one) and, in many ways, the year that I really took ownership of my walk with Jesus. 

NLR's motto verse is 2 Corinthians 5:17: "Behold! I am a new creation! The old has gone; the new has come!" 

I wore them for so long (except for the exceptionally dramatic time when they were forcibly cut from my wrists at a swim meet and I openly wept. and later burned them back on) not just because I loved my memories of camp and meeting Kira, but they were a daily reminder of the moment my life really started to change, that I was the start of a new creation. I didn't think I'd ever take them off. 

Not quite sure why today was the day, but it finally seemed like the right time. I am thankful that God used camp and Kira to shift my life toward him, but I am no longer that girl anymore. I no longer identify with who I was then, but she's been stuck to me for so long. She was absolutely wretched in so many ways and she's who the devil forces me to remember, claim, and be burdened with when I struggle, that I'll never succeed or be forgiven or whatever it is because I am ____, _____, and ____ and always will be. That is not the truth. 

I started the change as a Nehi, but I needed the daily reminder because I didn't get better for a very long time. I'll always be journeying, but that person I was in high school especially and the strands of her that survived through college was a miserable and mean creature. She needed to be cut off. Literally. 

So now I lay her down to sleep and free myself from her. 

I am not who I was. By the grace of God, I am what I am, and, by the grace of God, I am not finished yet either. 

I wake to sleep and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go. 

Merry Happy

December, Day 3. The students are gone. 

The cooks leave tomorrow night. 

That leaves Lainey and me. We chat about once a day around 22:30. Okay so maybe I wait up for her a little bit...

But everything is going to be OK! I have a plan (ha! I don't feel like finding the link to it, but that does remind me of John Kerry's presidential campaign. Never did find out what his "very good plan" was.) My plan is called, "Loneliness and Solitude are Two Things Not to Get Confused." 

Mostly it involves a self-structured schedule, crafts, projects, cleaning, homework, writing, and old people. And Puzzles. lots and lots of puzzling. 

This is my first day of self-scheduling. So far, it's going rather well. I got up an hour after I intended (which I had also accounted for in my schedule. Know thyself...), made tea, got dressed and ready for the day, then headed off to research. However, David (house fix-it extraordinaire) asked me to Christmas the house. We brought in all the boxes of Christmas supplies, and I set about organising. 

 The result is a disastrous foyer (yay! saving that cleaning project for a rainy day!), a garlanded bannister, some random wee trinkets here and there, and  three trees in silver, red, and gold. They're nothing like my ma's Christmas tree whisperer skills could have produced, but they are cheery and I like them.

Next up on my agenda is scavenging for food and then actually doing a bit of research before I head out to a church event tonight.

This is good.

My survival plot just experienced a minor setback in that I've just gotten word that my friend Adam (visiting the UK) is no longer coming to Belfast, so there's that. But...no. yeah. There's that. ha.

Challenges. But challenges are also opportunities. And this could be my opportunity to finally, you know, do something like memorise the encyclopaedia or something.

It's amusing, really, this obscene amount of free and alone time, especially in comparison to my senior year of college. I was literally scheduled every single day from 9 am (ain't nobody talk to me before 9 unless you've got coffee in your hands for me) until 10:30 pm. To get in my planner, you had to ask for a slot a week ahead of time.

This did mean that I missed out on a lot of the random "being there" stuff, eating food other than nachos, pb &j, and cucumbers, and spending time with the people I actually wanted to spend time with in a time slot other than "post 10:30", but I liked it. If I could go back, I'd probably end up doing it really similarly.

Except that last part. I fell asleep during many a night hangout. That doesn't make people feel very valued. ha. It was good for me, that very structured business. I wonder if my friends would have chosen my living ways differently, though. Was it as good for them as it was for me? Or did they feel that I didn't care for them because I just wasn't around or made them into a task of the day?

What were my priorities? What were my motivations? Are they the same now as they were then?
Guess I've got a lot of uninterrupted time to think about it.

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. 

One Cultural

The students' final field trip was to have tea with the Lord Mayor of Belfast City.

He apologized to us for the barbarianism of the front hall (and was serious):

I don't think we'll ever forgive the audacity of the too-early Christmas spirit.

The Lord Mayor is new each year, beginning in June. This particular one has been in council for the past ten years and is a member of Sinn Fein (pronounced shin fain). That means he's a nationalist. Really nice guy. Was totally gracious when we answered every single one of his questions with blank faces and stutters.

We did the ignorant american populace justice. It's so hard to be smart (or remember basic information like your name) when people stare at you and you're trying to balance a teacup that looks so delicate a butterfly could land on it and make it explode.

Possibly his best moment was his Obama story. You see, the Lord Mayor wears this...not a necklace. It's this gold string of the crests of Ireland. It's old and important. He met Obama a few months ago and was asked, "Where could I get one of those?" The Lord Mayor responded, "You're not going to rise to the level of one of these." The way he told the story was a lot funnier, but either way. Cheeky, sir. 

The group with the Lord Mayor and Hadden (notice the Lord Mayor's bling and the unreasonably tall bookends that are myself and Erynn. Welcome back to middle school class pictures).

Deck the Hall with Boughs of Holly (and other outdoorsy ventures)

Saturday I was scheduled for Newcastle, but plans fell through. Usually, I'd use that as an excuse to hermit up and watch netflix for multiple hours alone in my room.

This time, though, when Elaine invited me to jump aboard somebody else's plans, I said yes. 

The day started at Scrabo Tower. Once upon a time, Lady Londonderry looked out her window from Mount Stuart and said, "That hill is ugly. Put something on it." 

The tower itself is quite wee, but it looks out onto the most beautiful, most Irish landscape. 

This is Elaine by the way.

Next, we dropped off the two girls who were with us in Bangor and went ourselves to Cultra. 

Elaine (who for some reason I keep accidentally calling "Lainey," which she does not like) wanted to take me on a date, so we got lunch in a little inn there. Pretty across the board but especially in Ireland, I like to get food from the appetizer menu instead of the "oh my gosh how does any normal person put this much food into their body" menu. 

The key is especially good here, because they feed you like a horse. Seafood chowder in a Belfast bap. YUM. My mum would have loved it. 

After lunch, we went for a walk. Finally saw some trees in autumn glory. 

Ready for my favorite part? 

No editing this picture at all. That's seriously the way it looked. Don't believe me? Okay, here's another one. 

Holy goodness beautiful. 

Lainey (she's not here. she doesn't have to know) and I walked along the shore. Well, she walked along the shore. I ran around in circles jumping in the water and sniffing the salty air like some sort of very excited puppy that no one will play fetch with (reminding me, mother, are you playing with Cubby?) 

Home, switched groups again, and went back out into Belfast for dinner and Lights On Belfast. 

*More food photos taken for the sake of my mother and sweet grandmother*

 Dinner at the Crown Bar was brie with cranberry compote. Remember my note about the food here actually coming from animals and that being weird and awesome? Still true. Abby (one of the girls I was with) got lamb. Tried it, couldn't do it. Cheese is one thing.
Sheep is another. There are sheep everywhere here. I'd seen a whole flock just that morning. Wee sheep faces with their wee "baaaaaaaaa"s and there's slippery dead animal on your plate that may very well have been related to the rompers I just waved to in a friendly way.
Sometimes I struggle with animal eating. They have faces and personalities and families. (Do not invoke the New Testament blanket of meat thing).

Worse than me taking this creeper picture is that I had to turn my entire body in order to take it. Super obvious. I don't think he noticed, though. Why? Because this precious middle-aged man is on a date. He's got headphones in connected to his iPhone, and he was just facetiming away with his middle-aged counterpart. It was very cute. A little weird. But cute. 

Kacie, Abby, and I went from dinner to city centre. It was a free event, but you had to have a ticket. We did not have tickets but were fine with that, considering the event was outdoor around city hall. To wait out the kiddie music numbers before the actual light show, we hung out in a coffee shop. To get there, though, we walked through Boots and ended up in the "VIP" wristband section of the event. Funny how that works. 

Messy deliciousness in a cup. 

 City hall always glows, but during the show, it lit up all different color depending on the act. This was my favorite version of it. Belfast is so fun.

Through the whole ordeal, the emcee kept asking the crowd, "are ya feelin' festive?" I don't think I've actually ever used that word like that. No mention of holiday spirit. Festivity! It was also pretty applicable considering that the whole of city hall's lawn is a Christmas festival currently. WOO!

The Lord Mayor (in a festive reindeer jumper) counted us down, then the lights came on! Not even close to giving it justice, but each space between columns has a wee drape and star, the trees all along the entire structure are aglow, and you can see a piece, but there is a large tree in front that is totally decked. 

My day went on to include another walk, an evening spent with naomi, more tea, and a skype with my parents, the pup, and my wee niecey. Jansie was baking Thanksgiving breads (she makes three: banana, pumpkin, and poppyseed). The bully held the camera up to the oven and steamy breads. I was drooling. 

Do you see my face of incredulity at how she caused my tastebuds to stumble? 

So, crazy day, but good day. 

The paper, by the way, was cut down 770 words today. I'm still 230 over, but pfft who's counting? Once I find a printer, get it in hardcopy, and turn it in, that sucker will be off my mind for good. Until my marks come in. :) YAY GRADSCHOOL

End of gargantuan post.