Even Change

I neglected to spend any time reflecting when my 24th birthday came along, but I did at 23.

Today, I turn 25. A whole quarter, the coin and the fraction of a century.

And, while my 24th birthday didn't leave much to mention, my 25th does.

In the past year I:

1. Kicked off the year by getting engaged to the very best person.

2. Together, through a fantastic real estate agent (the husband of a coworker) we bought quite the fixer-upper and embarked on a ridiculous journey with our entire families of getting it to a state of livability. 

3. I finished my second full year of working as an admissions counselor and decided to stay on for a third year. 

4. We got married, surrounded by our very best friends, our families, and waffles. :) 

                           

                                 

5. We moved in together, made it through a particularly long and brutal travel season, continued working on Cliffhouse, spent Thanksgiving with my three brothers, their wives, their six kids, and my parents in Atlanta, Georgia, and spent Christmas with his parents and grandparents. 

It's been an emotional year, a constantly evolving year. 

I deeply loved living with two of my best friends, Sarah and Makayla, but it's such a feeling of peace to have removed division of my spirit that I felt being apart from Julius. 

This year, I made wonderful friends, strengthened my relationships with my coworkers, and had to let go back to her home in Arizona one of the bedrock friendships that I have had in Arkansas. 

This year was the first that I really felt like I had to take true ownership of my adulthood, much more than I ever had before, though others would probably say I had already done that. 

It's been a journey, but I am happy. So, so happy. 

You never know what the next year will hold. 

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.

When We Talk of Home

When you speak of home, what words come out?

When I speak of home, my home now, it is not with a whole lot of fondness. Because I'm smack dab in the middle of it. I take the same two streets, maybe three on an adventurous day, and that's just so...discouraging. Dull. Drab. Uck.

If I want to go out? I have two coffee shop options in Siloam (be prepared for all students). Or I have a coffee shop in Springdale. Woo.

Sometimes I just feel so damn stuck in this awful, awful hamster wheel life.

And then, I have a conversation with one of my students.
And, in telling them a bit of my own 17 year old heart, I fall back in love with my 23 year old life.

The message:

 "Eeeeek! I'm so excited Jamie. I called my best friends this morning [to tell them I made my college decision] and they're super excited too!...I think the thing that got me the most is when I was talking to [my future roommate (who, ironically is the sister of my own freshman year roommate)] last week and she said, 'JBU is home.' I don't think any other combination of words can describe my heart at this moment. Thanks for letting me freak out in pure excitement and joy on you!"

My response:

"I could not understand that feeling more.
I felt it too a long time ago. And now.
From the second I stepped onto campus, I knew it. When I was your age, I was unsure of a lot of things, but I was sure of JBU.
It's the reason why I came back from Europe.
JBU, Siloam Springs, is the place you want to build your bookshelves, the place you want to unpack your life for the long-haul.
And no matter where you go, no matter what you do after, it will always be your home." 

I meant it.
This is my home.
Here's to seeing your home through the eyes of another and re-learning how to love.

Back to the Island

In three and a half hours, I'm hopping on a plane and heading to Northern Ireland.

Tuesday through Saturday morning, I get to battle jet lag whilst spending time with some of my favorite people.

It's a melt that Naomi has up and moved to Spain and Lynsey is on placement in Paris, but all the rest of my best friends and colleagues are in the planner.

I'm so excited I can hardly sit still--early apologies to my aisle mates on the plane--

Graduation itself is at 2:30pm on Thursday; that's 8:30am for my folks back home in the south.

And, Queen's does this very wonderful livestream, so friends and family who want to tune in for some hoods and beautiful accents can do so here when the time comes. Heresay claims that there's curtsying involved. I truly hope that isn't so.

It is a strange and wonderful feeling to be thrilled at the prospect of returning to Belfast.

The first time I went, in the summer of 2012, I was too unsure of what I had gotten myself into to be properly excited.
The second time, I was too in love and saddened by separation to fully appreciate my move.
The third time, I was determined that it would be a better experience than the second, but that isn't the same as elation.

Now, with a stable mind and body and heart, with friends like family waiting for me at baggage claim (literally), I am overwhelmed with thankfulness and joy.

I'm going home. :)

Courtesy of Lauren Esler. :)

Find that Funny Bone

There are wrong times for comic relief.
Believe me, I come from a family where we deal with (most) emotions by dealing out humor.

However, never underestimate the power of humor to dissipate anxiety and anger.

In my Family and Human Services classes, we learned about "repair attempts."

It's those things you do that bring uncontrollable situations into the realm of "Okay I can handle discussing this" again.

Sometimes, that's a 5 minute time out. For my professor's wife, all it takes is him touching her on the arm. I'm not sure what mine is, but I know that something that does work for me often is being taken off-guard by something that makes me smile. Sneak attack humor!

There's been a couple situations weighing on me pretty heavy since I got home (which makes some serious sense, considering how much drastic change I've gone through in such a short period of time), and twice yesterday was I brought out of my seriousness and into clarity.

The first was bestowed upon me by my boyfriend, who decided--mid-conversation about the acceptability of having feelings (something I struggle with sometimes) to ask me whether I thought women or men would live longer should one of their limbs be cut off, given that women are so much more conditioned to losing unreal amounts of blood. It was so...random. And I laughed.

Laughter has actual effects on the body.
Listen to just one of its benefits, stolen from the Mayo Clinic's website:
"Laughter enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain."

Later, I was at a party, where I came across two people I never anticipated being at said party. During the course of the evening, I ended up in the same conversation circle, and a mutual friend of myself and one of said non-wanteds was brought up.
This new acquaintance could not have known the context for why bringing up this mutual friend was funny, but it was enough for both me and the ex to have a moment of significant, amused eye-contact. Our first positive interaction in more than half a year. It was good.

My point in bringing up laughter and amusement and conversations/people I don't like is to say that even matters that seem so hard and fast in one direction can be altered with the smallest of actions.

It reminds me of something I read on pinterest once:

Laughter reminds us that we are human. And no matter how full of red hot emotion, are not unable to find a point of connection and relatability.

Lasts

• Last lunch with my MA friends (Boojum and Common Grounds after for coffee and traybakes)
• Last goodbye and house reset for any groups I'll be in charge of (Family and Human Services. We liked them very much). 
• Last bonding time with Heather and Jonny (My smallgroup leaders during the past year, featured here with their kids, Heather's sweet sister Lorna, and some cute kids I was babysitting)
  
• Last trip to the special collections (to look up an old MA dissertation for help on how to structure my own)
• Last coffee in the Starbucks on Botanic (the site of many a public tear shed)
• Last night in my room, St. Patrick (They needed my room for one of the other group's students)
• Last "class" (technically that was a couple weeks ago, but I had to return to meet with my dissertation supervisor) 
• "The Last Supper" with the girls (High Tea with Lynsey, Lauren, and Megan)
• Last Botanic outing (dinner with Steve and Hot Greg)
• Last cuddles with Lauren at midnight (really good surprise)
• Last Sunday morning at Belfast City Vineyard (Happy Pentecost, errybody!)
• Last hugs with Kiera and my other church friends (Held it together dynamically until my final hug with Kiera)
• Last hugs with Megs (she came over to drop by a "Northern Irish Must-Haves" gift. So lovely)
• Last tea with Naomi (where I passed the torch of Mac n Cheese and Kool-Aid off to her, we finished the season of New Girl we started when I got here, and she gave me an "on-flight entertainment" gift, wrapped but I'm assured it's customs approved)
• Last bag packed (It was an ordeal. Don't even want to discuss how much cursing happened)

Now to spend my last night in the place I've called home for almost a year now and will forever be part of my soul. Lynsey told me I'm allowed to claim myself as 1/22 Northern Irish now and would be more legitimate in doing so than nearly every American that claims Irish heritage. It made me laugh. And it's probably true. 

These here are my last goodbyes. Wow. 

Overlooking Home

To get to my home in Tulsa, you take 71st west until it ends. Literally. No more 71st.

Actually, at the end, you take a left hand turn, but if you don't, you drive up this winding hill and land up at The Oaks country club.

I used to lifeguard up there.

Coming down the opposite description off a late night-shift, you can, for a few moments, see out all across Tulsa.

The blue lights from the Jones airport, the wee lights from "little Jenks," the brighter ones that line 71st and down past that as well.

Something about that sight--much like the sight of rain and stoplights on pavement--I find soothing.

A galaxy of my own. Accessible.

And I'm separated up there on my hill, in my car, but still connected and descending.

For me, judge as you will, it's a bit of a transcendent experience in its own simple way.

Spent "submission evening" with my friend Amy from Uni. We ate pizza, drank contextual beverages, and watched the office, periodically stopping to talk over Jesus and "right now."

The question of the evening was, "Do you feel like yourself right now?"

Yes. And also no.

I felt the most myself in February am the start of March.

Then the closer I've gotten to the end of my time here, the further along and more concrete my "future" became, I sort of started not feeling quite me.

I hear myself saying things I don't really mean and behaving oddly or out of character or inconsistently. And I think that's normal.

If I weren't being a bit odd, I think that would be indicate of a larger problem. It's good that I'm feeling the anxiety of this new and major transition: out of studenthood and into the workforce, out of one county into the next, the old. Shoot, even out of one state and into another.

It's a lot of change.

As she was pulling out of her housing area, I realized we were atop quite a sizeable hill. And from where we perched, set to descend, I could see the lights of Belfast.

I felt home. I felt, for just a strange wee second, calmed and ready and desirous to return and start over.

I'm nervous, at times very frightened, but this is going to be a good thing. God is good. All the time.

April Showers (of Blessings)

At the start of this month (in regards to The States), I was phoneless, carless, homeless, and jobless.

And by the end, I have a great vehicle I plan on driving until it dies in a nursing home parking lot sixteen years from now (its predecessor Bess set some pretty tough standards for Toyotas. 500,000 miles logged into that car over 16 years, five of which were mine. And, though she did die in a nursing home parking lot, which really is just ironic, she is still kickin' with a nice hispanic family my dad knows).

Secondly, I have been invited to join a home. I'll have my own room, the kitchen and living areas are lovely, there's a fenced-in yard so they're letting me keep my wee pup (Oh how I've missed him!!), and my roommates, though I don't know them, seem so sweet and warm. They are introverts, too! From our one FaceTime and emails/Facebook posts of theirs, I can already tell I'll enjoy living with their quirky selves.

Third (which I have already mentioned), I have occupation. Signed my contract just this week, actually, when my new boss came to visit Lakeside. I was very thankful for the chance to get to chat with them and rewrite my first impression on them. The first impression? My roommate Lauren's wedding rehearsal was at their home. I had the flu. And spent the majority of the rehearsal puking and hiding out in their kitchen hoping nobody would notice my absence. It was super classy.

My favorite part of all three of these was that they took me entirely off-guard. Honestly, I prayed for a car that worked, a roof that preferably didn't leak, and a direction. At the same time, I had in my mind what would be considered The Dream, the best possible situation. Did I ask for this? No. Because I would have been thrilled with the basics.

In return, I have had the complete shock of not once or twice but three times over being given the EXACT parameters of my dreams.

This is not a "suffering leads to gifts" or rewards for service. Not at all. Don't misunderstand me.
I see this as grace and confirmation over and over and over that the direction he's sending me in is exactly where I am supposed to be walking toward.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Home

*photo cred to Eli Zuspan

Yesterday was magical.

I joined the Kanukuk group that's currently residing here to Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, Giant's Causeway, and Dunluce Castle.

The thing is, I've gone to all three of those places more than once. The first time scooped my heart out and guaranteed I'd do anything to move here. The second time, I felt nothing beautiful. The loveliness of my surroundings oddly made me feel all the more alone and disconnected.

This time was different. I experienced those beautiful places with. Thanks to Kira's book (once more! Seriously. Those 4,000 questions are rocking my social sphere), I made a few friends on the twisty bus ride over to the North Coast, and they didn't forget I existed when we exited the bus.

I spent the whole of the day getting to know and becoming known. I wasn't being tolerated. I was being liked. Better yet, I was being myself. There wasn't any intense social anxiety making me weird or overquiet or overloud. Just me. I can honestly say I haven't felt that...normal since I moved here.

"Ordinary" is underrated. What many people consider an average day, I now consider a miracle. It's not something to give me that "Oh, the poor dear!" look for. More, I mention it to tell you all, I shall tell you all to be thankful for the everyday joys. They may burn slowly but they burn bright.

*Causeway photo cred to Emily Orf

*Dunluce photo cred to Eli Zuspan

Like Riding A Bike...

The truth is, I didn't learn how to ride a bike until fifth grade.

I know! Crazy! It's ultra convenient, fun, and keeps you active, but no matter how many people introduced it to me or took painstaking attempts at trying to kindle a bond between us, bicycles and I were not friendly with one another.

Then one day while we were cleaning out the annex, I took out the bike, walked it up to the street, got up on it, and rode. No problem.

That, in a nutshell, is my friendship with Haley. Slow to start but impossible to forget.

Introduced at age 3. Mutual hatred until mid-middleschool, despite countless attempts to cozy us up to one another.

Then, one fateful Monday carpool with our neighbor Susan (oh, we're neighbors by the way), Haley Nelle and I finally clicked. Naturally, through bike riding. And we've been riding the same neighborhood pathway ever since.

I can't say our friendship has ever been anything short of extraordinarily strange, but I can say it is extraordinary.

High school for us was a literal version of a T-Swift song, "She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain, and I'm on the bleachers." We didn't talk at school hardly at all. She the extreme extrovert, everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. I was introverted, booky (not to be confused with bookie), and had a presence very much felt wherever I went. Different. Perhaps bad different from one another, but we worked.

Mostly, our friendship is one of puzzles, bike rides, Walmart (RIP Reasor's Video), and the random soulful conversations that give relevance to the other seemingly depthless 98% of the time.

And, despite however far we go from one another, like if she ran off to China and I ran off to Northern Ireland, we still fit right back in to the flow of life together the second we both show up in Tulsa.

She's the best friend whose family sets a place for me at the dinner table if I happen to be there anywhere near that time (unannounced, of course), who searches through my pantry if she gets hungry during puzzle time, who knows my garage code and just shows up with a "hi family!" at any given hour and day, who keeps a toothbrush and contacts case at my house but assumes she gets choice pick of my clothes, and whose family isn't the lease surprised when I pop in at her house or family functions even when Hay is out of town. They just smile an hand me pie.

She gets me, differently. Like, her predictions of my relationships are always completely dead on, whether I agree with her at the time or not and she knows how I'll respond to things before I even know how I will sometimes--and why--and we live oddly parallel lives to one another right down to matching wasp stings one summer several towns and campsites apart.

Unlike Caity and Kira--whose friendships I value completely but also understand how they function really well--I don't understand or know how to communicate my friendship with Nelle. Each time I try, I totally fail and end up confusing (and concerning) my audience with our past adventures and mountains and valleys and total lack of emotionalism with one another.

For instance, at the end of one summer, she chest bumped me and said, "well. it's been real" just before we parted ways for multiple months. A different break, I don't even think we had a final goodbye. We're just not like that. But I live and laugh louder when Haley's around.

*Do not ever ask me to join you in (or tell you about) sledding, trampoline jumping, or riding down any hill of any size on a toy tractor.

All that to say, my favorite Chinese import was delivered to me via airmail last week, and we instantly fell back into "normal." Biking, Spades, ice cream, Walmart, Snow White puzzles, the works.

Who knows? Maybe I'll move to Denver with her after all. She's got 9 days in person to convince me.

Forget and Not Slow Down

Relient K really does have a song for every life experience.
I don't care what you say, they're lyric geniuses and I have no intention of growing out of them.

New Years Eve.

Even though the conference still had a full day left, I had a tradition to uphold in Tulsa. And, because I am all about traditions and following-through, I came home to the arms of my beautiful best friend.

Now, we thought that no New Years party could top last year, but we were wrong.

Last year, Kira and I kicked off the night in our Forever Lazies, watching Pitch Perfect with champagne in hand. Then, after 45 minutes of desperate texts, heytells, and phone calls from Haley, we finally took pity on her, got off the couch, prettied up, picked her up, and headed over to Caity's.

Meant to be super creepy of us. This is just to give you a visual idea of the magic that is the Forever Lazy

Craig loves us. 

There, pie.

Next stop, our buddy Lauren's for bunko and silly string. Finally, we packed back into Bess (RIP, car) and took the party to my house. We blasted Ke$ha all the way there (making sure Hayhay kept all body parts in the car. Challenge) and howled at the moon in the street after I parked. More Pitch Perfect, some Barbie Sparkle Kingdom, and champagne, then sleep. Great night.

This year, Haley is in China and Caity is married, leaving Kira and I to our own devices.

Our group involved Kira's parents, her aunt and uncle, her brother and his three friends, her, me, and two other girls. And the dog. Can't forget the dog. Petunia hounded me all night. (HA).

I guess there wasn't anything super dynamic "do" wise, but it was, I think, the best New Years ever.

Her family is loud and brash and really loving and wonderful. We danced in the kitchen, laughed, played Uno, yelled (a lot), ate a lot of food, enjoyed contextual beverages, silly stringed one another, tried to watch a movie (asleep before a quarter over. all of us), got perpetually attacked by Petunia the dog, and ended up asleep, piled on the couch together. The next morning, we slept in till past noon and started the year off right with cookies and coffee.

Like I said, simple.

I've never liked parties. I always feel like I'm supposed to be doing or saying something and not doing it right. Not comfortable and more than usually have somewhere specific I'd really rather be.

I think that's why I liked it so much. Yeah, I kinda wished I could still be with my OneThing group (they actually missed me and FaceTimed me at midnight. So sweet), but where I was where exactly where I wanted to be. And Kira was exactly the person I wanted to be with.

Two Christmas breaks ago, I crawled into bed with my mom (yes, at 19) and cried, with just this weird gut feeling that by the next year, everything was going to be different. It was.

By the end of last Christmas break, Caity was engaged (Craig actually joined us for New Years last year). And Kira, too, was engaged by then.

Caity got married this summer. Kira gets married in six months. Haley is in a serious relationship and living in China.

So, this New Years wasn't like it it, necessarily, but in a way, it kinda was. Technically, last year was our final group of singleness and freedom, but I'm digressing from the point.

Things are changing. 




We're like, to that point where people are expecting us to do things like grow up and get married...or a dog. (Ten points, Cubby!). This time next year, Kira will join Caity's wife club. For that matter, so will Haley probably. And me? Who knows where I'll be or what I'll be up to.

But for one night, none of that stuff mattered. We just let ourselves forget about all it all and everything that's staring us in the face, and we were back to being silly teenage best friends. That made it the very best.

Cheers to you, God and Serotonin.

Today I opened a fortune cookie: "Advancement is achieved through hard work." and my chinese word of the day was "europe."

...

Good evening, and welcome to the conclusion of the long-awaited 26th of December.

For a long while, I'd had this day marked as the day I had to "make it" till.
Here I am! Making it.
Wrong country, but same girl.
And also, not the same girl.

I received a letter today from my sweet friend Leslie (have I spoken of Leslie before? Surely. Les is my NI roommate from our Family and Human services trip summer 2012. and also my personal Charles Wallace. Invaluable human.)

I actually received two letters today. One which made my room smell of lavender but both marked with the name "Emmanuel." Emmanuel is God with us. To quote Les (sorry if you read this and are horrified. I'm probably going to do it again, though.): "Not only did God care enough about us to come down and be a part of humanity, but He also still dwells with us every single day. God is with me. And at the same time He is with you. How very special I feel when I remember I serve Emmanuel, who never leaves me."

I couldn't think of a better way to word that. Beautiful. Such beautiful truth. God is with us and through us and around us.

My two other favorite highlights from her letter are when she compared me to Frodo on return from Mordor (Her impressions of my person when she saw me in Siloam last week. Yikes. Re: "not the same girl.") and her comment just after.

The Mordor thing is meant to make you laugh, not deepen your worry for me, by the way.

Her after comment, though, was: "I saw you, and there were no layers to peek under to find you, as there sometimes have been."

I don't think I could receive a higher comment from a higher source.

All my life, I've been trying to hide or to become. When I finally realized what I was doing (a much more recent event than I'd like to admit), I honestly had no idea where to even begin to pull off the layers I'd built around me. Sifting through the actual and the constructed, impossible.

Will the real Jamie Odom please stand up?

I guess the real Jamie Odom wasn't standing up at all. She was kneeling. She was curled up in a ball on the floor. And I didn't even know there was anybody else in the room to see her. I didn't see her.

I guess the real you doesn't show up when you're looking for her; she shows up when Jesus himself rips everything else away.

I'm not really even sure what I look like right now. Have kind of a blind spot. But others seem to be able to see me, and they couldn't before. So whether or not I would know me in a crowd, praise God He and others can.

Today, I woke up kind of anticipating I'd want to be alone and hostile. I wasn't.
I actually woke up very cheerful. Jansie and I had a nice long chat, had lunch together, wandered a trendy part of town (decided neither of us are trendy enough to desire a return visit), and walked along the pedestrian bridge. It's supposed to be over the river but, in pure Oklahoma fashion, our river is dry, dry, dry.

After, I'd settled into an inverse parabola. Definite sink.

Spent the next three hours in a coffee shop with my cuz. Krissy, with (not despite of) all her craziness and her very definite, passionate opinions, makes sense to me. One of my most favorite people to be around and has a knack for shoveling me out of any foul mood. Half distraction, half no-nonsense "let's deal with this crap and move on" attitude. It works.

Day 2 in a row of almost total clearmindedness. I'll take it, with thanks.

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.

No Other Details Matter.

I've prayed nothing but a desperate call for mercy during the past week.

Sweet Jesus Christ, I'm going home. Tuesday.

Love is Not a Feeling

I'm a really big fan of Myers-Briggs personality types. It's actually one of my hobbies to watch people and try to guess their letters.

I am an ISTJ. A sensing, thinking, judging, introvert. It suits me pretty well. Famous ISTJs include a whole host of military leaders such as George Washington, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and Stonewall Jackson. If you're not picking up on this, I'm not exactly a gushy gushy feeler. I'm logical.

Feelings are important, but feelings (and feelers) are also often mislead and driven by their emotions.

Love is not a feeling. Love is a decision.

Sometimes, it can be both, and that is really lovely, but being dependent upon some will of the wisp emotionalism to decide important relationships in your life is not okay.

I bring this up to (once again) talk about the Lord.

He and I are taking life one single day at a time right now, and to be honest, I'm having a pretty difficult time here in NI. Learning a lot, not mourning my losses, but just ready to go home and feel like I fit and belong somewhere.

I've written about that a lot, the concept of "home." I don't know where mine is. The home of my childhood will always be my point of reference, but my friends have moved on from there; Arkansas was my college home, so it's already altered from what it was when I was there; Here is home in location and home in practice.

For me, give us this day, our daily bread is give me an exact measure of fortitude to stand up under this day.

If my love for God were feeling-based, we would be on the outs right now.
But it's not.
It's an accumulation of decisions: chosen actions, chosen thoughts, chosen views of his character. I trust him.

I trust that being here is exactly the right place for me and all the consequences of being here what I need to be drawn closer to him.

At the same time, the moments he gives me a break from this taffy-pull growth are delicious.

Last evening, sort of by accident, we had living room snuggle/worship time.

For I don't even know how long (a couple hours at least), one of the guys played the guitar and we worshiped together. The room was dark-ish, the fake fire glowing, and we were all set at ease to spend time individually, communally with God.

It reminded me of NLR Unplugged nights back when I worked at camp. Friday nights, we would pack into the chapel, light candles all over and a fire (even though it was 1000 degrees), and sing together. There is something powerful and awesome about cutting out the electric (lights and instruments) and lifting up your praise together with fellow believers.

For me, there were no chills of holiness nor a feeling of staunch resistance. There were no ping-ponging thoughts or self-consciousness about my singing. No feelings of any kind. For some, this would be discouraging. Not for me.

Still. 

For those two hours or so, I wasn't wrangling my own psyche into the straight and narrow path. I just got to sit on dry ground and sing while the Lord held back the walls of the Red Sea of my mind. And I realize I've mixed some metaphors there, but I'm also okay with that.

I want to go home. That is my feeling. If I followed my feelings, I would be on the next plane to Tulsa.
I am a follower of Jesus. That is my action and decision and statement of devotion. That is love.

One Familial

Though there's an argument on my side that his birthday is the 22nd rather than the 21st due to timezones, by Tulsa Time, Samuel Jonathan Odom was born to my siblings Chon and Emily yesterday, on the evening of the 21st.

Sammy Superfly (Chon let Weird Al name the kid) is the second baby boy to be born to any of my siblings. He and Harrison (nephew #1 and firstborn grandkid) sandwich my three beautiful nieces. I'm not just saying that. They're seriously good looking.

Feast your eyes:

 Sitting in ascending order below are Ella Grace, Libby Rose, Gianna Aloisio, and Harrison Peter.

They're not particularly fond of taking photos, but meet them once and you will never get your heart back. Do you see Ella's battle cry there in the bottom? How cute is that? You know you're sitting there awkwardly laughing by yourself at your computer. Don't try and hide it.

Libby love is the older sister of Superfly. She is 2 going on 12. Bright, kind, and funny, if not a little shy. Absolutely loves animals.

When I met her, she shocked me with her direct, unwavering eye contact. Literally a day out of the womb and she could stare straight into your soul without blinking for full minutes.

Chon as a dad is a bizarre concept for me, even though he's had Libbs for 2 years. He's a really wonderful father, don't get me wrong, but he's also the guy who used to practice WWF wrestling moves on me and make me sign semi-abusive contracts before I could read. He's still my obnoxious, antagonizing big brother (hides my cell phone every single dang time I see him. I've had to chase his car down the street more times than I'd like to admit).

People grow up. Isn't that weird? Or people exist one day and don't the next. Or people semi-exist one day and are lying sweetly right there in your arms the next. Humanity is madness.

With the excitement of his birth comes a twinge of selfish sadness. He's the first birth I've missed. Even when I lived in Arkansas, I would drop everything and drive to Tulsa if one of my sisters went into labor.

Thank goodness I'm coming home in January rather than June, but still. I miss my family. I want to snuggle my nieces, ask for Libby's "first impressions", and hold my nephew. But life changes and moves us. Sometimes physically moves us. I don't want to miss their lives or be the aunt they only see at Christmas or on FaceTime. I want to come home.

The State of State

Day two of orientation. I was both on time and had a second miraculous experience with the buses, both there and back.

Not much of note today, save meeting Cecilia from Italy, Sanna from Sweden, Miriam from Germany, and Daniel from Bellavore. Or something like that. Poor Daniel. When he told me where he was from, I asked him if that was a country or a city. Somewhere crammed up there with Russia and Poland. I shall have to look it up.

Post orientation session and verification that I am, in fact, legal to study in this country, I went on a book hunt. I only have one of my classes' lists, but it is quite lengthy. Thanks to Joris, I knew of a few book shops near school. Two of them were lucky for me, though I deferred the purchases for store two for a different day.

At OxFam books, I found three sort of versions of the books I need. I say sort of because they're not exactly what I need but they suit my purposes. For example, rather than the complete anthology of Oscar Wilde's short stories, I found the complete anthology of Oscar Wilde's works. Yes? Yes.

When I was checking out, the bookman noticed my wee notebook with book list written-in, asked if I were in a rush, then scampered off downstairs to the basement to check to see if any of them were there. Then, when they weren't, he pulled out a giant map of Belfast and traced directions (by way of landmark not north/south/east/west) to two shops he thought could be of use to me.

I am constantly shocked at the kindness of strangers.

Post hunt, I went about in the botanical gardens for a bit.

The green house contraption is full of cacti and hot plants. If you were not aware, I've a particular soft spot for cacti.

Most of today, though, I was homesick. I'm having a lovely time, don't get me wrong. It just so happens that even if your life at home is dull and drives you insane, when you leave it and someone asks you, "Where you from? What's it like?", you get into all the hot wee details about it--how your best friend lives within walking distance and has a cow pasture for a backyard and how you can hear the still-in-use oil rigs going if you go for a walk in quiet hours of the day and how the weather just before and just after a tornado is full and electric and tinges the world with green and how you can switch from country to small town to city within fifteen minutes and how you spent every summer as a mermaid in your backyard pool--and you remember why you loved it in the first place.

It's home. It may not be my home right now or even in the next few years, and it certainly did not give me that feeling of place and true belonging when I was there this summer, despite the presence of my wonderful family. But in my heart, always, there is Oklahoma.

Home.

Feast your eyes on my new home.

I left Tulsa at 5:45 am on Thursday morning, had a 12 hour layover in Newark (followed by all my flight fears being confirmed on the flight to Belfast), and am finally, finally home at Lakeside Manor in Belfast.

Fear not, I have kept up my record of crying in airplanes (I blame Dramamine mixed with altitude...).

I also made several airport friends--a wallstreet man, a canadian, a pastor, two Istanbul-bound sisters, and a very kind lady in a wheelchair.

So now, with my cup of tea (at last, tea that tastes as it should), I am settling into my new room and my new life.

Stories to follow, I'm sure. :)

"Where's Home for You Anyways?"

Last night, as I was running my checkout with my  manager, he asked me, "So, where's home for you anyways?"

I said, "Here."

But I didn't mean it. On the drive home, I thought about his question, and I think my answer isn't "here," but more along the lines of, "What is home anyways?"

I wrote sometime during college that I felt like a nomad, and it's still true. My point of reference and the place where I will always think of as home is in the house where I'm writing this. Not Tulsa, necessarily, but in this home. I will always have a secret pleasure in driving up the hills and through the fields and past the big blue wall to get to my wonderful, wonderful home and family.

And my body is here right now, but this still isn't home.

My heart is in Arkansas.

I went to college there, a few of the people I love best are there, my church is there, my academic self found an outlet there. But it was my college home, and college ended for me. So it's not my home anymore.

Then I'm moving to Ireland, and it will be lovely and adventuresome and everything good and wonderful. But again, it will only be a year. Not my home either.

Then to Denver for another degree. Still not home.

So, folks, am I meant to redefine? Or am I meant to continually wander with my heart in five different places at once?

"Where's home for you anyways?"

My heart is playing in the pool outside in my backyard and in the mountains with Haley and in Stillwater with Caity and in Houston with Kira and in Siloam with Noah and Abby and Becca and Maddie and JBU and First Pres and in Belfast with Queens. That's where.