Finding Neverland

26 hours and I'll be on a plane back to Northern Ireland.

It's funny, I have a really vivid memory of sitting on Tracy Balzer's living room floor eating dinner with her, her husband, and two of my gateway students. They were asking me about grad school applications and why I wanted to go to Ireland.

I gushed with radiant energy and excitement and absolute passion for that country and grad school program and adventure.

And now here I am, trying to convince myself to go back, knowing very well that I am "living the dream" of so many. And feeling very much like an ungrateful brat.

NI has taught me so much already. If the Lord sees it necessary to repeat a version of the second half of last year, He will. He is not unkind, but He is just.
And if he doesn't find it necessary, he won't do it. He is just, but He is not unkind.

I was given a great gift of mercy in being able to come home for this long. Many have asked me over the past week or so if I'm ready, and I haven't known exactly what to say.

However, my default quote-bank movie came to me with the perfect visual image of my sentiments toward the situation.

Princess Bride: Westley, in pursuit of the kidnapped Buttercup, follows the trail up the Cliffs of Insanity (which are actually the Cliffs of Moher in The Republic of Ireland), climbing quickly up the rope set out for that very purpose.

Then, the rope is cut! This leaves Westley clinging desperately to the side of the rock face, climbing every slowly upward.

When he finally makes it to the top (with the reluctant help of his impatient enemy), exhausted Westley pulls out his sword to begin the duel, but receives an unexpected reprieve first.

After a few minutes, Inigo asks:

"You ready then?"
"Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair."

And they duel.


I've climbed the rope, held on to the cliffs, received help in unexpected ways by unexpected people, made it to the end of the semester, received mercy and rest, but now, whether I'm ready or not, the Lord has been more than fair, and it's time to duel again.


While I rested on the floor of my soul and the floor of my bedroom, I've given some thought back to that night with the Balzers and my initial love. What was it? And what have I found to love now?

I love Ireland because:
-The people are kind and warm and understand how to value relationships over tasks.
-The grass is greenest on every side.
-If there's any conversation, it's everybody's conversation. You hear someone ask for directions, feel free to answer--even if you weren't the one asked. Weigh in on debates, shoe choices, anything.
-The pub culture. It's not a sleezy thing. It's just this culture of togetherness, in a way. They don't try to hide away from their neighbors (unless they differ on the Catholic/Protestant question)
-My church. Warm and loving and accepting and my safe place and my place of prayer and the place where I refound my roots in the Holy Spirit.
-The food is better. Period. Fresher, healthier. Except they have some serious blindspots in the realm of Chinese and Mexican.
-Public transportation. It is clean, mostly efficient, and means I don't have to find a parking space.
-The little green men who clean the streets at night.
-The traffic officers have hilarious wee red suits that I just can't take seriously.
-The material I read, I can have first copies of it. And see the actual places they were written. And see the actual places they were written about. And talk to people who experienced the things written about first-hand.

I'm seeking out that initial love, joy, and anticipation. That kid on Christmas eve frenzy.

It's there--somewhere, buried under heartbreak and exhaustion, but it's there. Few things lost are lost forever.

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 Powerful Play Goes On

We all fall apart. That's the naked truth of it.

Despite what I felt was a miraculous recovery from my depression, I, once again, dissolved just a few days ago in a pretty  major way. It seems when faced with the actual pressure and reality of my return to Northern Ireland, my mind ceased to act out of its state of renewal and repair.

I got sent to counseling later that afternoon and, in the space of three days, have completed three sessions.

It's been good, but it's also been a solid reminder that "getting better" is a process of ebs and flows, a one step forward two steps back kind of situation. That won't change when I go back to NI either.

Not all, certainly, but many of the same struggles will be waiting for me the moment I get off the plane there. I'm not going to be able to (nor do I want to) wean off the Lord's grace or sufficiency or daily bread.

No matter where I go, no matter who I'm with, I will always be an Israelite with a full dependency and hope in the fact that when I walk out of my tent in the morning, there will be manna enough to sustain and strengthen me for the day ahead. In exact measure for my needs.

So, I leave yesterday and the day before where they are in their graves of time and tomorrow in its den, and I hold up the 12 hours in front of me for inspection and growth.

We are well aware that "in a minute there is time/For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."
But we are equally aware that every decision, every minute is a chance to change the world.
Every decision, every minute we are writing new sentences in the books of our lives.

The neverending story continues.

Ghosts of High Schools Past

Today I went and guest spoke in an apologetics class full of high school seniors. Specifically high school seniors at my own alma mater Metro.

Did I prepare anything? No. The way I figured, I don't really have anything particularly insightful to share, so if the Lord had the audacity to stick me in a classroom full of  preppy 18 and 19 year olds then he also has the audacity to stick an hour's worth of words in my mouth. 

I can't say that the power of the Lord filled the room and all spoke in tongues, but I can say I had their attention by the end of my talk.

We went through several subjects, like my belief in the power of ordinariness, but they also wanted to talk about authenticity and relationship building. It was that particular answer that shocked them.

I brought into the conversation my aforementioned idea of failure vs. not yet able to succeed in relation to building deep relationships. Some people in high school (myself included) straight up aren't in a place where they are ready to or know themselves enough to make deep friendships or conversation.

And that's okay.

Then, they said that one of the main reasons why they would shy away from "big talks" is that other people might think they're weird, to which I replied, "high school doesn't matter." (you gotta make sweeping statements to snap out snobby snoozers).

But really, my point was (and don't worry. I expounded the point with them as well) that they're seniors. That means, they've got four and a half months left with people that they will probably never have significant interaction with again.

That means, it doesn't freakin' matter if they think you're weird and honestly, in the  future, they will look back at your boldness and security in self and be not only impressed but a little wistful that they hadn't started living their lives earlier.

Joining Winter Guard (the most socially unacceptable move I made in high school hands down) was the first step I ever made in embracing my weirdness, flaunting it even. In a blue spandex onesie. I joined without knowing anybody, got made fun of by everybody, and I still look back and see that it was the most fun I had in school and am still thrilled I did it.

So I told them, they have a question to ask themselves: Deep down, do I really want (am I ready to) to live for me or do I really want to live for God?

If the answer is truly "me," then keep on walking down that journey of selfishness and shallowness. You wouldn't be able to hear God even if he tried to talk to you.

BUT, if the answer is "God," then those social things will stop mattering. He honors the requests of those who really do want to learn how to love him better and live out of their true selves. It takes work. And pain. And isn't socially acceptable or fun at times, but it's satisfying.

You can be good on your own. Good at activities, good at social-ness, good at life, really. But you can't be great. And it won't satisfy.

I left them with that option. They can either continue conforming to the social strata that they've set for themselves, or they can start living and creating and having fun fearlessly being themselves now.

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.

Verbal Nudity

For the past four days, I have been in Siloam Springs.

A lot of people challenged me on this decision (for a variety of reasons), but I went because I graduated early, and all my friends are still on campus, not to mention my professor friends. 

Three and a half absolutely packed days of meetings, friend dates, coffee, and Jenga. 

There wasn't a friend specifically assigned to Jenga, but I've found over the years that if I ever have an awkward space of time on campus, if I sit in Walker Student Center for 5 or more minutes, someone I know and like (but unfortunately neglected to schedule time with) will show up. 

And, because sometimes interactions with friends like that--the ones you really like but don't always know what to talk about with--can be a bit awkward, Jenga. It's the perfect amount of social distraction. Not so focus-necessary that you can't focus on your conversation but just enough that you can focus energy on it if the conversation feels slow. 

In this way, my free time was enriched by several people I haven't been able to have a chance to speak with in months, and it added so much flavor I would have entirely missed out on. 

Going to Siloam also offered me an opportunity to make a few new acquaintances, some I very much enjoyed making and a couple that were necessary to make. Both were a stretch. 

More than that, though, the journey of the past few days was one of verbal nudity. 

As far as the 5 Love Languages test goes, I usually classify myself high on Words of Affirmation. However, I am not usually a verbal affirmer. Instead, I write. 

Most times, actually, when I need to address something particularly saturated with sentiment, I write instead of speak. Thus, this blog, and my letters and emails. Raw, but hiding. 

It's not as though I think writing is wrong--indeed, letter receiving is one of the greatest things, and I love sending them. However, when all big conversations (or really any big conversation) is done via the written word, I think there is a problem. 

70% of communication is non-verbal. So when I'm not forced to look in your eyes, weigh the immediate impact of my words and decisions on your heart, watch your body language, I miss out. And even if my letters or blogs are extremely vulnerable, they lack that intense intimacy that comes through individual communication. 

Over three days' time, I had three different conversations with three different girl friends. 

In one, I sought for forgiveness; in the second, I offered an admission of cowardice; in the third, I opened the understanding . In all three, I opened the door for rejection. 

In a previous post, I defined "intimacy." With intimacy, there is a tension and an opportunity for the other person to either accept and grow or reject and let die. 

Incredibly, all three chose the former. 

It wasn't just that choice that impacted me so much, though. Rather, it was that I felt the power of having to fully engage, to admit some pretty deep and sacred feelings in the immediate presence of the ones capable of decimating my attempts. The result was access to depth that I didn't know was available to me in those friendships. Our God is an awesome God. 

But is it? Is it really?

One single concluding paragraph separates me from fully completing my first semester (and first half) of my Master's degree.

I can't think of anything at all to say in that concluding paragraph, though. At one point in my academic career, this would be call for a total meltdown of failure. 

Not only would that be an absurd response from me right now, as the paper is actually quite good other than its lack of final statements, it also wouldn't fit with my current ideas of failure. 

Failure or the fear of failing is ultimately what drives us in our interactions with other humans, or even in our personal decisions. 

I don't think what we view as failure is an accurate description of what failure is. 

We think that if we're not good at something or we totally tank in an attempt then we are failures or we have failed. I just don't think that's true, especially when we are making those statements in comparison to other people.

Not only do we all have varying skill sets, we also have varying degrees of experience. 

In order to "fail" at something, there has to be a certain degree of experience already gained in that area. 

Think of it like this: If you've never tried something before, it is as though you are standing on the solid ground. If you aren't stellar at your first try, so what? You've nowhere to fall really. 

It's when you've practiced at something, gained skill and ability, that you walk up the stairs. Then, if you a horrible job, you actually fall pretty far. That is failure. 

Am I making sense? 

There's got to be cognizance and awareness. 

For instance, I used to say often what a failure of a friend or girlfriend or person I was. 

However, I wasn't at a place where I could understand what it meant to be good at any of those things. I knew nothing other than what I was doing. It wasn't for lack of trying. It wasn't failure. I wasn't a failure. 

Rather than thinking back and saying, "I failed" then, I think it's more accurate to say that I was not yet at a place where I could be able to succeed. 

I was yet to be equipped with the strength, stability, maturity, or even information at how to be good at any of those things. 

Maybe a better example would be academia. If I'd started this program at Queen's at the age of 18, I would have flunked out. 

Well duh!! I was 18 and without the brutal writing boot-camp Patty Kirk put me through during my undergraduate degree. I would have "failed" at Queen's because I did not yet have any of the training necessary to succeed in a Master's program. 

Those are just my vague, procrastinatory thoughts, but I think that mental shift in definitions is worth further consideration.