Inspired Magazine

Hi Everyone!

Recently, a friend asked me if I would be a contributing author for an online magazine that she's involved with.  I agreed, and my first article for Inspired By Family went live a couple days ago.  If you want to check it out, click on the link on the right.  My article is about New Year's Resolutions.

Feelings

Warning:  This post is about my feelings.  If you're male, you may opt to abort now.  Even if you're ok with feelings, if you're into logic, this may not be the post for you, either.  Fair warning.  What I'm about to say doesn't make a lot of sense.  Read at your own risk.

So here it is.  I've been here for 4.5 months.  But it's really only week one of being committed to being here. (and by that I mean admitting that I don't have anything in the works to help me escape)  But I haven't found any other job yet, and there's not really anything on the horizon, so I'm working toward being here.  Or maybe I should say, Being Here.

I'm trying to focus on the positive and not complain.  A problem I'm finding, though, is that I seem to be hesitant to acknowledge the good stuff.  And I think it's because I don't want to be happy here.  I don't want to be here very long, and when I leave I want it to be easy.  It won't be easy if I'm attached, either to people or things here.  And so, though I'm miserable here because I'm not attached to anyone or anything, I seem to want to push away anything that seems good, in some sort of weird, premature self-protecting and yet self-destructive technique.

I believe I feel this way because I'm still so close to saying goodbye to my life in Quito.  It's not that I've never gone through the saying goodbye process.  But it was only a few months ago.  And I had been there for three years, so I had real friendships and my own niche.

Ah, the niche.  Niches are good, but they're hard to walk away from.  And so I find myself trapped in this place, unable to leave, afraid to really STAY, and uncertain about what might be to come, either way.

Before you say it, let me clarify that it's not because I don't trust God.  People say that to me a lot:  God's in control.  God has a plan.  YES!  I know!  But I also know that God's plan may or may not be what I want.  Maybe His plan is not that I get to go home, or have a reliable job, or find someone who loves me, or get to raise a family.  Maybe His plan is for me to be alone.  Do something hard.  Be far from my family.  I get that He could want that for me, and I get that those things could further the Kingdom and make me stronger and other good things.

But it takes a certain amount of strength to be ok with that possibility, you know?  Selflessness and internal strength and, mmm, something else that I can't identify and that I have sometimes, but not now.  Right now, I don't have it in me to be that person.  The good Christian who's sacrificial, and ok with giving up what she wants in order for God to use her.  I've been that person before.  I imagine I'll get there again someday.  But right now, I'm far, far away from that place.  I just want to be safe.  Emotionally safe.  Close enough to my family to feel like I'm part of a family again, instead of alone.  Surrounded by people who know me and love me anyway, without the hard work of getting to that place in a new relationship.  That is what I want, for what it's worth.  The End.

Car Talk, Part 1

For those who are not familiar with the delightful NPR program, Car Talk, please go here to check it out. I don't like talk shows or car stuff, but I like Car Talk. And so will you. I promise.

But this post is not about Car Talk, the show. It's about my car, Estelle, the 2005 Honda CR-V that I bought in August.

I love Estelle. She's red, and I named her Estelle because she is "old lady red" (as opposed to fire engine red, like my first CR-V, Lily) and Estelle is indisputably an old lady name. I challenge you to name someone under the age of 70 named Estelle. It seemed appropriate.

Though we have only been together a few months, Estelle has served me well. Last weekend, while I was home for New Years, my dad replaced the left headlight bulb for me. Then last night I noticed that now the right headlight bulb is burnt out. Dangit. I don't plan to go home again until Easter, and that's a long time to drive around without a headlight.

And so. I should fix it myself. That makes a smidgen nervous. Not like, get-an-ulcer nervous, just a little unsure and hesitant.

It's funny, you know. I'm 30-wonderful years old. I'm reasonably intelligent and generally fairly competent. I have a high school diploma, a BA, and a masters degree. I've lived, alone, on four continents, in six different countries, and have survived life in five different languages. I can change a poopy diaper without flinching. I know CPR and the heimlich. I can de-clog the sink and bathroom drains or fix the vacuum or any number of other, small fix-it projects. I have my own electric drill and Leatherman tool (both of which I use regularly). And as we know from a previous post (which you can read here), I have plenty of wrenches. I taught MIDDLE SCHOOL, for crying out loud! But I don't know how to change the bulb in my headlamp.

But it's ok. No one needs to know how to do everything. All you need to know is who is the right person to help you.

And so I called my dad. I find that quite often in life, Dad is the right person to call.

Dad hesitantly told me I could probably figure it out (not gonna lie- he didn't sound too confident). I called Autozone, and they assured me that they had the part for $7.99, plus tax. The Honda service center told me it'd be about $30 for them to do it. But where's the challenge in that? Besides, I have more time than money right now. So here's the plan:

Plan A: Get the bulb and ask nicely for the nice Autozone man to help me install it (batting eyelashes and looking forlorn and pitiful only if absolutely necessary)

Plan B: Get the bulb and try to put it in myself, cold turkey

Plan C: Get the bulb and call Dad, who will try to walk me through the process on the phone.

Plan D: Suck it up and go to the Honda service center.

[time lapse: approximately 3 hours]

And so I'm back. I'm happy to report that Estelle now has two working headlights again, and I am only about $10 poorer for it. In the end, we went with plan A, with a little plan C mixed in. The Autozone guy had a little trouble getting the old bulb out, and Dad graciously helped him a bit on the phone. No eyelash batting was required.

So, when it's all said and done, I still don't know how to replace the bulb in my car's headlamp. But I know how to get it done next time, and Estelle is happy to not be lopsided anymore. All's well that ends well.

[Editor's Note: The author would like to thank Tom Foster and Autozone guy for their assistance and expertise related to the events in this blog post.]

New Perspective From an Old Truth

Hello, Readers Faithful to a Faithless Poster,

Yah, I'm still here. It's Christmas night. I'm at the kitchen bar in Dad and Sue's new cabin. This is the house that I spent many hours staining and sealing wood for last summer. It's pretty fantastic. My favorite part is the great room, with a big stone fireplace, the eastern-facing windows, and the views of the fields, the woods, and the house I grew up in, just a couple hundred yards away.

This is Christmas weekend two of three. Because of my (stupid and annoying) work schedule, I'm driving back and forth from DeKalb each weekend so that I can be a part of celebrating the holidays with my friends and family here. In spite of the 12 hour round trip, I'm happy to be able to come home.

Yesterday I went to the Christmas Eve service at church. I loved every blessed thing about it. Seeing friends. Listening to the choir. Remembering past years of Christmas Eve services...26 past years, in fact. And pondering the astonishing reason we gathered.

God with us. Emmanuel.

As I plod my way through my time in DeKalb, I think about Jesus, and his time on earth. Did he want to come to earth? I mean, I'm sure he wanted to save us. I mean, who wouldn't want to save me, right? But just because he was supportive of the ends doesn't mean he liked the means.

From heaven to earth? That's quite a jump. And not really a cool place on earth. Not like Monte Carlo or Paris or even, perhaps, the heartland of northwestern Ohio. Palestine. One of many lands defeated and ruled by the Roman Empire. Conquered and festering in their helpless bitterness over the foreign rule.

Jesus was born into a poor family in a nation of poverty and impotence. And in case that wasn't enough, he was born into the furious gossip and rumors concerning the situation of his birth. His young mother, unwed at his conception. Did anyone know she claimed God was the father? Cause I'm guessing THAT story went over like a lead balloon. Or maybe, anticipating the disbelief, she left people to assume what they would. Either way, no doubt Jesus started out with less than a spotless reputation.

All this, after leaving (please catch this) heaven. And not just the heaven that we expect or imagine...golden streets (probably won't seem quite so cool when we finally see them), worship God, reuniting with loved ones, checking out our new room in the mansion. That would be a pretty big change. But Jesus' change was bigger. Because He is God. And he went from being known as God to being totally unknown. Unknown except as the illegitimate son of an insignificant carpenter family in an dusty, forgotten corner of the Roman world.

That's...wow. He's just hours old, and already such a huge sacrifice. Yah, He's God, so he's into sacrifice and all. Plus there's the love thing. I mean, do you KNOW how much Jesus loves you? Us? It's pretty astonishing. But even that kind of amazing love...even still, that would be a tough move.

Not that it makes me happy that I've had to move three states away to a place where I know no one and a job that I don't care for. But Jesus' move was tough enough to at least bring some measure of perspective to my situation. And a reminder that in this, as in all things, Jesus should be my pattern.

No doubt, he hated a lot of aspects of his move from heaven to Nazareth. But He was doing what needed to be done. And he wasn't doing it with a sour expression and a superior attitude, even though he was QUITE superior to every person he ever encountered. I bet he was focused on his mission. Focused on loving the people around him. On looking for ways to love people and meet their needs, and show them his Father.

And so. Jesus is my model. Or rather, he should be. I'm ashamed to say that I haven't done a great job of looking for ways to love people and show them my Father since I've been in DeKalb. But it's time, you know? It's time to get over it. I hate being there. I hate the situation I'm in, but that's where God has put me for now, and I'm going to stop wasting my life, waiting for the better thing to happen. I'm going to keep praying that God will move me home, but in the meantime, I'm going to commit again to looking for ways to serve and love the people around me. (and in the interest of full disclosure, I'm going to hope that THIS is the lesson God's been trying to teach me and now that I've finally learned it, I'll get to come home! It can't hurt to hope, right?)