2010 in Review

Or, It was a Helluva Year, Wasn’t It?

Well, it’s the end of one year and the beginning of another.  Whenever I get to the end of December, I start to feel weird—restless, introspective, and vaguely unsatisfied.  Lots of people get reflective and zealous about the New Year, and I am prone to self-reflection throughout the year, so the New Year is like a double dose.  I look back on the year and wonder, what exactly did I accomplish?  And in the areas I feel I fell short, how can I improve?

While the idea of a fresh start is appealing to most of us, I think there’s something misleading in analyzing our months in terms of success and failure.  We set goals for ourselves with the best of intentions, but then get upset when Life intervenes and sends us off course. 

In 2010, I had three different addresses in three different states.  Believe me, that was NOT the plan when I started my year.  For ten and a half months, the vast majority of my belongings were in a storage unit in Branson, Missouri.  Also not part of the plan.  For nine months, I lived in my brother’s dining room in Austin, Texas.  SO not part of the plan (though I am grateful to him for putting up with me).  I also spent a third of the year unemployed.  But the other two thirds of the year, I did get to work with some really amazing kids whom I will miss in my new State.

In the middle of the year, I had an adventurous summer working at a day camp with the Y.  It was challenging, exhausting, and awesome.  I met some truly awesome and geeky tweens and got to experience a different side of Austin.  It absolutely was one of the highlights of my 2010.

In 2010, I searched desperately for direction and purpose.  I rediscovered a partly buried desire to go to Ireland as a missionary, to live relationally and be a part of the kingdom there.  The desire had never really left, it had simply been cluttered by other more immediate duties (like working, paying bills, and moving).  This year I did something about that desire: I attended an assessment conference held by the missions organization I wanted to go with, and they called me to work with them in Ireland.  It was such a moment of joy and clarity for me; but since then I allowed the same cluttering to reoccur, and I have done little since this summer to keep myself on the path to Ireland.  If I am going to go in 2011, I have a tremendous amount of work to do in the coming months.

I did a good bit of reading in 2010, including several books about the “new” things that are happening in the Christian community, things that excite me.  I attended a really wonderful church in Austin that brought me a lot of healing and encouragement.  I thought a lot about community and change and relational evangelism, but in reality, I spent most nights in front of the TV with my brother.  While I love a good story and I got see quite a few, there’s no doubt that I have been doing a little too much watching and thinking and not enough doing.  At the beginning of the year, I read Donald Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” in which he talks profoundly about living a Good Story with your life.  It was part of what got me back on track about Ireland.  But now I am at the end of the year, and I wonder: did my months add up to a good story?

Now I am “home,” living with family again.  I never lived in Federal Way before, but about twelve years ago, we lived in Shelton, which is a couple hours away.  So it is like being home, in a weird way.  It’s beautiful here; the house we’re staying in has a view of the water, and on clear days (like today) you can even see the mountains.  My community is my extended family and the church that most of them attend—a tiny community church not at all like the one in Austin.  But my dad works there with the youth, and they feed the homeless every week, and they let us hold a Blue Christmas service.  This was my fourth year in a row putting together a service that allows people to step into the Christmas story with all their grief and sorrow and see that it may not be the “most wonderful time of the year,” but God is still with us.  

So I am facing 2011 and my mind is racing, trying to connect the disjointed stories of my year and retrace my erratic steps.  Did I learn anything?  Did I grow?  Did I change?  Did I discover anything profound about myself?  What did I accomplish (besides catching up on entire series of television)?  

• I kicked butt at laser tag (and got my butt kicked at paintball!)
• I paid off my credit card (cue hallelujah chorus, please)
• I finished one novel and am a chapter or two away from finishing another
• I kept my cat alive and well through three moves (sometimes with great protest on her part…)
• I read over thirty books
• I finally got some of the pictures I took in 2009 into frames

…Yes, major milestones all, clearly.  But seriously—what do YOU think the measure of success for a year is?  I’m still undecided on what to think of 2010 overall.  It was a strange and difficult year, woven from dark and knobby threads, but there were some strands of silver and gold in there, too.  Maybe the contrast is what makes it beautiful.  It was a hard year, but I am grateful for many things, including this opportunity to start fresh, close out one chapter and begin another.  

May my 2011 be less about goals and success as it is about telling a Good Story with my days, one I can be happy about when I am facing 2012.  And may you have a happy and blessed 2011, too.

About Time

I know what you’re thinking. You’re rejoicing that I have finally gotten around to posting a new blog. Not because you are riveted by my every post, but because you are just sooo tired of seeing my cats.

Well, so was I.

There really are any number of things I could have blogged about between then and now. My brother came home from a three-month-stint in Texas, for one. He subsequently went with me to the movies, me for the first time since Narnia, to see “V for Vendetta.” Could have done a whole post on that. Kyle then proceeded to get me hooked on Firefly, the Best Canceled Show In Existence. I could go on about that as well…but I won’t. I also keep toying with the idea of doing a MacGyver Tribute…but alas, that too will have to wait.

Really, this post is about one thing: celebration. That’s right. Not only is today Easter (or as we call it in my house, ‘Resurrection’), the day celebrating Christ’s triumph over death (Hallelujah!), but it is also the end of Lent. Woo hoo!

Those last few days were really hard, because the end was in sight. And also because I could not believe it had been so stinkin’ long since I’d picked up a book.

The first thing I did this morning was crack open Blue Like Jazz while I was in the bathroom (where my mother left it after she finished; our shared loo is a veritable library. You wouldn’t believe it.). I’ve already read it, but it just felt so good to be holding a book in my hands again.

After that, I went straight up to my room and compiled a stack of books to last me the next few weeks. (I didn’t trust myself to do it on my fast.) First on my list, by Brianne’s recommendation, is Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. Just below that is a YA novel I picked up at that garage sale earlier this month, called The Boggart, by Susan Cooper—good fluff reading. Plus, they go to Scotland!!! My internal list is very long, but as I’ve been so deprived, I probably will read what ever I feel like, whenever. I’m working the closing shift at the coffee shop tomorrow, and it will be so nice to have a book during those slow hours. My only trouble will be deciding which book to take with me!!

So, what exactly did I learn during the last 47 days? Discipline is hard. I generally don’t have enough of it. Obedience is costly, as Oswald Chambers would say. I really don’t know what else I learned…or if I was meant to. Will I ever do it again? Well…a month and a half is a long chunk of time out of every year to not be reading. But that bottom line is, if I get the nudge again, of course I will. The whole thing was an exercise in obedience to Christ—sacrificing something to show homage to He who is truly Lord of my life. Why else would I give up reading for 47 days??? Y

Trials and a New Toy

So, I got a new phone last week. It’s pretty cool. It’s one of those ones you’ve seen on Verizon commercials, where they play music for someone. Yes. It plays music. It is very cool. I do not have any kind of MP3 player yet, so I’m enjoying the three songs I’ve downloaded. I’ve spent the better part of my free time this week just exploring the coolness of my new phone.

I love when I get something new, and the newness is part of its appeal, and I spend many hours admiring my new thing—whatever it may be: a haircut, a pair of shoes, a CD…. I am also not one of those people who see in evil in new technology. Take the internet, for example. The internet has become something of a tragedy, at least morally, because of i-porn. Yet the ease of communicating with people all over the world, and the amount of knowledge contained on virtually any and every subject, makes it a worthwhile tool.

Technology is like anything else man-made: it has the potential to be used for good, and an equal (perhaps some would argue greater) potential to be used for evil. Telephones—and cell phones—allow us to talk to people all over the world. But they also interrupt our lives with sales calls, and keep us occupied when we ought to be focusing on the world in front of us instead of the person on the other end of the line (*ahem! Drivers! ahem!*). Still, I know that I would have been pretty lost these last few years if I hadn’t been able to communicate—by cell phone—with my best friends from college. Who all live several states away.

Even though I have been pretty occupied with my new “toy,” and enjoying it very much (my default ringtone is the chorus of David Crowder’s “Turkish Delight”!!!) I still have had other things on my mind this week.

One is, I recently had the most challenging day of Lent so far. I was at my Pregnancy Care Centers job, working, I might add, on a major database transfer, because we are switching programs, when we decided to take a tiny break and go take a peek at the yard sale that was going on just around the corner and up a flight of stairs from our office (which you may remember is located in the same church building where my dad works). I was looking around at all the stuff—typical yard sale stuff: stuffed animals, old happy meal toys, mismatched glasses and plates, etc. Then I saw the table of—you guessed it—books. I was immediately drawn to it, thinking surely it couldn’t hurt to look and see what they had. I hadn’t brought any money up with me, so I didn’t get anything—then.

But there was a book called “Colourful England” with pictures of old buildings (my boss showed it to me) that I wanted to come back for. She offered to spot me the money to get it, anmd I should have let her, because when I came back to get it, I ended up with an armful of books. Fourteen, to be exact. (But I got them all for $3.00!!) And as I’d stood there, pawing through the bins, glancing at the titles and occiasonlly the back blurbs, I suddenly got a sense of what it was I’d committed to for the Lenten season.

I bought a boxful of books that I cannot read, not for another twenty-eight days. I thought for the first couple of weeks that this would be no big deal, because even if I was giving up books, there were still movies to be watched. And there were always things to read in magazines, and in articles online; I hadn’t given those up. But being at that yard sale was a challenge: it was like making dinner for everyone, and tasting a tiny bit to make sure it was okay, but not eating any yourself.

I was challenged again, later that night, at the Chinese Church. It was, of course, St. Patrick’s Day, and I brought a little book to help them understand who he really was and why we have a day to celebrate him. I consulted with God on the way there if it would be okay to read it to them. But once there, I asked if anyone else would be willing to read it to the class. Several of my students took turns. (This was very hard for me because I love reading books like that to kids, and you know how children read.) When I had to help Stephen pronounce an Irish word (“shillelagh”) a couple of my kids reminded me that I was not supposed to be reading books.

Just before Lent started, I had been reading “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” to the PCC kids. They were a little dismayed when I told them of my vow to give up reading books for the next forty-seven days. So that later, on the same night I’ve been describing, I asked if anyone else would like to read a chapter to the class. No one did. I asked them if they still wanted to hear some of it. They did. I asked them if they thought it would be okay for me to read a few pages to them. They did. So I read a chapter. I’m not sure if I ought to feel terrible about this; after all, it was only a chapter, and it wasn’t for me, it was for the kids.

But reading is so…part of me. I had to remind myself this morning of why it was that I gave it up in the first place. I’m not going to exaggerate and tell you that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done; it’s not. Even though I am surrounded by books that I would normally have no qualms about snatching up and reading for several hours, it’s been nearly no trouble at all finding other ways to fill up my time. I have a sneaking suspicion that quitting the TV would be much harder, and that worries me just a little.

Well, this post is long enough for now, even despite the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve written. If you happen to see someone reading, perhaps you could offer up a quick prayer for me, that I’m learning what I’m supposed to be learning through this time. Thanks! 

47

Today, as you may or may not know, is Ash Wednesday. The first Day of Lent.

Now, when I was growing up, my churches never really did much with Lent. I was never encouraged to give up anything. I think it was generally considered a Catholic practice. It wasn’t until College that I ever really even paid attention to this season on the Church calendar. My freshman year, three friends and I all decided to give up sweets. That’s a pretty popular choice these days. It was hard, and I remember we had trouble with grey areas like sugary cereal and pop-tarts. But we did it.

I had one professor at C of O who was particularly in tune with the practices of the church, whether ancient, modern, contemporary, or postmodern. My senior year I took his class on Christian Worship and the class was divided into groups (were we in the same group Brianne? I completely forget!) to prepare and provide a Lenten service, one group a week. Again, prior to that, I’d never really paid a whole lot of attention to Church seasons, least of all Lent.

At the beginning of this year, I was reading a book I got for Christmas. It was Lauren Winner’s Girl Meets God. (Yes, the same Lauren Winner I got to meet and hear at Jubilee as I discussed in my last post.) She writes from a background in the Jewish Orthodoxy and mentions how they use a calendar of seasons to guide their worship. Most churches don’t seem to do this as much anymore…but her current church, which is Episcopalian, does. It was one of the reasons she was drawn to it.

There is a chapter in GMG where Lauren relates a conversation with her pastor just before Lent. He asks her what she is giving up; she tells him she’s going to fast on Fridays. He then asks her to give up something in addition: books.

When I read that, two things happened to me.

One was, I think my heart stopped. I was dismayed beyond words at the thought of giving up something like that.

The second thing was, I felt a nudge from the Holy Spirit.

Now, if you’ve ever felt this kind of nudge, you know what I mean. It’s a kind of spiritual elbow to the ribs. I’ve felt it before; it usually accompanies something I really don’t want to do. Something I feel I shouldn’t have to do. Something I could probably justify not doing. But when you get that nudge, there’s really only a couple options: obey, or disobey.

I know from past experiences with the said nudges, that if I do the thing I don’t want to, if I obey, it is usually to my benefit. It might be hard, even painful, but good comes out of it.

So I began by telling my family I was giving up reading books for Lent. They responded with surprise, even a little skepticism (as I said, we never did much with Lent) but eventually encouragement. I told Brianne; she too was encouraging but also a little surprised. If you know me at all, you know I read. If you know me well, you know I devour books. I read all the freaking time. I always seem to have a book stashed somewhere—in the bathroom, in stacks by my bed, in my purse….

But I know that God is not just calling me to give up reading because it takes up so much of my time. I know it has to do with obedience, and keeping my love of books from becoming idolatry. So I will be obedient. It is nerve-wracking, quite frankly, to realize that I will not be picking up and reading any book at all (except the Bible) for the next 47 days. Especially after I bought all those books at Jubilee. I already have a considerable list accumulating of books to read when Lent is over.

It sounds crazy, even to me. But I don’t share this story to say “look how holy I am,” I share it so that you can participate by encouraging me. This will be a challenge, I know, and it’s only day one. You can pray for me, that in the absence of my reading God will show me what he wants me to learn, and that I won’t just fill it with something else. Like TV. Even though I did just get season 4 of MacGyver.

Books are a big, dare I even say HUGE, part of my life; but God must be bigger still. I look forward to this time of Lent with anticipation and trepidation both; who can say but God how I will emerge? What will God teach me in the next 47 days, about discipline, obedience, and grace? Well, when I find out, so will you!