Saturday, September 27, 2014

To The Girl Who Has Three Lives


Dear Girl Who Has Three Lives:
     (or more):
      I know how you feel.
There's the You who works in the coffee shop or the church office or goes to college or the You who stands in her first semester as a teacher with twenty kids who are calling her "Miss So-and-So" and expecting she'll actually teach them stuff about life. Or, if you're like me, there's the You who spends the majority of the week taking care of, playing with, and teaching two precious little girls whose boundless curiosity and ceaseless energy shows you what your Mom has been doing since the birth of your older brother (times four).
There's the You who comes home tired from that other You and wants peace and quiet and a harmonious family. But there is dinner to be made and chores to keep up with and the harmonious family has gone off-key for an hour or two and life is crazy. This was the first You, and is known so well that it fits like a groove, despite its eccentricities. This You has an amazing family that misses her and she misses them and the disjointedness of lives trying to click back together while spinning in hyper-speed--your days off coinciding with their days away--and it's tough to steal moments of normalcy. But this version of You craves those moments and sometimes wonders what it would be like to return to the time when it was the only You and there was time to hang up your clothes and bother to put the bobby-pins back in their dish and that stack of To-Be-Read books was actually diminishing at a discernable pace.
Then, of course, there's the You of dreams. There's the You who, while steaming that milk, folding those invoices, making those calls, or teaching those math lessons, keeps up a secret life behind the scenes of hopes and dreams and long-term goals. For me, that's my writing. A thousand words typed at an unholy hour because every sensible, conscionable minute of normal-people is taken up by those other two Mes. This You might be pursuing music, art, publication, photography, a business, or something else. This You is usually the one who falls, by default, into disrepair because it is the more quiet You. It is sometimes shy and always willing to bend to reality. Dreams can be pushed off, tabled, quietened. This You isn't really all that perishable and if you close down the Word document for three months, the repercussions aren't what they would be if you stopped showing up to work for the same period of time or shut off communication with those dearest to you.

For each of these Yous, You could justifiably devote a whole life, in theory. But theories bend to achievement and everyone realizes we can't claim seventy-two hours for a day in which to be all three. And yet, Girl, you are trying to be all three. I am trying to be all three. Is it wrong? Is it crazy? Should you give up the dreams or the job or the family?

No.

It's not wrong, it's only a little crazy, and you should definitely not give up your dreams, your family, and the job God has placed you in (unless He shows you otherwise). One life crammed into one's head is enough to make most people overwhelmed. But to those of use who are juggling three, how can we keep sane?

I've been thinking. I am barely home these days between one thing and another and weddings. On any given Saturday, my room is covered with cast off clothing that I was too tired to put away after coming home from a fifteen-hour day. My bobby-pins never make it into the dish. I wear jeans when the weather is eighty-five because I really couldn't spare the extra eight minutes to shave my legs and heaven forbid I get in the shower and find no shampoo because when you're showering at 6:30 a.m., there's no one awake to fetch it for you. So I've been giving more thought than usual to how the Three-Lived-Girl can keep sane and it comes down to Jim Eliot:
"Wherever you are, be all there."
When you're at work, be entirely at work. When you're at home, be entirely at home. When you're working on that painting, that story, that song, that product, be one-hundred-percent there in that moment. For me, that means shutting off my 3G data on my phone at work, leaving texts till a more convenient hour when I'm blogging or writing, or lesson-planning, and leaving my phone upstairs when I'm around the house. I love technology and social media has blessed me with a covey of friends I would otherwise have never met. But technology is deceptive in that it convinces you that things have to be done RIGHT NOW. And the girl already living three lives can't afford to have them bleed into one another. If I am trying to teach math concepts to a three year-old and answer a five year  old's questions about how Indians killed buffalo and answer a Facebook message about wedding plans and reply to a comment on a blog and to text the recipe I made up for fish tacos to the sister who is making dinner because I can't be home to help because I'm headed an hour into the city to go a bible-study and I'm trying to do it ALL AT ONCE, I will crumble. I don't know about you, but I can feel it crumble. I can feel my resolve weakening, my heart becoming downcast, and my soul overwhelmed. I decided to try Jim Eliot's theory out last week and give myself completely to the tasks at hand one at a time. What I found was a sense of joy in accomplishing that one task instead of angst over the twenty-seven others left to be done. Yes, there were still twenty-seven tasks, but one can meet a single foe on level ground far easier than being dog-piled by an entire company.

Wherever you are, Girl With Three Lives, be all there. In the mornings, give one hundred percent of your attention to Jesus and focus your eyes on Him from the start. At work, give full attention to the joy of building into the lives around you. When you're home, leave the virtual world connected to a charger and play a game of Scrabble or watch an old Disney film together. When you're pursuing dreams, friends, or long-cherished goals, give it your all.

That's how we keep all the balls in the air. Focus.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Pretty Mail

If you were anything like me as a kid, you would have had at least ten pen-pals over the years and lost just about as many through neglect, forgetting to send the letters your wrote, or just getting bored of the duty of writing back. As we learned to use the computer and the internet got more advanced and we learned how to type, writing letters dropped away almost completely. But you know me. I'm stubborn as anything and won't entirely let go of things I love. And I dearly love giving and receiving snail-mail. I have this passion for outwitting the post office. Doesn't that sound terrible? But seriously. I just weigh packages in my hand, slap stamps on, and stuff them in the mailbox. They always get to their destinations. Recently, I sent a copy of my book to a friend in Romania. I put five or six stamps on it, shoved it in the mail, and a week and a half later, it was in her hands. Now, if I'd gone into the post office and asked them what they wanted to charge me, that package would have cost something terribly like fifteen bucks.

All post-office regulations aside, sending and receiving mail the good old way will never go out of style. Who doesn't like getting a piece of mail? And furthermore, who doesn't like getting a piece of mail that is as much a delight to look at as it will be to read? Since I have three or four letters to respond to this weekend, I spent a little while on Pinterest last night browsing unique ways to address letters. Here are some of my favorites. May they serve as inspiration to you to send a surprise someone's way. <3












Friday, September 12, 2014

"Hi, I'm Single and I Have Blisters."

Most days I am quite content in the fact that it may be a longgggggggggg time till I get married. Mama always looks at me with mock severity and says, "You have no idea how quickly things can change." She's always right, but that doesn't mean I'm hedging any bets. I have a full life here without a fella. I mean, between work, my family, and my writing (yes, it is a thing that intentionally distracts me from self-pity) would I even have time for a relationship? Can't get much better than painting my toenails blue and watching Once Upon a Time with my sisters, can it?
This is my "Yayyyyy Daddddddd" face.

Not that I'd really know...

Some days it just kind of hits me. Know the sort? The fact that no man in my age-group has ever told me he thinks I'm something pretty awesome, that he wants to get to know me better, that I'm the person he looks for when he walks into a room, that I'm the girl he's been praying for. Whenever I have days like this, I'm hesitant to verbally recognize the yearning because I don't want to set off a stream of, "It's okay, you'll find a guy someday. Just wait patiently on the Lord. He is faithful."
Of course He's faithful. Of course I'll (probably) find a guy someday. But no one said that the boots aren't going to pinch now and then.

Yes, sometimes it gets annoying. Case in point: two more friends got engaged this week. I barely see my cousin anymore because he's got a girlfriend and a new job and chill-time doesn't happen. No conversation goes on at home without turning to someone's wedding plans. Sometimes the Love Bug victim-count seems like it's hacking up there with the Black Plague and I start wondering who slipped the Thieve's Oil into my pocket because honestly, they can have it back. I wouldn't mind catching that plague. If falling in love is sabotage, then I have a death-wish.

I've gotten to the point where I laugh on these days and message my equally-single best friend and together we compare notes about how fabulous we are. Chocolate is good too. I know this feeling of utter....futility isn't going to last. Handsome men will be toads from now till kingdom-come, tiny blondes will probably still rank top on the list of Quickly Married Women, and athletic, rugged, cowboy types will probably still want a wife who will go running (or barrel-racing) with him for the next forevermore. I'll still rumble along cheerily as ever, I'll enjoy my job, enjoy my family, and enjoy playing bridesmaid, florist, hairstylist, cake-decorator, and event coordinator for the friends who are getting married. I'll have adventures and love life and meet people and go to social functions and be me. That's how life is.

And it's good. But life can hurt and I guess what I'm here to say tonight is this: it's okay.

Girls: It's okay that there's an ache under your breastbone and an incapacity to look at another wedding picture in your Pinterest feed. It's okay that you feel like punching the handsome-acquaintance-who-drinks-and-smokes (as your just found out) across his perfect nose. It's okay that you feel like sitting down with a tub of gelato and eating it--all of it--with your best friend or a sister while wishing for a saved, sanctified Captain Hook. It's okay that you let fly a snide remark about the eighteenth saccharine Facebook post in a week from that happily almost-wedded couple. Besides--sugar isn't good for you.

Family: It's okay that we are having a rough day. It's not that we think we'll never get married. We don't think God has left us in the ditch. We don't think we're going to be spinsters, we don't intend to join a dating website ASAP, we don't intend to fall into deep depression, start wearing sweat pants constantly, and adopt another cat. We're very simply getting a blister from walking this far down the road of singleness. We know our lives are precious, that there is adventure around every bend, and that we are blessed.

So people, let's have grace. Grace with ourselves, our families, and each other. Grace for the God who is leading us on this road that can seem as empty as the Oklahoma sky. It sounds weird to say we need grace for God, because the only grace we have comes through Him. But part of owning grace is acting upon it, and believing with grace that what He says is true takes real courage and doesn't come easily, some days.

I'm single. Tonight it stinks. Tomorrow it'll be a blessing. That's how it goes with singleness as with every other topsy-turvy stage in life. I am so blessed that Jesus has the map to this weird road. I think I'd be tempted to look for a short-cut.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

That Frank Churchill Life


Most of you know by now that I got a chop-job done to my hair. Actually, it wasn't as bad as all that. After deliberating on whether to get bangs or not, I decided to go with it and get a little length off at the same time. I am happy to say that, though the reactions have ranged from, "WHOA. You...really did that?" to, "It looks AMAZING!", I am happy with it. And that's really all that matters. The fun thing about having bangs is that I can leave it down and it looks styled, I can put it up and leave the bangs down and it looks styled, or I can brush the bangs to the side and it looks ... styled. Pretty good qualities to have when you live a life on the go. So I thought, "Hey, why not just do a blog post with a couple Ways to Wear my new hair?"

And then my bangs decided not to cooperate and to act flat and then split down the middle. Like, really. Why do they have to have a cat's personality? At any rate, I combed them somewhat-into submission and took my iPhone selfies for your viewing pleasure. Also, open shipping-container doors make pretty good backdrops. #factoid

It Can Go Down:




I love them. They tickle sometimes, but I love them.


"Half the time my hair looks awesome but the other half I look like a simple-hearted Catholic school-girl who says Hail Marys thrice a day." -in a message to my best friend

It Can Go Up:



'Dem bangs.

I can brush them to the side for a youthful hipster look:


I can pull an Audrey Hepburn Roman holiday lookalike:



Which of course must be followed up posing as the Italian Barber:


 It is a very good sort of haircut and I didn't even have to go all the way to London for it.