I need you now…more than ever before

I keep trying to imagine what life could be like sans the incredible amount of stress I seem to be carrying lately. I think often of the words “world beneath” and how it is not only our adolescent community which is living in such a way, but also we adults. We hide from one another, from our closest of communities about parts of our story. I feel foolish in saying it, but I know I cannot be alone. I pray I am, if only in the fear that others live as I do.

Sometimes the line of hope deferred and hope realized is implausibly seen – a vanished line in which I can only hope to trip over in the near future. Dear God, soon please.

Dance on Our Graves – Paper Route

but i don’t know how to fight

I’ve had quite a large number of conversations in recent weeks about personality types, calling, discernment, vocation and of course, future. Being the person I am, I always am thinking about those kinds of questions, particularly about the future. I find it rather demotivating when I don’t know “what’s next” and have no way to prepare for it.

The last few months have been nothing short of completely opposite what my expectations. While I would generally say my success rate teeters around 70%, this year I’m toying with accuracy around a marginal 30%. Such is life.

What I’m doing, where I’m doing it, why I”m doing it… these questions baffle me.

Soldier – Angus and Julia Stone

one step forward, two steps back

Those of you who know me Los Angeles know that one of various hats I wear while in grad school is math tutor. Yes, I am a math tutor slash geek. So you may wonder a few things.

1) What was your undergrad degree in?
2) Have you always been really good at math?
3) Do you have any formal training in teaching? Or even training in math?

Thankfully, these answers are pretty easy for me.

1) Christian education, public relations and Spanish. yes, I’ve got the humanities wrapped up in a little box. But that does not include a science there, eh? no.

2) Maybe. I mean, good? Sure. Excellent? Ha. There was that day that Lynette and I were called into the guidance counselor’s office our junior year to be told that Mr. Laska was wanting us both to take AP Calc instead of regular Calc? (I didn’t, it required two math courses, and I needed my elective for my 5th year of Spanish/3rd yr of French). I was a Geometry tutor for Mr. Laska while I took it in 10th grade, of course. That was my first official income aside from babysitting and the motivating factor for getting a bank account, actually. That good ol’ MAC card.

A random sidenote: it was during tutoring with Lisa L, that I was told that these two “rebellious” ladies thought I might actually be kinda “cool” if I would just get drunk with their friends. They literally said one day (I believe it was actually 4-20), “I bet we’d be your friend if you’d smoke up or drink with us. You’re not that weird after all.” AWESOME.

3) Um, deceiving as my degree may be, I have not much formal training in education, unless you count the worthless educational psychology class I had my senior year second semester. The class I loved. Yeah. As for training in math? Uh, yeah, um, err, nope.

Anyway, I hang out with a bunch of students (mainly girls) and convince them that math isn’t the worst thing in the world. In fact, one of my students now is telling me “math is great.” Granted, I have somewhat forced her into saying this as a way to make her laugh back when finals occured first semester and she’d given up. I told her I didn’t care if she didn’t learn a thing math fact, as long as by the end of the year she could tell me that Math was “great”! Two weeks ago her mom said to me, “you know, she actually is starting to like math? How’d you do that?”

Where did this math love come from, you ask? Yeah, great question. I think it may have started from my favorite PBS show, though. Square One anyone???? I tell you, I learned this when I was probably 4, and I have NEVER forgotten the lyrics.

Nine Nine Nine
Fantastic number 9
It’s perfectly consistent
It works out every time
Nine Nine Nine
That crazy number 9
Times any number you can find
it all comes back to Nine

2 x 9 is 18
8 and 1 is nine
3 x 9 is 27
7 and 2 is nine

I just noticed on one of the websites that the target audience was 8-12 year olds. Funny. I was 4 when I was addicted. Maybe I am a wee bit of a math nerd.

we all fall down

God must be trying to teach me humility right now. Must be. Left and right, I have been disappointing others, myself, and unable to thrive in ways I have always been able to in the past. It’s not as welcomed a lesson as I think its supposed to be.

Alas… I feel pretty… humble.

dull knives – cabin

how the roots shape the tree

I hate it when you hear something on the radio so classice, your first thought is: “oh, that’ll blog.” Two issues here.

1) please read that statement. that’ll blog?
2) I can’t remember what it was.

that being said… i have no time to share any more except that if I ever do this to myself again (i.e. a finals week like this) please punch me.

father – horse feathers

ps. i want to change the layout of this blog – I’ve got the – 9 month itch? something like that. yup. change. need it. ugh.

good little girls deserve their own place in the same world

I have love/hate relationship with decisions. I love to make them, but I hate negatively affecting others in my decisions. It’s why I hate picking a restaurant to go to for meals, movies to go to, etc. I’ll suffer for your happiness – some sadistic mantra I toot. It’s really ridiculous.

I guess this whole decision process as of late is what blows my mind – I made a decision for me, and yet I feel guilt, not necessarily for me – but for the others I fear I’ve hurt. Maybe better, I fear that others think I led them on. Ironically, I feel led on. As it turns out, I find myself worrying a lot in the last few days that my stubbornness could negatively affect my decision – I hate going back on my word. When I finally make a decision – it’s not going to change, regardless of how I feel about my decision after the fact. Not a good plan, probably, but it’s currently my modus operandi.

So here I sit, frozen in the fear that I just singlehandedly destroyed my future, yet trusting that God is at work in future, and ultimately, unsure of how I’m supposed to think or feel about the last week of my life. I know that God can and will redeem whatever stupid thing I may have done. And to be honest, I just want out of all ecclesial drama I currently have been presented. I sarcastically respond some days the ease with which I could find a job in my other degree and move on with my life without these vocational and ecclesiological questions of call. It sounds so much easier to just walk away and give up – to not obey – to ignore – to hide – to run. And yet, I know that is not an option. And what a dificult option it would still be.

So instead I’m sitting late at night, not wanting to work on papers and to start January all over again. I am tired – exhausted, really – and ready to just demand a lot of things from God at the moment. Hell, not just ready – I am demanding. I wonder when/if/how I’ll hear those next answers. I just want God to make a decision and inform me – how self-righteous, no?

honest man – cabin

oh the times, they are a-changin’

Almost two years ago, I found a book in the used book section at the bookstore entitled The Handbook on Denominations. Being used, and wondering just what the differences were theologically between x, y and z denominations, the book couldn’t hurt my pocketbook, for $5, I thought (oh how foolish I often am!)

Well, to make a very long story very short, oversimplistic and almost silly, here’s what big decision I found myself making on Wednesday. This letter should as shortly but succintly sum up what happen.

To Whom it May Concern:

As my e-mail on 2/26 stated, I’m writing to formal remove my name for the inquiry status with the PC(USA) in the Whitewater Valley Presbytery in the state of Indiana.

I want to make it clear that I made this decision after nearly 5 years of trusting and obeying a call to ministry with the PC(USA) and trusting that this choice is not one made lightly. To be honest, it is a decision I make with a heavy heart, knowing that I am walking away from a denomination that has shaped me into the woman and Christian I am today; as such, it feels like I am losing a part of my family or my body.

But I am encouraged to know that while I feel a deep loss in this decision, it is one I have not made out of selfishness or based upon fears. Rather this decision comes with much prayer, conversation, and affirmations from my community. I have made this decision after receiving both feedback and responses that have either forced me to ask questions about the denomination or my role within the denomination that would not have happened had I not begun this journey.

I walk away not denying or disobeying a call to ministry, nor to the Church, but trust that the God who calls me to love and speak Truth, also calls me to minister to a community willing to edify in the midst of counsel. My experience on this journey has infrequently been edifying, but I’ve found myself facing more fears that I cannot ever perfect what a group of people may want simply because I do not live in an identical box that others do.

I want to also be clear that it is not the seminary which I have chosen that has led me down this path; community members from within the Presbyterian community at the seminary are equally in agreement that while this decision is not easy, it is one I should make if I am to continue to thrive within the context of the church.

I am grieved because I know that I could have remained through this process, forged through the concerns I face in regard to any number of things, and ultimately, joined a group of people with whom I would gladly call colleagues and friends. Equally I am grieved because I know that my call aligns with this ministry, but I have come to a perspective where I know that my call is not limited by any singular denomination. My gifts and call will be met elsewhere with welcome arms; a fact I must cling to.

May the God of peace and grace be seen in these words, and may you know I write them with both love and brokenness on my heart and in my mind

Joyfully and Graciously.

Libby

still have nothing to show

While all-nighters should not be the norm (and havent for a while, really), I love those really quite nights when you feel like you’ve accomplished something – finally. The quiet nights when I can listen to music, explore old blogs, and remind myself of why I am here doing homework on Acts at 3 A.M.

Somehow I plopped myself in front of the little diddy I wrote 8 months ago about me.

This time is never easy for me. I try to keep it all tightly wound – I ignore the truths of my heart, the pain gutted deep in my eyes. But for many, February is happy, lovey, cold, refreshing. For me? It is sad, dark, tainted. I have fond memories of specific events, for sure.

But, ultimately – it reminds me of my story. It reminds me of the dark parts of my story – I neglect the redemption for the week leading to it. I wish I had someone to share it with some days – I said it. Yup.

Oh well. I don’t. I’m here. On the couch, at 3 A.M. with a fan blowing to dry the carpet and the heat on for the first time in 3 years. It’s a mess. It’s a ironic mess – and yet, what really isn’t?

give it away - kate york

when no one seems to change

I’ve learned that it’s never a good sign when I exhibit any one of the following habits:

1) ignore the bank account simply because I don’t have the time to stop and check on it and then frantically worry at random moments

2) ignore faculty on campus because I’m embarrased with a grade, a paper, or any other thing I could simply do stupidly (which obviously runs the full gamut)

3) stop listening to music because it stresses you out that there are so many different things you could listen to/forget you even have a music list

4) carry books around for days/weeks on end with the very intention to read, but don’t even realize they’re all in there

5) lose random things like a) cell phone, b) laptop adapter, c) keys, d) brain and e) tweezers

6) ignore google reader and your favorite blogs for more than 1 day

7) ignore the idea of writing for more than 1 day

not worry about returning phone calls because you don’t even have the time to listen to the voicemails

9) sleep on the couch every night for two weeks because every time you sit down when you return from work and are exhausted but overwhelmed by work, you fall asleep

10) forget to grocery shop for 2 weeks because – well, at least the refectory food serves quickly

11) neglect to answer the important e-mails for a while because its easier to ignore than it is to deal with messes

12) prefer to let hair go curly to straight simply because it takes less time in the A.M. (slash I don’t care)

My friends… welcome to my life. But don’t worry, I took care of parts of 11, 10, 9, 6, 3 and 1 in the last 10 minutes of writing this update!

afterglow – kate york

too much, too much…

The problem with making grandiose statements like I did below is that you have to follow up your actions with your words. As is the case every other time I try to make change, I get symbolically slapped in the face. Wednesday afternoon I started to feel a little “not great.” By Thursday I was tugging at my ears like a dog chases a cat. By Thursday night, I could have cared less how many friend were in my apartment, how funny The Office may or may not have been, and I simply wanted to sleep with the hope of my ear’s pain going bye-bye. 

I’m a weird patient (read: finicky). Sometimes I like to tell no one I feel like crap. Othertimes, I want attention, love, affection and peace. Ironically – every time I got attention for this damn ear infection, I wanted to run in a corner and hide. I had no one who really knew me around me this entire weekend – I was with new or brand new friends for classes. Not in the same familiar town. I nearly OD’d on pain killers Saturday morning – did you know that you should not take 13 advil in a 7 hour window. Because I did, and I certainly looked not “well.”

At least I was justified, when the oh so kind Physician’s Asst. looked in my right ear and said, “oh gosh! How long has it been this bad!?” “Uh. 3 days. 2 this bad. I can’t really handle it much more – I’m going crazy.” “Well, uh,  yeah. That’s really bad.” 5 minute later he tells me that I’m probably going to have to go to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist because “that’s just not normal.” Awesome. Thank goodness for the cheap health insurance at Fuller, eh?

And so, my patience. My joy. My thrill at the year to come – certainly has felt crushed in the last few days. All I really wanted was a friend to come check in on me, see if I’m okay. I’ve been subtlely reminded that community is a two-way street, and I can’t quite figure out what I’ve managed to create that’s made me so isolated and alone lately. I hate it, to be honest. I have no constancy, no really close friend here anymore. I feel forgotten, annoying, or not cool enough to hang out with anymore. And all I really want is a knock on the door and a friend to say, ‘you ok?’ not ‘I can’t believe you…” I make mistakes. We all do. But I guess I just need some added grace today (oh, and copious amounts of vicodin.) To clarify – the ear infection, is not improving. At this point, I’m hoping this ringing I’ve heard for the last 5 days leaves by June. Oy.