Dear Keren #4 - Old Friends

Dear Keren,

Over the weekend I got to hang out with some old friends--people you'd probably remember too. It just seems weird to be hanging out with the same people in more grown-up settings, talking about more grown-up topics. Weird, huh?

Seven years ago, Gretchen and I were fresh-faced music majors that hung out in the dorm rooms frustrated over how our music theory homework didn't make sense, and wanting to save the world through the church by making music. Seven years later, we find ourselves in Quiznos trying to be careful how we spend our money, realising how idealistic we were seven years ago thinking that we could save the world. Funny how things change huh?

Six years ago, Hannah and I were on our first missions trip hanging out in Atlanta, trying to figure out what the heck to do with ourselves and our ideals of what the world should be like instead of what it is. Six years later, we find ourselves hanging out with the friends that became family when crap hit the fan, still trying to save the world, except more realistic and less idealistic now. Funny how things change huh?

Seven years later and suddenly we seem to have aged so much. I guess life does happen huh?

I've been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy this weekend. Any other day, I probably wouldn't admit that. But see, I've become addicted to this show not just because it's witty like Gilmore Girls, the one that you introduced me to. Nor just because it's full of medical jargon and mystery like House. But it's about the busyness of life, and learning how to juggle the drama and frustrations that life deals us. Sure, life isn't quite as scandalous as the TV show is, but learning how to deal with stress while still admitting that we are, in fact, still human and limited and sometimes majorly screw things up... That's what life is about, isn't it?

Seven years ago, I was in a new place, getting to know new people, thinking that I wasn't a person who had the capability to screw up relationships, break hearts, or walk away from people I cared about. But what did I know? I was young, idealistic, and life hadn't dealt me the lemons yet, so how was I supposed to know I should start looking for a lemonade recipe?

I always thought I was good with people. But four years ago, you went away. And I became afraid. Afraid of people, and afraid of getting involved with their lives again. And when relationships got tricky, I didn't know how to stick around and rough it out. Why would I, and why should I when life ends this quickly?

But that's all a part of the journey, huh? So maybe I did let go, I did walk away, I did give up.

But maybe I've now learnt how to make lemonade.
And maybe it's time to start making lemonade.

"From Every Mountainside, Let Freedom Ring"

"My country, tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing..."


No, I'm not American, nor while I try to claim to be one even though there are days, like spending 4th of July in Fritzlar, Germany last year instead of being at a cookout with friends like I have for the last 6 years.

But at the same time, last week when my family and I took a road-trip covering the major cities of the east coast, it dawned on me that I've been very intentional about making this country home. And when a place is "home," we don't think to do our own cultural, historical exegesis that I've got to do in some of my more significant travels in the last few years.

So while I know I should probably be blogging about life at the moment, or thoughts post-graduation, or giving updates on New Zealand, allow me a few moments to wonder aloud.

7 days, 10 states.
Niagara Falls, NY (via OH, PA)
2am Monday morning, after all the graduation festivities, we headed to Niagara Falls, NY. The time at the Falls itself was kind of a coming-full-circle for me because it was 7 years ago that I stood in awe of the same Falls, except on the Canadian side, thinking about life ahead. I just received news that I had been accepted at AU, even though I hadn't received my official acceptance letter. As I stood at the Falls 7 years ago, I remembered thinking, God if you can craft this majesty that's in front of me, you can craft my future even though I sure as heck don't think that being 18 years of life had equipped me enough to move halfway across the world. Little did I realise that was only the beginning.

7 years later, I stood in front of the same Falls as we were drenched standing in the Maid of the Mist, still in awe of the 7 years that have passed, and the 7... or however many more, that lay ahead. Another big move is about to happen. But the apprehension of 7 years ago is now replaced with an intoxicating feeling that, at this point, even the sky is not the limit anymore. So exciting, but also so intimidating.

And that, is the journey of faith.

Boston, MA
Next major city: Boston. As we walked the Freedom Trail, the sense of, "Wow, I'm walking where history took place" started to sink in. It was the similar feeling when we did the walking tour in Berlin the first full day of our arrival. This was the land where people came to, searching for freedom. And this is where it began.

New York City, NY (via CT)
New York City, in all its glitz and glamour, has really unfortunately become a place that needs to be redeemed for me. It has nothing to do with the glitz and glamour (I am, after all, a city girl). But my encounters with this city has, on too many occasions, brought to the surface ghosts from the past that make me question myself. And sadly, it has nothing to do with the city itself, except for the reminder that stressful organizational structures make people go crazy and react perhaps in ways that they know better than to react. Sounds strangely familiar huh, what with organized religion and all. Oops, did I really say that out loud?

Philadelphia, PA (via NJ)
I think this was where everything hit home for me. As I mentioned earlier, I might have lived in the US for the last 7 years, but most people don't think to do a cultural exegesis of "home". Yet as I stood in front of the Liberty Bell, all I could think of was the words, "From every mountainside, let freedom ring." Never mind that the only reason I know the song in its entirety is because it was often used in my music classes in undergrad. Still, the words rang true.

This is what this country stood for: from every mountainside, let freedom ring.

I'm not one for making political statements or judgment calls of whether a country is doing enough to reflect their political ideals. But yet as I stood there, it hit home that, if I had to make an agenda list of my ministry-goals (the thought itself makes me cringe just a little bit since goals are necessary but often pushed too far beyond what is most beneficial. But go with it for now--I'm trying to make an illustration here), liberation would rank fairly high. Yet at the same time, my experience in NYC just reminded me that I myself am not liberated. I still have ghosts from my past that are binding me down.

Freedom. Huh. What a noble concept.

District of Columbia (via MD)
If you've ever written an exegesis paper or a sermon, you know how you get to the end and you have to write the praxis part? This was kind of what being in DC felt like.

As I walked around the "American Indian" museum at the Smithsonian, I was reminded of Juanita, a girl on Pine Ridge Reservation in Allen, SD who asked me to teach her how to say "best friend" in Chinese so that that could be her name for me. 4 years have passed since I met her, but every once in a while, I like living vicariously through my friend Emily and the work she's involved with in SD. From time to time, I wonder about Juanita, and Star, and all the other kids I got to know on the trip. I wonder how they are now. I wonder what kinds of lifestyle decisions they have made given the circumstances they have to live with.

Their choice? I don't think I can answer that question.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And then there were words set in stone, quoted from so many of the political forefathers of this country. I wonder... I wonder how much of it they preached, and how much they practice. I wonder how much these words have been passed on to the next generation. I wonder how much easier it is for me to say to them, "hey you said that, but you didn't live that out" than it is for me to say it to myself.

I'm no politician, so I'm not going to pretend I understand the life of a politician. Nor do I understand much of politics in any way, shape or form.

But freedom... Hmm.
What a noble concept.

So This Is Life Without School...

This is what the first 24 hours of being back in Anderson post-Graduation and all its festivities have looked like:

0000 hrs: finally back in my own bed
0045 hrs: last time I remembered looking at the clock before I finally fell asleep
0330 hrs: up not-so-bright but early to take the parents and the baby sister to the airport
0530 hrs: checked in the flying crew and breakfast at McD's
0700 hrs: hugs and see-you-agains then driving back to Anderson
0815 hrs: called the vet to set up an appointment for Stormie
0830 hrs: finally at work only to find the network down so productivity = 0 since my working document is on Google docs
0930 hrs: left work since the network was still down. Made two social visits to a few friends.
1015 hrs: returned the key to my SOT mailbox
1020 hrs: stopped in at Church of God Ministries to visit former co-workers
1130 hrs: took Stormie to the vet
1230 hrs: lunched with Elizabeth
1415 hrs: decided not to get gas because I couldn't remember which gas station had gas for $3.85 instead of $3.99
1430 hrs: napped
1630 hrs: chiropractor
1800 hrs: got gas for $3.85 when it came down everywhere else and grocery shopping
1930 hrs: decided to make a big pot of chicken noodle soup
2100 hrs: finally sat down to dinner
2300 hrs: tried to start the visa application process but the website was down.

This is what the next 24 hours of being back in Anderson post-Graduation and all its festivities have looked like:
0000 hrs: finally went to bed
0800 hrs: went to work
1000 hrs: took Jason and his parents to the airport for their trip to San Fran
1230 hrs: stopped at home for a quick lunch and stopped in to check on Elizabeth and Stormie
1315 hrs: back to work
1700 hrs: went to the lab in the library because the computer at home was being stubborn.
Tried again to start the visa application process, but the website was still down
Tried to book my tickets to Portland, but Priceline was being stupid
Tried to work on a wedding gift I'm making, but I apparently didn't save it on my flash-drive
Ended up spending a couple hours ordering stuff on VistaPrint for the NZ ventures
2000 hrs: came home to slowly make dinner
2200 hrs: realised I need to start making a list of ALL the people I need to write to and/or see and the things I need to do in the next few months while trying not to scream. decided to procrastinate by blogging instead.

The rhythm of my schedule has been broken. There's not much of a routine anymore. But the schedule is still getting filled a bit too quickly by still trying to do life with people.

This week itself will see:
20 hours of work
3.5 airport runs
2 or 3 visits to the vet
2 appointments to the chiropractor
2 chunks of chill-time with friends
1 worship team rehearsal

And some time in between all of that, there's a family with 3 boys I need to see pronto, a curriculum dateline I need to meet, thank you cards to send, pictures to post, blogs to write, e-mails to reply to, German teens to harass... Oh, and eat and sleep.

Welcome to life with no more school. Things haven't actually changed that much.

Dear Keren #3 - Becky and the Church Part 2

Dear Keren,

My first conversation on campus with anyone this week (this being finals week) was with none other than Dr. Robert Nicholson himself. As much as I've rubbed shoulders with all the Church of God giants in my time here, I still get star-struck. This was, after all, Dr. Robert Nicholson, the one who has a building--one of my second homes, nonetheless--named after him. So the conversation went something like that:

Me: Good morning, sir.
Dr. Nicholson: Well, it is Jael! You're about done, aren't you? How does it feel?
Me: (What the ..... he knows my name??) Well, I have one more week... If I get through this week, I'll be ok, I think.
Dr. N: And how many other times have you said that of the weeks that have passed?
Me: Umm... A lot?
Dr. N: And you got through those?
Me: Well, I guess so...
Dr. N: Well, atta girl! You'll be able to get through this one as well. Not that you're a girl, more like a lady, but that's just an expression I use, you know?

Me: (What in the world just happened??)

I guess I should explain that Dr Nicholson is a part of that family/institution that contributed to that dark, dark year of my life. I don't know how much he knows about my story from that year, but the fact that he, Dr. Robert Nicholson, knew my name... That blew me away.

Ok, ok. So I've talked about "that year" for a while now. I guess I should explain what happened in that year huh?

Remember those times when you were unable to get a ride to The Mercy House on Sundays so you would end up showing up in that building because it was within walking distance? And after service was over, a bunch of us will head out to lunch together and it was always fun? Well, that didn't last for too long. Change happened, as always does and always will. A lot was happening within the walls of that building that was causing some amount of disgruntlement, unhappiness and division. Eventually, a big part of that after-lunch group stopped coming. I remembered at one point asking Pastor Randy if I could do my undergrad Church Music internship with him. We both ham-hawed for a bit and neither of us followed up on that so that was kind of dropped.

A year went by, and within that year, he and his wife were gone. It wasn't anyone's fault, really, except that change happens, and growth hurts, I guess. I was pretty upset because he and his wife were after all, amongst the first people to welcome me to Anderson when his son, Ryan, decided to borrow their car to take a bunch of us international kids to Walmart. You remember those days when going to the grocery store was a pain, don't you? We weren't sure who to ask for a ride so a lot of times we'll eventually end up walking to CVS to get the few things we needed. Then eventually one of the international upperclassmen would spot us walking and yell at us for walking and insisted on giving us their phone number so that we could call one of them.

Anyhow, Randy and his wife Rhonda (not to be mixed up with other Rhonda who got me involved in the worship team as I was telling you about in the last episode) and Ryan were amongst the people who made me feel most at home in that building. Granted it didn't really feel like "home" yet because I was still trying to figure out how to get into the traditional style of worship. But between them, and the Rhonda who got me involved with the worship team, I couldn't find enough reason to leave. Especially since, during the summers, Rhonda would always have me over to watch their son Victor so she could get things done around the house. She also got me involved with a bunch of different things that made me work with kids and children.

Now you have to know that it was only a few years ago that I actually started enjoying being around kids. For the most part, I felt like that awkward neither-grown-up-nor-kid person who never really had a childhood so I didn't really know what it meant to talk to kids. And I was still coming out of my "hide-behind-my-mother's-skirt" phase, so I was just REALLY awkward (not that I'm not still awkward now, but compared to a few years ago... oh boy...)

It's funny, you know, thinking about those years. Because those kids that I always felt awkward around, are the same kids that I would consider my BFFs now. A couple months ago when I was still debating about whether or not I should move forward with the New Zealand stuff, these were the kids that surrounded my table and taught me about the book that involved the 39 clues. (I don't remember the title). These were the same kids that, last Sunday at church, when they had prayer for all the graduates, stood behind me and prayed for me. I honestly didn't think I left that much of an impact on them, but perhaps it was me just being me, showing up at the summer musical rehearsals, going to their soccer games and hanging out with their parents that left an impression? And I'll be honest, I didn't show up to all these things so much because of them as much as... Heidi kind of talked me into it. Apparently I let Heidi talk me into a lot of things huh...

I guess I'm just realising that I didn't keep showing up to that building because it was convenient anymore. But people kept me coming and after a while, it didn't seem so bad anymore. I guess this was why the dark year seemed so dark. I know I'm still ham-hawing around that, but that's because I don't really know how to talk about it since that dark year seemed so long ago. At the same time, recent stuff that's been happening has been reminding me again that I should probably share more of my experience from that year than I do now.

But that will have to be for another time. The parentals are here for graduation (hey, as are yours!) and this house needs to be cleaned before I get to the chiropractor tonight.

Hugs,
Jael

Dear Keren #2 - Becky and the Church

Dear Keren,

Over dinner tonight, some Seminary friends and I were talking about how we've changed since our high school years and how even though we all still profess to be in relationship with Christ, some of our lifestyle habits have changed and people who have known as from back then may not think that we still believe in God.

Which got me thinking. There was one very, very dark year in the last seven that I've spent in Anderson that I haven't really processed much until more recently. I hardly told anyone until fairly recently how much that hurt, or how much that has changed my perspective of the institution, and how the institution had become the family that I needed a break from to help keep my sanity. And just because I don't talk about it or act too differently on the surface doesn't mean that underneath my attitudes have changed and I'm no longer the Becky in the Chris Rice song that I was seven years ago.

It all began the same weekend that I met you for the first time. Since I didn't know my way around the city of Anderson yet, I didn't know what other church options I had available. So I show up at this big church that I remembered attending a few months back when I was first in Anderson for my equivalent of visit day. The sanctuary itself was almost as big as the entire church building I grew up in. And I show up there again the following week. Right after service was over, I was approached by this spunky lady who introduced herself as Rhonda. She said she heard that I was a musician and that if I was interested, she could start putting me on their worship schedule. I got plugged in right away, and even though the very traditional worship style made me really uncomfortable, I was connected, and the ten-minute walk from my dorm room to the church was much more convenient than trying to find people to take me church-shopping.

Things were great the first couple years. Sunday after Sunday, the international kids who found no other church home would gather together at the back of the sanctuary to head out to lunch together. Sometimes it was Indian, sometimes it was the Chinese buffet place in town. Community came easy, and even though I wasn't exactly looking for it, it was there.

But that was all years ago now. Funny how much can change in seven years huh?

To be continued...


Miss you,
Me