Chad and Diane have taken his parents to the South Island this week. Which means it's another week that I get to cause as much trouble as I want without them around :)
It also means I have to make sure the household is still looked after while they are gone since we practically live on a farm. Missy, the mutt of a dog, is with her maternal grandparents this time since I'm staying over with Ariel while Rhonda is in Australia over the weekend. But the chickens still need to be fed and watered, eggs taken out from the coop and poop cleaned up. And since the last time they were gone, Diane also put two new fishes in the pond in the front of the house.
Last Sunday, as we were getting ready for church, Chad asked if he could walk me through all the tending that needed to be done in the garden. I thought to myself, does he think I'm that silly that I don't remember what needed to be done since the last time they were gone, which was only less than two months ago? But I went with him anyway, just in case there were things I forgot.
As I mentioned, we practically live on a farm. Chad's parents, Warren and Suzanne run a business where vegetation is their thing. I don't know what the official title is, but it involves scientific research of horticulture, and Warren often gets invited to speak about... stuff. Clearly, I know a whole lot about plants. But what that meant was Chad and his brothers grew up going on walks frequently with their parents and Warren would point things out about plant life.
This also means Chad takes gardening very seriously. I often tease him about spending his days off in the garden much like William Wilberforce in the scene in Amazing Grace where he simply lies on the grass in the quiet until his butler comes calling for him. So when he asked if he could show me what needed to be done in the garden, I knew to take him seriously.
I'll let you in on a secret. I hate tending to the plants and animals. I would happily do it for a couple weeks while they are gone, but I simply don't have the patience for these things. But Diane takes such delight in her animals that out of love and respect for her, I've allowed Missy and Penelope, the littlest of all the chooks (Kiwi lingo for chickens you keep as pets), to grow on me. You've probably noticed Missy in a bunch of my pictures from our adventures.
And then there's the garden. The last time Chad and Diane were gone in November, every morning I would wake up praying it had rained in the night so I didn't have to go out and do the watering. It was the beginning of planting season, so there was hardly anything to harvest, but plenty of watering.
But this time, when Chad was giving out instructions about the garden, there was more to do. He had put in even more stuff in the last two months and we're starting to get the first of the harvest. Chad gets giddy like a child in a candy store at the first fruits. When my parents were here over Christmas and New Year's, Mum noticed how much pride Chad had in his harvest. Diane often has to tell him we don't have to immediately eat what he's harvested, and that we can leave them for a couple of days. When we got home from Tiritiri Matangi last week, Chad said he was going to check on the cucumbers. The conversation went something like that...
Diane: Ok, you're just checking on the cucumbers, right? You're not going to harvest them yet, right?
Chad: Yeah, I'm just going to check on them.
Few minutes later, Chad walks in with a handful of cucumbers in hand.
Diane: I thought you weren't harvesting them? Well, fine. But we're not going to eat them right away.
Chad: Yeah, ok.
Next thing you know, he had cut one up. "Well, I just need to make sure they're ok! It's a different kind we put in this year. I need to have a taste so that I know when's the right size to harvest! Here, try some."
Diane refused. "It would be like I'm giving him permission to keep doing that!"
I felt like a kid stuck between two fighting parents and having to take sides.
But learning about gardening reminded me of The Poet Gardener, the text we used in one of Dr Brewer's pastoral care classes. About how pastoral ministry is like tending a garden. About how the needs of a garden are different in every season. And even in every season, there are different things that need to be done at the beginning, in the middle and at the end.
It also begins with an understanding of what it means to take care of a garden. Like going on walks with someone who's done the work, and having them point out what each plant looks like and need. And then one step at a time, learning the ropes of working in a garden.
It's the same with doing Church and soul-care. It's a process of learning and experimenting and not always getting it right.
Chad often said to Steve and I (back when Steve was still around) that WCF was a safe place for us to experiment and make mistakes. We both have had our theological training--a time of learning about the plants and the needs of the garden--and now it was time to experiment and make mistakes.
I'm thankful that for a first real gig in a church, the lead pastor I've gotten to work beside has that gardener's heart. Chad will be the first to admit sometimes he gets a little too "take care of business" -minded, but I have that same struggle. It helps to know I'm not struggling alone, and sometimes, watching him get business-minded makes me stop to self-reflect and remind myself to continually put relationships first.
And on the days that I run out of patience and just wish it would rain so I didn't have to go do the work of watering the garden, I hope remembering that child-like giddiness of harvest time (allow me also to point out here I don't define "harvest" by evangelical terms of number of converts, but simply as a matter of tasting the fruits, whatever that looks like) will keep me going even as a grumble my way through.
Showing posts with label Seasons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seasons. Show all posts
15 January 2013
19 January 2012
Dear Keren - The Cycle of Life, and Things They Never Taught Us
Dear Keren,
Today, Rochelle said something about trying to figure out how to explain to Ashton and Rhea (her 4- and 2-year-old) that the Beisleys were moving back to the US for good.
I kinda smiled inside. You would remember that just over four years ago when you left, we went through the phase of being angry that we might have missed the day at school when they taught us how to say goodbye. Would that have been Primary 1, or First Grade, or Year 2?
Goodbyes are a part of life. When we move away, when friends move away, when pets die, when Grandpa "became a moth in the after-life," these things all disturb the normal cycle of life.
When Grandpa became a moth in the after-life, we didn't go to school for a few days. I remember watching Grandma fall apart the day before we were to bury him. And then Grandma moved out of their flat in Blk 837, and us grandkids no longer hung out at that playground anymore. For years after that, every time I walked past that playground on the way to my uncle's house before or after school, I would from time to time wonder what it would be like if Grandpa were still alive, and if that playground would still be our stomping grounds.
But nobody taught me that I was really saying goodbye to Grandpa when they gave me instructions to toss the white rose into his burial grounds.
Years later, we moved to the flat my parents still live in now. I no longer had a direct bus home from school, which meant that since Mum picked me up on their way home from my aunt's, I didn't get to hang out with Laura on the bus anymore. It was all good because we had a fight the year before anyway, a stupid fight that only 10-year-olds were capable of.
But nobody taught me that moving didn't just mean that our peanut-butter jars and my stuffed Hello Kitty now lived on a different shelf. It meant becoming friends with Lydia and new lifestyle habits like visiting the library everyday after school to check out every single Babysitters Club book they had available since we now lived across the public library.
You see, I think when you left, I learnt that goodbyes don't have to be an ugly thing for the rest of our lives. I still miss you from time to time, but I'm ok with the fact that you're gone now, except for when people get awkward when I talk about death like it's a normal thing. Even now, when people ask me about the story of the ring I'm wearing, I don't always tell the full story because people get awkward when they find out it once belonged to a friend who died in a car accident.
Death IS a reality. As fatalistic as this sounds, at the end, we all die.
But that's the problem. See, they never gave us permission to talk about death or saying goodbye.
"If we don't talk about death, maybe we can pretend it's not there."
Or bullying in schools.
Or prostitution and/or other present day slavery and human trafficking.
Or the struggles that displaced people faced (Yes, I see you nodding your head, thinking about our conversations about Displace Me).
Or the oppression because of corporate greed.
Or...
"But if we just don't talk about it, maybe it will go away. Or we can pretend it's not there."
The truth is, goodbyes are a reality of life.
And even if bullying and other forms of oppression aren't our reality, as long as it's someone else's reality, it's our responsibility as followers of the Christ to change that reality to Kingdom Reality, right?
Or am I reading "do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God" wrongly?
Dear Keren, I wish you were still here so we can continue these conversations. I wish you could be a part of the conversations I'm having now to make the conversations we had five years ago become even more of a reality. But I'm reminded from time to time of the task I have to continue these conversations, even if you're no longer here to be one of few friends who didn't laugh when I wanted to be homeless, or work in a coffeeshop, or run a bed-and-breakfast.
Dear Keren, I will keep these conversations going. I will (and have already) continue to find like-minded people to bring more conversations together.
Dear Keren...
I miss you.
Until next time,
Me.
Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon, ‘Build houses and live in them; and plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and become the fathers of sons and daughters, and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters; and multiply there and do not decrease. Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf; for in its welfare you will have welfare.’ - Jeremiah 29:4-6
Today, Rochelle said something about trying to figure out how to explain to Ashton and Rhea (her 4- and 2-year-old) that the Beisleys were moving back to the US for good.
I kinda smiled inside. You would remember that just over four years ago when you left, we went through the phase of being angry that we might have missed the day at school when they taught us how to say goodbye. Would that have been Primary 1, or First Grade, or Year 2?
Goodbyes are a part of life. When we move away, when friends move away, when pets die, when Grandpa "became a moth in the after-life," these things all disturb the normal cycle of life.
When Grandpa became a moth in the after-life, we didn't go to school for a few days. I remember watching Grandma fall apart the day before we were to bury him. And then Grandma moved out of their flat in Blk 837, and us grandkids no longer hung out at that playground anymore. For years after that, every time I walked past that playground on the way to my uncle's house before or after school, I would from time to time wonder what it would be like if Grandpa were still alive, and if that playground would still be our stomping grounds.
But nobody taught me that I was really saying goodbye to Grandpa when they gave me instructions to toss the white rose into his burial grounds.
Years later, we moved to the flat my parents still live in now. I no longer had a direct bus home from school, which meant that since Mum picked me up on their way home from my aunt's, I didn't get to hang out with Laura on the bus anymore. It was all good because we had a fight the year before anyway, a stupid fight that only 10-year-olds were capable of.
But nobody taught me that moving didn't just mean that our peanut-butter jars and my stuffed Hello Kitty now lived on a different shelf. It meant becoming friends with Lydia and new lifestyle habits like visiting the library everyday after school to check out every single Babysitters Club book they had available since we now lived across the public library.
You see, I think when you left, I learnt that goodbyes don't have to be an ugly thing for the rest of our lives. I still miss you from time to time, but I'm ok with the fact that you're gone now, except for when people get awkward when I talk about death like it's a normal thing. Even now, when people ask me about the story of the ring I'm wearing, I don't always tell the full story because people get awkward when they find out it once belonged to a friend who died in a car accident.
Death IS a reality. As fatalistic as this sounds, at the end, we all die.
But that's the problem. See, they never gave us permission to talk about death or saying goodbye.
"If we don't talk about death, maybe we can pretend it's not there."
Or bullying in schools.
Or prostitution and/or other present day slavery and human trafficking.
Or the struggles that displaced people faced (Yes, I see you nodding your head, thinking about our conversations about Displace Me).
Or the oppression because of corporate greed.
Or...
"But if we just don't talk about it, maybe it will go away. Or we can pretend it's not there."
The truth is, goodbyes are a reality of life.
And even if bullying and other forms of oppression aren't our reality, as long as it's someone else's reality, it's our responsibility as followers of the Christ to change that reality to Kingdom Reality, right?
Or am I reading "do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God" wrongly?
Dear Keren, I wish you were still here so we can continue these conversations. I wish you could be a part of the conversations I'm having now to make the conversations we had five years ago become even more of a reality. But I'm reminded from time to time of the task I have to continue these conversations, even if you're no longer here to be one of few friends who didn't laugh when I wanted to be homeless, or work in a coffeeshop, or run a bed-and-breakfast.
Dear Keren, I will keep these conversations going. I will (and have already) continue to find like-minded people to bring more conversations together.
Dear Keren...
I miss you.
Until next time,
Me.
Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon, ‘Build houses and live in them; and plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and become the fathers of sons and daughters, and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters; and multiply there and do not decrease. Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf; for in its welfare you will have welfare.’ - Jeremiah 29:4-6
01 January 2012
Happy 2012
A quick review of the last day of my 2011, and the year in general:
Woke up wishing I had another appointment with my old chiropractor in the US.
2011 had been a year of more doctor visits than I can remember. Between the chiropractor, the gastric annoyances, the flu-like symptoms that included something like an ear-infection, I think I'm finally hearing my body tell me, you're not doing the best you can to take care of yourself.
That, and realising I'm 25. Still a young pup to most of my friends, but I can't help remembering that when I was younger, I had set goals to have had achieved more by this age... And I'm not quite there yet.
But the crazy thing is, even though those goals that I set way back when I was a wee lass have yet to been achieved, I've had so many more crazy adventures than I could ever dream of.
Stefan asked Kathrin and I at breakfast this morning if we had any reflections on the year. This has been one of those years that feels like a big wave came through and left me no time to catch a breath. The wave was fantastic to ride, but I could have done with a little less adrenaline.
So no, I haven't really had time to reflect. The year has been fantastic in so many ways, but also so disappointing in so many others.
We went in the afternoon to look at a place that could be a possibility for me to rent.
2011 had been a year of so much moving and transition. Between living off the couch in Becca and Jenny's apartment, packing up 7 years of life in Anderson, packing to house- or pet-sit for a friend for a few days, packing to move Amanda out to Colorado and the 10-day adventure in Oregon, having more garage sales than I can remember, selling faithful Cuddy the Hyundai that I had practically lived out of since the day I got her, moving back to my parents' in Singapore for about 5 weeks and trying to relearn what it's like to have a bank account and do other grown-up stuff in Singapore, and then finally moving to Auckland but still waiting for answers with the visa... Suffice to say, I'm ready for a bit more stability in my life now.
Living with Kathrin and Stefan has been a great arrangement, but I'm ready for a space to call my own now after a year of so much moving around.
31 December 2011 ended with a night of games, snacks and (trying to watch) fireworks.
Food and games had always been a part of seminary culture. But 2011 also saw an unfinished game of Ecuador Monopoly that will have to be on hold for a while till the next time I get to hang out with the Robertsons.
And 2011, I got to watch the 4th of July fireworks in St Helen's, National Day fireworks on TV in Singapore, blow some up with friends on Guy Fawkes' day in Te Atatu.
So yes, 2011 has been a crazy year.
I've experienced bigger disappointments and anger.
I've been on a plane more times than any other year that I can remember.
I've said more goodbyes than I've wanted in Colorado, Anderson and Oregon.
I've sunk even deeper roots in Singapore.
I've met heaps of new crazies in Auckland.
Here's to a 2012 with even more crazy emotional roller-coasters ahead, and even more so to a crazy God whose faithfulness leaves me speechless.
Happy 2012, everyone. Love and peace to you and yours.
Woke up wishing I had another appointment with my old chiropractor in the US.
2011 had been a year of more doctor visits than I can remember. Between the chiropractor, the gastric annoyances, the flu-like symptoms that included something like an ear-infection, I think I'm finally hearing my body tell me, you're not doing the best you can to take care of yourself.
That, and realising I'm 25. Still a young pup to most of my friends, but I can't help remembering that when I was younger, I had set goals to have had achieved more by this age... And I'm not quite there yet.
But the crazy thing is, even though those goals that I set way back when I was a wee lass have yet to been achieved, I've had so many more crazy adventures than I could ever dream of.
Stefan asked Kathrin and I at breakfast this morning if we had any reflections on the year. This has been one of those years that feels like a big wave came through and left me no time to catch a breath. The wave was fantastic to ride, but I could have done with a little less adrenaline.
So no, I haven't really had time to reflect. The year has been fantastic in so many ways, but also so disappointing in so many others.
We went in the afternoon to look at a place that could be a possibility for me to rent.
2011 had been a year of so much moving and transition. Between living off the couch in Becca and Jenny's apartment, packing up 7 years of life in Anderson, packing to house- or pet-sit for a friend for a few days, packing to move Amanda out to Colorado and the 10-day adventure in Oregon, having more garage sales than I can remember, selling faithful Cuddy the Hyundai that I had practically lived out of since the day I got her, moving back to my parents' in Singapore for about 5 weeks and trying to relearn what it's like to have a bank account and do other grown-up stuff in Singapore, and then finally moving to Auckland but still waiting for answers with the visa... Suffice to say, I'm ready for a bit more stability in my life now.
Living with Kathrin and Stefan has been a great arrangement, but I'm ready for a space to call my own now after a year of so much moving around.
31 December 2011 ended with a night of games, snacks and (trying to watch) fireworks.
Food and games had always been a part of seminary culture. But 2011 also saw an unfinished game of Ecuador Monopoly that will have to be on hold for a while till the next time I get to hang out with the Robertsons.
And 2011, I got to watch the 4th of July fireworks in St Helen's, National Day fireworks on TV in Singapore, blow some up with friends on Guy Fawkes' day in Te Atatu.
So yes, 2011 has been a crazy year.
I've experienced bigger disappointments and anger.
I've been on a plane more times than any other year that I can remember.
I've said more goodbyes than I've wanted in Colorado, Anderson and Oregon.
I've sunk even deeper roots in Singapore.
I've met heaps of new crazies in Auckland.
Here's to a 2012 with even more crazy emotional roller-coasters ahead, and even more so to a crazy God whose faithfulness leaves me speechless.
Happy 2012, everyone. Love and peace to you and yours.
25 December 2011
Unexpected Christmas
In all the weirdness of me, I've always secretly looked forward to my first Christmas away from the birth family.
Don't get me wrong. I love my family, and Christmastime with my crazy cousins and church family is always fantastic. But there's a part of me that feels like my first Christmas away from the birth family is another rite of passage--or perhaps another symptom of the pains of growing up.
So in all the weirdness of me, I've been secretly looking forward to this Christmas for a while. But somehow, the last month got insanely busy with trying to meet datelines to get my visa sorted so I could actually spend Christmas here. Then there was the exhaustion from trying to help plan for Christmas service and stuff while I wasn't even sure if I would be here for it.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, I forgot how much I had been looking forward to this, my first Christmas away from family.
Somewhere in the middle of puppet show rehearsals, writing newsletters and hanging out with kids, I forgot the expectant spirit of Advent.
Somewhere in the middle of trying to find stuff to fill the emptiness of being away from what is familiar, I forgot to even find time to miss the traditions that I've grown up with.
So here I am in the first hour of Christmas morning in a whole new part of the world that is now home, sitting in the home of a friend where I'll be sleeping the rest of this week because the housemates have family in town. The Christmas Eve dinner with the adopted family has long been digested, the cheesy Christmas movies and family games have been put away, and the Christmas tree in Janice's home is lit.
This wasn't at all how I had envisioned my first "grown-up" Christmas. I'm settled in to Te Atatu, but not having my own space to start my own "grown-up" Christmas traditions is creating a feeling of displacement that I hadn't anticipated.
But I wonder if this was exactly how Mary and Joseph felt. It was their first child, and they probably didn't even have the time to get ready for their own family traditions before they had to head to Bethlehem for the census. I wonder if they had themselves envisioned what the birth of their first child was going to be like, and how far it might have been from what they had expected.
Yet somehow in the midst of all the hustle and bustle and feelings of displacement, the Christ-child came. So as exhausting as this whole month has been (I barely even noticed this is the first blog post in over a month...), and in spite of the fact that it is 1 am and I have to be up in a few short hours for a long, long day of festivities, I'm taking a few moments to breathe in the Christmas air. I'll shed a few tears for the traditions that have now been broken, and give thanks for new beginnings and new hope that could only happen because of this Christ-child.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Love from Aotearoa,
Jael
Don't get me wrong. I love my family, and Christmastime with my crazy cousins and church family is always fantastic. But there's a part of me that feels like my first Christmas away from the birth family is another rite of passage--or perhaps another symptom of the pains of growing up.
So in all the weirdness of me, I've been secretly looking forward to this Christmas for a while. But somehow, the last month got insanely busy with trying to meet datelines to get my visa sorted so I could actually spend Christmas here. Then there was the exhaustion from trying to help plan for Christmas service and stuff while I wasn't even sure if I would be here for it.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, I forgot how much I had been looking forward to this, my first Christmas away from family.
Somewhere in the middle of puppet show rehearsals, writing newsletters and hanging out with kids, I forgot the expectant spirit of Advent.
Somewhere in the middle of trying to find stuff to fill the emptiness of being away from what is familiar, I forgot to even find time to miss the traditions that I've grown up with.
So here I am in the first hour of Christmas morning in a whole new part of the world that is now home, sitting in the home of a friend where I'll be sleeping the rest of this week because the housemates have family in town. The Christmas Eve dinner with the adopted family has long been digested, the cheesy Christmas movies and family games have been put away, and the Christmas tree in Janice's home is lit.
This wasn't at all how I had envisioned my first "grown-up" Christmas. I'm settled in to Te Atatu, but not having my own space to start my own "grown-up" Christmas traditions is creating a feeling of displacement that I hadn't anticipated.
But I wonder if this was exactly how Mary and Joseph felt. It was their first child, and they probably didn't even have the time to get ready for their own family traditions before they had to head to Bethlehem for the census. I wonder if they had themselves envisioned what the birth of their first child was going to be like, and how far it might have been from what they had expected.
Yet somehow in the midst of all the hustle and bustle and feelings of displacement, the Christ-child came. So as exhausting as this whole month has been (I barely even noticed this is the first blog post in over a month...), and in spite of the fact that it is 1 am and I have to be up in a few short hours for a long, long day of festivities, I'm taking a few moments to breathe in the Christmas air. I'll shed a few tears for the traditions that have now been broken, and give thanks for new beginnings and new hope that could only happen because of this Christ-child.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Love from Aotearoa,
Jael
22 July 2011
Friend of the Wind
An old friend from college wrote for this next season of my life. Thank you, B-row.
Friend of the Wind
Take to the skies once more and leave your fears behind you
It's time to fly again, my friend of the wind
Beyond the borders of the walls that could not hold you
His voice is calling now, my friend of the wind
Spread your wings; fly again
Open skies will lead you home
And as the way unfolds the mystery, hope and wonder
You'll learn the reason why, my friend of the wind
Memories of laughter for the friends you left behind you
In time we'll meet again, my friend of the wind
Spread your wings, fly again
Open skies will lead you home
It's still such a long way
But we're drawing closer with each day
To those who've gone on to the hope just beyond this fragile veil
Spread your wings, fly again
Open skies will lead you home
Friend of the Wind
Take to the skies once more and leave your fears behind you
It's time to fly again, my friend of the wind
Beyond the borders of the walls that could not hold you
His voice is calling now, my friend of the wind
Spread your wings; fly again
Open skies will lead you home
And as the way unfolds the mystery, hope and wonder
You'll learn the reason why, my friend of the wind
Memories of laughter for the friends you left behind you
In time we'll meet again, my friend of the wind
Spread your wings, fly again
Open skies will lead you home
It's still such a long way
But we're drawing closer with each day
To those who've gone on to the hope just beyond this fragile veil
Spread your wings, fly again
Open skies will lead you home
31 May 2011
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.
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.
22 January 2011
Seasons of Grief; Seasons of Love
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love? Measure in love
I'm becoming increasingly convinced that it isn't until you have cried with someone that you can truly say you know them. And it isn't until you've cried because of them, whether it's because you're hurting so much with them or because of them, that you can truly say you love them.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not trying to convince you that you need to be crying because of someone everyday, or that Days of Our Lives is an accurate depiction of love. I'm just saying that until we've really learnt what it means to hurt rationally with or for someone, we don't actually know them or love them.
Which, on hindsight, is probably what made 2010 such a difficult year. It wasn't simply a matter of how many times I moved or how many places I did life in in that year. It wasn't simply the transitioning in and out of cultures. It wasn't simply having to say goodbye.
Sure, the Anderson-Berlin-Anderson-Singapore-Anderson transitions were a bit crazy. Sure, there was some amount of stability in that Anderson was still the place to "land" in between all the moving. But no, in 2010 I finally learnt what it means to really love and do life with people. And each time I was starting to be able to hurt with the people I was living amongst, it was time to move on.
Friends who graduated in May, I never really had time to celebrate and grieve them moving on from Anderson and it was time to go to Berlin.
I was just starting to get to know some of the stories of the friends in Berlin and it was time to do the traveling part of the internship.
I had just enough time to spend with friends in Pforzheim to know about the things that mattered to them and it was time to go. Same with the friends in Fritzlar.
I barely had enough time to hear the hearts of some of the friends and hurt with the kids at Teenfreizeit and it was time to go back to Anderson.
My understanding of the theories of doing life together were just getting put to test by difficult relationships and times spent in the hospital; and I barely even had time to hurt over these things and it was time to go back to Singapore.
Old friends in Singapore were just starting to open up with their stories all over again and it was time to head back to Anderson.
So much time to learn to love; so little time to actually love.
So much time to laugh together about the shallow things; so little time to cry together.
But yet...
Sure, 2010 was brutal. But if I could go back and redo 2010, I wouldn't want to have done it any other way.
Because my God is a God of Love.
And all the Truth that I have in this Life is Love.
And Love is the only thing my God wants from me.
And Love is the only thing I have to give.
And for this Love, I will willingly take the grief, the heartaches and the pain that come with it.
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love? Measure in love
I'm becoming increasingly convinced that it isn't until you have cried with someone that you can truly say you know them. And it isn't until you've cried because of them, whether it's because you're hurting so much with them or because of them, that you can truly say you love them.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not trying to convince you that you need to be crying because of someone everyday, or that Days of Our Lives is an accurate depiction of love. I'm just saying that until we've really learnt what it means to hurt rationally with or for someone, we don't actually know them or love them.
Which, on hindsight, is probably what made 2010 such a difficult year. It wasn't simply a matter of how many times I moved or how many places I did life in in that year. It wasn't simply the transitioning in and out of cultures. It wasn't simply having to say goodbye.
Sure, the Anderson-Berlin-Anderson-Singapore-Anderson transitions were a bit crazy. Sure, there was some amount of stability in that Anderson was still the place to "land" in between all the moving. But no, in 2010 I finally learnt what it means to really love and do life with people. And each time I was starting to be able to hurt with the people I was living amongst, it was time to move on.
Friends who graduated in May, I never really had time to celebrate and grieve them moving on from Anderson and it was time to go to Berlin.
I was just starting to get to know some of the stories of the friends in Berlin and it was time to do the traveling part of the internship.
I had just enough time to spend with friends in Pforzheim to know about the things that mattered to them and it was time to go. Same with the friends in Fritzlar.
I barely had enough time to hear the hearts of some of the friends and hurt with the kids at Teenfreizeit and it was time to go back to Anderson.
My understanding of the theories of doing life together were just getting put to test by difficult relationships and times spent in the hospital; and I barely even had time to hurt over these things and it was time to go back to Singapore.
Old friends in Singapore were just starting to open up with their stories all over again and it was time to head back to Anderson.
So much time to learn to love; so little time to actually love.
So much time to laugh together about the shallow things; so little time to cry together.
But yet...
There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven--
A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.
What profit is there to the worker from that in which he toils?
I have seen the task which God has given the sons of men with which to occupy themselves.
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-10
In the grander scheme of Life and Time according to the Creator, it all makes sense.
In the grander scheme of Life and Time according to the Creator, it all makes sense.
Sure, 2010 was brutal. But if I could go back and redo 2010, I wouldn't want to have done it any other way.
Because my God is a God of Love.
And all the Truth that I have in this Life is Love.
And Love is the only thing my God wants from me.
And Love is the only thing I have to give.
And for this Love, I will willingly take the grief, the heartaches and the pain that come with it.
Because my God is a God of Love.
And all the Truth that I have in this Life is Love.
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