A Quick Run-down

Alright, here goes...

To-do list:
- Kid's Place curriculum
- Draft and send out fundraising e-mails
- Compile list of materials needed for Kid's Place
- CWC Connector Rally materials
- Visa application
- Thank you notes and other "missionary-ish" stuff to be mailed
- Book one-way ticket to AKL in August
- Book roundtrip ticket to SIN in December/January
- Coffee, lunch, dinner, Sno-Castle and other "See you later" stuff
- Compress life into two suitcases and two carry-ons

Quick run-down of the schedule before August:

June 24-29: North American Convention of the Church of God
Friday, June 24 - NAC evening service (AU kick-off: Paul, A Musical Journey)
Saturday, June 25 - CWC Connector Rally (Speaking on connecting with other cultures)
Monday, June 27 - Kid's Place; SOT luncheon
Tuesday, June 28 - Kid's Place

June 29-July 11: Portland, Oregon
June 29-July 1 - Arthur and Judy Kelly (Troutdale OR)
July 1-8 - Jenny Marble's family (St Helen's OR)
July 2 - Becca Shrout and Ryan Hodges' wedding (Portland OR)
July 8-10 - Billy and Mary Hatch/Brett and Stephanie McMorris (Woodburn OR)
To be scheduled - Randee Doe and Sean Sullivan (Vancouver WA)

Mid-August - flight to Auckland
December 28-ish to January 15-ish - roundtrip to Singapore

If you find that we're going to be in the same general vicinity in any of the above dates, PLEASE let me know. I would LOVE to see you before I take off to the next part of the world.

Also, if you would like to receive updates from Auckland, please send me your e-mail address.

Dear Keren #8 - Becky and the Church Part 3

Dear Keren,

I sat in that building again today, as has become routine over the last three years since I left and came back. It's become a habit for me in the last couple months since I've known that the sun was setting on my time here to, every time I get the opportunity, look at all the people that have become family to me over the last three years. Sometimes it happens from up front, sometimes I secretly enjoy sneaking in late just to catch that few extra minutes of sleep--but also so I can sit in the back pews and just let the image of this whole messy, chaotic family find its roots in my heart.

But today was different. I sat at a different corner up front, then moved down to one of the wings halfway through the service. There was a candle-lighting piece in the later half of the service and again, I watched as all these faces--some familiar, some not so much--one by one came forward to light a candle. Some, I've known for a long time, and not just them, but generations in their family before and/or after them. Some I've just gotten to know very recently.

And then I noticed them. Ah yes, Jim and Betty were my landlords some years back--specifically, the year after the dark year ended. Quite frankly, I wasn't sure back then if I should allow myself to develop affection for them. After all, they were a part of that building--the one where the messy, chaotic family was learning then what it meant to live as family. All the murmurings, complaints, hurtful comments and attitudes... The many "care-cards" written to the leadership to inform them of how to do their jobs better. I was only twenty then. I wasn't prepared for my idealistic view of the institution to completely fall apart. The fact that this building was a major part of history and had a long legacy behind it didn't help keep my goody churchkid Becky-ish world from feeling like it was completely spiraling out of control. And then there was the part of the story where most of the people who were a part of this institution were people who had a long track record of ministry. Yet here we were fighting with each other over silly things like when rehearsal times clashed and this diva felt their contributions to the church was more important than that diva's so their rehearsal should take more priority.

And people wonder why I didn't want to go to seminary. If this was what people who have an extensive ministry repertoire end up doing to each other, then hell, no thank you.

But fast forward three years to today and we find Jim and Betty up front having just lit a candle. They proceed to kneel at the altar, and it's barely a minute later that I looked up and found Olive heading over to kneel and pray with them. And then I found tears in my eyes.

You see, Jim, Betty, Olive and her husband Savas are all people that I have come to love dearly in the more recent years since the dark year. They loved the part of Kingdom work that took them outside their own culture where they would spend most of their lives living in the in-betweens. And just for a few moments, I wondered what it was like for them to be a few years younger, living in cross-cultural settings in different parts of the world at the same time. And I wondered what kinds of friendships blossomed in the seasons where their paths would cross even if just briefly. Were they the kind that a "What are you doing? Can I come over now (and sit around and talk, or not talk, or do nothing)?" would not be awkward? Were they the kind that would last for a long, long time, till the day they find themselves back "home" again, worshipping in the same building again? Were they the kind that would still stay strong even after the dark years in a setting similar to the ones that they had just dedicated most of their lives to?

And this is why as much as that dark year redefined so much of who I am today, I hardly talk about it except to the few people. But lately as I have felt the need to validate my experience in ministry, or why I relate to the postmodern post-Christian culture as much as I do, this dark year has come up again.

Yet at the same time, watching Jim and Betty, and Olive, and all the other signs of vibrant family life in the post-dark-year era... Why bring up the past that only hurts and divides, when instead there's life and hope to look forward to?

Miss you,
Me

Dear Keren #7 - Live Like You Were Dying?

Dear Keren,

Remember how I used to walk into your room or apartment, and we'd talk about everything else under the sun before I finally 'fess up and start the, "So there's this guy..." conversation? You always responded with the knowing smile that also hinted, "Yes, of course. I even know which guy, but go ahead and tell me about it anyway." Well, we're about to have this conversation again. Except this time I'm going to go straight to the, "...but this isn't going to work out because..." part of the conversation. Because as we all know, I'm about to make another big transition and there's all that other fun stuff that goes with it. And the last thing I need is to worry about something like that.

But the reason why I'm bringing this up this time is because we've talked so much about what it means to live as people who are constantly in transition. Constantly displaced between cultures. Constantly trying to find ways to make meaningful relationships even while living as constantly transitional people.

I confess that I've never thought of myself as a person who is good with relationships. Good with people? Sure. But there's a difference there. I can be good with people, know how to entertain them and keep them happy, but I'm still not good with relationships.

I remember having this conversation with Daria a few summers ago. One of our really good friends was about to graduate and move back home, and I was lamenting to her as we were getting ready to throw a mini-farewell dinner for him that if I had a choice, I would have chosen to say goodbye from a distance rather than do a really meaningful and emotional one. Why try to get to know a person even more when we all know that the physical proximity is going to end soon? So that it would be even more painful when he moved away? Daria's response was simply, "But would you rather keep the distance and have all the what-ifs later, or would you rather make the most and have memories to hold on to for a long time?" I still had the, "Yeah, but..."s for her, even though I knew she was probably right.

And... After you left, this fear of getting too close because I was afraid of getting hurt again when they move or leave became even stronger. Moving to a different country was one thing. There was still AIM (at the time) and Skype. But moving to a place where I could no longer have the "So there's this guy..." conversations amongst others... That's a whole different thing altogether.

A few weeks ago, Dr. Brewer preached a sermon (in his Hawaiian shirt, no less) at Park Place titled "Live Like You Were Dying." While I got the gist of his message (and really enjoyed it, no less), at this point in my life, I'm not sure that should be my goal in life. Because if I was going to live like I was dying, I would have shut down by now, and kept up the good work with people but epicly failing at relationships. Not to imply that I'm doing a good job with relationships right now, but at least I'm doing better than my instincts are telling me to.

Or maybe my instincts are changing. Is that possible? Because the truth is, while the option of shutting down is still on my mind a lot, it's become a lot more natural for me to keep doing what I'm doing. And maybe that still means I'm doing ok with the people, but doesn't say much about the relationships. But truthfully, even if that were true, I'm ok with that, because I'm slowly learning.

And so as the storm clouds are rolling in outside, I catch glimpses of lightning that remind me of the few folks that I've held dear to my heart, and their common fascination with storms. Some have hurt me deeply by knowingly inflicting even more pain when I chose to not walk away or shut down before getting hurt again. Some have left me confused by their silence. But you, I remember for your fascination with dancing in the rain, and your ability to celebrate life even in the midst of transitions.

I don't know how to really live like I was dying. But I'm learning to make the most, not just out of the in-between seasons, but every single moment.

Wish you were here,
Me

Dear Keren ##6 - Big Dreams Are Made Of These

Dear Keren,

"The deeper our faith, the more doubt we must endure; the deeper our hope, the more prone we are to despair; the deeper our love, the more pain its loss will bring. These are a few of the paradoxes we must hold as human beings. If we refuse to hold them in hopes of living without doubt, despair and pain, we also find ourselves living without faith, hope and love."
- A Hidden Wholeness, Parker Palmer
"I pray through the doubt, despair and pain you will know more fully faith, hope and love."

Those were the words Melissa, one of our favourite people, left as my graduation gift. Between her wisdom, and her allowing us to take random awkward photos of ourselves in her apartment that summer, it's hard to not like her huh? She was one of the people who, like you, gave me space to find/redefine "home".

Emi and I have been talking a lot about dreams. Not just the ones that we have when we fall asleep (the ones that creep us out because they eventually manifest true in real life), but also dreaming up big things that could happen. On a few occasions, I found myself saying, "Emi, if you make this happen, I will consider moving back to Anderson after this next chapter is done."

Crazy, right?

But the thing is, some of these big dreams are the same dreams I've had four years ago as I was getting ready to leave the safety of undergrad AU life. Three simple but crazy dreams. You and I, we talked about it, and as hard as I try to recall, I don't remember how you reacted when I told you one of those crazy dreams included being homeless for a month or so, just to experience what it's like. I remembered most people trying to either talk me out of it or play it safe. But if we just played it safe, then it defeats the purpose, right?

As it turns out, I never had the guts to actually pull off the being homeless thing. Nor did I ever pursue any of the other two things that I dreamt of doing  Yet four years later, here we are with these dreams resurfacing again.

Some days I wonder what it would be like if you were here now. Where will you be living, and what would you be doing? Back then we used to dream about doing the things that would help us find more of who we are so that we can do those things even better. All these years later, here I am again with those dreams coming closer to fulfillment, yet the fear of failure is still so apparent.

"I pray through the doubt, despair and pain you will know more fully faith, hope and love."

Maybe that should be enough...?

Miss you,
Me

Dear Keren #5 - Summer Nights

Dear Keren,

Favourites of my Anderson summers:
Bonfires/Cookouts

Driving with the windows down

Flip-flops

Friends

Hanging out with missionary friends

Late night heart-to-hearts by the Helios

Long evening walks

Minnetrista's Farmer's Market
Playing in the warm rain
Sno Castle

Tonight I went on my first long walk of this season. A little later in the calendar year than usual, I guess. But we've had so much cold rain in the last month that it wasn't even worth it.

But tonight, I poured my heart out to a dear friend. Stories I've never told before, they all came tumbling out.

Ad this is why I love summer nights. School is out, and after we get off work, we're done for the day. Except for you. You always had the same job every summer that kept your schedule so full that hanging out entailed the usual, "What are you doing? Can I come over?" instant messages before I find you traipsing across the neighbour's yard in my direction. Then we'll sit or walk to Dairy Queen, and talk... or not talk. Sometimes it would be about your brother, and how he took the car and didn't fill up the gas tank again. Sometimes it would be stories that revealed the transparency of our friendship. Sometimes the silence between us spoke the depths of our friendship that ran deeper than words, in a way that I don't know how to explain besides borrowing from the Na'vi's "I see you."

Summer nights are when I miss you most.

Jenny made an observation tonight as I poured out my stories. I miss you because you were home to me. In the busyness of the school year, I hardly paid attention to how homesick for a sense of belonging I was because there was enough to distract me. But summer nights came and sitting around wishing for "home" would have become an uncomfortable norm if not because I had already found "home" in our friendship.

I've known many who uproot as easily and adapt as quickly as we do. But you taught me the importance of not just learning to uproot easily and adapt quickly, but also to quickly sink roots that are so deep that when we try to evaluate or take measurement, we find that we can only measure in the volume of heart that had been shared and not time. You taught me that sinking roots meant mutuality and accountability, and not the flighty "get up and run away" when the going gets tough.

Dear Keren, I miss you not because of the summer nights we spent hanging out watching Daria clips on youtube, or you introducing me to songs that no one else had ever heard. I miss you not because I want to watch movies on your balcony while snuggling with you and Holly. But I miss you because you had become "home" to me even before I came to terms with my loss of cultural identity. I miss you because even in the silence, I knew you understood displacement the same way I did.

And leaving Anderson isn't hard because I have 7 years of junk that need to be reduced to 2 suitcases and 2 carry-ons. It's not because I will miss the academia. It's not because I will miss the roads that are never plowed quite enough during the winters.

It's hard because I'm leaving the place that holds memories of you, memories of "home," and memories of the journey to redefining "home" not as a physical place but as a sacred space in which I hold the ones I love.

Dear Keren, this is my last summer in Anderson. Even in Berlin last year, I had an inkling that I still had one more summer in Anderson. This time, I really don't know anymore. I could sit around and mope and just keep missing you. But I think if you were here, you'd nudge me to make the moments count.

So I will pack up my junk. I will meet all the datelines I promised. But I will also take time to dance in the rain, watch movies on the balcony and simply... live.

Miss you,
Me.

It Used To Be Less Complicated. (Or So It Seems)

Dear God,

Hi. I mean, good evening ma'am. No wait, I mean... Papa?

Sorry. I've forgotten how to do this. It's been a while.

I haven't forgotten you, but the whirlwinds of the last few months have zipped in and out way too quickly that, in trying to restore the damage, all I had time for was to manage that trying-really-hard-to-look-as-sincere-as-I-feel-but-probably-coming-across-as-really-awkward smile every once in a while, just to acknowledge that I'm well aware that my insistence on carrying on the restoration work with all my power-tools isn't actually being helpful, and that it was probably hurting you to watch me too.

But truth be told, and you and I, we both know this.... I don't know how to do this. I've been working with power-tools for way too long, and all the wisdom that I have sought know that it's time to drop the power-tools. But we don't know how to even start looking for a new method because this is the first time a whirlwind of this magnitude had come through. I can't speak for everyone else, but I myself am looking forward to discovering the new methods, simply because of the adventure that it brings with it.

Yet I'm frustrated. And exhausted. This new chapter should be exciting and challenging, but still fun. But I'm feeling like my energies have been completely sapped and before I've even had time to recuperate, to celebrate endings and beginnings, the to-do list for the restoration project started to nag and nag and nag. And in the midst of all the nagging, all the questioning is not helping. The questions of, "Are you sure you're the one for this undertaking? You grew up way too quickly for your own age and you were never really a kid or knew how to be a kid, so what makes you think you'd know how to get kids involved in this restoration project? And shouldn't you be feeling guilty you're not working hard enough to meet all the datelines of your to-do list? And if you don't even know how to make time to care for yourself, what makes you think you will be able to care about the others? And you're running out of time, shouldn't you hurry up and work harder?"

And... and... and... And I'm just exhausted. Who the heck did I think I was anyway, that you would entrust me with such a huge undertaking? I'm tired of dreaming big dreams that make me so afraid because the gap between here and there seems so big that I know full well, if I tried walking by myself, I would fall right through. And I'm afraid that there might be nothing below to catch me if I fell through, yet at the same time I KNOW you are there.

But God, I'm human.
Ma'am, I'm exhausted.
Papa, I'm afraid.

Yet I will keep on walking.
Because I don't know how to stop when I hear that voice saying, "One more step, my little one. One more step then we'll take a short break from working on helping you walk instead of just toddle around."
And that voice that says, "One more step, my sweet lover. One more step towards my love, and I will be here to hold you when you fall apart."

And so I will keep walking. Because there's work to be done. And because now that I remember what it's like to catch you at the lemonade stand in between the power-tooling and how the "how are you?"s happen, I think I'll have a little bit more for tomorrow.

"Oh yes, my everlating impatience. nothing new; but i miss someone to tell me to relax...to say, "keren, mañana."
...
So please...lay down the time countdown to my life...give me a pillo to rest my head...and hold me...
we'll deal with it...tomorrow."
- KEB, 12.30.06


The road goes ever on and ever on...

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