Mine

You are worthy of being loved

by the sheer fact that you are my creation

You are worthy of being loved

please let me shower you with adoration

What if I stood up on that hill, spread out my arms and declared

"I am the divine and I claim this one as mine!"

Would you believe that I love you then?

Playing Dress Up

Last week I turned 25. 

A quarter of a century. 

Hittin' my stride in my mid-twenties. 

Getting closer to thirty every day.

I came away from my birthday with a fully stocked wine rack and realized that I have officially moved on from polly pockets and stuffed animals to being a conesuier of fine wine. Or at least pretending to be.

A pretend Sommelier is better than no Sommelier at all, right?

The ever present birthday question is "Feel older yet?"

Sure I can rent a car now without the extra "I'm under 25 so I am more likely to text and drive and crash" fee, but I still feel young. So incredibly young and not ready for the stages of life that I am expected to be in. I feel like a child playing dress up.

Not only do I feel young in my present state but also at the idea of growing up. Let me just say, Peter Pan was on to something...

Lately there is much talk of the future.

Future financial plans. Future career plans. Future travel plans. Future relationship plans.

Someone gave me a CD a couple weeks ago called Futures. I'm still waiting to listen to it. Waiting for the right time. Waiting for enough space to hear it in it's entirety. And there is something symbolic about waiting to listen to Futures.

Waiting for a future that is not yet mine to be in. Waiting for a future that should be planned for in the present. Waiting for a future that is obviously unknown. Waiting for a future that is confident.

Waiting.

That's a theme.

The future can't come soon enough and yet I would not be opposed to it moving like molasses in January...

Let's compromise with something in between Speedy Gonzales and a turtle with a broken leg.

Let's not rush the future. But let's dream about the future.

***

On the topic of playing dress up - you know what they say, dress for the job you want. 

I see two options:

2%

2% of her sees the grey
while 98% black and white

2% of him is insecure
while 98% confident

2% of him is unsure
while 98% decided

2% of her is unmotivated
while 98% driven

2% of her is fragile
while 98% unbreakable

2% of him is quiet
while 98% exuberant

2% of her craves adventure
while 98% routinistic

2% of her is apathetic
while 98% passionate

2% of her is an artist
while 98 % a thinker

2% of him is passive
while 98% unyielding

Minority be far,
and sparse in occurence
it steers this ship like a ruder
and drifts off course a great distance

2% is exciting
2% is haunting
2% is deciding
2% is daunting

2% is infuriating
how much it is influencing
2% is invigorating
how much it is inspiring

2% needs moderation
2% needs invitation
2% needs space
2% needs grace

It makes no sense how 2% is controlling
It makes no sense how 2% is molding

2% means not quite 100
2% means unfinished
2% means variety
2% doesn't need to be diminished

2% is good in encouraging a balancing act
2% is bad when it spins lies as solid fact

Watch out for the 2% that leads to unsatisfaction
Embrace the 2% that leads to brings out a course of action

There could be 2% more,
but I will leave it right here
It's been a while since I've written
since I have 2% writer's block fear. 

What is normal?

Ok, let's recap the past year-ish:

I spent 4 month in New York City, 6 weeks in India, and took two trips out to Dallas, TX for work: When I started my job, I would have told you that the tax function does not travel much, if at all. However, in the 2 1/2 years I have been at my firm, I have already had two fairly significant trips, not to mention the 7 month rotation to Texas that I passed on last summer.

I visited my family in Sammamish, Boston, and Chicopee: I went home to Sammamish, WA back in April, joined my family at my sister's college graduation in Boston, MA in May, and then when my parents moved out to Chicopee, MA I spent Christmas with them at their new crib.

I worked two tax busy seasons: During busy season, I tend to disappear from the outside world. I work long days and sometimes go weeks without seeing dear friends. When I finish busy season, it feels like I have returned from a long trip. I have to spend the next few days putting my life back together - get my car serviced, catch up with friends, do laundry, restock my fridge with food...

I am currently in Israel, heading to India next week and about to start another tax season soon.

I recently told someone that I was excited about settling into normal life again. But let's be honest, what is normal for me?

Why do I associate the nomadic lifestyle with the not normal?

Being a nomad was normal for some. Why can't it be normal for me?

To some degree, society encourages, no, demands nomadicy. You are always asked when you are moving to the next stage of life. What college are you choosing, when are you graduating, when are you landing a career, getting married, starting a family, changing careers, retiring, etc. Why is it never enough to be content in your current stage of life?

But society also encourages, no, again demands the sedentary. When are you settling down? Are you going to move back home? You can't keep up that pace forever. When are you going to slow down...etc.

I'm confused. What do you want from me?

My life feels like a dance. There are structured "normal" steps, but the music is constantly changing and with that, the steps must be altered.

So what does "normal" mean or look like?

Maybe normal is rolling with the changes in life without rushing them or prolonging them...maybe normal is taking one day at a time...maybe normal is learning to be content in the present, but still having a hope and a vision for the future...maybe normal is redefining home...maybe normal is being in the stage of life in which you thrive, whether that is being nomadic or being sedentary...

And maybe the most normal thing I can do is breathe.

All that to say, I'm in Bethlehem and its snowing. Talk about not normal...or is it?

Metaphorical Jet Lag

I'm in a terminal with a ticket to Boston. A flight for New York just left and a flight to Seattle is currently boarding. I have flown to all these places over the past year. The least familiar being Boston and yet that is my holiday destination.

I am flying to people I care about. But I also just left people, and a particular person, I care about.

Other than the fact that this terminal is freezing so I am wrapped in my sweater blanket (not to be confused with a slanket), it doesn't feel like winter, Christmas or the end of the year.

Maybe it doesn't feel like winter because the California sun is heating up my A/C withholding car. Maybe it doesn't feel like Christmas because I'm not flying to Seattle. Maybe it doesn't feel like the end of the year because there are so many new things and beginnings happening.

There is a part of me that feels like I am missing the holiday season. I thought I was prepared to enjoy this time of year, only to wake up 7 days before Christmas with an inbox full of online shopping shipping notifications, efile packages to review and a list of people I need to meet. I am tired.

I feel beaten and bruised. I feel inadequate, incapable, and insecure at times. Constant criticism has taken a toll and I question my ability to do anything right.

But then I read a letter that does nothing but remind me of God's goodness and faithfulness.

Good.

The simplicity of the word is profound. God called all that he created good. His intention for the world was good. Pure and simple. Good.

Good is the only way to describe this season. It is good to experience joy. It is good to have hard conversations. It is good to sit in an incomplete process. It is good to remember the inauguration of hope that is December 25th.

While I am not working for the next month I am still moving at the rapid pace of a can-can dancer taking shots of red bull.

I feel all over the place, sometimes overwhelmed, sometimes ecstatic of the upcoming opportunities.

But there are areas that I need to take a step back from. To re-evaluate my attitude. To reset.

So my mind is jet-lagged. Not sure which emotion to embrace. Not sure which circumstance to camp on. But I don't think I need to choose. All are valid and all deserve thought and consideration.

So here is yet another blog post from an airport. But there is nothing to do in terminals but think. And this time of thought and contemplation is good.

marks, scars, and memoires

nursery rhymes lied to me.

"Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but Words can never harm me." - Said no one EVER

 words are heavy. and i don't think people realize that. 

the constant barrage of negative words creates an anti-body to the refreshing of positive words. its backwards. and I don't like it. 

i'm not talking about negative/positive life force energy ideology, or the popular phrase of "sending positive thoughts" 

no, i'm talking about straight up comments like "you are lame" vs. "you are incredible." 

i know two people. 

one builds me up. 

one tears me down. 

at times, the tearing is so deep 

that the building is hard to receive 

and accept as truth. 

it hurts to be damaged by words. they scar. 

BUT

it is rejuvenating to be blessed by words. they heal. 

stop criticizing. start complimenting. stop terrorizing. start treating.

stop abusing. start adoring.

please.

Permission or Forgiveness...

Dear Dad,

I would like to pre-apologize for any Holiday Shenanigans that will go down. Let's be honest. If your church organized a bonfire for Thanksgiving, I have high hopes for what possibilities a Christmas Eve candle lighting service holds. 

I'm sorry I'm not sorry for "antiquing" church bulletins. 

Sincerely,

A daughter who hopes to remain absent from sermon illustrations. 

***

Dear Brother,

I'm super excited to see you and hang out during the Christmas break we will spend on the other side of the country.It's been a while since the last midnight showing or sporting event craving. Please don't break the sled this time.

I'm sorry I'm not sorry for making you drive 12 hours to go to a football game once. 

Sincerely, 

Your sister who lives around the corner from you.

***

Dear Mom,

You promised me a White Christmas. If I have to fly 6 hours instead of 3, I hope this means more than white chocolate covered Oreos. Although, I will gladly accept those as well.

I'm sorry I'm not sorry for blocking your car in the driveway with a Calvin and Hobbes-esque Snowman tragedy. 

Sincerely,

A daughter who communicates love in weird ways.

***

Dear Sister,

Let's trade internationally purchased scarves. You dress so well. 

I'm sorry I'm not sorry I stole you clothes.

Sincerely, 

The sister who misses her extra closet and the person to whom it belongs.

***

Dear Cat,

Meow, Meow, Meow, Meow! 

I'm sorry I'm not sorry for kicking your furry little tail out of my bed. 

Sincerely, 

The owner that needs earplugs to sleep because you purr so loud.

***

Massachusetts be ready for this fire storm.