mental vacation

I don't know about you but for me taking a trip and experiencing a change of scenery is always a breath of fresh air and an opportunity to reevaluate and think about my life. Not only do I (typically) come back rested and ready to tackle life and all its twists and turns, but I come back with a renewed vigor to do it well. It's an opportunity to take what I've seen and apply it to my daily life.

Having just returned from a short vacation back to Fargo, I've been reflecting on how much my life has changed since I moved away from there seven years ago. It feels like I only graduated from college a couple of years ago, but the reality of how much the city -- and my friends who still live there -- have changed, is strong. The city has expanded into what was corn fields when I was in school. Friends have earned promotions, gotten married and had kids. Businesses have launched, struggled and failed (and succeeded).

I couldn't help but realize that there is a crazy, divine path for my life that led me from Fargo to Greenwich to Issaquah. I don't understand it and probably never will. And I certainly haven't been able to recognize it during each moment, but the view in the rear view mirror is pretty amazing.

Driving around Fargo I gave into the rabbit trail thinking of what my life would have been like had I landed a job in my college town. What would it be like living there now? Would I be married? Have kids? Would I still be working at the same place, doing the same thing? Would I still have the same friends? Would I be bored? What would my relationship with God be like? I felt like God told me over and over again that none of it was even an option. Fargo was my college town and place to establish my adulthood, but it wasn't a landing place.

Those six days were some of the best I've had in recent months to unplug and let my mind take a vacation, too. I found myself open to what God was wanting to teach me. Not only about the orchestrated plan for my life, but also about other people.

Reading an article in the local newspaper I was horrified over the treatment of male baby chickens (this is Fargo, remember) who are tossed out like garbage and killed because they don't produce eggs and don't grow fast enough to be raised for meat. As clear as anything else I've ever recognized as God's voice, I knew God was teaching me that I need to be as horrified by the poor treatment of people as I am these chicks.

A few days later as I was driving through an older part of town and thinking about how rundown many of the buildings were, God again illustrated a message. To Him, we are just like these buildings -- from the outside we are poorly maintained and dilapidated. We have dysfunctions in our families, problems to be resolved, debts to be paid, health to be restored. Yet despite the status of the building, a business still operates. And despite the state of our affairs, our lives still get lived. Both are still valuable and have the ability to be improved through sometimes difficult, painful and costly upgrades. Business owners can choose to make an investment and upgrade their building. And we can choose to make the investment and allow God to upgrade our lives.

Perspective

Perspective. It's always been intriguing to me how perspective is such an influence on life. From the simple illustration of being at the top of a mountain and having a view of everything below, to being in the depths of a cave where all that can be seen is what's right in front of you. Perspective has the ability to either open you up or close you off to the world. Perspective has the ability to make you search or focus.

From the top of a mountain it's difficult to not let your eye wander the expanse below you. You are free and untethered. It's easy to feel like you can conquer the world. You look at the horizon line. You look at the contours of the Earth. You look at just how much of everything there is and how much you miss while you're on "regular" ground. It is difficult to focus. It's a spectacular and grounding experience.

In the cave, however, you have no choice but to focus on what's in front of you. You are below the surface. There is no light aside from what you bring with you - a lantern, candle, flashlight. It's difficult to see and your eyes don't have much distance to wander. You look at the rocks directly in front of you. You look at the path's ups and downs. You look at very few things, yet there comes a point that you begin to notice the tiny details that make up the little in front of you. It is easy to focus. It, too, is a spectacular and grounding experience.

Because so much more of life is lived on standard ground, I've always jumped at the chance to go above or below it. Airplane rides have always been a great reminder to me of how there are so many things in the world going on at the same time that there must be a higher power that orchestrates it all. My problems are not that big. My hangups are not so large that they affect everyone. My view is altered. My perspective changes.

Hiking in caves is also a great reminder of just how detailed the world is. Each little piece of rock is a part of the greater whole. Not one bit was created without understanding or meaning. The details are right in front of you - there is no escaping or running away from them. I am faced with my problems. I am forced to overcome my hangups and imperfections. My view is altered. My perspective changes.

I will gladly take both extremes because they afford me the opportunity to grow and evolve as a person. I am reminded at the mountain that I am just a speck in this world. God's plan and role is much larger than mine. Who am I to worry about the little things in life when He's orchestrating it all? And in the cave I'm reminded that it's small things that make up the larger picture. It's in the details where we see, learn and become a better version of ourselves. It's where I'm faced with my faults and am given the opportunity to change.

We seem so small from the top of the mountain and so large in the cave. Perspective - it's a choice of how we'll accept it and what we'll do with it. As for me, bring on the heights and depths.

Change

An attitude is an interesting thing. Most people will describe a person by how he or she looks. Long or short hair? Blue or brown eyes? Tall or short? It’s the attitude or personality that usually comes last in the description. But isn’t that really the most important aspect of a person? You can get past any deficiencies in how someone looks, but you’re stuck with a personality.

I’ve always been a person with a “sunny” disposition – as a friend recently put it – but I’ve recently felt as though my attitude has taken a slightly different direction. Now don’t worry, I’m not suddenly becoming a pessimist or doomsayer. I’m not even saying my attitude has changed. I’ve just felt that recently I’ve been viewing life through less than rosy glasses. As far as I can tell there is nothing that caused this change. I haven’t recently gone through a major breakup with a guy or had a loved one die or been in a car accident or had a near-death experience. Life has been pretty normal.

The only thing I can even think to attribute the change to are the personalities of people around me every day. They threaten and taunt me to let my outlook on life falter and take a pessimistic spin. It’s not like they are consciously pursuing this, but it’s through small actions, words and attitudes that they’re encouraging me to claim a negative take on life.

It’s the daily barrage of seemingly inconsequential attitudes that is slowly wearing me down. They are the elements of a person rooted so deeply that they don’t even realize that’s who they are. Sometimes spoken with words, many times spoken only with actions and body language I hear: “That’s not the way we’ve always done things.” “I don’t think we can do that.” “I don’t know how to do that and I don’t want to learn how to do it either.” “Why do you think like that?” “Are you sure that’s the right decision to make?” The “Hmmph…” and “Hmmm…” and disapproving looks with the eyes and head shaking and arms crossed and tuning out of a conversation then saying with that voice, “Ok,” and walking away.

I’ve never wanted to be that person. I’m afraid of becoming her. I’m actually annoyed by her – heels in the ground, chin tucked into her chest, fists ready to fight for the status quo, even when the path of change is clearly littered with an abundance of benefits. I’m afraid of that attitude rubbing off on me. Yet I feel as though I’m slowly acquiring those traits.

Why is it now I feel like I’m becoming that person? Is my thinking valid? Am I actually afraid of my attitude changing or have I simply become afraid of change?

Perhaps I’m dissatisfied with my life and unsure of what the future holds, so I’m assuming my attitude has changed and in turn I’m blaming it on those around me. I find myself wondering if it’s just the stage of life that I’m in: single, unsure what to “do” for the rest of my life and unable to clearly discern where the path is leading. Aren’t those things you’re supposed to deal with in high school and college, or at least the few years out of college? Yet, here I am: 29 and full of questions. Certainly I know my life is not terrible or going to be a colossal waste if I don’t have all the answers right now. I know that God has a plan for my life and He loves me. But so many times it’s hard to wrap my mind around that. Seriously. I’m just a girl who doesn’t always know up from down. A girl who feels alive when she’s stretched (forced or willingly) beyond what she’s ever known.

I don’t want to be the one resisting change. The one who is afraid that change will change her and instead keeps her heels dug deeply into the ground, hoping to stay in place, only to realize life around her has moved and she’s actually taken steps backward and is now pressed against a wall and being forced to move forward. That is the antithesis of who I am and who I’ve ever wanted to be.

I want to be a person who embraces change and throws herself headlong into new things without being afraid of losing what is comfortable and known. The joy of discovery, personal growth and possible failure is so much greater than the pain of never tapping into that available potential. I want to keep getting better as a person, as a Christian, and growing deeper in who I am and what I can handle. I want to embrace the future, with all of its unknown elements and scary moments. I want to be the girl who has a job, but doesn’t let it define her. I want to be spontaneous and curious and generous. I want to see the world, be a part of culture and experience things I don’t even know exist yet.

Change is not bad. It is not scary. I am determined that my attitude will not be downgraded or reshaped negatively by change or by other’s perception of it. Change is good. It is beneficial and exciting and challenging. And challenging is a test I will gladly face.

Adventure

There's something about packing up my belongings to move that stirs in me a desire to hit the road, stop at little hole-in-the-wall restaurants and make conversation with folks at gas stations. I'm sure my parents could explain it -- or at least give a few stories of how I've been like this since I was a kid -- but I'm not sure I even care to have a reason for why I'm the way I am. I have a healthy sense of adventure and it's what makes life so thrilling and full. (I have hypothesis, though, that it's my dad's happy-go-lucky attitude paired with my mom's practicality that I've inherited that keep me floating yet grounded.)

As I write tonight, I'm surrounded by boxes (full, empty and broken down), packing paper, tape, recycling, a giveaway bag and a complete mess. Despite -- or perhaps because of -- it all my mind keeps wandering to the thought that I need to get out of town. I don't necessarily need to be moving across the country again, but that's the norm that's been drilled into my head when I move.

This current move is local, just down the street, actually. By my past moving standards this one is dinky. I want to start piling things in my car and drive it up the hill to the new place, not pile it in the corner of the living room and wait for the moving truck to arrive on Monday evening to drive it up the hill. I'm impatient. Packing is reserved for moving long distances.

So I battle my mind screaming at me to get out of town, strike out on the road, have an adventure! And reason calmly saying that this move is an adventure. It's the first time I'll be moving into a real apartment complex. There will be neighbors to become friends with, a fitness center to conquer, a pool to relax near and management to avoid (just kidding!).

It's a perspective shift that I'm trying to come to grips with so that I don't find myself constantly bouncing around the country my entire life. Adventure is in the big and little things. It's not just moving to a new city and testing yourself to see how well you adapt to starting over.

Adventure is meeting a friend for late-night coffee and conversation, then sitting outside the shop an hour after its closed and you're both cold and tired. It's hiking alone on a trail with signs at the start warning you about the wildlife. (I will NOT do that again.) It's spending a day downtown by yourself exploring a new part of the city. It's hanging out with a new friend and her kids, giving her a chance to be "real" and yourself permission to be authentic. It's offering your free time for a non-profit that will stretch you beyond what you think you can handle.

Every day is an adventure if I decide to live it that way.

great view

There is an outstanding view of Mt. Ranier that still makes me smile every time I see it -- the view from the parking lot in the Issaquah Fred Meyer. I've told many of you about it but have only been able to share it with a few of my friends outside of Issaquah. It's one of those views that you need everything to line up for you: clear day, not too sunny, the right time, remembering to look in that direction (oposite the door). But today I'm happy to treat you all to it! Here's a shot I took tonight...first time it's been visible for awhile because of the winter clouds and fog. Enjoy!

check out the closer view in the inset

Also, Jasmine being naughty when she thinks I wasn't looking. Yes, that's the dishwasher!

a new feature on the blog

It has taken a while for me to figure this one out but........you can now subscribe to my blog via email or RSS feed! Everytime that I update here you'll either get an email in your inbox or a new posting in your RSS feed. Here's to more motivation for me to blog regularly!

recoup'ing

Last week was the start of the process of better health for me. You see, when I was younger I had a number of bad sunburns in the summer. My parents did a good job of keeping me well blocked when I was a kid (except when our luggage got lost), but I haven't always been the best at the same task as a teenager and now as an adult. All this to say that I've had some suspicious moles pop up or change over the past number of years. So with seven moles removed in five years (two of them pre-cancerous), I should be the poster child for annual skin check-ups. Sadly, it had been about two years since I last went in for an appointment and I was overdue.

So last week I made an appointment for a full body check (yeah, always a joy...) and the doctor found two moles that she decided to biopsy. One was so small I didn't even know I had it (way to go doc!) and the other was one that had actually be biopsied before but the pigment grew back (sad). This brings us up to yesterday and my appointment to have them removed.

Thankfully I was cool as a cucumber before the appointment -- I have a tendency to get anxious with these things. But when I got into the operating room they had mixed my charts up with someone else! To their credit, it was with another patient named Heather (different last name) getting a very similar prodecure done. So everything is going fine: they give me a few shots of numbing stuff, remove the super small mole, get started on the second, larger one. Then I begin to feel a little light-headed. And hot. And clammy. And I had to say something. They were great -- flipped me over, gave me a cold washcloth and bottle of water, and let me rest. A few minutes later I'm feeling much better and ready to finish this thing. Not sure what happened (I probably wasn't breathing), but I'm feeling better.

Now it's all about keeping the areas clean, being careful with the stitches and taking a break from the gym for a few days. Next week the story continues...stiches removed Wednesday - yay!

A fresh start with a fresh month

I've realized I'm not a great blogger. I love reading other people's but have a truly difficult time keeping my own current. So in an effort to bring you up to speed - the highlights from the last four months:

- Marianne moved out.

- Marianne moved back in. (To clarify, she house sat for two weeks and went on vacation for one week.)

- I organized a family conference. Yes, a family conference. I was single at the time. I'm still single.

- I went back to Fargo for Thanksgiving and introduced my parents to Macy's after Thanksgiving Day sale. They thanked me.

- The Gospel According to Scrooge performances went well. I made a return performance as Angel #2.

- Marianne successfully planned a surprise birthday party for me. It got snowed out. Twice.

- Five lightbulbs burned out in the apartment.

- I began teaching Marianne all things snow, including driving, snow shoveling and the joy of children's playground equipment in the snow. (Check out the video below.)

- I enjoyed a l-o-n-g vacation in Vermont over Christmas and New Years. Thanks Continental Airlines!

- My aunt said, "2008 wasn't great, but 2009 will be fine." I didn't believe her when I came home from Vermont to find a tree branch had shattered my back car windshield.

- Got the window fixed and test drove the new 2009 M6. It's nice!

- I got a great deal on a flight and rental car in Connecticut. Seriously, who can beat $189 roundtrip with taxes?!?!

- I hosted my first small group at the apartment. We had fun!

- A new rug for the living room was delivered today!