If I could somehow insert some sort of pause that showed how stunned and in awe I am at the Lord, I would put it right here. I almost don't have words, but I don't want to forget it, so I will write it down.
The Lord is so incredibly faithful.
If you have followed my blog for any of the last 10 months, then I don't have to tell you how much my heart has become so attached to the little town that is Kalona. Not the town, exactly. But the landscape of farms and hills and sunsets and beauty, and the people! My goodness the people. I hate them for stealing my heart, but I love them. When I go to their church functions or gatherings or even just hangout nights with my friends, it's as if my heart has come home.
I have, for some time now, been playing with the idea of requesting a mentor or discipler or just some sweet lady from that community to teach me how to be a godly woman of peace and gentleness. The idea first popped into my head almost a year ago to the day. I had yet to meet the most of my Kalona friends at that point, but it was just a few days after a fellow and I had agreed to take a break from our relationship in hopes of its future revival that I found myself sitting in a cute little coffee shop off of the Coralville strip, burying myself in psychology notes and drinking coffees and distracting myself as best as I could from my broken heart.
I found myself studying at a table that was right next to a girl, whom I had seen at Salt before, and her parents. I didn't know them very well at all..not even her name, I just recognized her. I said "hi" and she sweetly greeted me back and asked me how I was doing. She knew my name, of course, (how does this always happen??) and we made some small talk briefly before my returning to my studies and she to her... uhm.. idk what she was doing... knitting maybe? My head wasn't all there... I had spent too much time crying and drinking coffee and cramming pysch facts into whatever part of my brain still functioned half decently.
In the midst of our exchangings of pleasantries, her mom asked,"How do you know Hannah?" Ah yes, her name is Hannah.. I love it when people drop the names that I don't remember.. "We go to the same church group at school,"I responded. "Oh! That's wonderful!" is what her mom said. I think Hannah mentioned something about me leading See You At the Pole and her mom smiled ever so sweetly.
However small or insignificant that interaction may have seemed to them... it meant the world to me. It meant everything for someone to smile at me because, to me, it was a way that God was telling me that I was loved. Yes, the Lord loves me through random people. (ALL THE TIME!). Hannah left shortly there after but her parents stayed sitting doing whatever they were doing. Perhaps it was an hour or two later that I was still sitting their cramming and numbing my mind when Hannah's mom gathered her things to leave and leaned back over towards me to tell me how glad she was to have met me and that I was welcome out to their farm when ever I should like.
0_0 And by the way, Fern, God really loves you a lot. In case you didn't pick up on that yet, you are incredibly loved.
Be still my heart. I LOVE a farm. I grew up on a farm. I love anything away from the city. And even the thought of someone who barely knew me at all inviting to their farm and even stating that I was welcome in their home ministered to me in the deepest places of my heart.
I have yet to make it out to that farm. But I encountered them several more times at the coffee shop and Hannah has been an incredible blessing as I've met with her for coffee once or twice and have had sweet interactions with her at prayer events and Salt. She's just great!
But, it was the moment where this sweet Mennonite (Kinda sorta) family just opened their arms to me (OUT OF NO WHERE) that spoke volumes to me and I thought to myself, "I need to be in the presence of sweet ladies like that who are just welcoming to people. I need learn that and be like that." And while I've been terrible at pursuing that, I've still had that desire in my heart these last 12 months.
Fast forward a little, I survived finals and took my broken heart home and spent most of my break resting in the knowledge of God's love. I then returned to school and continued the waiting game to see if the relationship break would bring about some sort of rekindling or if we were just stirring around a pile of ashes and nothing more. The Lord gave me strength one day at a time, no more than needed, just enough for a day and time continued to pass.
As Valentines day approached, I could hardly take it any more and spent my afternoon praying and asking the Lord to give me some clarity and relief. I had no sooner said "amen" than my phone buzzed a text message from the fellow and it was clear enough that we had ashes without embers.
Geez, Lord, did my heart really have to break twice?
Sneaky Jesus, though. How could He have timed it better? The day after the DTR (Discontinuing of The Relationship) a friend I had not seen in WELL OVER A YEAR popped up and invited me to a Mennonite Valentine thing at his church. (I've blogged all about the Lord's faithfulness there and you are free to go back and read all of that business). And the ladies there were SO sweet and SO welcoming that again I thought, "aww.. if only I had one to pour into me and teach me to how to walk in godliness. "
I just like how they are. Simple, sweet, welcoming, loving, soft spoken, submissive... kind. And seriously, I mean, my friends from Kalona are SO GREAT! Their moms must be rock stars because they did such a great job. So... I've been contemplating how on earth I could coax one of them into taking me under their wing. Mostly I don't actually know any of them and I'm much too shy when it comes to these sorts of things to have the boldness to ask such a huge favor.
It has been a desire of my heart, though, and I made some progress at the end of the summer when I was invited on a hayride and managed to procure the phone number of one of the sweet ladies who offered me to use her bonfire pit and backyard for all my friends whenever I so desired (She even said she'd put the fire in it for me ahead of time). HOW ARE PEOPLE THIS NICE??? I've asked the advice of some friends and some siblings, "What do you think guys, should I ask one to disciple me?" "well, it's up to you." ...Thanks guys. I mean.. It's a nice idea. I still didn't pursue it, exactly.
So here I am. One year later having survived an other semester. This time it's not a relationship with a man that seems to be burning out but my very own heart. I've poured out the best I have and that's all I got. I've been meeting with various adults for the last 2 or 3 months, seeking help and encouragement and wisdom on what to do next. While I have an army backing me with prayer, my heart is drying out. More than ever I've been thinking how sweet it'd be to have someone to show me how to do this whole Christianity thing. I've been learning from my peers for 5 years now. I need more.
A week ago I met with one of our staff to seek some wisdom and she put me in contact with a sweet lady who has been wanting to minister to girls who need it through prayer and encouragement. Well, it's a start at least. Even if not one of those sweet ladies from Kalona, if she loves Jesus, I'll take her.
:)
We met over the phone today and she is as sweet as sweet can be.
"I'm in Iowa City once a week, but I live a little south of there, do you know of Iowa Mennonite School?"
o_o Yes!
"Yeah, well I teach for this homeschool/public school called Mid Prairie in the Kalona area"
Oh you don't say..
Well, Lord, aren't you the funniest? You're funny. What a sense of humor laced with every kind of love. Be still my heart.
How is the Lord this perfect? Or my life even that important that the details would be so exact. Why does the Lord even care to touch me with the things that make my heart so happy?
I mean, how odd and strange of me to be so... obsessed with Kalona. People probably think I'm psycho..that or they ask me which Mennonite boy I'm so in love with that I get so giddy about Kalona. But they don't even know how much my Jesus has touched my heart via the people. I go back because Jesus is there and He loves me.
My Jesus. I am home with Him.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Lost my ID
Nine. That's how many posts I've drafted and not shared in the recent past. Mostly because they are incomplete...I can't even promise I'll get around to posting this one.
I've been lost lately. That's been the main theme of the posts that weren't posted. I'm lost and have no idea who I am or what I am or where I'm going. I've been in a valley a lot longer than I've cared to allow myself to realize. Mostly because it looks so drastically different from the last valley I walked in, I hardly can bring myself to admit that even with a life as blessed and "unbroken" as I have *right* now... it's still a valley. I suppose I imagined that all valleys must have a steep incline going into them, a complete cloud cover of darkness, slimy mud at the bottom, the worst torments on all sides, and a greater incline coming out.
That is not my valley now. My valley, though dark and hazy, was not steep nor was it too deep to see any light at all. Perhaps it's been an uphill battle and that is why I didn't notice a valley. An uphill battle with more burdens and weight than I ever had the strength to carry in the first place. And now, as things begin to close, I realize I've become entirely weakened by everything and am in want for motivation to go much further.
"You failed, " is what most often plays through my head. Though, I know the voice of my savior and those words are not His. I can't help but think there is some inkling of truth to this lie. I've never been one to consider quitting ministry. Ministry is my whole heart and passion and all I ever want to do with my life. However, I can't help but think I'm not cut out for it any more. Maybe at one point, I had some sort of gift in leadership, maybe.. but I think maybe I lost it? Or dropped it. Or failed to foster growth in it and it died? Perhaps this is why I feel most lost.... because the most of my identity has been wrapped in leadership and ministry for so many years and now I feel unsuited for it. I just don't know who I am.
I don't know where I'm going. Part of me doesn't want to know. Most of me doesn't. I've dreamed of my future before and the broken glass pieces of those shattered dreams are more damaging than the joy that brought them to existence. But that makes me lost, too, because I have no structure or guidance or goals to move me forward. I don't know what I'll do if not ministry. But perhaps it is that I just need to be refueled, refilled, replenished before taking up that cross once more. I'd hate to think that now is when I bury it forever. But then again, if it's not my gift any more, than maybe I'm in the wrong for not letting it go.
I just don't know.
Someone asked me how my life was yesterday. All I could do was repeat "I don't know" over and over. Because I don't. I mean, in my mind it's good. It's great. It's more ideal than I could ever imagine. But in my heart, all I can think is that I'm not okay any more. There is something wrong, something off, something broken, something empty, something missing, something something something causing me to feel like life is way too overrated. Not in a suicidal way, of course, but I just feel... over it. I don't know.
I'm too much of a people pleaser too. I've known this a while. But, I mean, I can't win. I can't, and I'm accepting defeat. Here's my white flag, guys, and my pink slip too while I'm at it.
One time, I made a cake and it was supposed to be tall and stacked. But it was really moist and when I put the frosting on it, the frosting collecting crumbs and chunks of the cake and rather than having a nicely stacked and smoothly frosted cake, I had a mass of chunky icing on a cake so heavy that it began to fall over and crumble apart. I reached out my hand to save the cake and supported it with my hand, keeping it from falling whilst trying to come up with a plan for its salvation. It *looked* like the shape of cake I wanted with my hands there, but I knew that as soon as I took my hands away, the cake was going to fall splat on the counter. I thought and debated and tried to figure out a way to support it and get it to stay without my hands.... there was no way. My hands removed, the cake surely did fall splat.
That's how I feel like my area of ministry has been this semester. With my hands holding together a messy crumbling structure that never had much hope of standing in the first place. I've decided to take my hands away and step away kinda sorta. I feel cruel, like I'm abandoning my sinking ship before it has totally sunk. You know, you feel guilty getting out alive when maybe there was ONE LAST Thing that could have been done before you took to the life boat.
At the same time, there is no denying that it seems to have been something of a bottle rocket that whistled at take off but never made the popping sound at the end. A dud, I guess. But it was my responsibility. It was my duty and assignment. It was what was asked of me and I came up short.
It goes to show that I am way too proud. Way to confident in my competence even. And I know that it wasn't a fail altogether, because I have learned and have been stretched and will eventually grow into what the Lord has desired to strengthen in me. But I'm sorry for those that had to live through my learning. Because I will not have been able to minister to them in the way I will have learned to minister because of them. I'm sorry I was not competent when they needed me to be. I'm sorry that they were the trial and error in that area of my faith. I know *I* benefited from it, but I can't help but feel guilty because they were left high and dry as a result.
Home for Thanksgiving was too good. It's like a break from reality. I always lose my phone on the first day and have no need for it until I pack up and leave because there isn't actually anyone who'd wish to contact me via phone that wasn't already present (Apart from a roommate, maybe). No stress for having to be anywhere, please anyone, or even witness to anyone. I mean, of course you should be Jesus to your family, but I at least have the blessing of not having to feel like I need to be the perfect Christ-model when I'm home because my family knows all my crap anyways and they'll call me out on it faster than anyone else I know.
Just accepted for no reason. I like that. The real world isn't like home. Once you make up who you are, you have to keep being you in your unique little way so that people will want to keep you. If you have a unique sort of gift or quirk or mannerism, you have to emphasize it and own it and hone in on it for the sake of individuality. At home we're all naturally different so we don't have to exhaust ourselves trying to be different. Not that people are all fake, their unique difference are just over-emphasized while we air brush everything else. Or maybe I'm the only one else that does that. I don't think I am, but I'm not above owning it, even if it is just me.
So what next? I hardly know. I'm still holding out on deciding one way or another. I wasn't planning to walk away from ministry just yet. I have one or two more matches to strike before the fire is completely snuffed out. I need people, basically. I need people who love Jesus to tell me how to love Jesus better. I'm obviously not figuring it out on my own very well. I need Jesus too. Really really really badly I do. I need the real Jesus. One with Truth along with grace who will give my life some structure and direction and can make it stand up when it brinks collapsing.
I need to know who I am.
“We live, in fact, in a world starved for solitude, silence, and private: and therefore starved for meditation and true friendship.”
― C.S. Lewis
I've been lost lately. That's been the main theme of the posts that weren't posted. I'm lost and have no idea who I am or what I am or where I'm going. I've been in a valley a lot longer than I've cared to allow myself to realize. Mostly because it looks so drastically different from the last valley I walked in, I hardly can bring myself to admit that even with a life as blessed and "unbroken" as I have *right* now... it's still a valley. I suppose I imagined that all valleys must have a steep incline going into them, a complete cloud cover of darkness, slimy mud at the bottom, the worst torments on all sides, and a greater incline coming out.
That is not my valley now. My valley, though dark and hazy, was not steep nor was it too deep to see any light at all. Perhaps it's been an uphill battle and that is why I didn't notice a valley. An uphill battle with more burdens and weight than I ever had the strength to carry in the first place. And now, as things begin to close, I realize I've become entirely weakened by everything and am in want for motivation to go much further.
"You failed, " is what most often plays through my head. Though, I know the voice of my savior and those words are not His. I can't help but think there is some inkling of truth to this lie. I've never been one to consider quitting ministry. Ministry is my whole heart and passion and all I ever want to do with my life. However, I can't help but think I'm not cut out for it any more. Maybe at one point, I had some sort of gift in leadership, maybe.. but I think maybe I lost it? Or dropped it. Or failed to foster growth in it and it died? Perhaps this is why I feel most lost.... because the most of my identity has been wrapped in leadership and ministry for so many years and now I feel unsuited for it. I just don't know who I am.
I don't know where I'm going. Part of me doesn't want to know. Most of me doesn't. I've dreamed of my future before and the broken glass pieces of those shattered dreams are more damaging than the joy that brought them to existence. But that makes me lost, too, because I have no structure or guidance or goals to move me forward. I don't know what I'll do if not ministry. But perhaps it is that I just need to be refueled, refilled, replenished before taking up that cross once more. I'd hate to think that now is when I bury it forever. But then again, if it's not my gift any more, than maybe I'm in the wrong for not letting it go.
I just don't know.
Someone asked me how my life was yesterday. All I could do was repeat "I don't know" over and over. Because I don't. I mean, in my mind it's good. It's great. It's more ideal than I could ever imagine. But in my heart, all I can think is that I'm not okay any more. There is something wrong, something off, something broken, something empty, something missing, something something something causing me to feel like life is way too overrated. Not in a suicidal way, of course, but I just feel... over it. I don't know.
I'm too much of a people pleaser too. I've known this a while. But, I mean, I can't win. I can't, and I'm accepting defeat. Here's my white flag, guys, and my pink slip too while I'm at it.
One time, I made a cake and it was supposed to be tall and stacked. But it was really moist and when I put the frosting on it, the frosting collecting crumbs and chunks of the cake and rather than having a nicely stacked and smoothly frosted cake, I had a mass of chunky icing on a cake so heavy that it began to fall over and crumble apart. I reached out my hand to save the cake and supported it with my hand, keeping it from falling whilst trying to come up with a plan for its salvation. It *looked* like the shape of cake I wanted with my hands there, but I knew that as soon as I took my hands away, the cake was going to fall splat on the counter. I thought and debated and tried to figure out a way to support it and get it to stay without my hands.... there was no way. My hands removed, the cake surely did fall splat.
That's how I feel like my area of ministry has been this semester. With my hands holding together a messy crumbling structure that never had much hope of standing in the first place. I've decided to take my hands away and step away kinda sorta. I feel cruel, like I'm abandoning my sinking ship before it has totally sunk. You know, you feel guilty getting out alive when maybe there was ONE LAST Thing that could have been done before you took to the life boat.
At the same time, there is no denying that it seems to have been something of a bottle rocket that whistled at take off but never made the popping sound at the end. A dud, I guess. But it was my responsibility. It was my duty and assignment. It was what was asked of me and I came up short.
It goes to show that I am way too proud. Way to confident in my competence even. And I know that it wasn't a fail altogether, because I have learned and have been stretched and will eventually grow into what the Lord has desired to strengthen in me. But I'm sorry for those that had to live through my learning. Because I will not have been able to minister to them in the way I will have learned to minister because of them. I'm sorry I was not competent when they needed me to be. I'm sorry that they were the trial and error in that area of my faith. I know *I* benefited from it, but I can't help but feel guilty because they were left high and dry as a result.
Home for Thanksgiving was too good. It's like a break from reality. I always lose my phone on the first day and have no need for it until I pack up and leave because there isn't actually anyone who'd wish to contact me via phone that wasn't already present (Apart from a roommate, maybe). No stress for having to be anywhere, please anyone, or even witness to anyone. I mean, of course you should be Jesus to your family, but I at least have the blessing of not having to feel like I need to be the perfect Christ-model when I'm home because my family knows all my crap anyways and they'll call me out on it faster than anyone else I know.
Just accepted for no reason. I like that. The real world isn't like home. Once you make up who you are, you have to keep being you in your unique little way so that people will want to keep you. If you have a unique sort of gift or quirk or mannerism, you have to emphasize it and own it and hone in on it for the sake of individuality. At home we're all naturally different so we don't have to exhaust ourselves trying to be different. Not that people are all fake, their unique difference are just over-emphasized while we air brush everything else. Or maybe I'm the only one else that does that. I don't think I am, but I'm not above owning it, even if it is just me.
So what next? I hardly know. I'm still holding out on deciding one way or another. I wasn't planning to walk away from ministry just yet. I have one or two more matches to strike before the fire is completely snuffed out. I need people, basically. I need people who love Jesus to tell me how to love Jesus better. I'm obviously not figuring it out on my own very well. I need Jesus too. Really really really badly I do. I need the real Jesus. One with Truth along with grace who will give my life some structure and direction and can make it stand up when it brinks collapsing.
I need to know who I am.
“We live, in fact, in a world starved for solitude, silence, and private: and therefore starved for meditation and true friendship.”
― C.S. Lewis
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
It Goes Beyond the Highest Star
9am Wednesday morning and I am due for another cup of coffee.
I've been meaning to follow up after that paper tragedy that went down, but things have been so crazy that it hasn't happened. But, the short story of it is this: I survived and I got it done.
Friday afternoon one of my wonderful Kalonavite brothers texted to heads up on a movie night at one of our friend's house. While I had previous plans of having a movie night with one of my friend's from Salt, after the trauma of having lost so much work, I couldn't think of anything I'd love more than to spend the evening in Kalona. After telling my friend that I wouldn't make it due to my impending suicide due to the loss of my paper and he informed me promptly he'd show up at my house within the hour to offer moral support and motivation.
True to his word, over he came and, while he didn't turn out to be all that helpful, he's a quirky sort who has a talent in straight-forward truth speaking and honesty, which is what I need more often than not. He urged me to keep working on my paper until we left for Kalona. (My friend agreed to switch movie night location plans to Kalona instead of my house). So, I managed to restore almost all of my paper before taking a time out and heading to Kalona for an other adventure.
It was SO great!
We returned ourselves to our respective homes around midnight-ish, and I think I managed to crawl under my covers close to 1am.
Saturday I awoke at 7 and began layering myself like a parfait. Well, maybe more like an onion.
We knew the concession stands would be cold, but I didn't work the final game last year so I wasn't quite sure what I was about to encounter. I had about 6 layers on going into the game, and with the uniform on (Over all the layers) I was up to 8. EIGHT LAYERS OF CLOTHES!
Our stand was cold. I took a bucket of hot water outside of the stand to wash the counters... the water froze instantly to the counter and we had to use the pizza servers to scrape it off. Back in the stand we were hugging the pizza warmers and eachother to keep warm. That is, until my stand manager approached me and asked if I'd be willing to work a Mini stand.
A Mini stand is a 2-person stand, so you're isolated from the rest of your crowd. It's also out in the open and doesn't have any heat source at all. The only saving grace it has is a brick wall that blocks the wind kinda sorta.. but not really.
It sounded like an adventure to me, so I accepted my stand manager's request and began to follow the boss out the door. One of the angels in the big stand saw me heading out and offered me her gloves on account I didn't have any... OH MY GOODNESS IS SHE A SAINT!
Upon arrival at the little stand, I was introduced to my selling partner. She's a senior at Cornell and was volunteering for a sorority. Didn't know her before the game, but we bonded over the frozen state of our existence for the next 4 hours.
I posted on facebook how cold it was, but in case you missed it, here it is.
-We left our water spritzer bottle out on the counter and it froze inside and out. And then we ran it under hot water and tried to squeeze it.. it shattered. (It was plastic)
-We would open the door of the pretzel warmer and the condensation rolled down and formed icicles in the time it took us to pull out a pretzel and close the door again. (Seriously, 7 seconds max)
-We had to keep our new bottle of water in the refridgerator too keep it from freezing
-We would spray water on our pretzels to dip them in salt and the drops of water froze on the previously warmed pretzel before we dipped them into the salt.
-We watched someone drop a bucket of steaming hot chocolate onto the cement and it froze solid in less than 20 seconds. Seriously, By the time they got it tipped back up, it was solid. Like a little ice skating rink.
-I spilt a little water on my gloves and I would clench my fist and watch the ice fall off.
-People left 5 and 10 dollar tips because they didn't want to stick their hands out of their mittens or coat pockets again.
-I had my scarf pulled up over my face and the mere act of breathing on it caused it to freeze and I got frost on my eyelashes.
- I breathed on my counter top just to see if it would freeze instantly.. it did.
-I had someone offer me his 20 dollars of change in exchange for my phone number. Tempting.. but I had a few moral hesitations with that one.
---
Basically.. it was cold enough that I wanted to cry, but i was worried the tears would freeze onto my face. But, it was quite the adventure and I was SO thankful when I got home and plopped down on my couch with a quilt wrapped over me.
After arriving back home, I set out to work on the paper some more. There was some insanity that ensued, but it was justified. I stayed up until 12am and then gave up for exhaustion.. but was so close.
I woke up at 6am and worked on it til 10 am when I finally finished it, turned it in, and breathed a sigh of relief. No time to rest of course, showering and church readying needed to happen, and then of course, actually going to church. I didn't have time to dry my hair and so it froze in the time it took to walk from my car to the front door.
Church was wonderful and I made a new friend. (Seriously guys, if you're going to sit alone.. too bad. I'ma sit by you.) Coffee was out when we got there, so I resolved to take pain killers later for the headache that would surely ensure from the lack of sleep AND caffeine. We arrived home some time after one and all of everything distracted from that plan.
First of all, we were all out of food. (Who goes shopping right before break? Not us.) We had been existing off of cookie dough the last several days and so when we arrived home Sunday for lunch and only found left over cookie dough in our fridge.. we each took a few bites and hoped that maybe there'd be food of some sort at the hymn sing later. (Mennonite food beats everything). I found a nearly expired small cup of pasta in the cupboard and I think Anne ate some lettuce? Amanda had to go work at the studio, so she didn't eat. (Us poor college kids). We just didn't have food so we distracted ourselves with packing and cleaning. Maybe this is why my headache worsened, I don't know, but I felt worse as the day went on. I layed down for a few seconds and realized that I'd fall asleep instantly if I did, so I kept myself awake doing other things, as I had a friend popping in on her way home from UNI momentarily and I needed to be awake when she arrived.
She came, we chatted, it was wonderful! Then she left and I began to straighten the kitchen and living room and do the little chores that my roommate requested I complete while she was gone. Finally she returned home, and we scrambled around the house to get things in order for us to leave for the Hymn sing because we would be heading to Storm Lake after. She managed to find some old Pita bread in our basket and we each got half a pita as we drove down down to Kalona.
OH MY GOODNESS! MENNONITE HYMN SING!!!!!
There aren't even words to describe the wonder that is this little Kalonavite happening. The Lord was so there and my heart was just cradled and tended to as the most beautiful sounding worship rang out through out the little church. I'd come full circle.
A year ago, I was doing a triathlon through the valley of death and just coming to the end of the swim-through- the-lake-of-fire (basically) and there wasn't much hope left to hang on to. February, is when I crossed the finish line for that particular hellish trial and my heart was in so many pieces that I couldn't imagine it *feeling* much of anything for a while. THE VERY NEXT DAY, literally, a little over 24 hours after closing the lid on the coffin that held my dreams and hopes that had been dead long enough they were starting to decay, I was invited into this little church, just outside of this little town, and it was there I heard the the song "Oh Love of God" sang in a capella by this wonderful group of people who love the Lord.
The Lyrics are these:
Home. Where you can actually see the sunset. This is what I miss in Iowa City.
I've been meaning to follow up after that paper tragedy that went down, but things have been so crazy that it hasn't happened. But, the short story of it is this: I survived and I got it done.
Friday afternoon one of my wonderful Kalonavite brothers texted to heads up on a movie night at one of our friend's house. While I had previous plans of having a movie night with one of my friend's from Salt, after the trauma of having lost so much work, I couldn't think of anything I'd love more than to spend the evening in Kalona. After telling my friend that I wouldn't make it due to my impending suicide due to the loss of my paper and he informed me promptly he'd show up at my house within the hour to offer moral support and motivation.
True to his word, over he came and, while he didn't turn out to be all that helpful, he's a quirky sort who has a talent in straight-forward truth speaking and honesty, which is what I need more often than not. He urged me to keep working on my paper until we left for Kalona. (My friend agreed to switch movie night location plans to Kalona instead of my house). So, I managed to restore almost all of my paper before taking a time out and heading to Kalona for an other adventure.
It was SO great!
We returned ourselves to our respective homes around midnight-ish, and I think I managed to crawl under my covers close to 1am.
Saturday I awoke at 7 and began layering myself like a parfait. Well, maybe more like an onion.
We knew the concession stands would be cold, but I didn't work the final game last year so I wasn't quite sure what I was about to encounter. I had about 6 layers on going into the game, and with the uniform on (Over all the layers) I was up to 8. EIGHT LAYERS OF CLOTHES!
Our stand was cold. I took a bucket of hot water outside of the stand to wash the counters... the water froze instantly to the counter and we had to use the pizza servers to scrape it off. Back in the stand we were hugging the pizza warmers and eachother to keep warm. That is, until my stand manager approached me and asked if I'd be willing to work a Mini stand.
A Mini stand is a 2-person stand, so you're isolated from the rest of your crowd. It's also out in the open and doesn't have any heat source at all. The only saving grace it has is a brick wall that blocks the wind kinda sorta.. but not really.
It sounded like an adventure to me, so I accepted my stand manager's request and began to follow the boss out the door. One of the angels in the big stand saw me heading out and offered me her gloves on account I didn't have any... OH MY GOODNESS IS SHE A SAINT!
Upon arrival at the little stand, I was introduced to my selling partner. She's a senior at Cornell and was volunteering for a sorority. Didn't know her before the game, but we bonded over the frozen state of our existence for the next 4 hours.
I posted on facebook how cold it was, but in case you missed it, here it is.
-We left our water spritzer bottle out on the counter and it froze inside and out. And then we ran it under hot water and tried to squeeze it.. it shattered. (It was plastic)
-We would open the door of the pretzel warmer and the condensation rolled down and formed icicles in the time it took us to pull out a pretzel and close the door again. (Seriously, 7 seconds max)
-We had to keep our new bottle of water in the refridgerator too keep it from freezing
-We would spray water on our pretzels to dip them in salt and the drops of water froze on the previously warmed pretzel before we dipped them into the salt.
-We watched someone drop a bucket of steaming hot chocolate onto the cement and it froze solid in less than 20 seconds. Seriously, By the time they got it tipped back up, it was solid. Like a little ice skating rink.
-I spilt a little water on my gloves and I would clench my fist and watch the ice fall off.
-People left 5 and 10 dollar tips because they didn't want to stick their hands out of their mittens or coat pockets again.
-I had my scarf pulled up over my face and the mere act of breathing on it caused it to freeze and I got frost on my eyelashes.
- I breathed on my counter top just to see if it would freeze instantly.. it did.
-I had someone offer me his 20 dollars of change in exchange for my phone number. Tempting.. but I had a few moral hesitations with that one.
---
Basically.. it was cold enough that I wanted to cry, but i was worried the tears would freeze onto my face. But, it was quite the adventure and I was SO thankful when I got home and plopped down on my couch with a quilt wrapped over me.
After arriving back home, I set out to work on the paper some more. There was some insanity that ensued, but it was justified. I stayed up until 12am and then gave up for exhaustion.. but was so close.
I woke up at 6am and worked on it til 10 am when I finally finished it, turned it in, and breathed a sigh of relief. No time to rest of course, showering and church readying needed to happen, and then of course, actually going to church. I didn't have time to dry my hair and so it froze in the time it took to walk from my car to the front door.
Church was wonderful and I made a new friend. (Seriously guys, if you're going to sit alone.. too bad. I'ma sit by you.) Coffee was out when we got there, so I resolved to take pain killers later for the headache that would surely ensure from the lack of sleep AND caffeine. We arrived home some time after one and all of everything distracted from that plan.
First of all, we were all out of food. (Who goes shopping right before break? Not us.) We had been existing off of cookie dough the last several days and so when we arrived home Sunday for lunch and only found left over cookie dough in our fridge.. we each took a few bites and hoped that maybe there'd be food of some sort at the hymn sing later. (Mennonite food beats everything). I found a nearly expired small cup of pasta in the cupboard and I think Anne ate some lettuce? Amanda had to go work at the studio, so she didn't eat. (Us poor college kids). We just didn't have food so we distracted ourselves with packing and cleaning. Maybe this is why my headache worsened, I don't know, but I felt worse as the day went on. I layed down for a few seconds and realized that I'd fall asleep instantly if I did, so I kept myself awake doing other things, as I had a friend popping in on her way home from UNI momentarily and I needed to be awake when she arrived.
She came, we chatted, it was wonderful! Then she left and I began to straighten the kitchen and living room and do the little chores that my roommate requested I complete while she was gone. Finally she returned home, and we scrambled around the house to get things in order for us to leave for the Hymn sing because we would be heading to Storm Lake after. She managed to find some old Pita bread in our basket and we each got half a pita as we drove down down to Kalona.
OH MY GOODNESS! MENNONITE HYMN SING!!!!!
There aren't even words to describe the wonder that is this little Kalonavite happening. The Lord was so there and my heart was just cradled and tended to as the most beautiful sounding worship rang out through out the little church. I'd come full circle.
A year ago, I was doing a triathlon through the valley of death and just coming to the end of the swim-through- the-lake-of-fire (basically) and there wasn't much hope left to hang on to. February, is when I crossed the finish line for that particular hellish trial and my heart was in so many pieces that I couldn't imagine it *feeling* much of anything for a while. THE VERY NEXT DAY, literally, a little over 24 hours after closing the lid on the coffin that held my dreams and hopes that had been dead long enough they were starting to decay, I was invited into this little church, just outside of this little town, and it was there I heard the the song "Oh Love of God" sang in a capella by this wonderful group of people who love the Lord.
The Lyrics are these:
- The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.- Refrain:
Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.
- Refrain:
- I can't describe how it sounds, but I can tell you that the Lord reached down during that song the first time and told, "I've got you, Fern." And so started my adventures in Kalona. And here, months and months later as my heart has been going through re-constructive surgery to put the broken pieces back together, I found myself in this same little church watching the same 2 godly men lead people by way of song and I felt the same love from God that I had the first time. AND THEN WE SANG THIS SONG! Wahhhhhh! I just cried. *Sigh* How the Lord loves me.
- So after that little glimpse of heaven, Amanda and I set out on our next adventure. Home in the caddy. While we had, indeed, been offered food by the Mennonites, we never actually made it to wherever that food existed as we were chatting with our good friends. No matter, we needed to stop for coffee anyways (tired headache still prevailed).
- It was just after 10pm when we arrived at a little gas station in some little town and went in to survey the food options. Everything warm was shut down at that point, so we settled for pumpkin spice coffee and receieved well wishes for our travels from the clerk. We determined we'd stop else where for supper but settled on eating more cookie dough until then. The one other place we tried had closed at 10 and we found ourselves staring in the window at 10:30. *sigh* We had originally planned to stop SOMEwhere but, we were so exhausted, we just plowed on ahead. Some time after midnight, we switched off and Amanda drove. There was no sleeping, of course, because whoever wasn't driving was in charge of keeping the driver awake.
We stumbled through the front door close to 2am and went to bed. PRAISE THE LORD FOR HOME!We awoke around 8am and a little giggly brother sneaked in with a warm corn bag that he slipped under our covers before tucking us back in saying, "Sleep for a while more, I'll be back"<3 Be still my heart strings. He's all about giving us breakfast in bed. :)I mean.. that's what his intentions were, but come 9am we were so starving (carried over from the night before) that we emerged from out covers and wandered down stairs to see the panekukin just being placed in the oven. We all sat around the kitchen table while catching Mom up on our latest adventures, attempting to describe the hymn sing she'd wanted to go to but couldn't.Monday was filled with cuddling and resting and sometime around 2pm I realized I still had that headache and decided I just must be really exhausted. Around 3pm I realized it was because I hadn't gotten any coffee and I called my father at work and informed him we needed coffee around the house and he informed me to check the cupboards and to call him back by 4pm if I didn't find any. Shortly thereafter I fell back asleep in the penthouse and all thoughts of checking the cupboards and calling back were soon forgotten. I awoke sometime close to 5pm to the most beautiful sunset ever.
Home. Where you can actually see the sunset. This is what I miss in Iowa City.
Tuesday was slightly more productive than monday and we managed to scrub down the kitchen a little. Abe, my former Mennonite friend, invited himself over shortly before lunch and we put him to work chopping wood. (He's a Forestry major, so that basically means he can chop our wood for us when he comes over).
Around 4pm we had to take Amanda to the meeting point so we could turn her over to her mom :'( . Eva and I got some good chats together on the way home and the house was quiet again when I returned. *sigh*
So now we have last minute house cleaning to do before the rest of the Kohlpack arrives home. Well.. amost the rest. We'll be one-short this year, but 9 outta 10 is still an A right?
Happy Thanksgiving, my friends!!! I love you all and I'm SO thankful for you!
Friday, November 22, 2013
Snow Time like The Present
Yesterday I posted on my facebook a desperate plea for someone to come keep me company as I slowly withered away under mounds of research articles on stress and memory. (I'm becoming a stress pro expert!) One of my sweet friends was quick to respond and showed up at my door with homework in hand and boosted my motivation to keep working away. (SHE IS SO GREAT!!) And then! When I got to Salt last night, at least 3 people asked if someone had come to my rescue as they wanted to but couldn't. D'awww... you guys. If I smiled any bigger, I wouldn't be able to see anything cuz my cheeks would cover my eyes.
I made sure to get good sleep last night as I knew I'd be going back into battle today. I was more than delighted to wake up to the white dusting we got over night. I mean.. I don't have to go out in it today, so I can enjoy it from a distance.
Still having this paper to write reminds at LOT of my life as a homeschooler. Because I never actually did my school work on time and so when it got to the time when we were supposed to have a break, I would still be stuck on the couch with Saxon's Algebra 2 staring back at me in all it's pure form of evil. There is no puking sound vile enough to convey the emotions I feel toward upper-level math. Not that Algebra 2 is all that upper-level, but it's about as far as I ever care to go.
Thanksgiving break. I'm going home for it this year. I didn't last year, but that's because sometimes I run away (I'm sure you've noticed by now). This year, home is running away enough for me. Nothing can ever compete with waking up to the smell of the wood stove warming the house or little brothers bringing you breakfast in bed. Or being served coffee first thing because someone just loves you so much they want to spend time with you. Nothing quite beats falling asleep to Planet Earth movies on tired afternoons or staying up late watching youtube videos, laughing til you have the hiccups.
I love the freedom to start a project in the wood shop or bake food enough for 20 people (Because we all know 1 boy= 3 girls) or playing a real legitimate piano when ever you want. :) It's a great place, home is. And come 1 or 2am Monday morning, I will be walking through the front door and into the arms of brothers who will have been assigned to stay awake until I have safely arrived. Of course my parents (who assigned the boys to stay awake on account they went to bed) will be awake too, claiming that they weren't really asleep yet. I love that. Coming home is the best.
-----
Guys I'm struggling. The struggle bus has kidnapped me something awful. I'm all cuddled and cozy on my couch but my motivation to keep plugging through this pape is severely lacking. So, you're going to keep finding new things added to this post as the day goes on. It's like a nice little surprise! Like when you leave a flower in a vase in the sunlight and you come back to find that the petals have opened up a little bit more.
Stress impairs a lot of brain functions, guys. I've got that part down pretty good. It impairs motivation, it impairs memory retrieval, encoding, all that good stuff. Basically everything I need. And I mean... apathy impairs those things too. I think I have a case of both. WOAH! That's like mixing drugs. BAD combination. Stress and apathy. Someone shoot me. In the foot. Or... idk. Tell me I'm going to make it. Tell me I can add 500 words to this pape by lunch time. Tell me it's okay to have all my friends over even though I don't have my homework done.. idk. Tell me something. Interact with me or something.
Also... this is it. My last college paper. The final one. O_O Of course it had to be a torturous one. College is like, "You aren't getting out with out a fight, yo!" And I'm like, "whatever, College. You don't own me. You're not the boss of me. You can't control me." And Life is like, "hahaha... that's what you think." And then Reality is like, "He has a point..." And then I'm like, "Ah poops... you're right."
Life and Reality work against me sometimes. C'mon guys, can't you just be on my team for once? Wouldn't you like to work in my favor?? And they both be like, "hahahahaha.... a joke! She's a funny one, that Fern. Always makin' people laugh."
Reality is a jerk sometimes.
Oh my GOSH! I'M INSANE! This paper is a jerk is what's happening. Taking my brain and mushing it into oatmeal. >:[ "Have at thee! I will conquer you yet!"
----------------
0_0 OH MY GOODNESS CAN I PANIC RIGHT NOW???? MY COMPUTER JUST DID SOMETHING CRAZY!
Okay... breathe... breathe.. breathe... Ahhhh cryyyyy
I don't know what just happened, but my computer just turned all of EVERYthing I have written so far into strange boxes and Chinese characters and now my Word document is freezing up and getting ready to crash and I'm SECONDS away from losing everything. Yes.. everything. Because my computer can't save anything because the memory is full and I can't fix that. (Believe me.. I've erased just about everything off the harddrive and it still isn't making new space for saving things.)
Ahhhh... okay... don't cry... don't.. wheeeww... breathe.
I can't breathe. Can I cry? I think I'm going to. Blink. Blink. Hold back the tears....breathe.
LIFE HATES ME!
-------
Phew... okay. After 15 minutes of panic and tears and feelings of complete hopelessness and ruin, I think I can do this. Not really, actually, but I have to. I'd much rather cry for the next three hours... but I have to replace all the work from the last 3 hours that I lost.
Plus... I totally cried for three straight hours on Wednesday so I kinda already used that lifeline.
Thank God for sweet roommates. I'm going to write the paper on my roommate's computer because hers won't crash on me and ruin my life.
I'm going to magically type up 700 words in the next 30 minutes and then search out the references for where I got those ideas afterwards. Sound goot? Goot.
I'm alone in my misery and so I have to tell these sorts of things to myself because i don't have anyone else.
-----
I think I may be close to a panic attack. Probably I'm being dramatic, but every time I look at the lack of information I have added to this paper, my heart freaks out a little and I can't bring myself to work on it.
How about I just say that stress causes memory loss and major impairment on HOW TO WRITE PAPERS!!
Also, I can't make myself stop crying. I attempted to stop about 10 minutes ago, and then I gave up. I'll just keep a tissue box on hand and drink water because, well, the flood gates have been released. Plus... I mean. Any hope I woke up with crashed with my computer. I mean... okay.. I'm not COMPLETELY without hope. I still have home to look forward to. I have.... things. BUT... no. I want to give up now.
You win, life. You win. I quit.
-------
Let your power Shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fate's design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine....
:'(
--------
3pm. Heart rate has stabilized.
While I would like to be in the kitchen hacking my head off with a large knife, I think I'm coming out of panic mode. It only took 2 hours... so that's great. I've still be staring at the same research for a while and I know I need to add it to my paper, but I lack the motivation as I already went through that whole tangled mess of deciphering the crap and reworded it into intelligent language. I mean... it's just work. How about I move onto PTSD??
I know lots about that now since losing most of a research paper which had over 11 hours of work put into it counts as trauma. Phew. Okay. Okay. I can probably drone on for at least two pages about PTSD. Right? That's a thing. People have it.
I have 4 hours before people start coming over for our pre-Thanksgiving break hang out. I'm not near as close to break as I thought I'd be at this point.
I'm complaining, I know. I shouldn't complain. How else do you cope, though? Or maybe I'm just stating true facts. That's not complaining is it? Dramatically stating true facts? I hope not.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Vente Grande
------Wednesday-------
Here we go again, my friends. Crazy posts from an insane college student being oppressed by homework and deadlines and yuckiness like that.
Guys this is bad... I found out i have until SUNDAY to write this 10paged research paper. As if my procrastination needed any encouragement...
It's raining snow today. I like that. I'd like it more if I didn't have to go to class, but seeing as I skipped last week, I really should go this week.
And I'm tired. Some how, our roommate hanging outtings went until midnight last night. Of course I was fine with this because my thoughts were, "I don't have class til 5:30pm Wednesdays! So I can sleep in and then settle into writing papers and doing homework all day." Then at 11:47pm I suddenly realized that I work EVERY Wednesday morning now. Which is a good thing, I need the $, but, my actions prior to were fairly unwise.
I can't decide if it's the time of year, the stress load, or the fact that Thanksgiving break is elusively looming in the distance, but my heart is extremely restless....again. I need to run away again or something. But not really run away because I need people in my life.. but I kind of want to run away from people again. I like being alone lately. I'm not being productive in my loneliness, though. Plus, I'm just... ughk.
I haven't been impressed at my walk with the Lord lately. I often wonder why I have friends. Why do people ever want to hang out with me? They're crazy. Totally crazy. Or just way too kind to say 'no'. I don't know, I appreciate them and wonder at them at the same time.
Also, there is a battle for maturity going down in basically all over the place and I'm not impressed. I mean, I myself am hardly mature, especially in my faith, but I'm incredibly discouraged at the lack of maturity seemingly everywhere I turn. It's such a battle because, I mean, I'm over it. I don't give a crap about being so much of a people pleaser when it comes down to catering to a childish ploy for more attention or affirmation or affection than I have to offer. Which sounds absolutely heartless and cruel, I know. Which is why I look at my own lack of maturity in the issue and shake my head in wonderment at how people ever stand to willingly choose to spend 2 consecutive hours with me.
I mean, I think what I really need is to be in the presence of people who can build me up and pour back into me because I've been running on fumes for a lot longer than I even comprehend.
I don't know how much my heart is restless or just so empty that suddenly none of the usual temporary remedies work at all. Christians get that way sometimes...empty. With the church. It's totally possible.
I feel like I get here a lot.
My problem is that I attend church and Salt Company and Bible study and then run around pursuing people and I hardly stop and sit still long enough for the Lord to fill me. I count people speaking Truth into my life and hearing Truth spoken at church as bread enough to sustain me. I'm basically Spiritually anorexic, I've decided. Or maybe bulimic, because I puke out everything I take in onto the lives of my friends that need it "more than me." Kinda like driving a car without oil in your engine totally kills it... I'm kind of there. No oil. But I keep going. Can someone just sit me down and tell me I'm not a failure as a human being? Or just.. I don't know. Is that being too much? I just need to know a good reason or two as to why anyone would want to be around me.
------Thursday------
Here we are. 72 hours away from 10page paper being due. I hate to be a complainer (Because we all know that's just a bad idea) But, I realllllly don't want to write this paper. If I've ever hated to write a paper before.. it's this one. My goal is 700 words by the time my 3:30 class roles around this afternoon. I think I've calculated that the thing has to be 2500-3000 words, so 700 is a little bit lame.. but it's a goal all the same.
I never condoned skipping class before this semester. I think I skipped maybe one time a semester (if that) in prior years of semesters. Don't skip class, kids. It's unwise. Even if you know the material, at least show up and be where you're supposed to be. Except... I'm skipping today, so I mean.. you don't have to listen to me. I'm terrible.
I'm really nervous about this paper because, 1) I've never had a professor say that if we don't write it well enough, she'll give it back and make us re-write it. And by golly she would do it too. I have no doubt that she'd request a re-write. And 2) I've never had a professor write "8-10pages" on the syllabus and then say, "It HAS to be at LEAST 10 full pages of text, not 10 pages including title page and references." 0_0 Okay then. And 3) be incredibly picky about wordiness and concision and give examples of how we might try to expand our papers with longer explanations of research articles when we could have been less wordy about it. Okay, so... that's kind of my secret weapon in ridiculous papers like this one. I mean, why say in 10 words what you could say in 30? You have to make the thing 3000 words anyways. And who wants THAT much information? And can be like cotton candy...sugar coated air. Nice and fluffy and delectable, but not too substantial and sickening.
Well, prof don't want cotton candy, she wants jolly rancher and my gosh it better be 5lbs at that.
I don't know why it's so easy for me to type up a lengthy blog of puked out emotions and then I struggle to add 60 words of factual information to an academic piece. Maybe because I create my own truth in a blog and I have to work with other people's truths in a paper. Maybe I'm really self-centered and don't like other people's truths.
Oh! Also, I totally had an emotional break down in class last night. I find it amusing now. It didn't have to do with the lecture at all. The prof was going on about methods for studying aging and longitudinal verses cross-sectional design and my mind was totally in another place. Thinking about my life and such and my stress... and then, before I realized it... tears. So I faked a coughing fit to make it seem like my eyes were watering from a tickle in my throat. I mean... you guys probably think I'm a sorry bucket of emotions basically all of the time... it's not true! But kind of it is. I mean, crying... it's not a regular occurrence thing... just when I'm stressed. Which is now.
My body hurts today. It must be especially humid out.. all of the bones I have ever previously broken are crying out in protest. Also... I must have the strangest dreams in which it requires my whole body to overcome whatever great distress I face. Not only do I constantly find myself awakening to my legs being all wrapped up in the cord of my electric blanket, I'm continuously having to pop things back into their sockets that seem to have found their ways out of place during the night. Shoulders.. hips.. goodness gracious.. I must be like Uncle Hubb from Second Hand Lions who goes out and refights whole battles with the Arabs in his sleep and can't figure out why he wakes up sore every day.
Okay! I'm ahead of the game a little and see some hope for reaching 700 words by lunch time. AHHH! This excites me so much I can't handle it. I've also been drinking coffee all morning. 0_0 TAKE ME HOME, LORD! JUST TAKE ME HOME!
Here we go again, my friends. Crazy posts from an insane college student being oppressed by homework and deadlines and yuckiness like that.
Guys this is bad... I found out i have until SUNDAY to write this 10paged research paper. As if my procrastination needed any encouragement...
It's raining snow today. I like that. I'd like it more if I didn't have to go to class, but seeing as I skipped last week, I really should go this week.
And I'm tired. Some how, our roommate hanging outtings went until midnight last night. Of course I was fine with this because my thoughts were, "I don't have class til 5:30pm Wednesdays! So I can sleep in and then settle into writing papers and doing homework all day." Then at 11:47pm I suddenly realized that I work EVERY Wednesday morning now. Which is a good thing, I need the $, but, my actions prior to were fairly unwise.
I can't decide if it's the time of year, the stress load, or the fact that Thanksgiving break is elusively looming in the distance, but my heart is extremely restless....again. I need to run away again or something. But not really run away because I need people in my life.. but I kind of want to run away from people again. I like being alone lately. I'm not being productive in my loneliness, though. Plus, I'm just... ughk.
I haven't been impressed at my walk with the Lord lately. I often wonder why I have friends. Why do people ever want to hang out with me? They're crazy. Totally crazy. Or just way too kind to say 'no'. I don't know, I appreciate them and wonder at them at the same time.
Also, there is a battle for maturity going down in basically all over the place and I'm not impressed. I mean, I myself am hardly mature, especially in my faith, but I'm incredibly discouraged at the lack of maturity seemingly everywhere I turn. It's such a battle because, I mean, I'm over it. I don't give a crap about being so much of a people pleaser when it comes down to catering to a childish ploy for more attention or affirmation or affection than I have to offer. Which sounds absolutely heartless and cruel, I know. Which is why I look at my own lack of maturity in the issue and shake my head in wonderment at how people ever stand to willingly choose to spend 2 consecutive hours with me.
I mean, I think what I really need is to be in the presence of people who can build me up and pour back into me because I've been running on fumes for a lot longer than I even comprehend.
I don't know how much my heart is restless or just so empty that suddenly none of the usual temporary remedies work at all. Christians get that way sometimes...empty. With the church. It's totally possible.
I feel like I get here a lot.
My problem is that I attend church and Salt Company and Bible study and then run around pursuing people and I hardly stop and sit still long enough for the Lord to fill me. I count people speaking Truth into my life and hearing Truth spoken at church as bread enough to sustain me. I'm basically Spiritually anorexic, I've decided. Or maybe bulimic, because I puke out everything I take in onto the lives of my friends that need it "more than me." Kinda like driving a car without oil in your engine totally kills it... I'm kind of there. No oil. But I keep going. Can someone just sit me down and tell me I'm not a failure as a human being? Or just.. I don't know. Is that being too much? I just need to know a good reason or two as to why anyone would want to be around me.
------Thursday------
Here we are. 72 hours away from 10page paper being due. I hate to be a complainer (Because we all know that's just a bad idea) But, I realllllly don't want to write this paper. If I've ever hated to write a paper before.. it's this one. My goal is 700 words by the time my 3:30 class roles around this afternoon. I think I've calculated that the thing has to be 2500-3000 words, so 700 is a little bit lame.. but it's a goal all the same.
I never condoned skipping class before this semester. I think I skipped maybe one time a semester (if that) in prior years of semesters. Don't skip class, kids. It's unwise. Even if you know the material, at least show up and be where you're supposed to be. Except... I'm skipping today, so I mean.. you don't have to listen to me. I'm terrible.
I'm really nervous about this paper because, 1) I've never had a professor say that if we don't write it well enough, she'll give it back and make us re-write it. And by golly she would do it too. I have no doubt that she'd request a re-write. And 2) I've never had a professor write "8-10pages" on the syllabus and then say, "It HAS to be at LEAST 10 full pages of text, not 10 pages including title page and references." 0_0 Okay then. And 3) be incredibly picky about wordiness and concision and give examples of how we might try to expand our papers with longer explanations of research articles when we could have been less wordy about it. Okay, so... that's kind of my secret weapon in ridiculous papers like this one. I mean, why say in 10 words what you could say in 30? You have to make the thing 3000 words anyways. And who wants THAT much information? And can be like cotton candy...sugar coated air. Nice and fluffy and delectable, but not too substantial and sickening.
Well, prof don't want cotton candy, she wants jolly rancher and my gosh it better be 5lbs at that.
I don't know why it's so easy for me to type up a lengthy blog of puked out emotions and then I struggle to add 60 words of factual information to an academic piece. Maybe because I create my own truth in a blog and I have to work with other people's truths in a paper. Maybe I'm really self-centered and don't like other people's truths.
Oh! Also, I totally had an emotional break down in class last night. I find it amusing now. It didn't have to do with the lecture at all. The prof was going on about methods for studying aging and longitudinal verses cross-sectional design and my mind was totally in another place. Thinking about my life and such and my stress... and then, before I realized it... tears. So I faked a coughing fit to make it seem like my eyes were watering from a tickle in my throat. I mean... you guys probably think I'm a sorry bucket of emotions basically all of the time... it's not true! But kind of it is. I mean, crying... it's not a regular occurrence thing... just when I'm stressed. Which is now.
My body hurts today. It must be especially humid out.. all of the bones I have ever previously broken are crying out in protest. Also... I must have the strangest dreams in which it requires my whole body to overcome whatever great distress I face. Not only do I constantly find myself awakening to my legs being all wrapped up in the cord of my electric blanket, I'm continuously having to pop things back into their sockets that seem to have found their ways out of place during the night. Shoulders.. hips.. goodness gracious.. I must be like Uncle Hubb from Second Hand Lions who goes out and refights whole battles with the Arabs in his sleep and can't figure out why he wakes up sore every day.
Okay! I'm ahead of the game a little and see some hope for reaching 700 words by lunch time. AHHH! This excites me so much I can't handle it. I've also been drinking coffee all morning. 0_0 TAKE ME HOME, LORD! JUST TAKE ME HOME!
Monday, November 18, 2013
A Weak Start After the Weekend
Well, it's another week, friends. Another week and there is another set of stressers on my plate.
-10paged Research paper on Stress and memory (Isn't that funny??...stress is everywhere)
-The Presentation that got moved from last week
-2 Homeworks
-3 quizes
Honestly I'm not near as stressed this week. Which is good because I am now sick. With a sore throat and probable sinus infection and all the works to go with that. Headaches..stomach aches, tightness of the lungs... Oh well. I'm not complaining. If I survive this week than I can go home and sleep for a week.
I had one of the best weekends I could have ever wanted this past weekend, so I have nothing to complain about. I am too blessed, I think. My family is the best ever. 2 of my little brothers came into town to adventure with me and my friends and, while our adventure didn't turn out like planned, it was one of my favorite Friday nights ever.
We sang hymns in a stairwell with some Kalonavites. Why a stairwell? Acoustics, man. So echoey and lovely.
"What are Kalonavites?" One might ask. Well, let me tell you!
Kalonavites are a unique people group located in South/East Iowa in a small village called Kalona. Their beliefs are something inbetween conservative Christian and Amish-ish. I just say they love Jesus and call it good. They're actually quite difficult to describe, and are so unique, the best way to attempt comprehension of them is to meet them.
This people group doesn't believe in fighting or wars or scuffles or such, but they have very strange fascinations for loud noises and anything pyro. This of course lends to a giddy and delighted enchantment when in the presence of a firearm. If you can picture the cartoons where the eyes are spinning in hypnosis, that's about what they look like when a gun is brought out.
Kalonavites are, for the most part, highly respectable and polite. More so than the average breed of male. However, when 2 or more are gathered together in front of a TV screen, any awareness of female presence seems to dissolve and a certain level of discomfort is experienced if you happen to be of the woman species.
The bestest thing about this peculiar group of peace-loving gun enthusiasts is that when they are not shooting up their grandmother's Easter eggs and the trees and rivers around Kalona, they are singing sweet songs of old in the churches of their childhoods. The Lord has knitted together some of His finest vocal chords into the necks of these youthful beings, that are fully equipped with power to heal and encourage and enliven the hearers of such glorious music. This being because, when they sing, the Spirit of the Lord is there.
It has been quite a blessing from the Lord to be aware of their existence these last 9 months and I shall treasure the remaining 8 months that I have to know them. I think the Kalonavites will forever be one of my favorite encounters along the way of my journeyings.
Beyond the Kalonavites singing in the stairwell, having a portion of The Brotherhood in town was a treat of the finest kind. Our wonderful time spent with the Kalonavites went into the early hours of the morning and thus the time we spent sleeping was less than usual. Before tucking one of my young brothers away for the night, he mentioned how sick he was and how much he hated to think he'd have to visit Student Death when returning to his place of residence. Of course I volunteered to take him somewhere in Iowa City and thus we planned upon awakening, we would embark on such an adventure.
I sort of came to around 9am and would have been content to return to sleep and continue in it for an hour or two more but, I remembered my sweet Kennedy and marched down to the living room to check on his waking up progress. Off we went and we returned home with his magical medicines an hour and a half later.
We spent an hour chatting in the living room with my roommates and Kitty before we invited ourselves over to my sister's for lunch. She wasn't home when we got there, but we let ourselves in and began watching Pride and Prejudice. *sigh* what a perfect Saturday. We eventually ate lunch and said farewell to The Brotherhood. We then returned home and spent the afternoon accomplishing odds and ends and mostly nothing. Pearl came over at some point and more resting took place.
Sunday, of course, was not restful, but it's not really a day that can be. Too much happens on a Sunday but at least Sunday ends with sleep. Not much sleep, of course, because I always forget about having to wake up at 6am for Monday Morning prayer until about midnight, and then I stress so much about having to wake up that I don't really sleep.
Maybe that's why I'm sick. I fell asleep on my Bible already today. Which, I mean, sleeping through quiet time is probably not the best thing, but the Bible says that "The Lord grants sleep to those He loves" and "When you lie down, your sleep will be sweet" and other such things as that. So I don't feel bad that I did that.
Now I will take my week one day at a time. Monday homework, Tuesday class, Wednesday homework, Thursday class. Friday sleep, Saturday concessions, Sunday church/Kalonavite hymn sing/ journey home to Storm Lake.
It's going to be great!
-10paged Research paper on Stress and memory (Isn't that funny??...stress is everywhere)
-The Presentation that got moved from last week
-2 Homeworks
-3 quizes
Honestly I'm not near as stressed this week. Which is good because I am now sick. With a sore throat and probable sinus infection and all the works to go with that. Headaches..stomach aches, tightness of the lungs... Oh well. I'm not complaining. If I survive this week than I can go home and sleep for a week.
I had one of the best weekends I could have ever wanted this past weekend, so I have nothing to complain about. I am too blessed, I think. My family is the best ever. 2 of my little brothers came into town to adventure with me and my friends and, while our adventure didn't turn out like planned, it was one of my favorite Friday nights ever.
We sang hymns in a stairwell with some Kalonavites. Why a stairwell? Acoustics, man. So echoey and lovely.
"What are Kalonavites?" One might ask. Well, let me tell you!
Kalonavites are a unique people group located in South/East Iowa in a small village called Kalona. Their beliefs are something inbetween conservative Christian and Amish-ish. I just say they love Jesus and call it good. They're actually quite difficult to describe, and are so unique, the best way to attempt comprehension of them is to meet them.
This people group doesn't believe in fighting or wars or scuffles or such, but they have very strange fascinations for loud noises and anything pyro. This of course lends to a giddy and delighted enchantment when in the presence of a firearm. If you can picture the cartoons where the eyes are spinning in hypnosis, that's about what they look like when a gun is brought out.
Kalonavites are, for the most part, highly respectable and polite. More so than the average breed of male. However, when 2 or more are gathered together in front of a TV screen, any awareness of female presence seems to dissolve and a certain level of discomfort is experienced if you happen to be of the woman species.
The bestest thing about this peculiar group of peace-loving gun enthusiasts is that when they are not shooting up their grandmother's Easter eggs and the trees and rivers around Kalona, they are singing sweet songs of old in the churches of their childhoods. The Lord has knitted together some of His finest vocal chords into the necks of these youthful beings, that are fully equipped with power to heal and encourage and enliven the hearers of such glorious music. This being because, when they sing, the Spirit of the Lord is there.
It has been quite a blessing from the Lord to be aware of their existence these last 9 months and I shall treasure the remaining 8 months that I have to know them. I think the Kalonavites will forever be one of my favorite encounters along the way of my journeyings.
Beyond the Kalonavites singing in the stairwell, having a portion of The Brotherhood in town was a treat of the finest kind. Our wonderful time spent with the Kalonavites went into the early hours of the morning and thus the time we spent sleeping was less than usual. Before tucking one of my young brothers away for the night, he mentioned how sick he was and how much he hated to think he'd have to visit Student Death when returning to his place of residence. Of course I volunteered to take him somewhere in Iowa City and thus we planned upon awakening, we would embark on such an adventure.
I sort of came to around 9am and would have been content to return to sleep and continue in it for an hour or two more but, I remembered my sweet Kennedy and marched down to the living room to check on his waking up progress. Off we went and we returned home with his magical medicines an hour and a half later.
We spent an hour chatting in the living room with my roommates and Kitty before we invited ourselves over to my sister's for lunch. She wasn't home when we got there, but we let ourselves in and began watching Pride and Prejudice. *sigh* what a perfect Saturday. We eventually ate lunch and said farewell to The Brotherhood. We then returned home and spent the afternoon accomplishing odds and ends and mostly nothing. Pearl came over at some point and more resting took place.
Sunday, of course, was not restful, but it's not really a day that can be. Too much happens on a Sunday but at least Sunday ends with sleep. Not much sleep, of course, because I always forget about having to wake up at 6am for Monday Morning prayer until about midnight, and then I stress so much about having to wake up that I don't really sleep.
Maybe that's why I'm sick. I fell asleep on my Bible already today. Which, I mean, sleeping through quiet time is probably not the best thing, but the Bible says that "The Lord grants sleep to those He loves" and "When you lie down, your sleep will be sweet" and other such things as that. So I don't feel bad that I did that.
Now I will take my week one day at a time. Monday homework, Tuesday class, Wednesday homework, Thursday class. Friday sleep, Saturday concessions, Sunday church/Kalonavite hymn sing/ journey home to Storm Lake.
It's going to be great!
Friday, November 15, 2013
Get Ready for Another Break
Tears. Every rough week must end in tears right? Guys, I'm exhausted. I'm totally... exhausted. Can I just make a super honest and transparent post? Maybe you don't want to hear it, but I just want to express some things.
Okay, here's where I am: my heart is breaking.
I'm at this point where I'm wishing the Lord had not given me some of the great friends that I have because I'm suddenly acutely aware that they are just a season. I know I've blogged about this recently, but now, as the semester comes to a close and I can count on my two hands the amount of months before my lease runs out and I have to make a decision to move on, to another town, or city, or state and I realize that these friends that have worked their way into touching the deepest places of my heart will not be physically accessible any more. That breaks my heart. And it just hurts me.
As I was talking with the Lord about it, He was reminding me that it was good. It was good that I met them and they were an absolutely blessing in my life and I absolutely needed them when they turned up, but I have to trust it is for the best when life changes again. I have to trust that every time my heart breaks, the Lord re-enforces it. Every time my heart tears or rips, He re-sews it to be bigger and more like His.
But I'm not ready.
And it could just be that I had a terrible week of stress and anxiety and not as good sleep and little to no interactions with real humans and now at the end of it I'm tired and emotional, but even good sleep will not change reality. And I get mad at my friends for being great because they steal my heart.
Can't I just put my heart in a box and not let people run off with pieces of it?? I mean, no. That'd be no good. But sometimes it's like, "Stop. Please stop. Stop making me laugh, stop making me feel loved. Stop being wonderful." But really, don't stop. I need you.
But in all that. As I look at life and where I will be and where my friends will be and how much change is yet to come, I look at the Lord and I ask, "will you stay? Please stay. I need you to stay." And he looks at me with sympathy and says, "Fern. Of course I will stay. I will never leave you or forsake you. I will be with you always, even to the end of the age. I will be with you when you move away from Iowa City. I will be with you when life changes. I will stay. I will stay right here. I'm with you on this one." And I'm sure that may sound a little cheesy to you, but it means the world to me.
So, sometimes I try to write letters to my future husband. People have told me this is a good idea.
The last few times I started, I ended up writing a letter to Jesus instead. But then I realized, He is my future husband. The wedding is planned and there's going to be a feast and everyone is invited. The church is the bridegroom, is it not? Did He not say He was coming back? My love. My one and only. My forever.
Please stay.
I think I view marriage wrongly. I mean, I'm just going to go ahead and confess that sometimes I look forward to marriage because I like the idea of someone loving me for the rest of my life. I also know what it feels like to be in a relationship where you feel like a burden and too much and not worth loving or pursuing and it's just.. empty and broken and awful. And then I think, "I can live just fine without that. I would sooner be single for the rest of my entire earthly life than be stuck in that forever." And then there stands Jesus and He just gives me a look that says, "But I want you."
Sometimes I'll find myself liking a godly man in my circle of acquaintances and then I'll pray about it and ask the Lord to take away the feelings if they aren't right and then He does. And then I'm always a little surprised when He does because I'm like, "Hmm what was the matter with that one, Lord?"
And it's as if the Lord has my heart out on his workbench and he's forming it and creating it into this intricate, delicate work and He protectively throws His arms around it and is like, "Are you kidding me?? This heart is not for just anybody. I'm proud of this work. And I've got plans for it and I'm not about to let you just give it to some boy who is going to drop it and break it. No way."
I feel loved and lost at the same time.
But I look at what is coming, I mean, my heart will have to break. This season of friends is wrapping up. And The Lord seems to be giddy about it because He's like, "I'm going to fix it, though. And add detail and character."
I'm so human. Gosh darnit. I'm human and I'm a girl human, so that's even worse. I think I know what's good for me but I don't and then I'm emotional and the whole reason God has to be so protective of my heart is because He has His own share of cuts and bruises from trying to manipulate it and form it into what He wants while I fight and resist.
That's why He fights off the boys. He's like, "Oh no you don't. Do you even know how much I've fought for this heart. You want a piece of it?? You're going to have to go through me."
Guys, last night, one of the men from my student ministry challenged us to be trained in godliness.
I want that so bad. You have no idea how badly I want that.
I'm terrible at the 'Christianity' thing. I'm so terrible. Sometimes I only pray once a week. Sometimes I don't even open my Bible unless I'm at church. I don't pursue God.
I pursue my heart feeling healed. I pursue joy. I pursue feeling whole. But I don't pursue God. I mean, I pursue God so that I can feel healed and joyful and whole, but I'm not pursuing God because I'm in love with Him and just want to be like him. I pursue Him for the feelings that come as a result. I pursue the symptoms of God. SYMPTOMS guys.
Like having a running nose and a sore throat doesn't mean you have a cold. You have a cold when cells in your body are fighting infection cells and there is a battle going on that you don't see and the symptoms are just the signs that it's going on.
I don't want symptoms, guys. I want God. I don't want to be a symptom in the church, guys. I don't want to be a symptom of my leaders pursuing God. I want to be the one pursuing God.
And here I'm asking the Lord, "Can you hold me together? Just keep my heart from going everywhere when it breaks again."
And I don't want it to break because I attached it to my wonderful, God-loving friends and I have to move. I want it to break because God moved in and He was too big for it. I don't want to be a small human with a small human heart. I want to be a small human with the heart of God. A heart easily broken for the things that matter. And I know it will have to break.
I think I'm okay with that. I think I'm okay with a life of brokenness as long as the Lord never leaves me. As long as the pieces can be put back together and I have the strength to breathe.
Sometimes life hurts too much to breathe. That's when the Lord reaches down and breathes into my nostrils the breath of life. Sometimes I need a little mouth-to-mouth before taking the next step.
Maybe that's what this is. Another measure of faith being poured out in the exact amount needed before the next step. Before the next crack. Before the next break.
Okay, Lord. Let's do this.
Okay, here's where I am: my heart is breaking.
I'm at this point where I'm wishing the Lord had not given me some of the great friends that I have because I'm suddenly acutely aware that they are just a season. I know I've blogged about this recently, but now, as the semester comes to a close and I can count on my two hands the amount of months before my lease runs out and I have to make a decision to move on, to another town, or city, or state and I realize that these friends that have worked their way into touching the deepest places of my heart will not be physically accessible any more. That breaks my heart. And it just hurts me.
As I was talking with the Lord about it, He was reminding me that it was good. It was good that I met them and they were an absolutely blessing in my life and I absolutely needed them when they turned up, but I have to trust it is for the best when life changes again. I have to trust that every time my heart breaks, the Lord re-enforces it. Every time my heart tears or rips, He re-sews it to be bigger and more like His.
But I'm not ready.
And it could just be that I had a terrible week of stress and anxiety and not as good sleep and little to no interactions with real humans and now at the end of it I'm tired and emotional, but even good sleep will not change reality. And I get mad at my friends for being great because they steal my heart.
Can't I just put my heart in a box and not let people run off with pieces of it?? I mean, no. That'd be no good. But sometimes it's like, "Stop. Please stop. Stop making me laugh, stop making me feel loved. Stop being wonderful." But really, don't stop. I need you.
But in all that. As I look at life and where I will be and where my friends will be and how much change is yet to come, I look at the Lord and I ask, "will you stay? Please stay. I need you to stay." And he looks at me with sympathy and says, "Fern. Of course I will stay. I will never leave you or forsake you. I will be with you always, even to the end of the age. I will be with you when you move away from Iowa City. I will be with you when life changes. I will stay. I will stay right here. I'm with you on this one." And I'm sure that may sound a little cheesy to you, but it means the world to me.
So, sometimes I try to write letters to my future husband. People have told me this is a good idea.
The last few times I started, I ended up writing a letter to Jesus instead. But then I realized, He is my future husband. The wedding is planned and there's going to be a feast and everyone is invited. The church is the bridegroom, is it not? Did He not say He was coming back? My love. My one and only. My forever.
Please stay.
I think I view marriage wrongly. I mean, I'm just going to go ahead and confess that sometimes I look forward to marriage because I like the idea of someone loving me for the rest of my life. I also know what it feels like to be in a relationship where you feel like a burden and too much and not worth loving or pursuing and it's just.. empty and broken and awful. And then I think, "I can live just fine without that. I would sooner be single for the rest of my entire earthly life than be stuck in that forever." And then there stands Jesus and He just gives me a look that says, "But I want you."
Sometimes I'll find myself liking a godly man in my circle of acquaintances and then I'll pray about it and ask the Lord to take away the feelings if they aren't right and then He does. And then I'm always a little surprised when He does because I'm like, "Hmm what was the matter with that one, Lord?"
And it's as if the Lord has my heart out on his workbench and he's forming it and creating it into this intricate, delicate work and He protectively throws His arms around it and is like, "Are you kidding me?? This heart is not for just anybody. I'm proud of this work. And I've got plans for it and I'm not about to let you just give it to some boy who is going to drop it and break it. No way."
I feel loved and lost at the same time.
But I look at what is coming, I mean, my heart will have to break. This season of friends is wrapping up. And The Lord seems to be giddy about it because He's like, "I'm going to fix it, though. And add detail and character."
I'm so human. Gosh darnit. I'm human and I'm a girl human, so that's even worse. I think I know what's good for me but I don't and then I'm emotional and the whole reason God has to be so protective of my heart is because He has His own share of cuts and bruises from trying to manipulate it and form it into what He wants while I fight and resist.
That's why He fights off the boys. He's like, "Oh no you don't. Do you even know how much I've fought for this heart. You want a piece of it?? You're going to have to go through me."
Guys, last night, one of the men from my student ministry challenged us to be trained in godliness.
I want that so bad. You have no idea how badly I want that.
I'm terrible at the 'Christianity' thing. I'm so terrible. Sometimes I only pray once a week. Sometimes I don't even open my Bible unless I'm at church. I don't pursue God.
I pursue my heart feeling healed. I pursue joy. I pursue feeling whole. But I don't pursue God. I mean, I pursue God so that I can feel healed and joyful and whole, but I'm not pursuing God because I'm in love with Him and just want to be like him. I pursue Him for the feelings that come as a result. I pursue the symptoms of God. SYMPTOMS guys.
Like having a running nose and a sore throat doesn't mean you have a cold. You have a cold when cells in your body are fighting infection cells and there is a battle going on that you don't see and the symptoms are just the signs that it's going on.
I don't want symptoms, guys. I want God. I don't want to be a symptom in the church, guys. I don't want to be a symptom of my leaders pursuing God. I want to be the one pursuing God.
And here I'm asking the Lord, "Can you hold me together? Just keep my heart from going everywhere when it breaks again."
And I don't want it to break because I attached it to my wonderful, God-loving friends and I have to move. I want it to break because God moved in and He was too big for it. I don't want to be a small human with a small human heart. I want to be a small human with the heart of God. A heart easily broken for the things that matter. And I know it will have to break.
I think I'm okay with that. I think I'm okay with a life of brokenness as long as the Lord never leaves me. As long as the pieces can be put back together and I have the strength to breathe.
Sometimes life hurts too much to breathe. That's when the Lord reaches down and breathes into my nostrils the breath of life. Sometimes I need a little mouth-to-mouth before taking the next step.
Maybe that's what this is. Another measure of faith being poured out in the exact amount needed before the next step. Before the next crack. Before the next break.
Okay, Lord. Let's do this.
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