Next Bold Move

I haven't posted in a while--its not that I haven't had anything to say, in fact it's quite the opposite. I've had too much to say, too much thought, too much action, too much change. I don't know where to begin to wrangle and wrestle such unbroken ideas into sentences or linear thought.
I am in New York now. Wow. I have an apartment. I have a roommate. I don't have classes. I am doing what grown ups do. Overwhelming in its own regard. And what of leaving? Crabfest was the closest thing I may ever come to having a wedding reception--it was some of my favorite people on the planet gathered together to finally meet face to face. It brought tears to my eyes to even consider it a possibility. My sister will be 11 on Friday and I am there no longer. At the time in her life when a big sister may matter the most I am 500 miles away. Do I trust God to love and hold her close as the vines of self-doubt and teenagerdom threaten to strangle her innocence and trust? Oh hold her close, I love that little girl.
It's hard--I go through bouts of lonliness and overwhelming meloncholy--but if this is indeed the place I am to be in my life, then here I will stay, sensitive to the next bold move.

Quicksilver

I don't know what to say; maybe I've forgotten how to say it. Today is the first day I've actually had to myself, off from work, since mid-July. Wow. It hasn't felt that long though--days stretch and coalesce until they form one undulating mess that is time. I guess time is quicksilver.

Faith with Deeds Stinks Sometimes

Well I am back in VA--long drive, numb butt, but I'm back. It's been a huge kick in the stomach being back here--I am always blown away by how uninterested and almost hostile my family is to my walk with Christ. But what has been most difficult and testing is the call to move to Rochester. I am excited to move, but it requires me to leave a job I just got that pays well and promises growth for years to come, in a field I love. I don't really like the job, but i love the organization, their purpose, and where it could take me. However, i feel called to leave it, so this afternoon i'm giving them my two weeks. I just started. they are training me to take another woman's place who is retiring in two months. Ugh. I am excited and terrified--this is the biggest outward test of my faith so far. I know God has something awesome for me down the road, it's just hard to see it in the context of right now--it's not logical what he's calling me to do, and i'm a fairly logical person in my decision making. Part of me says it couldn't possibly be God, that it's the most foolish thing i'll ever do, but the rest of me just knows. I mean, why Rochester? I don't honestly know--it's the same feeling I got when I was called to go to school in Syr and called to go on summer staff--two experiences that changed my life radically. I worry about money, about expenses, about defeat, about my pride--I need to just suck it up, pray for strength and do it, but I'm feeling kind of alone right now. ahhhh!

A Staff Infection

I leave for summer staff in less than a week. Gulp. When I applied, it was begrudgingly. When I was accepted, I was elated (I mean who doesn't get excited when they get accepted into just about anything?) and now I'm in this sort of dreading stage. Somehow I've developed this knee-jerk defensiveness about myself, and I know I need to get it out of my system before I go. I'm kind of using this snooty, prideful, "I'm just going to serve and I don't give a crap if I make friends with everyone or not" way of thinking, and I really do think its reactionary. I'm being told that I won't be able to have a drink or any tobacco products for a month. I can't wear spaghetti straps. I can only listen to "Christian" music in the kitchen? WHAT THE CRAP? I'm 23 years old, I am allowed to do whatever the f--- I want to do--that's the whole perc of growing up. I'm not used to being told what I can and cannot wear, drink, or listen to, thus I understand why my defenses might be up. I want to treat this as a job--I go into the kitchen, do my thing and then go off and have my time. Write letters, chew on a stick for that oral fixation and listen to my discman, consciously separating my business and personal lives. Keep separate things separate, like I do at other jobs.
But that's not what I'm called to do--I'm called to serve, with the full expectation that this can and will occur outside the confines of the kitchen. I'm not ever "off" that job. I am called to go in with an open and humble heart. But how do I get there? I think about all the times I've gone to ALI to start staff work, and how excited I've been to meet new people and share our lives and experiences. Why am I resisting it now? Why do I have such a dislike of Christians? I hope I can contain this festering and kill it before next week rolls around.

The Little Foxes

Yesterday while driving down a undistinguishable town street I almost hit a young fox that was sitting in the middle of the road. I marveled at my proximity to the fox--the details of its red-brown fur, the blackness of its paws--and I realized I have seen more foxes this year than I have in all past years combined. They seem to be thriving. The thought of foxes (you following my thought progression? just pretend) reminded me of Song of Songs 2:15, and a lesson I had heard Seth #2 give on it several years ago.
"Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom."
What is the metaphor? For these lovers, the vineyards appear to be their physical attraction and the foxes are those things that may mar or step between that mutual attraction. I think it's more. What are the foxes that tempt us so strongly and destroy all that has been planted in us? I hate when I start writing in 2nd person. I need to own what I write.
What are the foxes that sneek in during the night and ravage all that has been planted in me?
What are the little foxes?
With this in mind, foxes are such a good metaphor. They are unusually hard to spot when they choose to be, but can be so bold that they become threatening with their mere bravado. They are devious, and are keen to the idea that there are always more ways to do one thing. Foxes are breathtakingly beautiful, yet their luster betrays the dirtiness of their methods.
If I plan to catch the little foxes, I have to see them first.
And they tend to be right in front of me.