This last week, I booked a flight to Copenhagen. Why? Because I wanted to! It has been very interesting being back in the US these past few years. It's so strange to think what it will be like to go back. Mostly, I'm just extremely excited. I love the people I met in Copenhagen. I had the good fortune to meet two fabulous host families and a host of young Danes who I love to this day. More than that, however, I feel in a way like I'm going home.
I was reading through my journal that I kept while I was abroad the other night. It is one of the few times I have consistently written in a journal in my whole life. What leapt off the pages for me was not the sightseeing, not the extravagant cities or nights out. What stood out to me were the people, the places, the smells. The feeling of being so outside your comfort zone that you have no choice than to absorb it. It is as if my life here in the states is so comfortable, so natural, that I almost feel as though I'm not really living. The year I spent in Copenhagen was terrifying – in the most amazing and beautiful way. I was challenged every day. Whether it was the crazy language, navigating public transportation, debating whether I had the energy to walk the extra mile (literally) to somewhere I wanted to go, or spending 2 hours in the grocery store looking for a specific ingredient, I was forced into action.
So often in my life now, I feel like I'm performing some skill from memory. All of the training, and raising that happened in my earlier years is a song that I'm proficiently singing. But, I've been thinking a lot lately. Is proficiency what I'm striving for? So many people don't understand the year I spent abroad. They get a glazed over look when I talk about it, or worse, say “Why would you ever want to leave the US? We have everything we need here!” It is probably true, but I don't want everything I need. I want everything that is out there – and the reality is that is so much more than what awaits me outside my front door.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
I want adventure in the great wide somewhere...
One of the most troublesome things about living abroad (that I will assure you they didn't tell me in the brochure) is that once you start traveling, stopping is nearly impossible. My daydreams mostly consist of itineraries, flights, hotels, and most of all, adventure.
An adventure I've been dying to have for quite some time is a volunteering-vacation. I did a bunch of research on this a couple of years ago, and found that Habitat for Humanity does Global Village trips. Habitat, if you're unfamiliar, exists to provide decent housing throughout the US and the world. They build in countries on almost every continent, often using local materials and techniques.
I've thought about several different countries ranging from China to Malaysia to Kenya, Uganda, and Egypt, but nothing has ever felt right (and fit with my schedule). I was perusing the website today, however, and found that Habitat is doing a blitz-build in Nepal next October. I looked at a Nepal trip this year, but it didn't work with my schedule. Next October, though, is totally a potential option.
Nepal is interesting to me for several reasons. First and foremost, I'm totally into traveling off the beaten path, and Nepal doesn't seem like somewhere I'd ever go on my own. Additionally, this trip is only 8 days, as opposed to the typical 10-14 that Habitat does on most of its other trips. This will help my lack of vacation days at work, too! Additionally about Nepal - I have read a lot blogs written by people who have traveled in the country and they are nothing but glowing. I think Nepal may be one of the few places where the true local culture hasn't gotten too polluted by tourism. I'm into that. A Global Village trip is a perfect way to get to meet local people and absorb some more of the culture - without being suffocated by tourist traps.
One other thing: I think I want to do this trip solo. It terrifies and excites me at the same time, but one of the things I loved the most about living in Copenhagen is that I was totally on my own. I think I grew and stretched more as a person because I had very few comforts to fall back on. I really absorbed the culture. I know this idea probably gives my parents the cold sweats, so we'll move on (for now)!
We'll see how this all turns out, but I'm hoping that it will all work out!
An adventure I've been dying to have for quite some time is a volunteering-vacation. I did a bunch of research on this a couple of years ago, and found that Habitat for Humanity does Global Village trips. Habitat, if you're unfamiliar, exists to provide decent housing throughout the US and the world. They build in countries on almost every continent, often using local materials and techniques.
I've thought about several different countries ranging from China to Malaysia to Kenya, Uganda, and Egypt, but nothing has ever felt right (and fit with my schedule). I was perusing the website today, however, and found that Habitat is doing a blitz-build in Nepal next October. I looked at a Nepal trip this year, but it didn't work with my schedule. Next October, though, is totally a potential option.
Nepal is interesting to me for several reasons. First and foremost, I'm totally into traveling off the beaten path, and Nepal doesn't seem like somewhere I'd ever go on my own. Additionally, this trip is only 8 days, as opposed to the typical 10-14 that Habitat does on most of its other trips. This will help my lack of vacation days at work, too! Additionally about Nepal - I have read a lot blogs written by people who have traveled in the country and they are nothing but glowing. I think Nepal may be one of the few places where the true local culture hasn't gotten too polluted by tourism. I'm into that. A Global Village trip is a perfect way to get to meet local people and absorb some more of the culture - without being suffocated by tourist traps.
One other thing: I think I want to do this trip solo. It terrifies and excites me at the same time, but one of the things I loved the most about living in Copenhagen is that I was totally on my own. I think I grew and stretched more as a person because I had very few comforts to fall back on. I really absorbed the culture. I know this idea probably gives my parents the cold sweats, so we'll move on (for now)!
We'll see how this all turns out, but I'm hoping that it will all work out!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
#Kidmin
I never understood twitter. I have been (and I will confess, still am) a loyal facebooker. But, recently, I've made some job changes that have submerged me right in the heart of twitter. All of my colleagues tweet, the people I look up to in my field tweet, and so now, I tweet, too. Okay, really, I tweet-stalk more than doing actual tweeting, but I digress.
I say all of this to tell you that I've been reading a lot of tweets that end in #Kidmin lately. For all of you non-tweeting folks (a hearty voice of non-judgment here), or for you folks who are wondering what the heck Kidmin is, allow me to explain.
I have started a new position at my church. Kidmin. It's shorthand for Kids Ministry, which in my case translates to Elementary Ministry. First, let me tell you that I never, not in a million years, thought I'd be working with Elementary schoolers. In fact, when I moved to Houston just over a year ago, I thought I might go "up" an age group from Middle and High School to college or young adult ministry. How mistaken I was.
Through a series of very interesting and totally God-inspired changes, I have inherited the Elementary Ministry at our church from one of my friends and heroes in the faith. And it is terrifying. And Amazing. And beautifully messy. And I love it. There, I said it.
I think that "us youth people" have always had some sort of stigma attached to Children's Ministry. Many people would say that it's the fluffy, feel-good ministry of the church with lots of kissing babies and runny noses, but very little content. I will admit, that I have been guilty of this line of thinking in the past. My current church, while fraught with kissings of babies and runnings of noses, is definitely not without content. In fact, my church is so jam-packed with content, it's practically exploding.
See, what I've learned in just a few short weeks, is that our kids know that they can trust God no matter what. Our kids know that they need to make the wise choice. Our kids know that they need to treat others the way they want to be treated. And these lessons aren't intuitive. As much as I'd love to tell you that our "church kids" come out knowing these truths, it isn't the case. They have been taught, and modeled, and shown how to live these truths out in their lives by a team of devoted and amazing leaders and parents. This ministry isn't shallow. Just because we play games with cotton balls and paper bags doesn't mean that kids aren't connecting with the message. It just means that we are helping kids connect with the message in a creative way.
And that is something I never understood until I saw it firsthand. I see kids on Sunday morning yelling at the top of their lungs, but they're yelling praises to God. I see kids every Sunday morning running around like maniacs, but they're running to their Sunday School classrooms. I see kids hugging the best friend they made in their small group. And I know that #kidmin makes a difference. And that I can make a difference, too. Though it is scary, and most of the time I feel like I have so much to learn, these kids are changing my life.
I say all of this to tell you that I've been reading a lot of tweets that end in #Kidmin lately. For all of you non-tweeting folks (a hearty voice of non-judgment here), or for you folks who are wondering what the heck Kidmin is, allow me to explain.
I have started a new position at my church. Kidmin. It's shorthand for Kids Ministry, which in my case translates to Elementary Ministry. First, let me tell you that I never, not in a million years, thought I'd be working with Elementary schoolers. In fact, when I moved to Houston just over a year ago, I thought I might go "up" an age group from Middle and High School to college or young adult ministry. How mistaken I was.
Through a series of very interesting and totally God-inspired changes, I have inherited the Elementary Ministry at our church from one of my friends and heroes in the faith. And it is terrifying. And Amazing. And beautifully messy. And I love it. There, I said it.
I think that "us youth people" have always had some sort of stigma attached to Children's Ministry. Many people would say that it's the fluffy, feel-good ministry of the church with lots of kissing babies and runny noses, but very little content. I will admit, that I have been guilty of this line of thinking in the past. My current church, while fraught with kissings of babies and runnings of noses, is definitely not without content. In fact, my church is so jam-packed with content, it's practically exploding.
See, what I've learned in just a few short weeks, is that our kids know that they can trust God no matter what. Our kids know that they need to make the wise choice. Our kids know that they need to treat others the way they want to be treated. And these lessons aren't intuitive. As much as I'd love to tell you that our "church kids" come out knowing these truths, it isn't the case. They have been taught, and modeled, and shown how to live these truths out in their lives by a team of devoted and amazing leaders and parents. This ministry isn't shallow. Just because we play games with cotton balls and paper bags doesn't mean that kids aren't connecting with the message. It just means that we are helping kids connect with the message in a creative way.
And that is something I never understood until I saw it firsthand. I see kids on Sunday morning yelling at the top of their lungs, but they're yelling praises to God. I see kids every Sunday morning running around like maniacs, but they're running to their Sunday School classrooms. I see kids hugging the best friend they made in their small group. And I know that #kidmin makes a difference. And that I can make a difference, too. Though it is scary, and most of the time I feel like I have so much to learn, these kids are changing my life.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
June (August?) Gloom...
I almost started writing a post on how I have a lady-crush on Laura Bush. It's been a long week.
There is a phrase in California called "June Gloom". It is the time of the year where it should be sunny out, but instead is overcast and cool. This is most distressing to Californians. While you're supposed to be out surfing and tanning and doing California things, the weather forces you to wear jackets and scarves and pursue indoor activities.
I think I'm having a bit of an August gloom. I totally can't stand those debbie-downer people, so we're going to try and make this an anomaly in my blog, but I just have to comment on my current state of mind. In youth ministry, the summer is go time. You're hyping up for mission trips, hanging out with kids, eating way too much sugar and pizza, and staying up much too late. Then, all of the sudden, the snarling church calendar gets ahold of you and the fall makes itself known. Your life is no longer consumed by trips and kids and fun. Instead, you enter what I like to call planning mode.
This mode for me consists of about 98% procrastination and 2% fear and loathing. I procrastinate on doing my tasks (which HAVE to be done) while I fear and loathe them, simultaneously. It is really a vicious circle. Right now. I'm deep in the throes of this August gloom of which I am speaking. There are dates to think about, vacations to get on the calendar, events to plan for, and visions to cast for the upcoming year. But, sadly, my motivation is at an all-time low.
Every day is a new adventure?
I believe it sometimes.
Until next time.
...your (sometimes) adventurer.
There is a phrase in California called "June Gloom". It is the time of the year where it should be sunny out, but instead is overcast and cool. This is most distressing to Californians. While you're supposed to be out surfing and tanning and doing California things, the weather forces you to wear jackets and scarves and pursue indoor activities.
I think I'm having a bit of an August gloom. I totally can't stand those debbie-downer people, so we're going to try and make this an anomaly in my blog, but I just have to comment on my current state of mind. In youth ministry, the summer is go time. You're hyping up for mission trips, hanging out with kids, eating way too much sugar and pizza, and staying up much too late. Then, all of the sudden, the snarling church calendar gets ahold of you and the fall makes itself known. Your life is no longer consumed by trips and kids and fun. Instead, you enter what I like to call planning mode.
This mode for me consists of about 98% procrastination and 2% fear and loathing. I procrastinate on doing my tasks (which HAVE to be done) while I fear and loathe them, simultaneously. It is really a vicious circle. Right now. I'm deep in the throes of this August gloom of which I am speaking. There are dates to think about, vacations to get on the calendar, events to plan for, and visions to cast for the upcoming year. But, sadly, my motivation is at an all-time low.
Every day is a new adventure?
I believe it sometimes.
Until next time.
...your (sometimes) adventurer.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
One Year
Today would have been my one year wedding anniversary. This feels strange and foreign to type, because as many know, I didn't get married. I have used this example over and over again, but it seems the most accurate. It was as if I was heading with blinders on down a path with its own unique dreams and desires and one day, like warp speed, my life was completely transported to another different reality with different characters, places, and faces. It is within this new life that I have had to come up with new dreams and new desires.
This past year was supposed to be the year I loved intensely. The year I got to know myself as a married person, and got to know my husband as the one who has committed to love me for life. It didn't turn out just like I wished it would, but this year has arguably gone on with its intense love. While the rest of me was figuring out the logistics, my heart just kept on. Loving.
This year, I have received love. From my parents, who from day one supported and cared for me in a way I have never experienced. To call over 250 people, explain that the wedding was off was a gift that I am just now understanding the magnitude of. From my cousin/best friend/other/sister Sara who let me cry, who put up with my horrible bitterness, feelings of desolation, small victories, large battles, and who helped me settle into this new reality. I can truly say that if Sara hadn't been in my life this past year, I would be a fundamentally different person, and it wouldn't be better.
This year, I have found new love. I started teaching skating and working at a church with people who are following passionately after Jesus. I discovered that 30 minutes on the ice with a 7 year old can be the highlight of my week, and that I have to choose joy every day. The small things are what have come to define my new normal. These small nothings have come to mean so much more to me than so many somethings.
This year, I have given love. I have met new people, reconnected with old friends, and have rejoiced in the fact that even in my brokenness, there exists love that can pour out onto others.
This year could have been a disaster. And, in some ways it was. I decided I was in the business of praying risky prayers quite some time ago, and it has always been my prayer for God to wreck me. To break me of the things I cling to, of the things that are of me. There have been many times this year where I have felt that pieces of myself were being unwillingly wrenched from me. And they have. I believe that some things, as in a refinery, must be painfully separated by fire. But in the midst of this has come immense restoration and healing.
This year, most of all, I have experienced the love of God, my father. I have never been so angry with God in all my life than I have in the past 365 days. Mostly for taking away what I so deeply desired. I have never experienced the father-heart of God more than in the past year where He allowed me time and space to yell and scream and cry and question why this happened. Like a good dad, He continues to ask me to come back.
So, maybe the year didn't go as I planned. But, I have found love and given love, and received love. And that is, after all, all that I ever asked for.
This past year was supposed to be the year I loved intensely. The year I got to know myself as a married person, and got to know my husband as the one who has committed to love me for life. It didn't turn out just like I wished it would, but this year has arguably gone on with its intense love. While the rest of me was figuring out the logistics, my heart just kept on. Loving.
This year, I have received love. From my parents, who from day one supported and cared for me in a way I have never experienced. To call over 250 people, explain that the wedding was off was a gift that I am just now understanding the magnitude of. From my cousin/best friend/other/sister Sara who let me cry, who put up with my horrible bitterness, feelings of desolation, small victories, large battles, and who helped me settle into this new reality. I can truly say that if Sara hadn't been in my life this past year, I would be a fundamentally different person, and it wouldn't be better.
This year, I have found new love. I started teaching skating and working at a church with people who are following passionately after Jesus. I discovered that 30 minutes on the ice with a 7 year old can be the highlight of my week, and that I have to choose joy every day. The small things are what have come to define my new normal. These small nothings have come to mean so much more to me than so many somethings.
This year, I have given love. I have met new people, reconnected with old friends, and have rejoiced in the fact that even in my brokenness, there exists love that can pour out onto others.
This year could have been a disaster. And, in some ways it was. I decided I was in the business of praying risky prayers quite some time ago, and it has always been my prayer for God to wreck me. To break me of the things I cling to, of the things that are of me. There have been many times this year where I have felt that pieces of myself were being unwillingly wrenched from me. And they have. I believe that some things, as in a refinery, must be painfully separated by fire. But in the midst of this has come immense restoration and healing.
This year, most of all, I have experienced the love of God, my father. I have never been so angry with God in all my life than I have in the past 365 days. Mostly for taking away what I so deeply desired. I have never experienced the father-heart of God more than in the past year where He allowed me time and space to yell and scream and cry and question why this happened. Like a good dad, He continues to ask me to come back.
So, maybe the year didn't go as I planned. But, I have found love and given love, and received love. And that is, after all, all that I ever asked for.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Why I'm a blogging failure/skating debacles
See, I do like to blog. A lot, actually. There are many times where I'll sit and ponder something and think to myself, "that would make a great blog!" Unfortunately, I hardly ever take the time to sit down and write about it. I'm starting up again. Who knows what I'll write about. I have an affinity for CNN, Jesus, Figure Skating, and Travel, not necessarily in that order. So, I'd expect to see some of everything here. If that stresses you out, no worries! There are many other amazing blogs out on the web for you to peruse.
Ok, so figure skating. If you don't know me, you may not be aware that I coach figure skating both in class settings and privately. It's a raging good time, and an even better time for good story observation. Kids, truly, say the darndest things, (especially when they think they're falling to their death). I think the surest way to win over a blogging audience is with a clever anecdote, so I'll share some of my favorites with you.
I teach a class of 3-5 year olds. Once your laughing has subsided, continue. Yes, a 3 year old can theoretically skate. In my class of 3-5 year olds, I pretty frequently get these situations
Miss Whitney, I have to peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Cue pee dance, on ice skates) with or without 3 year old speech impediments. Usually includes falling, rarely crying.
MissWhitneytodayIwenttotherodeoandsawahugecowwithbighornsyesterdayIwenttoabirthdaypartyyourscarfisredwhyamIhere? Also known as diarrhea of the mouth. I love 'em, but social conventions, and normal conversational patterns don't apply here. Can I mention that my students are extremely talented at skating while performing this feat? Because they are.
Refusal to cooperate and/or appear conscious. This most often happens when the little tyke has absolutely no desire to skate whatsoever, and is being groomed to pursue mom or dad's unfulfilled olympic ambitions. The conversation will go something like this
Me: "Come on, little tyke! (Names changed for their protection) You can do it! March your feet!" (In a voice 3 octaves higher than normal and with the pep of a whole cheering squad)
Little Tyke: Blank Stare
Me: "Don't you want to go to the pool? Let's take our animal to the swimming pool!" (We use little stuffed animals and take them to the blue ice painted for hockey goals, ie, swimming)
Little Tyke: Blank Stare
Me: Gesticulating wildly "See! Ms. Whitney wants to go the pool! Come on, Buddy! Why don't you come with me?"
Little Tyke: Stare communicating the following: you are the dumbest person on this planet, and I am totally manipulating you to look like a complete idiot.
Mom of Little Tyke (standing at the glass barrier): Violent pointing and lip-synching threats.
Little Tyke: Resigned sigh, skates across the ice like a champ.
I also teach big people, and this story is something that actually happened today. I teach classes with the most fabulous high school aged assistant ON THIS PLANET. I swear, I would trust her with my class any day. Anyway, today we're teaching kids how to do backward crossovers, and I literally, I swear to you, not 30 seconds before said to them, "make sure you look over your back shoulder to make sure you don't hit your friends!" (everyone is friends in my class, whether they like it or not). So there I am, standing there, happy as a clam when my dutiful assistant, demonstrating the move to our class smacks into me while skating backwards. And not looking behind her. I wildly flail my arms (a no-no in my class) while doing my best cupid shuffle rendition to attempt to stay on my feet. Did I mention that I was in the direct center of the rink with an audience of about 40 parents? Ha. Because I was. Fortunately, this is not my first rodeo, nor hers, so we explained to the students (who were laughing uncontrollably) that we were merely demonstrating what NOT to do! They didn't buy it, but we provided some great entertainment for the gaggle of parents trying to conceal their laughter. Hey. At least I have fun at my job.
Well, so long for now. Another day, another adventure.
Whitney
Ok, so figure skating. If you don't know me, you may not be aware that I coach figure skating both in class settings and privately. It's a raging good time, and an even better time for good story observation. Kids, truly, say the darndest things, (especially when they think they're falling to their death). I think the surest way to win over a blogging audience is with a clever anecdote, so I'll share some of my favorites with you.
I teach a class of 3-5 year olds. Once your laughing has subsided, continue. Yes, a 3 year old can theoretically skate. In my class of 3-5 year olds, I pretty frequently get these situations
Miss Whitney, I have to peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Cue pee dance, on ice skates) with or without 3 year old speech impediments. Usually includes falling, rarely crying.
MissWhitneytodayIwenttotherodeoandsawahugecowwithbighornsyesterdayIwenttoabirthdaypartyyourscarfisredwhyamIhere? Also known as diarrhea of the mouth. I love 'em, but social conventions, and normal conversational patterns don't apply here. Can I mention that my students are extremely talented at skating while performing this feat? Because they are.
Refusal to cooperate and/or appear conscious. This most often happens when the little tyke has absolutely no desire to skate whatsoever, and is being groomed to pursue mom or dad's unfulfilled olympic ambitions. The conversation will go something like this
Me: "Come on, little tyke! (Names changed for their protection) You can do it! March your feet!" (In a voice 3 octaves higher than normal and with the pep of a whole cheering squad)
Little Tyke: Blank Stare
Me: "Don't you want to go to the pool? Let's take our animal to the swimming pool!" (We use little stuffed animals and take them to the blue ice painted for hockey goals, ie, swimming)
Little Tyke: Blank Stare
Me: Gesticulating wildly "See! Ms. Whitney wants to go the pool! Come on, Buddy! Why don't you come with me?"
Little Tyke: Stare communicating the following: you are the dumbest person on this planet, and I am totally manipulating you to look like a complete idiot.
Mom of Little Tyke (standing at the glass barrier): Violent pointing and lip-synching threats.
Little Tyke: Resigned sigh, skates across the ice like a champ.
I also teach big people, and this story is something that actually happened today. I teach classes with the most fabulous high school aged assistant ON THIS PLANET. I swear, I would trust her with my class any day. Anyway, today we're teaching kids how to do backward crossovers, and I literally, I swear to you, not 30 seconds before said to them, "make sure you look over your back shoulder to make sure you don't hit your friends!" (everyone is friends in my class, whether they like it or not). So there I am, standing there, happy as a clam when my dutiful assistant, demonstrating the move to our class smacks into me while skating backwards. And not looking behind her. I wildly flail my arms (a no-no in my class) while doing my best cupid shuffle rendition to attempt to stay on my feet. Did I mention that I was in the direct center of the rink with an audience of about 40 parents? Ha. Because I was. Fortunately, this is not my first rodeo, nor hers, so we explained to the students (who were laughing uncontrollably) that we were merely demonstrating what NOT to do! They didn't buy it, but we provided some great entertainment for the gaggle of parents trying to conceal their laughter. Hey. At least I have fun at my job.
Well, so long for now. Another day, another adventure.
Whitney
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)