My Grandfather is dying. As I write this I sit in the living room at my grandparents' house, watching my grandpa take what may very well be his last, labored breaths. This whole dying thing is nothing new to me. I wish it wasn't the case, but I've lost a score of people throughout my life. And it never gets easier. In the past two days since, as my mom would say, "things have taken a turn for the worst", I have really been thinking a lot about the life my grandpa has lead, and what death means for us.
I think when we're younger, death is an abstract concept. Someone is here one day, then mysteriously the next they're gone. We're sad, but for reasons that we don't fully understand. It's like what is more upsetting is that we don't have a grasp on what happened, rather than the actual event. Does that make sense? I think this is why people are always seeking therapy for those traumatic events in their childhood. Because our little brains don't know how to process the pain.
Now, we're older. I'm older. And I understand. I have seen the toll that my grandfather's failing health has taken on my mom, on my uncle, on my grandmother. Death, instead of being a scary unknown will be a glorious release for my grandpa. I don't want him to go, but I don't want him to be here in pain, either. And there are so many more emotions that come with this logic. I go from sweet nostalgia to crying to laughing to silence, like I'm strapped in on some insane roller coaster. This is what death does to us. If we're smart, it makes us remember fondly all of the great times we had, all of the memories. As I sit here, looking at my sweet grandfather's face, I know that this is not how I will remember him. I'll remember him as the broad-chested strong man who held both my cousin and I, one in each arm. I'll remember him as my snowmobile instructor (and the digger-outer when I inevitably went somewhere he told me not to, and got stuck). I'm glad that I'm older. I'm glad that I have these memories - the ones that escape me from my loved ones that passed away in my childhood.
My grandfather will die. We will all die - but I think the lesson is to enjoy - as my uncle said, do something great everyday. My grandpa did a lot of great and amazing things with his life, and I can only hope to do half of the things that he did.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
No time like the present
I think the funny irony of life is that one day, you feel like you'll never arrive where you want to go. The days, the hours, even those pesky minutes tick by ever so slowly, until you think you'll go mad from the waiting. Then, all at once, you wake up, and you're 25. And the world is rushing by at a frenetic pace. Your friends and acquaintances live to work, and one by one, we settle down into the predictable life.
Not that it's a bad life. There are things to be said for predictability. Predictability brings its friends stability and consistency - things that we are taught to value from infancy. But, dare I say, that predictability is a little bit...boring.
Don't mistake this post for a rant on the family life, marriage, or any such things. Some of the most adventurous people I know are parents, and married people, too. What has occurred to me lately, though, is that life is short. Too short, in fact. Life, and death, it all happens in the blink of an eye. Too many days in my life I've lived with regret, or been paralyzed by fear or indecision. Too many people I know live to work, to achieve that next promotion, to make that next sale. And, let me tell you, time is going by. Not slowly, not ebbing and flowing any longer. Time is racing by, faster, and faster, as the years go on.
What's your adventure? What do you daydream about while you're at your day job? What is it that makes you come alive? Because if you're not doing it from 9-5 there are precious few hours left in the day, in your life, to experience the fullness of life. God didn't make us to lead a boring life. God designed us for a grand adventure. Terrifying, but satisfying at once. So. Live your life. There's no time like the present.
Not that it's a bad life. There are things to be said for predictability. Predictability brings its friends stability and consistency - things that we are taught to value from infancy. But, dare I say, that predictability is a little bit...boring.
Don't mistake this post for a rant on the family life, marriage, or any such things. Some of the most adventurous people I know are parents, and married people, too. What has occurred to me lately, though, is that life is short. Too short, in fact. Life, and death, it all happens in the blink of an eye. Too many days in my life I've lived with regret, or been paralyzed by fear or indecision. Too many people I know live to work, to achieve that next promotion, to make that next sale. And, let me tell you, time is going by. Not slowly, not ebbing and flowing any longer. Time is racing by, faster, and faster, as the years go on.
What's your adventure? What do you daydream about while you're at your day job? What is it that makes you come alive? Because if you're not doing it from 9-5 there are precious few hours left in the day, in your life, to experience the fullness of life. God didn't make us to lead a boring life. God designed us for a grand adventure. Terrifying, but satisfying at once. So. Live your life. There's no time like the present.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Back to Denmark Again
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.
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.
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
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Muslims in the West
The year I spent in Copenhagen, I unintentionally learned more than I ever thought I could on the Muslim experience in the West. Through several of my courses, the topic of the "great Muslim migration" from the Middle East and Africa was the main focus. It was, I will admit, an entirely new experience for me. It often struck me as funny that an American girl, from what is supposed to be one of the most diverse countries in the world had to go to Denmark to learn about and encounter Muslims. But, such is the world, I suppose.
I remember being very surprised by the amount of head-scarf wearing I saw in Denmark. Why, I couldn't think of a time I had seen a woman in the US wearing the hijab or niqab. All of this became clear to me once I started to study the Muslim experience in Europe a little further. As a disclaimer, I'm not trying to make any blanket statements here about what does or doesn't cause radicalism or extremism. That is far too complex of a topic. What I will say, however, is that it became clear to me that the majority of Muslims (in Denmark) feel very persecuted and marginalized. Those who are the most successful are the ones who learn Danish quickly, who get a good job, and who appear as Danish in look and custom as possible. What has unfortunately happened in Denmark is the prevalence of a growing right-wing, nationalistic movement. As a result of this movement, the already xenophobic Danes have become more and more inward-looking. And what they have seen are people who don't look like them.
There has been a correlation made between the amount of persecution in a society and the level of religious fundamentalism that comes out of it. If you're interested, you can read Ian Buruma's book "Murder in Amsterdam" for a picture of what I'm talking about. Let me be clear - Religious fundamentalism will be present in any society. What is different about what Denmark is experiencing is the underlying cause of this fundamentalist turn. Denmark has instituted many policies over the past few years that severely limit immigration, asylum, and refugee freedoms within its borders. The Danish language has been elevated to a status higher than God. In order to achieve salvation in Danish society, you must fit into the Danish cookie cutter mold - and that is one that doesn't wear a headscarf, and doesn't speak Arabic.
Back to my comment about not having seen head scarf wearing in the US. I, arrogantly, thought that this must mean that Americans are more open to religious diversity, therefore our minority religions don't feel as persecuted as they do in Denmark, therefore they don't feel the need to retreat to fundamentalist traditions. This, as I learned, is not the case. I have been thinking a lot about this issue lately, especially with the Mosque debacle that has been raging in New York City. I, as an American, can safely say that I am concerned about where our country is heading.
I am concerned that we are becoming more and more xenophobic. Thank the recession, thank the right, thank whoever you may, but I believe that we are experiencing something very similar to what has happened in Denmark in the past. Our heavy-handed disapproval of those from different backgrounds is not only inappropriate, it is un-American. We are not talking about illegal immigrants, we are not talking about those not paying into our system. We are talking about people who are here legally, working diligently. And we are denying these people the privilege and freedom to practice their religion. I have full freedom to practice my religion here, but somehow, because nineteen hijackers spewed out hate on September 11, the 2,500,000 people living here practicing Islam are persecuted. How is that fair?
I just moved to Houston, and this morning I saw a woman returning to our apartment complex this morning from a walk. She was wearing a Susan G. Komen walk for the cure T-Shirt. And a headscarf. And I thought to myself, how much ridicule will this woman have to take on in her daily life? How many people will curse at her and tell her she isn't worthy to be here? How many times will she have to hear she is nothing before a hate and resentment of this country starts to brew under the surface? When it does, we will have nobody to blame but ourselves.
I remember being very surprised by the amount of head-scarf wearing I saw in Denmark. Why, I couldn't think of a time I had seen a woman in the US wearing the hijab or niqab. All of this became clear to me once I started to study the Muslim experience in Europe a little further. As a disclaimer, I'm not trying to make any blanket statements here about what does or doesn't cause radicalism or extremism. That is far too complex of a topic. What I will say, however, is that it became clear to me that the majority of Muslims (in Denmark) feel very persecuted and marginalized. Those who are the most successful are the ones who learn Danish quickly, who get a good job, and who appear as Danish in look and custom as possible. What has unfortunately happened in Denmark is the prevalence of a growing right-wing, nationalistic movement. As a result of this movement, the already xenophobic Danes have become more and more inward-looking. And what they have seen are people who don't look like them.
There has been a correlation made between the amount of persecution in a society and the level of religious fundamentalism that comes out of it. If you're interested, you can read Ian Buruma's book "Murder in Amsterdam" for a picture of what I'm talking about. Let me be clear - Religious fundamentalism will be present in any society. What is different about what Denmark is experiencing is the underlying cause of this fundamentalist turn. Denmark has instituted many policies over the past few years that severely limit immigration, asylum, and refugee freedoms within its borders. The Danish language has been elevated to a status higher than God. In order to achieve salvation in Danish society, you must fit into the Danish cookie cutter mold - and that is one that doesn't wear a headscarf, and doesn't speak Arabic.
Back to my comment about not having seen head scarf wearing in the US. I, arrogantly, thought that this must mean that Americans are more open to religious diversity, therefore our minority religions don't feel as persecuted as they do in Denmark, therefore they don't feel the need to retreat to fundamentalist traditions. This, as I learned, is not the case. I have been thinking a lot about this issue lately, especially with the Mosque debacle that has been raging in New York City. I, as an American, can safely say that I am concerned about where our country is heading.
I am concerned that we are becoming more and more xenophobic. Thank the recession, thank the right, thank whoever you may, but I believe that we are experiencing something very similar to what has happened in Denmark in the past. Our heavy-handed disapproval of those from different backgrounds is not only inappropriate, it is un-American. We are not talking about illegal immigrants, we are not talking about those not paying into our system. We are talking about people who are here legally, working diligently. And we are denying these people the privilege and freedom to practice their religion. I have full freedom to practice my religion here, but somehow, because nineteen hijackers spewed out hate on September 11, the 2,500,000 people living here practicing Islam are persecuted. How is that fair?
I just moved to Houston, and this morning I saw a woman returning to our apartment complex this morning from a walk. She was wearing a Susan G. Komen walk for the cure T-Shirt. And a headscarf. And I thought to myself, how much ridicule will this woman have to take on in her daily life? How many people will curse at her and tell her she isn't worthy to be here? How many times will she have to hear she is nothing before a hate and resentment of this country starts to brew under the surface? When it does, we will have nobody to blame but ourselves.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Confidence
What a word. Everywhere we look today we see billboards imploring us to feel and look confident, we constantly hear from the media how we are to be strong, dominant, and aggressive in order to be perceived as confident, and in fact, in resumés, this keyword is one of the most frequently used self-decriptors. For who wants to appear that they have a lack of confidence? You would never see as the opening line in a cover letter "My name is so-and-so, I am the VP of a very successful company, have consistently achieved above average results, I am dependable, reliable, but I have confidence issues". No way! We all want to appear like we have it together, even though many of us, myself included still don't have a decent grasp on what true confidence is.
I've been thinking a lot about this issue lately, and it has been coming up in many different forms, through conversations with friends and things I've been reading. A question was posed to me by a good friend a couple of weeks ago, and at the time, I had no good answer. She mentioned to me that her confidence, the confidence that seemed so strong in her younger years, had simply evaporated in recent years. She asked me how we, as twenty-somethings, could regain this confidence. I, coincidentally, had been feeling this exact same thing. We lamented about the loss of our "boldness", our feelings of inadequacy, and our total inability to be assertive and blunt like we had been when we were younger.
After thinking about this more, I came to a very interesting conclusion. At first, I thought, Gee, I miss this confidence. It enabled me to say and do things without regard to how it would be perceived. It enabled me to go places and do things that others thought crazy. It allowed me to speak my mind, and to not worry about the reception. When I first started thinking about this, I will admit, I quietly mourned those days. Any friend of mine (especially older friends) would likely testify that I have been a very direct, forward, un-shy person who will absolutely not stay away from sharing my opinion. While this is true about my younger self, my older self has a certain aversion to these qualities. As I pondered this, something hit me like a ton of bricks.
In the Bible, there is a story about two men who each build a house. As I'm sure you know, one builds his house on the soft sand, and the other builds his house on the rock. When storms come barreling towards the two homes, of course, the one who built his house on the rock still has a house, however battered, at the end of the day. The foolish man, however, whose house was built on the sand has nothing but bits of plywood and nails to show for it (PS, this is the Whitney translation... if you'd like the original version, you can find it in Matthew 7.) The moral here is that I used to think this story referred ONLY to the message of salvation. Follow Jesus, and your house will stand, don't and it will collapse. As I think more about this, though, I have begun to see how this story is applicable in so many areas of life.
One such area is this exact topic. Confidence. The confidence I mourned, the confidence of my younger years is just that, an immature, young confidence. As I have thought more about it, I really delved deep into where this so-called confidence came from. What I found was a very ugly portrayal of my deepest sins. The "confidence" I had was based on judgment, hypocrisy, and on my OWN understanding of the world and the things in it. I was confident, alright, but I was confident for the wrong reasons. I would look at someone else and start to mentally pick them apart. I would hear someone's accomplishments, and instead of congratulating them, I would try to one-up them. I would see someone's achievements and goals and I would push myself to the absolute brink to beat them and to achieve better results. Of course I felt great on the surface. People congratulated me for my awards, I had immense pride in my abilities. But, you know what they say... pride comes before the fall.
Somehow, as I've grown older, I have realized that I was like the foolish man who built his house on the sand. I had built my confidence entirely on two very shaky principles. The first, and most dangerous, was my own self-understanding. I had a go-getter attitude that told me that I could handle my own issues myself. The second problem was that I used other people to feel good about myself. Maybe not directly, but certainly mentally. This instilled in me an immense bitterness toward others, a tendency to belittle or make light of others' opinions and wreaked and is still wreaking havoc on my relationships.
For a long time, I identified these negative qualities in myself, but had no idea where the root was. In realizing these issues and dealing with them, I always said to myself "at least you still have confidence". What the Lord has been teaching me so much lately, though, is that the more I chip away at the foundation of this immature "confidence", the less secure the confident appearance on top is. It is like an immense rock, balancing on a miniscule pedestal that is threatening to collapse at any moment. I feel less confident at this moment in my life than I ever have. And I think it's healthy. I would rather feel totally unconfident, as long as I am leaning on the Lord, than have all the confidence in the world, leaning on and using other people. It is as simple as that. I have total faith, however, that through my brokenness the Lord will pick up the pieces and instill in me the confidence I desire. If I have pure motivations and intentions, I fully believe that I will be able to gain the right kind of confidence, one built from the ground up, steadily and with intention, rather than the kind of my past - one where I haphazardly constructed the facade of my confidence and worked desperately to support it from the bottom through my own limited abilities.
I've been thinking a lot about this issue lately, and it has been coming up in many different forms, through conversations with friends and things I've been reading. A question was posed to me by a good friend a couple of weeks ago, and at the time, I had no good answer. She mentioned to me that her confidence, the confidence that seemed so strong in her younger years, had simply evaporated in recent years. She asked me how we, as twenty-somethings, could regain this confidence. I, coincidentally, had been feeling this exact same thing. We lamented about the loss of our "boldness", our feelings of inadequacy, and our total inability to be assertive and blunt like we had been when we were younger.
After thinking about this more, I came to a very interesting conclusion. At first, I thought, Gee, I miss this confidence. It enabled me to say and do things without regard to how it would be perceived. It enabled me to go places and do things that others thought crazy. It allowed me to speak my mind, and to not worry about the reception. When I first started thinking about this, I will admit, I quietly mourned those days. Any friend of mine (especially older friends) would likely testify that I have been a very direct, forward, un-shy person who will absolutely not stay away from sharing my opinion. While this is true about my younger self, my older self has a certain aversion to these qualities. As I pondered this, something hit me like a ton of bricks.
In the Bible, there is a story about two men who each build a house. As I'm sure you know, one builds his house on the soft sand, and the other builds his house on the rock. When storms come barreling towards the two homes, of course, the one who built his house on the rock still has a house, however battered, at the end of the day. The foolish man, however, whose house was built on the sand has nothing but bits of plywood and nails to show for it (PS, this is the Whitney translation... if you'd like the original version, you can find it in Matthew 7.) The moral here is that I used to think this story referred ONLY to the message of salvation. Follow Jesus, and your house will stand, don't and it will collapse. As I think more about this, though, I have begun to see how this story is applicable in so many areas of life.
One such area is this exact topic. Confidence. The confidence I mourned, the confidence of my younger years is just that, an immature, young confidence. As I have thought more about it, I really delved deep into where this so-called confidence came from. What I found was a very ugly portrayal of my deepest sins. The "confidence" I had was based on judgment, hypocrisy, and on my OWN understanding of the world and the things in it. I was confident, alright, but I was confident for the wrong reasons. I would look at someone else and start to mentally pick them apart. I would hear someone's accomplishments, and instead of congratulating them, I would try to one-up them. I would see someone's achievements and goals and I would push myself to the absolute brink to beat them and to achieve better results. Of course I felt great on the surface. People congratulated me for my awards, I had immense pride in my abilities. But, you know what they say... pride comes before the fall.
Somehow, as I've grown older, I have realized that I was like the foolish man who built his house on the sand. I had built my confidence entirely on two very shaky principles. The first, and most dangerous, was my own self-understanding. I had a go-getter attitude that told me that I could handle my own issues myself. The second problem was that I used other people to feel good about myself. Maybe not directly, but certainly mentally. This instilled in me an immense bitterness toward others, a tendency to belittle or make light of others' opinions and wreaked and is still wreaking havoc on my relationships.
For a long time, I identified these negative qualities in myself, but had no idea where the root was. In realizing these issues and dealing with them, I always said to myself "at least you still have confidence". What the Lord has been teaching me so much lately, though, is that the more I chip away at the foundation of this immature "confidence", the less secure the confident appearance on top is. It is like an immense rock, balancing on a miniscule pedestal that is threatening to collapse at any moment. I feel less confident at this moment in my life than I ever have. And I think it's healthy. I would rather feel totally unconfident, as long as I am leaning on the Lord, than have all the confidence in the world, leaning on and using other people. It is as simple as that. I have total faith, however, that through my brokenness the Lord will pick up the pieces and instill in me the confidence I desire. If I have pure motivations and intentions, I fully believe that I will be able to gain the right kind of confidence, one built from the ground up, steadily and with intention, rather than the kind of my past - one where I haphazardly constructed the facade of my confidence and worked desperately to support it from the bottom through my own limited abilities.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
"This is Lovely"
Today was really one of my least favorite days I've had in a while. Prior to about 5:00, I would have told you that I was becoming a cave woman and moving to Madagascar, where I didn't have to bother with interacting with anybody but me, myself and I. This option seems very appealing to me on days like today, where I am forced to contend with work drama, relational issues, miscommunications, issues to be resolved, embarrassment in front of a group of people, emotional rollercoasters, and a general feeling of inadequacy and disappointment. Sounds like a lot - and it is. The fact that I process things emotionally also wasn't helped by my extremely full schedule. I went from one meeting to another to another, and over the day, things built up to a very, very dangerous level (hence the Madagascar talk). It is on days like these that I really get down. I get in a funk, and I can't seem to see the silver lining in any situation, get easily frustrated, feel inadequate, and generally need a good sleep to reset myself and start over again.
Today was no exception. I came home from work, ate a couple of leftover potstickers, and immediately headed to my other job, nannying. This job is really hit or miss as far as the kids go. Some days, they're perfect, fun, and mind me. On other days, they are crazy, restless, stubborn, and that's just the beginning. As I walked the brief distance to their house, I began pondering what kind of day I was about to have. My mind immediately led me to the worst assumption, and I entered the house ready for a battle. What happened next didn't disappoint. The boy, age 7, was throwing a gargantuan fit about not doing his 15 minutes of required reading. It was suggested that he could read to me out loud to satisfy this portion of the homework. I begrudgingly agreed, and we sat down on the couch together as he read. Every thirty seconds he asked how much longer he had, but as I listened to his adorable lisp-accented, second grade pronunciations (correcting only so often) something changed. I saw him smile as he read through the funny parts of the book, and watched as he reveled in his correct pronunciation of the word 'exceptionally'. I suddenly wasn't thinking about my horrible day, but was enjoying time with him.
Later on, after he and his grandmother went to boy scouts, I took his sweet sister to the park. As we walked, hand-in-hand, I began to see the world as she did. She pointed out cars that look like her mommy's car, told me that we needed to look both ways before we crossed the street, and spun in excited, 5 year old circles once we finally got to the park. She and I went on the swings, played on the playground, but eventually laid down on the rubberized bridge suspended between two parts of the play structure. As we laid there, pointing out things we saw, and learning the colors in Spanish, she said something that I thought was remarkable. She reached over, grabbed my hand, and said simply, "This is Lovely". I looked at her, and saw smiles ear to ear and a glint in her eye. It was at this moment that I realized... kids are profound. I mean, I have been aware of this before, but I often lose sight of it or simplify it due to my adult self-importance. What I re-learned in the moment is that those moments are precious-she has no worries at all. Nevermind that her mother abandoned she and her brother when they were younger, only visiting occasionally, nevermind that she is being raised by (fabulous) grandparents who can't physically do everything they wish they could, nevermind that she has seen more in her short lifetime than many adults have encountered in theirs. At that moment, the azul sky, cool breeze in her hair, and the moment to relax were enough for her, and they were for me, too.
Today was no exception. I came home from work, ate a couple of leftover potstickers, and immediately headed to my other job, nannying. This job is really hit or miss as far as the kids go. Some days, they're perfect, fun, and mind me. On other days, they are crazy, restless, stubborn, and that's just the beginning. As I walked the brief distance to their house, I began pondering what kind of day I was about to have. My mind immediately led me to the worst assumption, and I entered the house ready for a battle. What happened next didn't disappoint. The boy, age 7, was throwing a gargantuan fit about not doing his 15 minutes of required reading. It was suggested that he could read to me out loud to satisfy this portion of the homework. I begrudgingly agreed, and we sat down on the couch together as he read. Every thirty seconds he asked how much longer he had, but as I listened to his adorable lisp-accented, second grade pronunciations (correcting only so often) something changed. I saw him smile as he read through the funny parts of the book, and watched as he reveled in his correct pronunciation of the word 'exceptionally'. I suddenly wasn't thinking about my horrible day, but was enjoying time with him.
Later on, after he and his grandmother went to boy scouts, I took his sweet sister to the park. As we walked, hand-in-hand, I began to see the world as she did. She pointed out cars that look like her mommy's car, told me that we needed to look both ways before we crossed the street, and spun in excited, 5 year old circles once we finally got to the park. She and I went on the swings, played on the playground, but eventually laid down on the rubberized bridge suspended between two parts of the play structure. As we laid there, pointing out things we saw, and learning the colors in Spanish, she said something that I thought was remarkable. She reached over, grabbed my hand, and said simply, "This is Lovely". I looked at her, and saw smiles ear to ear and a glint in her eye. It was at this moment that I realized... kids are profound. I mean, I have been aware of this before, but I often lose sight of it or simplify it due to my adult self-importance. What I re-learned in the moment is that those moments are precious-she has no worries at all. Nevermind that her mother abandoned she and her brother when they were younger, only visiting occasionally, nevermind that she is being raised by (fabulous) grandparents who can't physically do everything they wish they could, nevermind that she has seen more in her short lifetime than many adults have encountered in theirs. At that moment, the azul sky, cool breeze in her hair, and the moment to relax were enough for her, and they were for me, too.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Taking time to hear the music
Do you ever have days where you feel like life, or God or whatever you believe in is trying to tell you something? I had lunch today with a sweet friend, one who I like more and more every time we spend together. She and I got into a discussion about patience, and that led us into a conversation about appreciating the now - for truthfully, it is really all we have. As much as both she and I are forward-looking, planned out people, we identified that these traits sometimes create dissatisfaction in our lives. Now, I'm not suggesting that we should entirely block out the idea of the future, or that we should only focus on this very moment at all. What I would argue, however, is that we place so little emphasis on the NOW. We spend months planning vacations, and once we get there, all we can think about is the next thing. Where will we go next? What is waiting at home? What kind of work will I have to make up once I return? This kind of flawed thinking breeds discontentment. No matter how great, how sweet, how perfect a moment is, we as people fundamentally look for the next best thing. Perhaps this is our way of dealing with an uncertain present. It is certainly easier to imagine a future in our minds, one that we seemingly have unlimited control over - why else would we escape the living, breathing moments right in front of us?
I saw a post on somebody's facebook today, and finding myself with a few extra minutes to spare, I decided to check it out. It is an experiment done by the Washington Post that centers in a way around this exact question. What they did was approach one of the greatest violinists of our time, one who plays a 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius violin, (incidentally enough considered one of the most perfect violins ever crafted), and ask him to take part in a social experiment. They placed this guy in the entrance of a DC metro station. Dressed simply and with an open violin case, he played some of the most technically challenging and beautiful violin pieces ever written- and the newspaper placed a hidden camera to see what people would do. Although the music was beautiful (they included samples) hardly ANYBODY stopped and listened. The paper was clever enough to stop people after they walked out of sight and ask them why they didn't stop, and the majority of people said that they were either a) too busy, or b) didn't even notice. They didn't EVEN NOTICE! Maybe I'm biased because I'm a music appreciator, but I found this appalling.
Hold on a second, Whitney. I began to reminisce back to experiences that I have had in the past with street musicians, and I find in myself, gasp!, a hypocrite. I remember really vividly being in London and Paris this past year, and walking past countless street musicians with not an appreciation of their (sometimes present) musical prowess, but rather a suspicion that I was about to be mugged, by a weapon cleverly disguised as a guitar or ukelele. I even remember being back in London in March for my second go-round and seeing that the city had cleverly placed half-circle 4 foot in diameter stickers in strategically placed locations in the underground with the explanation that these half-circles were indeed occupied by legitimate street musicians who had registered with the transportation authority. A digression... only in London would one find such ultra-organization for such a seemingly insignificant issue. Even then, with these circles designated for musicianship, never did I pause to appreciate what i was hearing. In all of my times passing street musicians, and even the times that the musicians came to me (an accordion player plunking out La Vie En Rose on a Parisian metro train comes to mind), I never appreciated them. I think this was most often out of fear, or busyness. I was simply too scared or too self-involved to take time to marvel at their music.
I think that this is such a great metaphor for life and how we devalue the things that truthfully, probably bring us the most pleasure, and how we overvalue intangibles that we may never attain. The next time I pass a street musician (assuming they're good!), see an amazing sunset, cast my eyes past a beautiful starscape, or walk past a garden, I promise myself to pause and enjoy the moment. I can worry about the meeting with a parent of a Junior High student and how I might get fired for letting kids smack each other with pool noodles, I can think about tomorrow, and all of the excitements, challenges and issues that will be brought, I can even think about where I'll be in ten or fifteen years. But in the end, I promise myself that I will take time to appreciate the now, because it really is all anybody has.
I saw a post on somebody's facebook today, and finding myself with a few extra minutes to spare, I decided to check it out. It is an experiment done by the Washington Post that centers in a way around this exact question. What they did was approach one of the greatest violinists of our time, one who plays a 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius violin, (incidentally enough considered one of the most perfect violins ever crafted), and ask him to take part in a social experiment. They placed this guy in the entrance of a DC metro station. Dressed simply and with an open violin case, he played some of the most technically challenging and beautiful violin pieces ever written- and the newspaper placed a hidden camera to see what people would do. Although the music was beautiful (they included samples) hardly ANYBODY stopped and listened. The paper was clever enough to stop people after they walked out of sight and ask them why they didn't stop, and the majority of people said that they were either a) too busy, or b) didn't even notice. They didn't EVEN NOTICE! Maybe I'm biased because I'm a music appreciator, but I found this appalling.
Hold on a second, Whitney. I began to reminisce back to experiences that I have had in the past with street musicians, and I find in myself, gasp!, a hypocrite. I remember really vividly being in London and Paris this past year, and walking past countless street musicians with not an appreciation of their (sometimes present) musical prowess, but rather a suspicion that I was about to be mugged, by a weapon cleverly disguised as a guitar or ukelele. I even remember being back in London in March for my second go-round and seeing that the city had cleverly placed half-circle 4 foot in diameter stickers in strategically placed locations in the underground with the explanation that these half-circles were indeed occupied by legitimate street musicians who had registered with the transportation authority. A digression... only in London would one find such ultra-organization for such a seemingly insignificant issue. Even then, with these circles designated for musicianship, never did I pause to appreciate what i was hearing. In all of my times passing street musicians, and even the times that the musicians came to me (an accordion player plunking out La Vie En Rose on a Parisian metro train comes to mind), I never appreciated them. I think this was most often out of fear, or busyness. I was simply too scared or too self-involved to take time to marvel at their music.
I think that this is such a great metaphor for life and how we devalue the things that truthfully, probably bring us the most pleasure, and how we overvalue intangibles that we may never attain. The next time I pass a street musician (assuming they're good!), see an amazing sunset, cast my eyes past a beautiful starscape, or walk past a garden, I promise myself to pause and enjoy the moment. I can worry about the meeting with a parent of a Junior High student and how I might get fired for letting kids smack each other with pool noodles, I can think about tomorrow, and all of the excitements, challenges and issues that will be brought, I can even think about where I'll be in ten or fifteen years. But in the end, I promise myself that I will take time to appreciate the now, because it really is all anybody has.
Friday, August 07, 2009
New Life Project
I have been über hesitant to write this post recently, because it means that I actually have to follow through on this. But, I have decided that with my new big girl life in my new city that I should bite the bullet, as my mother says (what does that even mean?) and do it.
I, over the next two but no more than three years have decided to undertake a reading project. After reflecting on my reading choices over the summer, a sampling of which included "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and Everyone Worth Knowing", I decided that I was doing myself a huge disservice by setting my intellectual bar too low. Now, don't misunderstand me. These books are all great - in fact, I need a light, quick read as much as the next person. But, my reading subsistence as of late has consisted of only these kinds books. I like to think of it as an intellectual diet of fats and sugars with very little green vegetables. We know what a diet like this does to the body - and I have now decided that I will not stand by and allow this to happen to my mind. Just like my body feels after a long absence from the treadmill, so I expect my mental hamstring and quad muscles to rebel at first.
The insane idea to start this project happened after seeing someone's facebook status with "The Best 100 Books of All Time" listed. I wish I could remember who this person is so that I could thank them and send them something REALLY interesting, like Crime and Punishment. I kid... but seriously, after doing some research through various lists and compilations, I settled on a user-voted list compiled by a website called www.best100novels.com. I know, very original. On many of the other websites, the vastness of the reading lists were intimidating (and I admit, the thought of reading the Iliad and the Odyssey again are beyond my current intellectual scope (think running a marathon after a decade of couch-potato-ness)). The jury is still out on some of the selections that I will read - indeed, some of the things I'm going to read are outright terrifying to me (see: War and Peace). Thankfully, others excite me (The Hobbit and the Time Traveler's Wife), and some, I have confessedly never heard of before (Madamé Bovary).
All together, after taking a poll on facebook about where I should start my journey, I decided on Slaughterhouse Five. I visited Moe's bookstore last week in Berkeley, and bought a lot of great books for super cheap. Amongst them included, the aforementioned, the Hobbit, Madamé Bovary, and Of Human Bondage. I realized today as I started to peruse through the books that I got the abridged version of 'of Human Bondage', which will definitely not do for this project. I know that I'm just one abridged version away from completely avoiding the longer books, so I have decided not to read any abridged versions at all. This, of course, will add time, but I think it will make for a better reading experience. In any case, as it is SO late tonight, I've decided to start tomorrow. That's the spirit! Procrastination!
But, seriously, as I go along with these books, I hope that I will be challenged, inspired, and stretched in ways that I haven't been before. I'll be keeping this blog (hopefully regularly) to reflect on what I'm reading. I will likely read a couple of books at a time (because I have no idea how I'd crank out Tolstoy without some other form of written encouragement alongside it). Hopefully some people will read these blogs and comment, because I know that my opinion is only that. Mine. I'd love to hear what others think about these books, and clearly people have opinions. They didn't get voted the 100 best novels for no reason, now, did they?
I, over the next two but no more than three years have decided to undertake a reading project. After reflecting on my reading choices over the summer, a sampling of which included "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and Everyone Worth Knowing", I decided that I was doing myself a huge disservice by setting my intellectual bar too low. Now, don't misunderstand me. These books are all great - in fact, I need a light, quick read as much as the next person. But, my reading subsistence as of late has consisted of only these kinds books. I like to think of it as an intellectual diet of fats and sugars with very little green vegetables. We know what a diet like this does to the body - and I have now decided that I will not stand by and allow this to happen to my mind. Just like my body feels after a long absence from the treadmill, so I expect my mental hamstring and quad muscles to rebel at first.
The insane idea to start this project happened after seeing someone's facebook status with "The Best 100 Books of All Time" listed. I wish I could remember who this person is so that I could thank them and send them something REALLY interesting, like Crime and Punishment. I kid... but seriously, after doing some research through various lists and compilations, I settled on a user-voted list compiled by a website called www.best100novels.com. I know, very original. On many of the other websites, the vastness of the reading lists were intimidating (and I admit, the thought of reading the Iliad and the Odyssey again are beyond my current intellectual scope (think running a marathon after a decade of couch-potato-ness)). The jury is still out on some of the selections that I will read - indeed, some of the things I'm going to read are outright terrifying to me (see: War and Peace). Thankfully, others excite me (The Hobbit and the Time Traveler's Wife), and some, I have confessedly never heard of before (Madamé Bovary).
All together, after taking a poll on facebook about where I should start my journey, I decided on Slaughterhouse Five. I visited Moe's bookstore last week in Berkeley, and bought a lot of great books for super cheap. Amongst them included, the aforementioned, the Hobbit, Madamé Bovary, and Of Human Bondage. I realized today as I started to peruse through the books that I got the abridged version of 'of Human Bondage', which will definitely not do for this project. I know that I'm just one abridged version away from completely avoiding the longer books, so I have decided not to read any abridged versions at all. This, of course, will add time, but I think it will make for a better reading experience. In any case, as it is SO late tonight, I've decided to start tomorrow. That's the spirit! Procrastination!
But, seriously, as I go along with these books, I hope that I will be challenged, inspired, and stretched in ways that I haven't been before. I'll be keeping this blog (hopefully regularly) to reflect on what I'm reading. I will likely read a couple of books at a time (because I have no idea how I'd crank out Tolstoy without some other form of written encouragement alongside it). Hopefully some people will read these blogs and comment, because I know that my opinion is only that. Mine. I'd love to hear what others think about these books, and clearly people have opinions. They didn't get voted the 100 best novels for no reason, now, did they?
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
New things all around
I'm starting a new job next week. Which terrifies me. And excites me all at the same time. I've been trying to figure out what I'm doing with my life for about the past two years, and this is the point that I've come to. I'm going to be the director of Junior High ministries at a medium sized church in California. I'm excited. And terrified. Did I say that already? So much of what I think about myself, my skills, talents and so on tell me that I'm prepared for this. I've done internships, read books, and think I know what I'm doing. But, what if I get in there and totally bomb? See, it's these kinds of thoughts that drag me down lately. Fear. This is a word that we are all accustomed to in one form or another. But fear isn't intended for us. Fear is not what we (Christians) are supposed to be led to feel. Fear is derived from a lack of trust, and more specifically a lack of trust in the one who will never leave us. Looking on my life at times, I feel like I have the biggest safety net ever, with harnesses, helmets, pads, arms to catch me, love me, and support me, yet I am unable to jump. Is it our human mentality that causes us to fear, or something else? I'm not sure, but I know that I need to leap - to get over the things that scare me and just do it!
I have a lot of changes happening in my life these days. Moves from Denmark to the US, moves from Texas to Phoenix to California, serious relationships, changes in family dynamics, decisions about careers and choices about life. These things should all be impacting me in a serious way, yet I feel frozen. Maybe it is because I've been too afraid to leap out into something that I can't tangibly see or feel or touch. Maybe its because my mind hasn't caught up with my newly free-spirited heart? All I know is that it is about time I give myself a good kick in the butt and get out there. I will never know until I try....
I have a lot of changes happening in my life these days. Moves from Denmark to the US, moves from Texas to Phoenix to California, serious relationships, changes in family dynamics, decisions about careers and choices about life. These things should all be impacting me in a serious way, yet I feel frozen. Maybe it is because I've been too afraid to leap out into something that I can't tangibly see or feel or touch. Maybe its because my mind hasn't caught up with my newly free-spirited heart? All I know is that it is about time I give myself a good kick in the butt and get out there. I will never know until I try....
Monday, December 08, 2008
Saturday, December 06, 2008
A Denmark Shaped Hole in My Heart
So, It just finally hit me today that I am leaving Denmark in less than two weeks. I am such a mess about it, really. On December 18, the day I have to leave my new home, I feel certain that someone will have to force me onto the bus, metro, or whatever other form of transportation will take me to the airport. Thinking about my life without "my Danes", cozy walks through Copenhagen, and all of the sights and sounds that I have become accustomed to makes my heart hurt. My boss this last summer said something profound to me - She asked me why I thought it was that I liked to move around so much... and at the time, I didn't have an answer. She suggested that it was perhaps because I want to have wings, and not roots, meaning that I want to experience a lot of things, without pursuing any depth. At the time, to be candid, I was a little bit offended. But, I realize now that she was spot-on. (Actually, as I reluctantly have realized, she was spot on about a lot of things, but I digress). I have made about 10 times the number of friends in Copenhagen as I have at my home University, have developed those friendships more deeply than hardly any at home, and I finally understand why. It is because for the first time, possibly ever, I have been unafraid to be myself here. I'm a mess, and I'm goofy, and I say too much sometimes. But, I'm me. And, Copenhagen will forever be inextricably tied to the person I have discovered I am. I have met the most amazing people here, who have, without a doubt, changed me fundamentally as a person. I have seen the world, not through the eyes of one dreaming, but in reality. I have gotten so many new perspectives on things... I think that when I land in the US, I will probably have more culture shock than I did when I came to Denmark in the first place. Sure, I'm excited for a Chipotle burrito and driving my own car, but I would trade it all for a little more time with the people and places I have come to love.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Calling?
Wow, I haven't blogged in forever. I have forgotten how therapeutic it can be. Reading through my old posts, I find it hard to believe what a different place I am in now compared to then. This summer taught me so much about myself, but as I reflect back upon its impact on me, I still realize how much I have to learn. I have, recently, been struggling with the idea of calling. This summer, I waxed and waned between a calling to ministry and a calling to go into medicine. To tell you the truth, at the end of the summer, I had pretty much convinced myself that a calling into medicine was what I was experiencing. Now, I have no idea. I met someone in Denmark who is very much wiser than me, and he and I have been having all sorts of thought provoking and uncomfortable discussions regarding this topic as of late. I went to Norway last weekend, (which, by the way, was the single best choice I have ever made (yes, I'm serious. It was that amazing. You should go...)) Anyway, I was in Norway with this person and he and I got into a conversation about our lives. At one point he said something to this effect to me: "Look, I don't want to offend you, and maybe you'll think this is a compliment, I'm not sure, but I don't really see you being a doctor." [Cue shock and horror on my face...] and he continued... "I really just, see you being a mom, and being dedicated to your kids.. [cue blank expression/tears welling up in my eyes]... Now, let me tell you, for the past year, I have completely dedicated myself to the idea that I would go to medical school one day, make a life for myself, kiss dating goodbye and be happy ALL of my own accord. I had convinced myself that I wouldn't have kids, because I had also simultaneously convinced myself that I didn't want a husband, because I would never take the time to get to know one. I was going to be that independent. Ha. Well, unfortunately, the things that we project to the world and the things that operate within our minds are never quite the same, or at least in my case they are rarely the same... I have been struggling with this very question/issue for a while. I don't see how it would be plausible to be a mom and a doctor both - at least not the kind of mom and doctor I want to be. I had convinced myself that I didn't want kids - but, if you ask anyone that I know, they would probably tell you that having kids is one of the first things they would expect me to do. And, to tell you the truth, its one of the first things I would expect myself to do. I feel very anti-feminist saying this, but the truth is, I want to be a mom, and I want to be a good mom on top of it. And, I just don't see how having a career where I spend 80+ hours a week at the hospital is going to accommodate that. Getting back to what this person said... I had no real response to it, except to look dumbfounded (cute, right...? not.) and to say, "I don't know". The truth is, not being successful scares the crap out of me. I often wonder if being a mom will be enough. I look at the amazing job that my mom did (with very little, oftentimes) and admire her so much. But is she fulfilled? I don't know. I don't know if she'd feel differently if she had a career as well. So, now I'm in the process of figuring crap out. I have absolutely no idea where all of this is leading me. Maybe it IS to med school, maybe the peace corps, maybe to youth ministry, maybe something that I can't even imagine. What I do know is that verbalizing it (and having someone that doesn't even know me that well, thank you very much) pointing it out to me is even scarier. All I know now is that I had a little chat with God the other night where I told him that where he wanted me to go, I would follow. Which, is one of the scariest conversations of my life, I will assure you. So until then, I'm just trying to hang in there and see what comes of it all.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Desire
Desire. A word with many connotations, I'm sure. The connotation I'm currently thinking about could be applied to many situations, but what initially got me thinking about it was a relationship. I have found myself yelling at God a lot lately, because something that I have wanted desperately has been just hanging out in front of me with no resolution for the better part of a month. I've been angry at God because I could not (until this point) see what the point in me desiring something is that I can not have. It's very frustrating to be a control freak (or a recovering one, as I like to think) in this kind of situation. It is the kind of situation, of course, that I dread the most. Doing everything I can do to control a situation, being driven by desire, or whatever it is, and not being able to get the outcome I want. This has been one of the most difficult lessons to learn by far, but that is an entirely other post. I got to arguing with God about the purpose of desire because I didn't see what kind of constructive purpose it serves. I think that especially in my life, desire frequently gives way to an unhealthy desire. I get driven to do something (or have something) and I get fixated on it; I can't see any alternatives other than the outcome I think should happen. This definitely makes me miss possibilities that I should pay attention to, and makes me hold on to ones that are implausible. I have really struggled with this. After a lot of prayer and reflection, I have realized, however, that desire is put in our hearts by God, whether it is desire for a person or for a career or for anything else in our lives. Desire, at least the kind that lives in our heart of hearts, IS created by God, it just may point in directions other than the ones we readily see. This is tough, but I think it answers the question of why we desire (even things that seem totally unavailable to us). I just hope that in the future, I can not invest myself so much in the things that I want and listen more to WHY God is putting that desire in my life in the first place.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Relationships
I have been thinking about relationships so much lately. Most importantly, my relationship with God, but also relationships with friends, boys, past romantic relationships, and how all of these things have made me who I am today. I have talked with several people recently about the function of relationships. I thought for a long time that it was possible (and good) to get through life letting the fewest number of people in. I have no idea when this happened to me. I used to love extravagantly, completely, with my whole being. When did I get cynical and shut other people out? I worked with a guy (who, speaking honestly, I was totally crazy about), and I used to talk to him all the time about why he wouldn't open up to me (or anybody else, for that matter). I came to find out that he had gotten burned badly (mostly due to his own bad relationship decisions). I used to pity him. I thought, how in the world could he keep it all in, fitting barriers around his heart so that nobody can ever see totally inside? It is only recently that I have realized that I have become the same as him. I have allowed my bitterness over previously failed relationships (with my Dad, ex-boyfriends, friends, etc) to cause me to shut people out. I have become so good at crafting my facade that the people I meet only really get to see a small portion of who I really am. Continuing in the vein of my previous post, I think that this is my struggle: Letting people in. Yesterday, I was talking to my boss about my childhood. We were talking about how a common acquaintance of ours had dedicated the song "Rich Girl" to me, jokingly, but that in reality, he probably did think that I was nothing more than a rich girl. If you know me, you know that is about the furthest from what I am. I ended up telling my boss about my childhood (at least parts) and opening up to him about my family's financial situations when I was growing up, etc. After I stopped telling him the story, he looked at me with an appalled look on his face. I asked him why he had that look, and then asked him if I had ever told him all of that before. He said that he had never heard any of it. At that point, I really surprised myself- I have viewed myself for such a long time as being an open, transparent person, but really, all I have done is created a person on the outside that gives the impression on transparency, while really not revealing any of my true feelings or emotions. This is something, I am sure, that I will struggle with every day, now that I know it is happening. I just hope that I can have the strength to let people in, regardless of whether I will get hurt or not. I think that I haven't had a relationship in a long time in part because of this. Why would God put someone in my life when I won't show them the true 'me'? Why would God waste that person on me, when I have no idea how to show that person who I really am, flaws and scars included? I know that God wouldn't. The hard part is accepting that, and moving forward in an authentic and transparent way, being nothing more than who I am, who God created me to be.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Inadequacy
Sometimes in my life, I have days when I think "I can't wait until I can get home and blog about this". Most often, I get too busy or forget and my blog never gets written. Today was such a struggle for me, though, that I felt compelled to write. I have been struggling so much with inadequacy lately. I work with youth, a calling I feel sure is one of the toughest around. Not only do I need to provide them spiritual guidance, plan trips and retreats, and be around for them, but I have to have (or appear to have) my stuff together. For some reason, I feel like I have been living under a veil of ignorance (or something more eloquently titled) for a long time. I was discussing my spiritual problems with my best friend the other day, and she and I were talking about how much it sucks to be aware of what you're doing wrong. It seems that up until last year, I was "blissfully ignorant", or maybe I was just better at justifying my mistakes. My reality all came to a crashing halt on Friday when I made one of the worst choices that I have made in my life. I don't mean this on a comparative scale, I have surely made far worse choices in the grand scheme of things, but this choice rocked me to my core. I made a total fool of myself in front of a guy that I care about a lot and want nothing more than to make a good impression on, who is spiritually much more mature than me, in touch with God in a way I yearn for with my whole being. I am notorious for being exceedingly hard on myself, and this instance is absolutely no exception. Even though the guy and I have talked about it, and he has thankfully forgiven me, I still am having trouble reconciling this choice with my job, faith and life. It seems like my mistakes have just been illuminated with a spotlight, and it has sent me into the darkness to try and hide. What is so ironic about this is that the guy involved in this incident spoke in church this morning about taking your struggles and turning them into something positive. He played a song after the message called Hide by Joy Williams. The whole premise of the song is that no matter what you've done, or who you are, you don't have to hide from God. His message touched so close to home for me - and then to have him have been involved in this situation just magnified it 100 times over again. What it brought to the surface is many problems inherently within me that I have chosen not to confront over the years. I constantly think that I have gotten over my baggage of my childhood; what I learn more as I get older is that confronting those problems is an ongoing process. I am truly inadequate, but thankfully, God provides. In order for God to become greater, I must become less, Humbly, and obediently.
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