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I’m finally feeling okay about right now. For several months, since I lost my previous job, I’d been so focused on what I want for the future, on things that I can’t have yet. It got so bad that I lost faith that things would get better, that I would get the desires of my heart, and that God is in control. About a week ago, I had a mild breakdown, and not of the hormonal pregnancy variety. I allowed my fear and reluctance to accept the present to push me to the edge, and in the past at those times when I felt like I was on the edge, I felt strongly that God had allowed me to get there in order to make a breakthrough in my life. I have since buried myself in psalms and tried to focus on one thing: surrender.
I find myself typing this during a series of days where everything has been peaceful, and I have done little thinking about the future beyond whether or not I’ll still fit in my pants next week. I have prayed for what I want for the future of my family and will continue to, but I cannot worry about where we are going or if I’ll ever get what I think I need. I have to rest on God’s provision.
One thing I find to be true about pregnancy, though: I am not in control. Already I feel like my body’s been hijacked and I just want it to go back to normal. Unfortunately (and fortunately), that won’t happen for at least another 25 weeks.
This weekend, I dragged Adam to a coworker’s wedding. It was at an Episcopal service at a church we hadn’t visited before. After the wedding was a small buffet and cake. I took a much too large piece and enjoyed every sugary bite.
During a lovely walk after church yesterday, we decided that we should be attending All Saints Episcopal Church. We haven’t gone in several weeks (and attended another church yesterday), but we are drawn toward the liturgy and tradition, and it seems God is calling us there for now. It is comforting to have somewhere to rest. Perhaps we will make a home there.
I am still (still!) reading Amazing Grace. I need to finish it and am quite anxious to read Norris’s latest, Acedia & Me (though they still don’t have it at the library). I am embarassed at how little I’ve read, and just put a bunch of childbirth books on hold at the library. Maybe I’ll be more inspired to read books about the little one.
We have had a series of cool mornings, and it’s all been very fall-like. I pulled out my favorite pair of corduroy pants for the first time and found that I couldn’t button them, but I am wearing them nonetheless, unbuttoned under my bella band.
Yesterday, Adam and I took Penny for a long hike through Chickasawbogue Park. I gathered pine cones and snapped photos. Penny had a ball and spent the rest of the day sleeping beside the sunlit window. We bought pumpkins, too, and had plans to carve them, but ended up napping instead.
Saturday night, I went to a paint party with some other firefighters’ wives at this place where they presketch your canvas before turning you loose to paint. It was a lot of fun, though I wasn’t too happy with my finished product and ended up getting paint on the inside of my car door.
God is challenging us in ways I can barely fathom. With a baby on the way, there is so much that is unknown and so much that we have to trust Him with. I’ve been reading a lot of psalms and this keeps coming back to me:
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when men succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes.Refrain from anger and turn from wrath;
do not fret — it leads only to evil.-Psalm 37: 7-8
After reading Psalm 63, I thought a lot about David in the desert, and I am just so thankful that we have made it this far. Things could always be so much worse — no food, no shelter, nowhere to go. I am thankful that God sustains us and strengthens us to keep going, and that His love is unconditional.
I’m sorry to see the weekend go. It was quite productive and the weather was superb–little humidity, cool mornings. It was perfect for bike riding, which I did both Saturday and Sunday. I decided yesterday to ride the entire bike route through midtown to see how far it went. Turns out it only goes about a quarter mile farther than my ride to work, which means it takes only a half-hour to ride the entire thing. I was pretty disappointed by that, but glad to be out in the sunshine and fresh air. I was also pleasantly surprise to see a bunch of people riding on Saturday–families, not just bums. Other bicyclists tend to be so friendly, including one who came up behind me and reminded me to have fun. I’ve been having problems with my foot–Adam thinks it’s turf toe–so running has been mildly painful. Biking is a nice alternative. But my old bike needs better brakes and the gears don’t change anymore, so I’m going to see how much it will cost to fix it.
Saturday morning, Adam and I went to a local nursery to see about getting plants for my herb garden. We ended up getting five plants for $3 because the herbs were a bit wilted and the season’s coming to a close. I couldn’t believe it! We left with basil, cilantro, oregano, chives, and another herb that wasn’t marked but smells lemony. When we got home, Adam dug up his garden–everything except the pepper plants were sun-scorched or dead–and I planted the herbs in pots so I can take them indoors this winter.
I also spent some time sanding the cupboard doors and taking more pictures around the house. I also took pictures of photos from our wedding and uploaded them. (Our wedding photographer didn’t specialize in weddings, so we don’t have tons of pictures like I wanted. He is a friend of my dad. I don’t recommend using someone who doesn’t do weddings.) Most of Saturday was spent watching the Olympics. Adam is somewhat of a sports junkie, so he’ll watch anything that’s on, especially since we don’t have ESPN. The Olympics is a special treat for him.
Yesterday, I went to the Episcopal church. The service was focused on Mary, mother of Jesus, and the sermon was about her song:
And Mary said:
“My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants forever,
even as he said to our fathers.”
The rector mentioned that, though we don’t know much about Mary’s personality, we can see here that she advocated social justice. She also quoted St. Augustine who said, “To sing is to pray twice.” That’s why so much of the Episcopal service involves singing, that we participate in the song of the angels when we sing holy, holy, holys and alleluias.
I wrote a poem for my master’s thesis about Mary’s song and her visit to Elizabeth, who was pregnant with John the Baptist. The scripture says that when Mary arrived, the baby leaped in Elizabeth’s womb and she was filled with the Holy Spirit. It’s one of my favorite poems I’ve written (though I can’t share it here because the poem hasn’t been published and I don’t want to squander the first rights) and one of my favorite scripture passages.
The rest of my Sunday was spent bike riding, laundering, watching the end of Sopranos season 5, and spending time with these two (both who have fleas and need baths–yes, even the cat):
This weekend, I rediscovered the joys of bike riding. Now that I have a bike lock and a car that’s rapidly losing gas mileage because it desperately needs a tune-up, I figured it was time to put the rubber on the road. I located the bike path through Mobile, then rode it from home to work on Saturday to see how long it would take (about 17 minutes). I dropped off a movie at Blockbuster, then rode past my house to the library, where I picked up another book on sewing and a book of Wendell Berry poems. In all, I rode for 55 minutes.
I hadn’t ridden a bike in about four years (spinning class doesn’t count–no balancing involved). When I first got on it, riding felt a little weird. But when I got going, the wind kicked up and I pedaled fast and wondered why I hadn’t been doing this all along. It was an adventure, riding around streets I knew and some I didn’t, and I felt free, unencumbered by traffic and speed limits. I was fully engaged in the world, not just looking at it through a window.
The unfortunate thing is Mobile is not particularly bike-friendly. The roads don’t have shoulders, and the curbs don’t slope down where side streets interrupt the sidewalk. But I kept away from the main roads and, short of one person who insisted on driving on the wrong side of the street forcing me to quickly maneuver onto the sidewalk, drivers were considerate in sharing the road with me.
So, today I decided to ride to work. After checking the weather, I put on gym clothes and packed work attire, lunch, a book to read, and a stick of deodorant into my backpack, and headed out the door. It was an easy ride in, and I was at my desk ready to work at 8.
In other weekend news:
-Adam and I watched The Bucket List and enjoyed it.
-I went to the fabric store around the corner and found out they don’t sell sewing supplies. The counter girl told me she didn’t have any idea of what I’d need to start sewing, but she could tell me how much fabric I’d need for a project. What the?
-I read. A lot. Mostly for my class but some for fun.
-I also got season one of 30 Rock from the library. That show is hilarious, and Tina Fey’s character is likable and quirky. It was a nice break from all the reading I did.
-We went to the Episcopal church. Adam hadn’t gone yet, but he really enjoyed it. Since he went to a Catholic high school, he knew what to say and how to pass the peace. He also drank from the communion cup, whereas I just dipped my wafer in it. It was strangely moving to see his comfort level in all of it, and he said he’d like to go back. So would I.
I skipped church this morning, but spent some time reading Philippians and trying to pull myself out a funk. Lately, I like to read The Message version of the Bible. I used to not enjoy The Message, finding it odd and wordy, but in Eat This Book, Eugene Peterson describes The Message translation as being a version of Scripture for Americans. Not that I think Americans are odd or in need of extemporaneous language, but understanding this Americanized context helps me find new revelations in my Scripture reading. I got to Philippians 3 and was particularly struck by this passage:
The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for. And why? Because of Christ. Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. [v.7-8]
I’ve thought a lot lately about vocation and career, about where I find my self-worth and identity, and about how making comparisons between myself and others is a real joy-stealer. Ultimately I’ve been looking to “credentials” to somehow provide me with joy and worth, rather than finding these things in the “privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master.” I have a hard time wrapping my mind around this, reconciling the goals I hope to achieve in my lifetime and a complete abandonment of worldliness for Christ’s sake. But I know the answer is in Matthew 10:39: “If your first concern is to look after yourself, you’ll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you’ll find both yourself and me.” Deny myself, take up my cross, forget the world, and God will show me my true self, my true vocation, my true joy.
I’m almost finished reading The Cloister Walk. I was encouraged today to read that many monks and nuns struggle with finding a balance between work and prayer. Somehow we feel more productive when we do, not when we just sit with God.
A friend from college left me a message today that said, “you’re beauty.” It was a lovely surprise.
The last two days I’ve been exceptionally whiny. The last two days have also been exceptionally bad–a terrible headache, lack of sleep, work troubles, uncertainty about the future, feeling like I can never get it all done. Yesterday was a breaking point. Today I feel better.
I often struggle with my first born, type-A approach to life. In some ways, being this way is beneficial: I’m goal-oriented, expect excellence from everybody, think I can take on the world all by myself. But for every good, there is bad as well, and I frequently end up putting so much pressure on myself that I’m virtually debilitated and can’t really get anything accomplished. I’m not really sure where the balance lies between relaxing and enjoying life and trying to achieve goals that require extra effort. Yes, I could work my 9-5, go home, and watch TV all night like many Americans. But I want something more, and I’m constantly striving to find that balance.
My dad calls it “performance orientation,” where a person’s value in life is inextricably linked to what they can do, not in who they are or, more importantly, who God is. I feel guilty about not getting quiet enough with God, squeezing in prayers and asking for immediate answers rather than waiting for him to reveal himself. Whether it’s performance orientation or general impatience, it’s a problem.
At any rate, I’m better today. I made some cinnamon hazelnut coffee that my thoughtful husband bought me yesterday and listened to the new Coldplay album on the way in to work. I also listened to the Poetry Foundation‘s podcast, Poetry Off the Shelf, about Grace Paley, a poet I’d never heard of but whose poems really touched me this morning, and did a sudoku puzzle to help clear my head.
I just have to remind myself that his grace really is sufficient.
The week is dwindling down to nothing, which is good. I made it through week one of Comp I, though it was a rough go last night. Now I have drafts to read and lessons to plan, though I’ve been using some slow time at work to put my thoughts together. And Google Docs is a godsend, especially because we’re getting internet installed at our house today [yay!].
I put down Savage Beauty for a while and got Kathleen Norris’s The Cloister Walk from the library. I’ve been reading it very slowly, sometimes mulling over passages time and again, and enjoying it immensely. The book seems to be fitting with quite a few I’ve already read this year–namely Eat This Book and Girl Meets God. I’ve never been one for liturgy–mostly confusing it with legalism, I think–but I’m learning there’s a very real place for it in my walk with God. I’m very seriously contemplating purchasing a copy of the Book of Common Prayer. Also, particularly because Norris is a poet, I feel drawn into the language she uses and the care she puts into her words. I need to get my hands on some of her poetry–and soon!
My dad also sent me a big box of books from New York, just a handful of the books that he’s housed for me, and they arrived on my doorstep Tuesday afternoon. Tucked within was a box of jewelry I thought I’d lost, including a diamond necklace my dad bought me for my 21st birthday. Unfortunately the chain is tangled, and I may have to get a new one before I can wear it. But I’m glad to know that it’s not lost.
And, of course, the news of the day: tonight is the season finale of Lost, baby! I’ll be watching alone since Adam has to work this evening, which I fussed at him about because I’ll want to talk to him about what happens but won’t be able to until he watches it.
This article on World’s website offers some “constructive” criticism, aka. apologies, on how parents have modeled [or not modeled] the Christian walk for their kids.
The latest issue of Image includes poet Franz Wright’s meditation on the language of the New Testament, particularly the book of John. Wright offers a refreshing perspective on how to approach reading the sometimes too familiar words in the Bible:
I wanted to experience these words again naïvely, personally, literally, as if I had never heard them before. I wanted to find myself in the company of the other spiritually needy, blind, crippled, and lost individuals to whom they were first addressed by this adorable, radiant, and somewhat scary person who is like no one anyone has ever met.
Musings 