glitter fingers

when i walked back up to my room, having just finished working an extra hour today with more work to finish early tomorrow morning, i caught myself by surprise by almost yelling out loud, "what the heck am i doing here?!"

i have a lot of these little talks with God and myself now. i haven't brought my laptop to work and bring my ipod every day but haven't used it yet. i'm tempted to, though. but i don't know. recently within these last few weeks God has really been causing me to sort of shut out the things i am so used to hearing and just listen.

and i'm not used to it.
i might even dare to admit that i don't really like it.

lucy, the secretary in the dickinson area office (who's basically my supervisor), had me start on doortags for the NEACUHO (it stands for something, i do not know what...something about housing) conference that was going on next week. this year's theme is "a kaleidescope of change," and they wanted me to stick foil confetti between clear cellophane and stick it behind the punched out door tag (which i also had to do), using tacky glue from a spray can. and they wanted me to work extra hours today and tomorrow because they needed them done by tomorrow afternoon.

i was trying so desperately to peel off the foil confetti that was stuck to my fingers. it was frustrating because the more i seemed to peel off one hand, the more the other hand seemed to accumulate. the spray would get everywhere and everywhere would get sticky. and it wasn't water soluable/washable. hence, why the confetti stuck to my fingers after i'd sprinkle it onto the cellophane.

i tried to rip pieces off as best as i could, but wasn't really getting anywhere until i looked up to find a blue jeep liberty parked in the library parking lot. for a split five seconds i immediately thought, "michelle." for a split moment i thought michelle was here and was hiding in a bush somewhere (like there are plenty of those around the brain), waiting to surprise me. at first when reality hit me i was sad. i really missed not only michelle, but people like libby and pam, too. familiar faces.

but then seeing that car there brought me comfort. it was familiar.
i looked back at my fingers and all the confetti was gone.

as i continued up the pathway through hinman, i kept asking, "what am i doing here?"
and God quietly and gently answered, "I brought you here."
and i asked, "but why?"

i wanted to know why i was here having to live with people i don't know, worry about what i was going to eat, feeling lazy, when i could be home having fun with my friends and family, not worry about food at all, and just be home. i should be at home at night, watching the west wing with my dad. i should be making ice cream for my friends and family, catching up with friends from high school, watching gilmore girls and the office and going off on adventures with libby and kenzie.
i started questioning what my subconscious motives were for staying here this summer at bing: was i trying to run away from home? was i trying to prove to my parents to anyone else and to myself that i can take care of myself?
i don't think so. at least, not consciously.
and then i answered my own question: i don't have to know why. i'm just sure that this is where God wanted me to be. my life is not all about me. God has a picture and a plan that is bigger than me. i need to do my part and obey Him as best as i can daily.

it's not easy being here, you know. this place was once a source of true comfort and refuge, a place where i could escape. now it's a desert, an emptiness, but a place of solitude and rest.

i arrived at my room exhausted and drained even though i had barely done anything. i told ali, one of my housemates, about the sticky fingers and she suggested dipping my fingers in oil and something grainy to help rub the stickiness away. we added salt to the oil and it took off the sticky residue pretty well.

06/05/09 - 7:47 PM
i was still sulking and moping when i sat at my desk and started this blog entry, but in the midst of writing it, i got a call from carrie, asking me if i wanted to go out for ice cream. at first i intended to decline because i really didn't feel like going out, but God was saying, "HEY. stop sulking and sitting in your lonesomeness. I'm taking care of you."

as soon as i sat down in carrie's car i sighed and said, "ah, a familiar face." we went out for ice cream at lickety split, talked, stopped by lowe's and talked about carrie's house, and it was great. it was just what i needed. i came home and suddenly desired to run. i ran around susquehanna a couple of times and stopped to swing on the swingset. i almost felt like i had failed because i meant to run longer. but it was just what i needed. i came home and called karen up so we could pray together. and it was just what i needed.

He's taking care of me and He always has been.

He's provided me with an awesomely generous and kind housemate who provides for me, a secretary supervisor at work who takes care of me, a staff worker who lives here and knows me and cares for me, a great sister in Christ who cares for me spiritually and prayerfully, and i still have friends and family back home and all over whom i could talk to and still care about me even though i'm miles away. i have a place to call home and a place and people i could go home to.

after my run and talking with karen i felt refreshed and re-excited for the things to do in preparation for the upcoming semester and just for the exciting things that God held for me to do and grow from and have fun with this summer.

before i went to sleep i continued reading, "invitation to solitude and silence," by ruth haley barton, where she quoted dan allender in The Healing Path:

Our spiritual journey must lead through the desert or else our healing will be the product of our own will and wisdom. It is in the silence of the desert that we hear our dependence on noise. It is in the poverty of the desert that we see clearly our attachments to the trinkets and baubles we cling to for security and pleasure. The desert shatters the soul's arrogance and leaves body and soul crying out in thirst and hunger. In the desert we trust God or die.

and it was just what i needed.
He's taking care of me, a puny, scrawny, tiny part of something bigger, something better for all of us and everything.