New house.

Oh yeah, Nathan and I are moving in to a new house in a few weeks.  I keep forgetting about that.

People have been saying congratulations and asking if I was nervous, but honestly, I've only really been thinking about it when Nathan or someone else brings it up in conversation.  Nathan's been taking care of pretty much most of the details (shocking to most, but not really in my opinion), so I guess that's part of the reason why.

I wonder if part of why it hasn't sunk in is because you can get a house for pretty cheap in Rochester, so it's not as big of a dent in your wallet as it would be getting a house somewhere in NYC.  Buying a house in NYC, my dear readers, would be a big deal to me.  Now that would be a big commitment and very permanent in my opinion.  And it would definitely whack a whopping dent in my wallet.

I'm not really looking forward to the actually packing and moving part.  And I'm not too keen on the upkeep side of being a homeowner (with our apartment it's so easy - you just call when there's a problem and then someone comes and fixes it for you for no additional cost!).

I am, however, excited about the possibilities of DIY projects that owning a house can bring.  While it's not like I was in prison and couldn't do any DIY projects in our apartment, not being able to paint the walls or hammer in nails were apparently enough limitations for me to feel like my entire DIY craft freedom was taken away.  That's probably how I subconsciously rationalized my lack of home projects.  I have hope that actually owning a house will help inspire me and kick me into a let's-make-something-creative-and-useful-and-pretty kind of mode.  

The other thing is, we'll be moving in with other people (though it keeps changing and is not entirely set yet).  I was hesitant at first about this whole intentional living community thing, but less so now that Nathan and I have at least a year of marriage and living together on our own under our belt.  But as to how I'll feel about that emotionally as it becomes a reality is hard to say right now.

As many of my faithful readers probably remember, I do not think I am a person who naturally likes to be on the move.  If things were up to me, I'd probably pick a spot and stay there for the rest of my life.  I think of myself as someone who likes to set her roots and keep those roots growing.  But with feeling disconnected from my NYC home and with college and post-college life keeping me on the move, I've often wondered if this is how Abraham felt when God called him to pack up and go.  And keep going.  And keep moving.

But strangely, as I think about moving from the apartment to the new house, I don't feel anxious or reluctant or like a turtle being pulled out from her shell.  I don't know if that's because the whole new house thing hasn't sunk in yet, or because I'm starting to get used to this state of constant moving.  Who knows?  Maybe I'm just...ready.

I guess we'll find out in a future blog post.

A personal advent season. (Part 2)

As I've been gaining a better understanding of what the Advent season is really all about (this article also helps explain a little of what I've been learning), I've been starting to make some connections to my own season of life.

It's been a process of recognizing how our hope and anticipation of the coming of Christ does not stem out of this happy, easy-going, I-can-see-gifts-under-the-tree-and-can't-wait-to-open-them type of waiting.  Instead, it stems out of a period of darkness, suffering, and silence.  Advent is a season of spiritual preparation; a longing; a desire for that which is yet to come, and it is not here yet.  And this year the hope of the coming of Jesus has been evoking a much deeper response in me than simply to celebrate Jesus' birth like any other birthday, do good deeds, and extend my thanks and give good gifts.

There's simply something deeper and richer about the season of Advent that I had never learned before.

While I may not have been exiled from my land or suffered deeply as the Israelites have, it seems as though following Jesus has led me on an exodus into the wilderness, leaving behind almost everything I know and find comfort in.  Geographically, I've left my NYC hometown and my college hometown for a completely new location.  Relationally, I've left behind my friends and family to a community I have to develop and adjust to.  Vocationally, I've left behind familiar students of a familiar campus culture to lead students I've never led before in a campus culture I know next to nothing about.  Personally, I've left behind all of who I thought I was for a completely clueless twenty-something who tries really hard not to just drift through life but can't seem to get a grip on anything.

And spiritually, I have felt more disconnected from God than I ever have in my life thus far.  With these changes in life and marriage I've been forced again and again to come face to face with my selfishness and sinfulness.  It's been difficult to experience God's presence and grace,  even with the knowledge of them in my mind.

But I've been holding on to the hope that God is with me, even in the darkness.  And it's only been within the last few weeks where He has been helping me now start to see that things are getting better, slowly but surely.  There is progress in all areas of my life; despite how subtle and undramatic the progress has been, it is progress nonetheless.  The darkness still surrounds me, but the small light from a candle all the way at the other end of the unknown and uncertainty is enough to help me keep going, and keep holding on.

So as I prepare to enter the official Advent season, I've been trying to come up with creative Advent calendar ideas to help me press in to this season of recognizing the Israelites' preparation and longing for the Messiah, as well as my own today.  And while Pinterest has some really cute and crafty ideas, they don't really hit home for helping me engage and go deeper.  But we'll see what happens.  I'm sure God will use whatever I come up with to encounter Him and worship Him.

The honor of listening.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to drive a student home from Large Group.  I'm really glad I did because spending time with her struck a familiar chord in me:  how much I love listening to people share their stories.

If you know me well, you know that I really dislike small talk.   What's your name?  What do you do?  Oh?  What are you studying?  Where do you live?  I hate that I often have to collect the basic pieces of information before I can dig deep and get to the more valuable stuff in a conversation.  I want to know what you're passionate about, what you're frustrated with, who you want to become, and what issues you're struggling through.  I want to know your story.  I want to know the real you.

It takes practice, and it takes courage.  It takes practice to think of questions to ask that could nudge the conversation in that direction, to try and read the person in the moment, and without making the person feel awkward or uncomfortable.  It takes courage to ask the deeper questions, to share some of your own real stories, and to actively listen without judgment and without automatically trying to fix problems.

It takes patience, and it takes resilience.  Not everyone you talk to is willing to go very deep right away or at all.  And just because it works out or doesn't work out once doesn't mean others won't share or that the same person wouldn't be willing to share their stories next time.

I don't always attempt to practice or pull together the courage.  I don't always have the patience or the resiliency.  I'm not always intentional.  I'm not always satisfied when I am.  To love someone that way often means you put yourself out there for the other person without expecting anything in return.

The conversation I had with this student I drove home last night was the first I've had with her.  All I did was ask her in what ways God has been challenging her through InterVarsity, and she shared with me about how difficult it is for her to trust people lately.  She shared with me about how she thinks that struggle has come about, with some difficult family situations she's witnessed and has experienced.  She shared so openly without my prompting, all in just a few minutes.

She didn't have to.  She could've answered the question differently or avoided the question altogether, saying, "I don't know."  Instead, she took the brave opportunity of sharing some her story, the real her.  And I felt loved to receive that gift from her.

A weekend to quench my thirst.

I had an absolutely refreshing weekend.  It was so nice to get away from campus, not have to worry about work, and not think about my oh so thinly developed Rochester community.  There were so many factors that made this long weekend great:

Meeting with my supervisor.  I love my supervisor.  She's a great listener, has excellent intuition, knows how to challenge me without pushing me over the top, and gives such genuine encouragement.  It was so good to see her and meet with her and just share about what work has been like lately and to ask for help where I needed it.

Spending time with good friends who were willing to listen to me talk about how I was feeling about things going on in my life.  I knew I needed to take a sabbath since I'd be at a wedding all day Saturday, and as you well know by now, socializing is not my go-to life-giving activity.  Well, spending the afternoon with girlfriends who know me and understand what I do and were willing to listen just hit the spot.  I felt bad for rambling and talking so much, but I knew it was something I've really needed for a while now.  They were so great and it was so much fun to visit and be with them.

Fall is here and the weather has been gorgeous.  It seemed like the trees along the road in the Poconos/The Crossings area were at their peak.  There were so many red, orange, yellow, and green colors with speckles of purple flowers everywhere.  It was so beautiful to look at as we drove along.

Singing in a friend's wedding.  I can finally cross that off my bucket list, though I wouldn't mind doing it again.  I've always wanted to sing at a friend's wedding, and what better way to do that than with some of your old college praise team members!  I was so honored to be asked to be a part of it, and am so happy for the newlyweds.  The ceremony was great and the wedding overall was fun and so well done.  

There's so much I left out, but I figured I'd spare you the details (ooh, except for the fact that I got to see Pam, if even for a split few minutes - it was too short, but it was better than nothing!).  The weekend was packed with good company, good conversations, good weather, good travels, good food, and good fun.  Now if only I can get my hands on some butter and bake some pumpkin scones or something, that would be awesome.

Confessions and a tangle of thoughts.

It's 3am, which in Tammy's world, apparently means confession time.

Confession #1:  I cannot go to sleep.  Seriously, I've been trying.  At first I thought it was because of the heat.  I mean, hello, 93 degrees?  Seriously?  After three straight days of cool 60s and 70s weather, we get blasted with 90s and humidity?  But, as the night has gotten later, I believe the temperature has reached at least a reasonable sleepable level, but here I still am, wide awake.  Then I thought it was because of all the usual ruckus of my neighborhood street (with motorcycles blaring past your open windows, a bar across the street and a grill and bar next door, both of which have live music throughout the week, why wouldn't you have ruckus?), but the noise has died down and I still can't sleep.  Then I wondered if it was the cup of iced cafe mocha I had earlier.  But really, that was at like, 2pm.  Is my digestive system really that terrible in that any caffeine I have will just haunt me when I need to go to sleep?  Now I'm wondering if it's because I slept so much yesterday from trying to recover from a sudden fever I came down with on Sunday night.  I felt awful and slept a TON.  I even went to sleep at 7:30pm, managed to wake up at 2am, and then went back to sleep to wake up at 8am.  It must have been all that sleep that's throwing off my schedule now.  Oh, brother.

Confession #2:  I was on my computer for the past two hours (because I couldn't sleep), then just a few minutes after shutting everything down to attempt to sleep again, I came back and turned everything on to write this blog post.  I promise I did try to sleep again before I came back on my computer to write this post. But nothing was happening.  Besides, I had a light bulb moment and thought it was worth going through the trouble of re-doing everything I had just undone.  That's how awake and important this was.

Confession #3:  I was (again) thinking about my friendships (or lack thereof) and weddings and all that jazz before I had my light bulb moment.  Yes, for those of you who are actually a bit up-to-date on my life, I have been thinking a lot about friendships and community lately, which are usually induced by or result in regrets of my wedding as well as unhelpful thoughts of other people's weddings.  Thankfully, ever since I finally started talking to some human beings besides my husband about it (not that he's not helpful!), it's been less haunting and upsetting, and I haven't lost as much sleep over it.

But, as my unwilling-to-sleep body has so created the space for these thoughts to return, they have invaded my mind again.  However, this time, so many thoughts from so many different realms of my life have suddenly started to come together as a theme.  Which brings me to my light bulb moment:

Confession #4:  I have a deep desire - and possible need - to be needed.  So, this may sound silly, a) because you may know me better than I know myself and may think this is totally obvious, or b) you, like me, believe that every human being has a need to be needed or wanted.  Well, if you're in category A, then maybe this is just a moment where I needed to learn for myself to be aware of this layer I did not know I had (OR, maybe you could have told me and I could have come to this conclusion earlier??).  And if you're in category B, well, maybe this goes a bit deeper than your average human desire to be needed.  Let me explain.

My thought process was probably very much like a plate of spaghetti as to how I reached this light bulb moment, but I will simplify as best as I can.  By the way, these are random thoughts, out of order...not quite sure which one led to which:

Random thought #1:  As I was thinking about old friends with whom I used to be closer who are now engaged, I thought about how I wished we were close friends again so we could share in the joys and pains of this season of life because we're in closer life stages.  I want to be there for them, supporting them in more ways than just saying, "Congratulations!" or guessing as to whether or not I'll be invited or asked to help with anything for the wedding.  But the reality is that they seem to have lots of other closer friends who can support them and be there for them, especially in their immediate community.  So they don't need me.  They wouldn't call me first.  They probably have at least 10 people (or more) that they'd call for help before they'd call me.  And that probably won't change when they get married, either.  And this thought ties in with any of my friends.  I keep thinking they all have at least 5 other people they could talk to who are in a closer vicinity and/or are closer in their relationship than I am to them.  They don't really need me.

Random thought #2:  I've been observing (and trying to help, when she stays still long enough) my sister Pam spin in craziness cycles with taking on too much and stressing out over giving the less necessary things up.  It's a familiar place I hope I never go back to, but the thing I've recognized over and over again as someone who has come out of that kind of position is that it's often an identity thing:  we take on more than we actually need to because we want to perpetuate the idea that we are needed and dependable.  So I used to have a hard time saying 'no' to things because hey, they're asking for my help, right?  How can I refuse?  Or it'd be hard for me to take Sabbath because it would feel selfish to take time to rest for myself while so many people needed my attention and assistance.  And so on.  Recognizing that I was perpetuating my identity as someone who needed to be needed helped me get out of the unhelpful cycles.  But tonight I thought, well, I'm out of that cycle, but maybe that need to be needed is still deeply embedded in me?

Random thought #3:  In my work world, one of my leaders recently told me she and her team are so used to doing things on their own that it's been hard to adjust to having me as a staff worker around, and some tension has been built around that.  Ouch.  An unintentional poke at the I've-got-this-you're-not-needed sore point.  Feeds into the doubts that I should be working with college students.  They're adults and can think for themselves, make mistakes for themselves, and learn for themselves.  Why would they need me?

Random thought #4:  Yes, I am married and I do think about having kids.  I can't really avoid it.  Celebrities are having babies, friends are posting Facebook pictures of their newborn babies, and people on tv shows I watch are having babies.  I am also very careful about getting baby fever.  I understand and simultaneously know I don't quite understand the extent of how much work (physically, emotionally, mentally, socially, the whole thing) and sacrifice and adjustment it takes to have babies.  They're not just cute (though honestly, they're not all cute - what if my baby's not cute?!  Worse yet, what if I think my baby's cute and he/she is not actually that cute at all??  Or would I be judged if I openly thought my baby wasn't that cute?) and cuddly all the time.  So I try to keep myself in check by kind of scaring myself with the idea of imperfect, clueless, sinful me having such influence over a child's life and all the fears of attempting to answer, "what would I do if my child...?" questions.  But at the same time, I love kids.  I'm pretty sure I won't be as adventurous or fun as Nathan will be as a dad, but I think I would enjoying providing for them and giving them what they need.  See?  Need to be needed.      

So my theory, as hopefully you can pull from some of these random thoughts, is that these things in different parts of my life aren't just disconnected, isolated issues.  They all seem to connect or stem from this need to be needed that theoretically fulfills me.

Now, don't get me wrong, this is all coming from thoughts I've had at 3 in the morning, which means it is a theory that has not yet been tested or externally processed with people who know me well, care deeply about me, and are honest with me.  But I guess the next question I'm asking myself is:  is this longing something I can/should actually do something about, or is it a longing that only God can fulfill and I'm coming up empty because I'm drawing from the wrong well?  Or is it one of those annoying stay-in-the-tension, not-so-black-and-white situations?

Well, I'm supposed to be up in two hours.  The least I can do is take another stab at some resemblance of sleep.

For Janie.

My heart broke for Janie.  Tonight, my heart breaks for her family.

Janie was just 2 years old when she went to be with the Lord forever this afternoon.  And for a little more than half of her young life, she had been fighting Rhabdomyo Sarcoma, a rare and very serious cancer.

I never met Janie.  Nevertheless, this felt like it hit close to home.  Janie's parents went to my home church in NYC, and her dad was one of my favorite Sunday School teachers.  I never moved back to NYC after graduating college, and the Gong family had moved to Shanghai to follow God's call.  So we were too far apart and didn't go to NYC often enough to have crossed paths after Janie was born.

But through the sometimes helpful world of Facebook, I "met" Janie.  Her dad, Alan, and I are Facebook friends, so I got to see pictures of her when she was born and as she started growing up.  She got the Cutest-Baby-of-the-Year Award in my book.  I mean, how could you NOT think this was the cutest baby of the year?

I wish it had been under different circumstances, but I started to get to know Janie (and her family) better after I found out about the cancer and her dad started posting on Caring Bridge, a website that helps keeps friends and family updated about situations like this.  He'd share some of his own personal thoughts and struggles as he wrestled with his first child having to fight cancer in her first few years of existence.  He'd share updates about Janie's condition.  And he'd share about Janie's normal growing experiences - the personality she was developing, things she would say as she learned to talk, etc.  And every now and then he'd post a little video clip or two of Janie, to see a glimpse of who she is for yourself.

I always looked forward to those video clips.  People described her as a little girl who melted people's hearts when she entered the room, and just from watching the short video clips and seeing pictures, I totally agree.  She brought joy to your life and a smile to your face.

I can't imagine what Alan and Daisy are feeling or going through right now with the loss of their child.  It feels like it digs much deeper than if I was not yet married at this point in my life.  There have been many times where I have imagined me and Nathan having our first child, and it hurts and frightens me to think about the possibility of going through a similar situation.

That being said, I was greatly moved by how open and honest Alan was about his thoughts and feelings every time he updated about Janie.  In just a few sentences I'd admire his courage and brevity in sharing such personal and poignant things.  It was encouraging for me to continue to be vulnerable with others, even in the darkest moments of our lives or on the rockiest paths of our walk with Christ.

May God continue to make Himself known and present in Alan and Daisy's lives as they grieve.  May He grant them and their families deep peace and renewed hope.  May He be glorified and others be encouraged by their stories and testimonies of Janie's time with us on earth.  Amen.  

His pursuit.

Thinking about my basic need for community has caused me to think of my basic desire for someone to reach out to me.

It's not a new issue, and I don't think I'm the only one in the world who wrestles through this.  If I remember correctly, Libby and I used to call it "the dreaded 'i' word" (or something like that) back in high school.  We would talk about how much we would do our best to take initiative with others (particularly with a specific group of friends) and how we wished they would take more initiative with us.  Being pursued by others was often so scarce in my life that I even mentally prepared myself for the possibility that a boy may never actually pursue me in life (which didn't turn out to be true, but I'm glad I prepared myself anyway!).  And after some tumultuous friendships over time tried to mentally prepare myself for the possibility that friends I have may not ever really pursue me the way I hoped they would.

Back in middle school or the beginning of high school, my pastor gave a sermon about taking initiative.  He defined someone who takes initiative this way:  you're aware of a need and you care enough to do something about it.  He said that you needed both "aware" and "care" to complete it because you can be aware of a need but not actually care enough to do anything about it, and you can care about a need but not actually be aware of what the realistic needs actually are in order to meet them well.  I always thought that was a good way of seeing it.

Dictionary.com simply defines initiative this way:  an introductory act or step; leading action.  In other words, you make the first move.  You reach out to someone.  I interchange the words initiative and pursue in this post because to me, to pursue someone is to take initiative with that person again and again and again.  We have this deep desire for someone to pursue us.  We want someone to know us with all of our strengths and weaknesses and still want to spend time with us, ask about how we're doing, and simply think about us from time to time.

The problem, though, is if everyone wants to be pursued, then who's going to take the initiative?

It would be a whole different issue if I expected people to pursue me without the equal expectation that I would pursue others.  I can't just sit around and complain while I lack my own discipline to extend the very initiative I wish others to extend to me.  I realized that I have not been doing as good of a job with this over this year as I have in the past, and that it is one way I can improve in loving others as myself.  While I can't expect others to change, I know I can work on changing myself.

And as God has taught me before, it's guaranteed that there are going to be times where I take the initiative to pursue others and it feels like no one is pursuing me.  It'll be tempting to blame others, resent them, or hold a grudge against them.  But in those times it'll be important to remind myself that someone is pursuing me.  In fact, God took the initiative with us before any of us ever did.

The question, then, is:  am I willing to let go of my pride and expectations to open my heart and eyes to see how He constantly pursues me each day?  

If so, then the question becomes:  how am I pursuing others the way God is pursuing me?  Am I aware of others' needs and do I care enough to do something about them?

Desert ground.

I've learned many important things about marriage before I actually got married.  One of those things was that getting married doesn't erase the loneliness in your life.  It makes sense - the marriage of two people means the marriage of two sinful people who live in a sinful world.  And while Jesus is our ultimate source of comfort and joy, it doesn't mean you won't ever feel lonely.

This year was a pretty rough one, in that every area of my life was in transition, change, and in some cases, chaos.  But in the invisible and subtle ways that God often works, He pulled me through.  I don't really know how He did (though I'm pretty sure having Nathan in my life had something to do with it), and I'm still having trouble connecting with God and experiencing His presence in my life this year, but I feel like the storm has passed for the time being.  It still has its effects, but that's a whole different story.

Though, as I've been reflecting on my lack of best friends, mourning the loss of community, and chewing through the time and effort it takes to build a new one, I think I'm beginning to feel a sense of loneliness sink in for the first time.  I think part of what evoked it is from the fact that I'm in NYC without Pam or my dad around, and Nathan is away hiking the Appalachian Trail for a few days in radio silence.  Some of it just comes out of the basic desire for someone to take initiative with me - to be excited that I was in NYC and express desire to spend time with me without me having to fish for it.

From there, my loneliness manifests itself just from thinking - wondering whether or not I make some difference in the world and if I really matter to people besides those who are kind of obligated to love me (aka, my family and Nathan).   Or what my life would look like if I didn't work for InterVarsity, having some pretty stellar colleagues who are there for me simply through the circumstances that we work together.  Even though in movies it's always inspiring and sweet when something tragic happens to someone and they discover all of these people who come flocking to them with encouragement and support, I don't want to wait for something tragic to happen to me to find out who really cares.

It sounds pretty emo when I read that.  But I think it feels like because I've moved out of Rochester, I've moved out of people's lives.  It feels like it has caused a chasm in physical distance and relational distance, and no one really wants to make the effort to reach across it, even just to meet me halfway.  There's this hunger in me to go deeper with others; not necessarily to debate things like political views, theological beliefs, or the weaknesses of this generation; but instead to listen to others' struggles, character flaws, or mistakes, and to be able to share mine.  I want to be one of the first ones they think of to share some joyful piece of news, and vice versa; simply so that we could be there for each other.  

Like a bucket of iced water suddenly dumped on my head.

A stark reality struck me tonight:  I absolutely suck at friendships.

Now, I'm not saying I'm some sort of loner or hermit or that I don't have any friends at all.  I'm talking about best friends.  Lifelong ones.  Nathan doesn't count in this equation because he's my husband and that's a different kind of best friend, and Pam is disqualified because she's my sister and while she, too, is my best friend, much of that friendship hinges on the fact that we are blood sisters.

No, I'm talking about rock solid, female friendships that last a lifetime.  The ones that last through all seasons of life, no matter what unexpected bends come along with the journey.  The ones that grow in new ways and closer in better ways with time and change.  I'm talking kindred spirits, as Anne Shirley would say.  And maybe Anne Shirley is part of the problem I've created for myself - that through media and novels, I've developed an unrealistic, irrational ideal that I can have a lifelong friendship.

It was always one of my deepest core beliefs was that it was possible for me to have a lifelong best friend.  I knew having a best friend meant that we would hurt each other and go through rough patches, but we'd somehow make it through and the experience would make our friendship stronger.  I always thought I valued my friendships over any boy, and I never wanted any boy to take over my whole world in such a way that my friendships would suffer.

When I first thought about this, I thought that that's what I let happen - I had somehow let myself get so absorbed in my relationship with Nathan that I neglected my close friendships to the point of practical non-existence.  But no, part of the starkness of this realization was that it didn't really have much to do with Nathan - in my opinion, I think we've done a pretty good job of giving each other the freedom to continue building and valuing our relationships with other friends.  I don't think we took over each other's entire lives in an unhealthy way.

Nope, I realized Nathan had nothing to do with any of it - it was just me.  I just single-handedly ruined my friendships all by myself.  And though I would work hard to build those friendships back up, I don't think they even want to be best friends with me anymore.  Just good friends.  No hostility, resentment, or anger pent up.  We're just not best friends.  I think I don't have best friends because I don't know how to be a good one.

Part of the packaging that comes with this stark realization is the worry that it doesn't feel like I will get another chance to learn how to be a good lifelong best friend.  I can't go back in time, I probably won't be in school anymore, and to me, being married puts me at a slight disadvantage because it's a very different stage of life and people kind of come with the assumption that you don't need any new friends (believe me, I used to subconsciously make this assumption about married people when I was single all the time).  Plus, even if I made any new best friends, we wouldn't have the memories of how stupid or silly we were when we were younger, and it would take a lot of ground work just to get to know each others' likes, dislikes, quirks, and habits.  Or even to know each other's strengths and weaknesses to encourage each other to keep using our gifts and challenge each other when our weaknesses get the best of us.  And I have such deep friendship insecurities - who knows how many times that has bit me in the butt in the past and would do so in the future?

Maybe this is just the reality of the life of friendship-building as an adult.  At the same time, I wonder if I'm just not meant to have best friends.  At first I thought maybe I'm just setting too high of expectations out of what it means for me to have a best friend, or that I'm expecting out of best friends what I can only expect God to fulfill.  But I don't think that's it.  Then I thought I was being lazy, not really wanting to put in the time or work to build such a friendship.  But I don't think that's it at all either.

I think maybe I'm just skeptical if it's worth it all, if it's worth giving my greatest attempt as a best friend only to lose another one.              

Mish-mash of loose ends.

I don't know if it's because I drank a cup of green tea just before bed, or because there's a very loud band playing at the bar across the street and they've left the door open so that it sounds like the band is right outside my open window, or because of the fact that my husband won't be home for the next six days, but I'm suddenly very awake and can't go to sleep.

I've washed my face and in the meantime, the band seems to have put away their drumsticks and guitar amps for now.  But being this awake made me think about things I think about and how I've been having such a hard time writing any blog posts lately because they'd just all be loose ends.  Maybe if I write them down they'll eventually become inspirations for new posts.

My fear and discomfort with asking people for things - which covers everything from ordering pizza or helping me in some way - has been recently re-surfacing.  It was going to be the topic of this next blog post, but I've already spent nearly two weeks on it and I still have no closing thoughts.

I still have not been connecting with God the way I used to, and even though I've stopped trying to keep up my old ways, I've lacked the motivation and inspiration to try new ways of connecting with God.  I also realize I lack the faith that God is pursuing me and is with me, even though I know in my head that He is.

Today I led a couple of my freshmen students through a discussion around what's the most difficult part of committing to following Jesus - sacrificing comforts or desires, finding Jesus' purpose for me, or following through with my decisions until they are complete.  And I found myself steering towards the second, as I thought about how I am average at many things and not great or passionate in any particular focus enough to discipline myself to develop my interests and skills further.  I like singing, I like baking, I like planning parties, I like hosting others, I like reading, I like taking pictures, I like blogging, and so on, but I am not particularly dedicated to any one of those things, not even in small ways on a regular basis.  I feel paralyzed and stuck with my gifts and purposes.  It's discouraging and nothing new.

I've also been mulling over my ongoing naivete about best friends.  For some reason, ever since I was extremely young, I had this solid core belief ingrained in me that it was possible and desirable to have a best friend for life.  And maybe this belief was reinforced by shows or movies I watched, books I read, or relationships I've observed, but nonetheless, out of this belief came my deep value over my close friendships.   I knew I would get hurt, and I knew I would hurt them at some point.  But I invested myself wholly because I believed that if we could get past the hardships together, we would make it as best friends.  The hardships would make us stronger.  But somewhere along the way, my belief in lifetime best friends broke.  And as I let myself hope again and gained back my belief, it broke again.  Healing came, but with so many we've come out the other side as friends - some, good friends - but no longer as best friends.  We've stood the test of forgiveness but couldn't stand the subtle test of time and change.  And now, in a completely different phase of life, with no nearby old friends and the difficulty of making new ones, there's this yearning to again build upon the belief that it's possible to have a best friend (different from my husband).  At the same time, there's this part of me that wants to say, "Why bother?"

This year I've noticed that I've reverted back to my usual shy-person-taking-forever-to-adjust-to-her-new-surroundings-and-not-be-as-shy phase that has typically occurred when I enter a new school.  I'm not talking about introversion - yes, I'm still introverted and need my alone time, but this is the kind of attitude people always associate and mix-up with introversion that isn't always true.  Shyness does not equal introversion.  When I'm at the office, I don't really initiate conversations, and it's really hard for me to put myself out there to try and get to know the student workers or other chaplains.  When I'm with my students, no one really comes over to talk to me, and while I try my best to meet new students and keep conversations going, I feel like it's particularly difficult because I don't have any go-to relationships with any of my students that can act as a home base in those kinds of group settings for me.  And it's an annoying realization because I don't want to be shy.  And I wasn't this shy just a year or two ago.  But I can't help it - it's my slow adjustment process to the change of environment.  Can you feel the tension?

Well, there you have it.  My unfinished thoughts for the week.  It seems as though the band across the street have packed up their music for good, and my eyes are ready to stop opening for the rest of the night.

My first Easter as a married woman.

We celebrated Easter in Binghamton, work has been kicking our butts, and I've got that "Ho Hey" song stuck in my head.  Okay, that last one was more of a random, unimportant thought to share.  Still, there are a lot of thoughts to unpack, but since I'm a big fan of linear thinking, we'll go in the order I've said them.

Nathan and I did indeed celebrate our first Easter as a married couple in our alma mater town.  Most of our friends there assumed we were on our way down to NYC or were passing through Binghamton on our return home to Rochester.  But neither were true.  The original plan was always Rochester-to-Binghamton, Binghamton-back-to-Rochester.  

Ironically, Easter was never a big thing to celebrate in my community growing up.  I say, 'ironically,' because as Christians, it should be one of our biggest celebrations of the year.  Very arguably bigger than Christmas.  It's the day we recognize Jesus's power to conquer death, the penalty he took on himself though we deserved it.  Declaring, "Christ is risen!" and, "Alleluia!" doesn't even seem to capture the magnitude of awe for what Christ has done.

But I don't have many childhood memories of making Easter a big deal.  My family didn't get together to have a special meal, and my church would maybe sing some special songs and put white, smelly lilies at the foot of the sanctuary podium.  Besides those few things and my Sunday School teacher saying, "Happy Resurrection Sunday!" to everyone he passed by, Easter more often than not didn't feel very different from any other Sunday.  And it's only within the past several years where I actually began to care enough to notice and grew a desire to do something about it.  

Now, even though I come from an Asian American Christian background/community, I can't assume or blatantly generalize that we're not joyful or that the way we express it is simply wrong (I can rant about the ideas I have for ways the Asian American Christian community could celebrate Easter in a special way without losing or diminishing our Asian American culture, but that's a post I've already done somewhat and can continue at another time).  Instead, my desire comes from a place of wanting to partake in a corporate celebration that expresses deep, gracious joy in a way that's special from ordinary days but isn't so completely different that it distracts me from the true focus. 

Visiting Binghamton was a great opportunity to fulfill this desire.  Last year, Nathan attended the Anglican Church of the Good Shepherd's (a church we've been to several times because some of our friends go there) Easter Vigil and Sunday Easter Service and joined the MacQuarrie family (InterVarsity volunteers) Easter dinner as well.  Nathan's love and appreciation of worship through liturgy (as well as the pastor's teaching), and the notorious chaos of the MacQuarrie family get-togethers had won him over so much that he asked me if we could go back this year.  Although my introverted side of me cringed a little, the idea of visiting friends and celebrating Easter in a new way immediately outweighed any of my hesitations.    

There are so many thoughts I could share from this great weekend (though it had its hiccups as well), but since it's the end of Easter weekend I'll share one thing that struck me during the Easter service sermon:

I am like the women who went to Jesus' tomb with embalming spices.  Like them, I have been following Jesus for a long time.  Like them, I know His promises in my head.  And I've tried and tried and tried to jump-start this knowledge as felt reality.  But this year it's been hard to feel His presence.  And as this year has gone on, it has gotten harder to believe His promises.  As I said earlier, ministry work has been kicking my butt - and when your husband's ministry work is also kicking his butt, and you're adjusting to married life with someone who's almost your complete opposite while also trying to develop solid community from scratch in the post-grad world, it can take a toll on your already waning relationship with Jesus.  I began to mourn the loss of my relationship with Jesus the way the women were convinced Jesus was not coming back. 

But today, while there was no bursting whoop-de-doo moment or tear-jerking movement, Jesus has reminded me of His hope.  I was faced with the reality that Jesus' promises are not grounded in the strength of my emotive will.  Today, Jesus has filled my empty heart with true joy despite my circumstances.  And though I've heard the Easter story over and over again many times, today Jesus gave me a fresh glimpse of the fullness of his conquer over the grave.  Alleluia, alleluia!

With Barb MacQuarrie's, "Once you have a seat at our table, there'll always be a seat for you," comment, it looks like Nathan and I have a new Easter celebration tradition to partake in that I will certainly look forward to each year.

She clings, though she doesn't know why.

You know something's wrong when an introvert doesn't want to be alone with her thoughts.  Something's awry when an introvert spends time thinking and sorting through thought after thought after thought, only to find herself spiraling down into a pit mixed with possible lies and possible truths, only she can no longer tell which ones are which.  Not only is it draining to be around others, it's now draining to be around herself.

It's worse when she doesn't really know who can help her.  She knows there are people who love and care about her - her husband, her friends, her family, her supervisor - but they all don't seem to be very helpful or understand the whole story.

It gets even more worse when she knows that her relationship with God looks like her not wanting to call out, "Lord, save us!" to the sleeping Jesus in the lower deck of the boat during this furious storm that seems to be lasting the whole year because she's afraid she'll be reprimanded for being ye of little faith.  And it's not that she hasn't asked Him for help.  She prays the simplest, shortest, most genuine prayers.  But either it doesn't seem like enough, or she needs to wait.

So she hangs on.

You know something's wrong when an introvert doesn't know exactly what she needs to fill her nearly empty bucket that has been slowly, and subtly leaking this whole time.  It's worse when she actually tries and tries and even tries new things to fill it with no avail.  The self discipline she had been working on for so long seems to wear off more and more with all the tears of frustration.

But she hasn't lost her imagination.  She still dreams of who she could be, what things she'd like to do, things she'd like to learn.  She dreams of being an unselfish wife, leading a vibrant campus ministry, living a healthier lifestyle, participating in a life-giving community, growing a deep, life-long passion for...something.

It's sad because the reality of the present begins to sink in with the deep disappointment that her imagination is beginning to look a lot like a carrot dangling in front of her face that will always be
just
out
of
reach.  

Family shenanigans.

Ever since my time in college, spending time with my family sometimes made me feel out of place.  In college, time passed, and I changed immensely.  With my family, though, time passed and things either didn't change or changed very, very slowly - including the way my family viewed who I am.  More often than not, I've had a difficult time trying to reconcile who I was and who I was becoming.  It often felt like when I left for college I had begun to grow out of my shell, but every time I came back home I had to squish myself back into the old shell I had outgrown...and no one would seem to notice or treat me otherwise.  It's not meant to be an entirely negative thing - it's not like I felt neglected or unloved, or anything.  Just a little out of place, awkward, or not really knowing how to navigate the space anymore.

But having my family visit me and Nathan in Rochester this past weekend was extremely refreshing.  And I think a big reason for that is because it felt like I wasn't just introducing my family to my new home and new life, but I was introducing my family to my new shell.  This is who I am becoming.  Welcome to the space of new life I've been creating for a while now.  Here's a taste of what I value, what I enjoy, what decisions I've made and why.  What God's been doing in me.

And it was exciting because they seemed to like it all.  We enjoyed ourselves quite a bit!  We talked about life, we were silly, we ate good food and had a lot of fun.  I got to show them where I work, where I like to eat, where we live.  Maybe it was exciting because I somehow felt that if they liked Rochester, then it was them saying they liked and accepted the new me I was becoming.

Of course, there are still things we're learning about our new family dynamics of me no longer living in their house, being married, and having a whole different kind of life.  There definitely were some minor tensions from time to time.  But considering the relational turmoil we've undergone this past year, it's a beautiful new beginning that makes me rather happy.  I know it'll take time for things between us to continue new growth, but seeing the hope I was hanging on to actually come to life is enough to keep me content for a while.

Pursuing?

Whether I'm scared or worried, I'm not quite sure.  I believe I have matured and grown to a point where I'm aware that I'm not serving others well when I don't take care of myself.  So I think I've grown a healthy pattern and attitude of not literally overworking or constantly being preoccupied with my work or relationships.  It's not as awkward or difficult for me to "end" my days well or carve out time for sabbath each week because I know it's important.

The problem that scares or worries me, though, is not knowing what to do with the space and time I have.  The amount and quality of ministry work that I have had to do, think, and pray about over this school year so far has been draining me in ways I never imagined would drain me.  It has chipped, worn, and shaken me emotionally and spiritually in ways I don't even know how to articulate anymore.  So I know I need to include habits and patterns and make time and space for activities, people, and processes that will give me life and help me grow as a whole person, not just in leadership.

This search for the new Mrs. Bixler has been tough.  At first it was exciting to dream and imagine and create the possibilities, but now that I've actually come to a point today where I need new life and rest right at this moment and am still "in process" - it's a bit disconcerting and disorienting.  I don't feel physically drained, so I don't want to take a nap.  Thinking about what supplies I would need to buy in order to bake something seems more time consuming and draining than it would be worth to actually bake something.  I'm uninspired to sing or write a song.  Watching something feels like a waste of time and starting a craft project feels like a chore.  Reading a book seems like a source of escape instead of a source of life, and my photography class doesn't start until two weeks from now.  And since I don't really have any friends in the area that give me life - ones that can just listen or just sit with me and keep me company because they already understand me - it just feels like I've hit a dead end.

Maybe it's the weather.  It's gotten mighty cold and gloomier in Rochester recently, and this post is in such stark contrast with my previous post I wrote just a few weeks ago that things could change tomorrow for all I know.

I hesitate to post this because I don't know what I'm really trying to say or share, and it hasn't really helped me process things all that much, but at least it's something.  At least I've showed up.  The problem, though, is that it's starting to get harder and harder to show up when it feels like God isn't meeting me there.  I know in my head that the truth is He is, but it doesn't help when it doesn't feel like it's true.

Waiting for joy to come in the morning.

I never expected my wedding to be the best day of my life or even nearly perfect.  I knew things wouldn't go the way I'd want or planned, and I knew it wasn't necessarily going to be "all downhill from here" unless I let it become so.  But I guess I would at least experience a deep sense of joy in recalling my wedding rather than a reminder of deep hurt and regret.

It really stinks that I'm still burdened by memories of my wedding - and it's sad to think that I can truthfully write that.  After praying about it so much, asking for forgiveness from others and from God and going through some significant spaces of spiritual formation, I thought I had given my regret and guilt over to the Lord for good.  I thought I had accepted the freedom Christ so graciously offers every day so that I'm not having a hard time falling asleep because my thoughts keep drifting around decisions I had made and the things I have learned since then.  I had been doing so well over the past week or two, not having any trouble falling asleep or dreaming dreams that evoke the same old unsettling feelings.  Now I wonder, though, if my travels and work have just been distractions for what I have not yet fully dealt with or if this is just a stark reminder that healing more often than not is a process that takes time.    

It is indeed a blessing, though, that I am enjoying my husband and sharing my life with him and that there are no regrets around the decision to marry him in the first place.  Hopefully, though, with the Lord's strength I will not grow suspicious or doubtful of this blessing but that it would instead be a reminder of God's abundant grace; that He wants to give good gifts to His children and is faithfully beside me in this refining journey of healing.

Whac-an-insecurity.

So I'm beginning to find that this whole newlywed-in-a-new-town-with-a-new-job-looking-for-a-new-community thing is turning out to be a lot like the "Whac-a-mole" carnival game.  At least, that's what I think of in terms of recognizing how I'm doing during this whole adjustment period.  It's more like, "Whac-an-insecurity" kind of game.

Maybe that's how I'll answer people when they ask me how I'm doing.  Because for the most part, I'm doing pretty well.  I'm content but not settled, at peace and not deeply stressed out, mostly happy but managing to find joy in Him in times of tears. 

It's just that there are these moments where something will seem to pop up almost out of nowhere.  They come in unexpected moments of "little things" that tap into old or deep insecurities.  One of the biggest is this insecurity of being wrong.  I think it's one of the subconscious reasons why I often fall on the indecisive side most of the time.  I don't want to be wrong and I don't want to carry the shame or responsibility for choosing the wrong thing.

It seeps into a lot of areas in my life - not wanting to lead others in the wrong direction at work, not wanting to react to situations in the wrong way, not wanting to make the wrong decisions.  And when I think about it, the way I tend to measure how "wrong" my decision is falls on the basis of how upset or happy people are after I make them.  It ties into my character of wanting to please people and make them happy and proud of me.

I've reflected a lot on this deep insecurity.  I'm not quite sure where it came from.  Part of it could be the Asian-American culture I grew up in, but part of it could just be my temperament.  It's probably both and then some.

After thinking about it for a bit, I think the insecurity goes hand-in-hand with how much I don't understand God's grace very well.  Meaning, I think I'm not really good at recognizing when He offers it to me, and so I'm not really good at receiving it, either.  I think sometimes I even move into this self-righteous mode in moments where because I had tried so hard not to be "wrong" it somehow cancels out my need God's grace.  There are many times, too, where I need to recognize that wrong/right is not based on how I expect people to react.  There are times when I'll move in a good direction and people will be upset by that.  But there will also be times when I'll move in a poor direction and people will be happy with that.  It's a discernment process to work on.

Though it's obvious that I need to remember instead of knocking my insecurities down like a whac-a-mole I need to give it to Jesus, it's way easier said than done.

I wanted to end this post with a funny whac-a-mole video, but when I searched YouTube, I found this instead:

And of course, you can't leave out a good video from The Ellen Show:

Now I want to eat some guacamole.

I've forgotten how to make friends.

There are not many things I expected or clearly wanted in a "potential husband."  I didn't create this customized soul mate for myself in my head because I knew "the one" didn't exist.  However, one of the few things I whole-heartedly (and still do) believed was that it was possible and it was okay to want my husband to be my best friend.  And friendships don't just pop out of nowhere - they need to grow and mature if you nourish them and let them go through trials.  That's how I concluded that if I were to enter a dating relationship (which, from my perspective, is for the purpose of working towards marriage), it would stem out of a solid and somewhat deep friendship I had with a brother in Christ.

And that's exactly what happened.  But I think Nathan and I did a pretty good job making it clear while we were dating that we weren't going to be each other's entire world.  We knew our significant other wasn't going to fill our emptiness, meet our every need, or make us never feel lonely again.  Other people are very important to me.  Friends and those in need were my top priority for most of my life, and a boy wasn't going to come in and mess that up. I've always needed and wanted different circles of friends, and because of this, I knew that that aspect of moving to Rochester was going to be difficult and that being married wouldn't be enough.

I don't have any friends here.  I'd like to make some.  The only problem is, I've practically forgotten how to make friends.  During my college years I was more often than not surrounded by people I knew, and even if there were new friends to be made, I made them together with my home base of friends there with me.  Nowadays I get shy or just don't open up as easily or quickly because it feels so new.  And I don't have a solid base of friends to retreat to when new relationships don't quite hit it off the way I'd hoped.

This old feeling has returned where I feel like I'm barely hanging on to my relationships from back home.  Ever since my college years I've always found it very difficult for me to develop my relationships with those who weren't within my immediately community.  It becomes a nasty tug-of-war within myself because it takes a lot of work to develop my immediate community around me, and it takes a lot of work to develop the community I grew up with, and finding a balance is like walking through some thick, pitch-dark woods without a flashlight or anything else to survive the night with.

I want my friends and family back home to know how important they are to me and how much I want to be there for them, but I know that I can't be there for them the same way I could if I was living near them.  Maybe it's been like this for a while or it's a long time coming, but the reality that I'm not going to be the first person anyone would call for help or advice has been sinking in.  No one's going to expect me to comfort them through this difficult time they're going through and ask me to pray for them right now.  I'm not going to be asked for my opinion about which color to paint their room or if they could borrow one of my dresses.  No one's going to say, "I'm so glad you picked up your phone because I really needed to talk to you."  I'm not going to be at the forefront of people's minds because the reality is that people are busy, I'm not in a dire situation (like a soldier or missionary serving overseas), and I'm not by myself.  I'm married now.

Well, I got what I asked for: my husband is my best friend.  It just never sunk in as to how, after gaining this best friend of a husband, moving to Rochester would be at the cost of so many other relationships.  The rubber has begun to meet the road where I'm working through the losses of stepping out of a community that has loved me, encouraged me, and supported me for many, many years. 

I've been thinking and blogging a lot lately about the concept of living a good story.  And as I wrestle within the tensions of moving to the fringe of one community and what it means to move deeper into another, it forces me to think about the God I serve - the God who calls us to develop and steward community as we go to the places God leads us.  The move to Rochester is a threshold I'm forced to make a decision about:  I can either constantly look back over my shoulder at what could've or should've been, or I can look forward to the opportunities I have before me to live a better story.  So I'm choosing to embrace the new stories and relationships God invites me to participate in and I'm looking forward to sharing these stories with those in both the community of my past and the community of my future.

Hands full.

During the week after my honeymoon I felt useless.  Nathan and I couldn't really dig our feet into unpacking all of our things and setting up our new apartment because we had a conference to attend at the end of the week and another conference to attend the following week.  And with traveling everywhere and doing all things wedding related, I was pretty slow at getting into work mode and preparing for the new school year on a new campus.

Reflecting on that week with some co-workers during our Regional Staff Conference (the latter conference) revealed how much I was hiding behind the craziness of the wedding planning and the limbo and stress of transitions.  Doing so reinforced the idea that I was strong enough to handle being busy with lot of things on my plate.  But now that the wedding was over, all of my things were in Rochester and I was adjusting to married life just fine - there were no major conflicts to justify my worth to others or excuses to say, "Life is hard."  I realized that I felt guilty for "not doing anything" that week after the honeymoon, that it was somehow wrong to rest or slow down by choice.  I wasn't being productive.  I wasn't planning, cleaning, organizing, or crossing anything off lists of things to do.  And it felt weird.  I felt empty, like I had nothing to show the world.  I had the subconscious mentality that I needed to be doing something worthwhile to prove that I deserved to exist another day.

A few weeks ago, the church Nathan and I have been visiting for several weeks made an announcement about the need for someone to help once a month with the powerpoint on Sunday mornings during service.  It seemed really simple.  They'd even teach you how to do stuff, and it would only be once a month.

It was so tempting to throw my hand in the air and say, "Me!  Me!  Pick me!  I can do it!" or, you know, just walk up to the person in charge after service and talk to him about it.

Thankfully, in a matter of seconds, I came to my senses and realized that Nathan and I had not actually committed to this church, so it would be silly to commit to something once a month if we weren't sure we would be around next week, let alone the next month.  It also occurred to me that we had made the commitment not to serve in any church capacity for an entire year.  It was a piece of wisdom we received as newlyweds from a number of wise couples we know, to give our marriage the attention it needs particularly in our first year together - which totally makes sense.  But it still feels really weird not to volunteer for things I think are important that I'm perfectly capable of doing

Things have gotten crazy again in my life, but there's a part of me that's hungry for more, as if I'm still not doing enough.  Part of that comes from having so many desires to do things:  I want to keep up with my out-of-town friends and family, build relationships with my neighbors and serve my community, try new things to feed my desire to learn and create good stories...they're not bad things to pursue.  But I think there's a subconscious part of me that cunningly takes all those (and more) desires and says, "Well, you're only really occupied vocationally right now, and most people don't understand how much work you do on a day-to-day basis with InterVarsity, so you need to commit to this, volunteer with this, and find more ways to stay busier than ever so that when people around you can see how important you're making a difference in this world and aren't just wasting you life by doing nothing. 

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who does that.  And I'm not saying we necessarily do it on purpose, either.  I think part of it comes from growing up in a culture where the message is "more is better" - the more you're doing, the better you are because how much you do says how worthy and valuable you are.  I think another part of it comes from our need to be needed and wanted.  Volunteering and committing to work sometimes gives us a sense of purpose and security that we're doing something important.

And I think there's a healthy tidbit in there.  God designed us to build, to create, to work - and it wasn't always a dreadful thing.  But that's the kicker, right?  Since we are broken people part of broken cultures who dwell in a broken world with broken systems, we in America have twisted work into busyness and allow it to distract us from giving the proper attention, time, and parts of ourselves to the people and causes that are sometimes more important in the grander scheme of things.  It is our busyness, not our work, that has become the definition of our value and worth, justification of our existence, and excuse from facing more difficult, though meaningful, conflicts.

But if we truly believed in our hearts and our minds to the very core of our being that we are loved by God and there's nothing we can do to add to it or take that away, then what are we doing?  Why are we perpetuating an idea that steers us in the wrong direction?  I guess I'm just saying (mostly to myself) that we need to keep the proper perspective of why we do what we do and be thoughtful about the things we commit to and not feel guilty about resting.  We need to be careful about how we reinforce for ourselves and others the vicious cycle of overworking and need to encourage rest even more.  We need it not to be lazy or idle, but to take the time to reflect, gain some perspective, and remind ourselves that it's not where our identity lies when we are God's people.

Things are crazy, but no more hiding.

Harold and the Purple Crayon.

I like to read.  I'm not a fast reader, an avid reader, or the kind of reader I'd like to be, but I enjoy it.  I have a lot of books I want to read.  I also have a lot of books I believe I need to read.  For example, I am one of the few rare species that has not finished reading the Harry Potter series.  I got up to the middle of book number five,  and decided it was getting a bit boring or too dark or just simply decided I didn't have time to read it right then.  I also need to finish the Chronicles of Narnia series, the Lord of the Rings, a whole bunch of marriage books, and all the books I bought during one of Better World Book's awesome sales.  And then...because I married a nerd, I've inherited all these other books I've always wanted to read or am curious to stick my face in.

So, with this predicament at hand, you can probably see why I would have such a hard time walking into Barnes & Noble to choose a book in celebration of my husband's tradition of buying a book and eating banana split sundaes the day before the first day of school.  I look around and all I see are books I want to read, books I want to buy, and books I highly doubt I'll get a chance to read in the near future.  I don't know  how long I spent walking around the store just reading wonderful book titles, admiring pretty book covers, and then thinking of our stuffed bookshelves back home.  It was quite depressing, actually.

But then, I wandered over to the children's section.  I thought of taking a look around because earlier in the summer I jotted down an idea I wanted to do for taking sabbath where I would go to the children's section of a bookstore and spend hours just reading the books right off the shelves.  Then I came up with a brilliant idea:  what if I picked a children's book to buy instead?  I definitely wouldn't feel guilty about not being able to read it because duh, I could probably read it in a few minutes.  And it would serve other purposes - like having some books available for kids if we decide to do some babysitting or just have little guests over.  And on top of that, I thought it'd be a good investment to start picking up some of my favorite children's books to build a library for my (very) future kids.  No time like the present to invest in the future.

Well as it turns out, picking out one children's book wasn't any easier than picking out a book from the adult sections.  I found some lovely collections of children's books that I'd love to get my hands on, but they were over my budget.  I found a few books I was familiar with, but didn't think it was worth getting this time around or didn't think it'd be a children's book Nathan would necessarily enjoy as much, and I wanted to take his children's book tastes into consideration.  The closest B&N to me and Nathan is pretty small, so I thought it was a small selection that didn't have many children's books I was familiar with.  But after I convened with Nathan for a few minutes and returned to the hunt in the children's section I started hitting the jackpot.  I found book after book of stories I remembered my mom reading to me as a kid, or books I enjoyed reading in elementary school, or some favorites I remember learning about from Reading Rainbow.

It was a tough decision.  Finally, after who knows how long, I picked a book Nathan had mentioned a long time ago that he liked, which I had always heard about but had never read.  As you can guess, it was Crockett Johnson's Harold and the Purple Crayon.  It was perfect.  It was a book I had never read, it was a book I'd probably enjoy, I knew Nathan liked it, and it was a children's book.    

Nathan read the book to me tonight, and I really enjoyed it.  Harold's awesome.  He's got this great purple crayon and does great things with it.  And as I've been thinking about it, there are some things I admire about Harold that I wish I had myself.  You know it's a great children's book when it doesn't just apply to kids but adults can connect with the story, too.

Here are some of the things I noticed about Harold:

1.  He takes time to think.
2.  He's a visionary.  He knows exactly what he wants to see happen.
3.  He decides what he wants to do and goes and does it.
4.  He's not perturbed by mistakes or unseen events.
5.  He's a creative problem-solver.
6.  He acts quickly when it's called for.
7.  He's not afraid to climb hills that turn into mountains.
8.  He's not afraid to keep trying when he doesn't succeed.

I wish I had a purple crayon like Harold.  Maybe if I did I'd be more like him.

The new Mrs. Bixler.

I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore.

It's been a whirlwind of transitions over this past year, and even though it seems like the tornado has finally flung me to the ground, I'm still feeling the dizzying affects from the ride.  And I don't think it's the kind that will go away in a few minutes once I get my balance again.

The world keeps spinning and life keeps moving, and the treadmill of time doesn't stop for anyone.

People kept asking me after the ceremony and during the reception what it feels like to be married, and honestly, it feels the same way it feels like when you're celebrating your birthday...not all that different.  Well, until you get your driver's permit, or you drink your first alcoholic drink.  Or you feel an ache in your back that just doesn't seem to go away.  Or maybe you start getting sleepy at 9:40 pm like clockwork every night when you used to stay up until 2 in the morning so easily just a few years ago in college.  Sometimes it doesn't really sink in as to how you're getting older until it hits you in those small moments.

It's those ripples that remind you of the evidence that something had dropped into your undisturbed ecosystem of pond life.

Like waking up in the morning only to find you're not alone.  Or not really knowing what to do to "get back into the swing of things" because your normal routine didn't have to include a skinny, 6-foot-3, 22-year-old who writes emails, checks nerdy websites and Facebook, reads a bajillion articles and gets five times more things done all before you woke up at 7 or 8 am.  Or having to discuss whether you should organize your 25 boxes of books on the shelves by authors' last names or by genre, and if by genre, how many sub-genres you wanted to break it down by because you can no longer sort them by the books you've read and the books you haven't read yet.

Yesterday I told my dad he needed to look out for our marriage certificate because we accidentally sent it there instead of our apartment, and he told me, by the way, that he and my family were going on vacation with my cousins and aunt and uncle for the next few days, so if I needed them and called home, they won't be home.

That ripple was a little stronger than I anticipated.  My family was going on our traditional annual vacation and they were going without me.  I don't think I would have even known about it until after the fact if I hadn't emailed my dad.  Talk about marriage becoming a reality.

Of course, it didn't help that my sister called me out of the blue for a silly favor and sounded like she and my family were having such a grand ol' time in the background.  It was a classic tv series moment.  I had a bad case of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) after that.

Like I said, it's sometimes the small ripples that seem to make the rubber meet the road, not this sudden revelation of reality like someone had clubbed you with a bag of bricks.  I'm not bitter or wishing things were different.  It's just me coming to grips, that's all.

Marriage so far is just what I sort of anticipated so far - not very glamorous or easy, but a learning process that has its pretty sweet aspects and moments, too.  I've been blessed with a good husband and I'm excited about the wonderful story we're writing together simply by being each other's partners and companions and living out our lives as best as we can in following and obeying the Lord.

I may not be in Kansas anymore, but this world is suddenly more colorful, and I'm taking a deep breath as I explore these new hues and shades.  And maybe I'll let a grin emerge on my face along the way.