There and Back Again

There's an hour to kill before our ride comes to take us to LAX.  I arrived in SoCal on Wednesday afternoon and am leaving again tonight.

It's a real blessing to be 30 years old and to be able to come home to the house in which you grew up.

Although, a large part of this trip was also to visit the newly purchased home in which my parents hope to grow old.

In between shuttling between the two locations, old and new, I watched my brother graduate from my alma mater with an Master of Public Policy and got to see family, neighbors, and 3 friends--the smallest amount of catching up I've ever done on a trip home.

Last night, Mom and I visited our neighbor Jan and her cousin Christine.  We four ladies raised our champagne glasses (mimosas, anyone?) to toast to life, friendship, graduation, and retirement.  I didn't take a picture, but that scene will be forever embedded in my mind.

This morning, I drove for several miles down Fair Oaks, a major street in Pasadena.  I passed by Huntington Hospital, where Jan's husband passed away in December of 2014.  My family was there the day before he died, and he kissed us each on the forehead before we said goodbye.

Huntington Hospital is also where I had my cystectomy in February of 2013, right before being maid of honor in my friend Jamie's wedding.  This afternoon, I saw that her for the first time in 2 years and met her 20-month son--the product of that marriage.

My final destination was 711 S. Fair Oaks, an El Pollo Loco in a regular corner strip mall where my friend Joyce agreed to meet me for her lunch break.  Turns out she works in 625 S. Fair Oaks, the same building that housed my first job out of school--the office of Mission Hospice.  It's been 6 years since I left, and I will forever be grateful for the invitation to start a music therapy program there.

Things have a way of coming full circle, don't they?

This afternoon, three of us girlfriends, along with Jamie's son, had a picnic in Wilderness Park, just up the street from my home and the site of many a childhood memory with my family.

I've been away from home for a while now, but I still feel grounded whenever I come back.  

I don't know when the next visit will be.  It depends on jobs, living, and relationships on the East Coast.

'Till next time, then.  There's no place like home.

Hello from the Other Side

Greetings from Southern California, where the skies are bright blue and there are palm trees and blooming jacaranda trees!

I'm starting to feel like a human again, and not like a zombie.

For the last week, I was so exhausted that I couldn't really rest.  Your mind goes numb when it's been under such strain for such a long time, and after a point it becomes even hard to pray.  All I could say was, "Jesus, I know you're here with me, and that's good enough for now."  All I could think about was how tired I was.

This morning I woke up feeling like myself again--a little more alert, with my digestive system back to normal, and not wondering when the next nap would be.  And that's a good place to be =)

Pilgrimage

We're all familiar with the trope of leaving home in order to find out who we really are.

Perhaps the fact that I've taken so many short trips away from New Haven this spring means that it's truly become home--because I've been restless to leave it.

Each trip brought about different emotional processes, and God spoke different things to me each time.  Some of it was some pretty deep wrestling.  Other experiences pointed me towards thoughts about my future and my calling.  All of it took time and money in a season of life where both were quite limited.

Was it all worth it?  Pilgrims of old spent their life savings--and sometimes the remaining years of their life after they left home--on the road, in the company of other spiritually-minded transients, in search of something deeper than the routine they knew.  Pilgrims wrote travel diaries that we--well, at least the DivSchool-kind-of-folk--still read today.

Part of me thinks that I needed to get out of New Haven to escape an atmosphere that feels quite oppressive sometimes.  A month ago, I left one difficult spiritual territory for another, arriving in San Francisco only to overhear a traumatic experience in the hotel.  The week prior, I was in D.C., where the friend I was visiting had a very uncanny encounter with an ex.  In March, during Spring Break, I had to confront my own demons while out and about, first in New York City and then in Kennebunk, Maine.  

I'm traveling again today, going home for a few days before flying back again (with parents in tow) for graduation.  As I write this post mid-air (Fly-Fi is amazing!), I am feeling absolutely exhausted.  For the first time in weeks, I can actually afford to feel tired, and my body is slowly coming off of the adrenaline it's been running on.  I can hardly believe that, for the next leg of transit--I started at 5:30 this morning, from home, Union Station, to Grand Central Station, and then to JFK--will simply involve walking out on to the Long Beach Airport curb and getting in my dad's car to go home.  It will sure feel good to just go home and not have to do anything for an afternoon--except be with my parents and eat some food.

There's travel yet to come, and I won't really be back (in New Haven ) "for good" (-ish) until June 12th, but I'm not going to think about that right now.  Right now, I'm blogging on the airplane, listening to iTunes, and ready to take a little nap again.  

Zzzzzz.....

  

Weather

It's been cloudy all week, with spurts of heavy rain, and I haven't seen the sun in days.

We're so close to the end, my housemates and I, and two of us have been feeling under the weather.

Thank goodness for burnt toast, Pepto-Bismol, and wine to settle upset stomachs and calm heartburn.

It will be nice to feel human again--in the sense that the demands of academia are finally shed.  It will be nice to breathe again and to be able to see friends without time limits--because assignments are no longer calling.  But in the meantime, I'm really grateful to be finishing my semester and my degree.  What a privilege this has been!

A Dream

I wonder if this will all feel like a dream, when it's all said and done.

My YDS experience is already beginning to feel surreal, even as I'm wrapping up with final things.

The real world will not be as amazing as this environment has been.  I don't think I'll ever feel as empowered and free to be myself ever again, and for being able to say that, I feel both grateful and sad.

What lies next is unbeknownst to me.  When asked what I've got coming after graduation, I usually answer, "I can't wait to find out!" or "Only God knows!"

The point, though, is that He does know.  And that's enough for me to trust in.

Good night.  Tomorrow will be a new day.  Sweet dreams...

Stillness

There's a stillness that comes after the storm, and the in the aftermath of a paper, I cleaned my room, listened to music while coloring, and then just lay on my bed and listened to the stillness.

Tonight I rest my brain.  Tomorrow I study again.

Soon enough it will all be over.  And then-- on to other things: some travel, some family time, some friend-time.

Thank you, Lord, for helping me crank out 19 pages in 2 days.  May I sleep soundly so that I may study well tomorrow.

Amen.

The Bride

We've all seen it, perhaps.

A twenty-something-year-old bride, walking down the aisle, looking both scared and smug as she loops her arm around her father's.

She's made it this far, and she feels like she's made it.

She's half-gloating over the others who have yet to find a soul-mate, and she's also feeling horribly inadequate and insecure as an adult.

Getting married elevates one's status in society and the church, whether or not one has earned it.

She may not realize that consummating her wedding on the honeymoon necessarily mean that she knows how to love.  She may not realize that becoming one with her husband in no way proves that she's a mature woman.

Young bride, there is so much more to life and love than you could ever imagine!

Read the writings of celibate nuns and monks of old, whose spiritual quests and earthly lives demonstrate something far deeper and more legitimate than marital bliss!

Eventually, she will have to learn to get over herself--her selfishness, her immaturity, her insecurity.  She will realize that it is more blessed to give--validation, encouragement, time, energy, and understanding--than to receive.  She will realize how much she didn't realize before she got married.

There is nothing wrong with getting married.  But it has to be done with humility and grace, otherwise you leave a bad taste in everyone else's mouth.

The Fight

The fight is never over, at least on this side of eternity.

We fight our inner demons, insecurities, pettiness, fears, and inadequacies for most of our teens and twenties.  In our thirties, things feel more settled, but there are larger battles with which to contend.

Social injustices.
Economic inequalities.
Friends' lives teetering precariously, on the brink of just OK and much better.

I feel like I've been fighting for my friends lately--my girlfriends who are worth so much and are beautiful to behold, but may not always feel or recognize it.

There is a lot in this world that wants to bring us down, ladies.  Sometimes we just need to tell evil and the devil to get the fuck out of our lives.  And don't forget: the best way to chase out darkness is to let the light in.

"Behind every successful woman is a man who prays," a friend proclaimed recently.  Brothers, would you stand up and fight for the women in your life and champion their integrity, strength, and happiness?

The fight thickens.  Who will join us?