"Do you know what I think my spiritual gift is?" Carson asked me out of the blue one evening.
I thought about it for a second before he answered. My mind instantly went to things like teaching and leading, because he does those very well.
"Hospitality", he said.
It was one that hadn't entered into the realm of possibility for me, but when he said it, a light bulb went on in my head and I thought, "Oh. Of course!"
Of course I'd noticed that Carson was the one who spent his time at parties talking to people he'd never met. I knew that every Sunday, before and after the service, he was off introducing himself to people and making them feel welcome. I knew that he loved being the guy to bring coffee for the office, or the first to offer a ride.
But when he said that, it made sense.
Until Carson said something, things hadn't clicked. But since then, I can't stop thinking about it and thinking of all the times his giftedness in this area has been displayed. Just last week as we were leaving the grocery store at dusk, an older woman approached us and asked for a ride. Were I on my own, I would have said no. It was dark, she lived in a scary part of town, I had just gotten off work, and I was hungry. Plus I didn't know her. But Carson saw a woman that needed a ride because it was dark and cold.
I don't often feel ashamed of myself, but when I see selfless acts like that right in the face of my selfishness, it's humbling.
Were I not married to him, I wouldn't be pushed out of my comfort zone in things like this. Do I love having professors over for dinner? To be honest, no. I don't like small talk, I might burn the meal, and blah-blah-blah a million other excuses. I enjoy having people over for super laid back get-togethers, and generally enjoy it best when I know the people well. His tendancy toward seeking those he doesn't know well is hard, but good.
Marriage is good for me. Not in just a romantic way, but in the sense that there is another person whose faults are there for the world to see, and who sees mine. We don't balance each other in every single way, but in a lot of ways, my strengths are not his, and vice versa. I get a first hand lesson in seeing someone love Jesus and love others through hospitality and get to practice that through his leading in that area.
It is both good and humbling. I am thankful for lessons like this in my life. They make me thankful for my husband and for the God who created us all to serve Him differently; different parts of the Body of Christ working together to make His name great.
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Thursday, September 19, 2013
A Little Yard Work
For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of His purpose, He guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast
anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.
Hebrews 6:16-19
There are a lot of little things in life over which I feel particularly, if unjustifiably, proud.
I have never been stung by a wasp, bee or anything like that.
I have never broken a bone.
I have really good vision and have never needed glasses.
I have a relatively stellar immune system and don't really get sick.
One of those things, for 24.5 years (to the day) of my life was I have never had poison ivy. And I was proud of that, because not only does it seem like a complete nuisance, it's also one of those things that some people seem to get and others seem immune to. I felt like I was in the immunity camp and I truly felt like I had something to do with that. Not being allergic to something made me unique. Strong.
But on the day on which I turned 24 and a half, Carson and I joined our community group for a little yard work at an abandoned house in East Cleveland. I heard "light yard work" and immediately thought that I would be planting flowers and barely getting dirty. This really translated into turning a veritable jungle into a normal looking yard.
We pulled on vines, uprooted small plants, tore out weeds and what had surely been nice looking house plants at one time but were now a complete mess. Machetes, weed whackers and
lawnmowers were used to turn the sad driveway and yard into a decent-looking state.
"I bet there's poison ivy here" I remarked at one point to Carson, who was tearing away at the curtain of vines on the back fence. He has a hawk-like eye when it comes to Poison Ivy and Poison Oak, being severely not-immune to it. He hasn't had a reaction since we've been together, so I never actually saw how bad it could get, but I knew that he kept an eye out in case he ran into the little plants. I'd heard the horror stories and I know he doesn't take chances around that stuff. "I don't think so, I haven't seen any" he replied, dedicating himself once more to the task before him.
It turns out that maybe those hawk-like eyes have deteriorated, since he is, after all, the ripe old age of 26.
I had a couple of little red bumps on my arm that night, but thought nothing of it because I have very sensitive skin, plus I had been attacked by some rather thorny vines. Still, I washed my arms just in case. Carson maintained that there wasn't poison ivy, so nothing was to come of it.
On Facebook the next day, I noticed that someone who'd been there working had gone to the doctor for poison ivy. I knew that Carson was not going to escape its wrath, so I warned him and sure enough, he'd developed some redness on both forearms and knew that it was poison oak. He applied some Caladryl and all was good, or so I thought. I'd read somewhere that putting nail polish on the poison was a helpful move, so I coated my little bumps with a layer of clear topcoat before bed and they looked exactly the same the next morning so I went to work smiling at the fact that I had conquered the beast. I rejoiced when my coworkers confirmed that it was not poison anything.
Carson came home unexpectedly around 4 that afternoon, in pain. I looked at his arms and saw instead what looked very much like a horror movie. It looked identical to the many times I'd scraped my knee, before the wound had healed over. It was truly oozing. It was disgusting. Because of the way it felt, he decided not to go to his evening class. If you know Carson at all, you know that he must have been in a LOT of discomfort.
He took an oatmeal bath to relieve some pain, and I left him soaking in there, eating chips and guac and watching Lord of the Rings while I ran to Target for more medicine/relief.
After I returned with medication, advice from the pharmacist, and the pizza my patient had requested, we settled in for an unexpected night together (he usually has class till 9:30). We spent the evening sitting there watching The West Wing. He couldn't really sit and read or do anything with his hands because of the poison ivy's location, so he sat in the rocking chair with his feet on another chair, feeling miserable (and I wouldn't let him sit on the couch, so he sat there with a towel under his arms. By that time, he determined that I had broken out in poison oak myself (I really do consider him to be an expert in such things... poor guy), but it hadn't spread at all so I was good.
It was a hot evening, so Carson turned on the air. It didn't help at all, so I went to check it a few hours later... and noticed that he'd actually turned on the heat. 85 degrees inside was not a relief for his itchy arms. This isn't important to what I'm saying, it was just sort of funny.
I did something that apparently one should not do when one has a poison oak rash - I exercised. After cooling down with some jumping jacks, I looked at my arms and noticed that I most certainly had more bumps than I'd had before I got up. Apparently the blood rushing around had made the reaction that was under my skin manifest itself. My turn to apply the Caladryl. My, how nice that stuff feels.
We got through the evening (Carson had one more bath, two more showers) and went to bed. Carson got up at 3 for yet another oatmeal bath. The next morning, he was off to the doctor for a steroid shot. It turns out that it gets worse before it gets better, so a truly uncomfortable weekend was on the horizon for Carson. (My reaction never got to be as bad as his; the doctor even said that his was one of the more serious reactions she'd seen, and I read somewhere that the steroids make it a little worse at first because they're pushing the bad stuff out).
"I don't react to that", I'd bragged before. Actually, I guess I've never really encountered it. I still don't know if I'd react the same to poison ivy, but apparently I've merely been lucky when pulling weeds in the past (which hasn't been often, so maybe that's it).
Since it was my first reaction, I didn't have the response to the oils in the same way that Carson did. That's a relief, because it would have been terrible to have both of us unable to get anything for ourselves until we healed.
On my part, a lesson in humility was discovered. For so long I'd been proud of this very minor thing. I was not the weak one who succumbed to a little plant.
I learned, quite simply, that pride goes before a fall.
(Or an outbreak of annoying, itchy rash)
So much of life has proved to be unexpected. Miscarriage, where we'll live in a year, missing passports (!!!) unexpected financial scenarios, all kinds of things big and little. Because of the things I fear, I often wrap myself with pride in things I feel I can count on in life. Things like great eyesight (now I'm terrified to go to the eye doctor - what if I need glasses?!) and bones that haven't ever cracked. Though I really have zero control over these things, they make me feel safe. They're predictable, something to wrap around myself like bubble wrap when facing the more unexpected twists and turns in life.
While arbitrary, these are things that I feel are obvious matters of pride. Why? Because they are things that are my safety blanket instead of Jesus.
When my security is in something stupid like "I never get poison ivy", my security can quickly crumble and fail. Jesus cannot fail and I know that, but I still cling to the tangible. I want measured, visible security and safety and sometimes security in my Savior seems anything but secure. Trusting Jesus is a wild ride with promise and a hope, scary like a roller coaster where you know you're safe and will get to the end in one piece, but while you're upside down at 90 miles an hour, it doesn't feel safe. Putting faith in things instead of the Person of Christ has long been a struggle of mine. Trusting Him fully instead of relying on those little seat belts of pride is what I really need to do.
Poison oak was a security blanket wake up call for me. I have THIS hope, the hope of eternal life in Jesus Christ, the hope of peace and security NO MATTER WHAT the twists and turns of life might bring.
This hope is to be an anchor of my soul, the very core of my being. If I rely on matters of pride as my sense of security, I am losing out. Jesus Christ is so much better.
anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.
Hebrews 6:16-19
There are a lot of little things in life over which I feel particularly, if unjustifiably, proud.
I have never been stung by a wasp, bee or anything like that.
I have never broken a bone.
I have really good vision and have never needed glasses.
I have a relatively stellar immune system and don't really get sick.
One of those things, for 24.5 years (to the day) of my life was I have never had poison ivy. And I was proud of that, because not only does it seem like a complete nuisance, it's also one of those things that some people seem to get and others seem immune to. I felt like I was in the immunity camp and I truly felt like I had something to do with that. Not being allergic to something made me unique. Strong.
But on the day on which I turned 24 and a half, Carson and I joined our community group for a little yard work at an abandoned house in East Cleveland. I heard "light yard work" and immediately thought that I would be planting flowers and barely getting dirty. This really translated into turning a veritable jungle into a normal looking yard.
We pulled on vines, uprooted small plants, tore out weeds and what had surely been nice looking house plants at one time but were now a complete mess. Machetes, weed whackers and
lawnmowers were used to turn the sad driveway and yard into a decent-looking state.
"I bet there's poison ivy here" I remarked at one point to Carson, who was tearing away at the curtain of vines on the back fence. He has a hawk-like eye when it comes to Poison Ivy and Poison Oak, being severely not-immune to it. He hasn't had a reaction since we've been together, so I never actually saw how bad it could get, but I knew that he kept an eye out in case he ran into the little plants. I'd heard the horror stories and I know he doesn't take chances around that stuff. "I don't think so, I haven't seen any" he replied, dedicating himself once more to the task before him.
It turns out that maybe those hawk-like eyes have deteriorated, since he is, after all, the ripe old age of 26.
I had a couple of little red bumps on my arm that night, but thought nothing of it because I have very sensitive skin, plus I had been attacked by some rather thorny vines. Still, I washed my arms just in case. Carson maintained that there wasn't poison ivy, so nothing was to come of it.
On Facebook the next day, I noticed that someone who'd been there working had gone to the doctor for poison ivy. I knew that Carson was not going to escape its wrath, so I warned him and sure enough, he'd developed some redness on both forearms and knew that it was poison oak. He applied some Caladryl and all was good, or so I thought. I'd read somewhere that putting nail polish on the poison was a helpful move, so I coated my little bumps with a layer of clear topcoat before bed and they looked exactly the same the next morning so I went to work smiling at the fact that I had conquered the beast. I rejoiced when my coworkers confirmed that it was not poison anything.
Carson came home unexpectedly around 4 that afternoon, in pain. I looked at his arms and saw instead what looked very much like a horror movie. It looked identical to the many times I'd scraped my knee, before the wound had healed over. It was truly oozing. It was disgusting. Because of the way it felt, he decided not to go to his evening class. If you know Carson at all, you know that he must have been in a LOT of discomfort.
He took an oatmeal bath to relieve some pain, and I left him soaking in there, eating chips and guac and watching Lord of the Rings while I ran to Target for more medicine/relief.
After I returned with medication, advice from the pharmacist, and the pizza my patient had requested, we settled in for an unexpected night together (he usually has class till 9:30). We spent the evening sitting there watching The West Wing. He couldn't really sit and read or do anything with his hands because of the poison ivy's location, so he sat in the rocking chair with his feet on another chair, feeling miserable (and I wouldn't let him sit on the couch, so he sat there with a towel under his arms. By that time, he determined that I had broken out in poison oak myself (I really do consider him to be an expert in such things... poor guy), but it hadn't spread at all so I was good.
It was a hot evening, so Carson turned on the air. It didn't help at all, so I went to check it a few hours later... and noticed that he'd actually turned on the heat. 85 degrees inside was not a relief for his itchy arms. This isn't important to what I'm saying, it was just sort of funny.
I did something that apparently one should not do when one has a poison oak rash - I exercised. After cooling down with some jumping jacks, I looked at my arms and noticed that I most certainly had more bumps than I'd had before I got up. Apparently the blood rushing around had made the reaction that was under my skin manifest itself. My turn to apply the Caladryl. My, how nice that stuff feels.
We got through the evening (Carson had one more bath, two more showers) and went to bed. Carson got up at 3 for yet another oatmeal bath. The next morning, he was off to the doctor for a steroid shot. It turns out that it gets worse before it gets better, so a truly uncomfortable weekend was on the horizon for Carson. (My reaction never got to be as bad as his; the doctor even said that his was one of the more serious reactions she'd seen, and I read somewhere that the steroids make it a little worse at first because they're pushing the bad stuff out).
"I don't react to that", I'd bragged before. Actually, I guess I've never really encountered it. I still don't know if I'd react the same to poison ivy, but apparently I've merely been lucky when pulling weeds in the past (which hasn't been often, so maybe that's it).
Since it was my first reaction, I didn't have the response to the oils in the same way that Carson did. That's a relief, because it would have been terrible to have both of us unable to get anything for ourselves until we healed.
On my part, a lesson in humility was discovered. For so long I'd been proud of this very minor thing. I was not the weak one who succumbed to a little plant.
I learned, quite simply, that pride goes before a fall.
(Or an outbreak of annoying, itchy rash)
So much of life has proved to be unexpected. Miscarriage, where we'll live in a year, missing passports (!!!) unexpected financial scenarios, all kinds of things big and little. Because of the things I fear, I often wrap myself with pride in things I feel I can count on in life. Things like great eyesight (now I'm terrified to go to the eye doctor - what if I need glasses?!) and bones that haven't ever cracked. Though I really have zero control over these things, they make me feel safe. They're predictable, something to wrap around myself like bubble wrap when facing the more unexpected twists and turns in life.
While arbitrary, these are things that I feel are obvious matters of pride. Why? Because they are things that are my safety blanket instead of Jesus.
When my security is in something stupid like "I never get poison ivy", my security can quickly crumble and fail. Jesus cannot fail and I know that, but I still cling to the tangible. I want measured, visible security and safety and sometimes security in my Savior seems anything but secure. Trusting Jesus is a wild ride with promise and a hope, scary like a roller coaster where you know you're safe and will get to the end in one piece, but while you're upside down at 90 miles an hour, it doesn't feel safe. Putting faith in things instead of the Person of Christ has long been a struggle of mine. Trusting Him fully instead of relying on those little seat belts of pride is what I really need to do.
Poison oak was a security blanket wake up call for me. I have THIS hope, the hope of eternal life in Jesus Christ, the hope of peace and security NO MATTER WHAT the twists and turns of life might bring.
This hope is to be an anchor of my soul, the very core of my being. If I rely on matters of pride as my sense of security, I am losing out. Jesus Christ is so much better.
(be glad that THIS is the picture I chose for illustration.)
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Grad School
Decisions, decisions -- that's the story of the past few weeks.
There are several big things in our life right now. The biggest one that consumes a great deal of our thinking is grad school. Carson applied to fifteen schools for the fall. FIFTEEN.
In the past week, we've been receiving responses. For the sake of keeping you updated, here are the schools that have said "Yes!":
Trinity Western University (Langley, BC, Canada)
George Fox Divinity School (Portland, OR)
Wheaton College (Wheaton, IL)
Marquette University (Milwaukee, WI)
St. Louis University (St. Louis, MO)
Candler Divinity School (the Divinity School of Emory University: Decatur, GA)
Duke (Durham, NC)
And the no:
University of North Carolina (Chapel Hill, NC)
Brandeis University (Boston, MA)
Catholic University of America (Washington DC)
Notre Dame (South Bend, IN)
And there are a couple of others that we don't know about yet but they're not really important ones.
The number one choice was Notre Dame. Carson could tell you all about why. He was so passionate about that school and the program they had. He was super excited about the possibility of going there and as he got acceptances from other good schools, he was encouraged and thought that maybe he'd get in. Chances were slim (almost 200 applicants and only 10 get in) but if God wanted him there, then he'd get in.
It's on the "No" list so you know what happened there. He found out the day before my birthday. It was the very last school to contact him.
The list of schools we'll actually go to is smaller than the list of acceptances. We can't really afford just any school, so if an assistantship position was not offered or a stipend was not given, the schools won't really be considered. We're waiting to find out which schools want to offer money right now.
But one of the reasons I'm sharing this is because so much of the family and friends we'd like to keep informed is forever away. So this is for you.
And by the way, we're excited for the possibility of being closer to the east coast. Every place we get accepted I look at the driving distance between that place and Beaufort. 16 hour drive? Woohoo! 11 hours? Yes! 5 hours? Please! So I guess this is also teaching us perspective :)
Please pray about these schools with us.
Pray that if we should take out a loan to go to a certain school, that it would be clear.
Pray for our finances (moving this summer, finding a place, rent in a new city, renting a moving truck)
Pray for logistics (moving, housing, etc)
Pray for peace and continued trust in the Lord (Philippians 4:6-7)
Pray that if we're supposed to take a totally different path, that it would also be abundantly clear.
Thank you dear friends for coming on this journey with us. It's been so neat to see God working through this application process. I know so many were praying and fasting with us each week in light of this school thing. So neat to see the body of Christ work in that way even though it's all over the country/world. Keep us in your prayers!
There are several big things in our life right now. The biggest one that consumes a great deal of our thinking is grad school. Carson applied to fifteen schools for the fall. FIFTEEN.
In the past week, we've been receiving responses. For the sake of keeping you updated, here are the schools that have said "Yes!":
Trinity Western University (Langley, BC, Canada)
George Fox Divinity School (Portland, OR)
Wheaton College (Wheaton, IL)
Marquette University (Milwaukee, WI)
St. Louis University (St. Louis, MO)
Candler Divinity School (the Divinity School of Emory University: Decatur, GA)
Duke (Durham, NC)
And the no:
University of North Carolina (Chapel Hill, NC)
Brandeis University (Boston, MA)
Catholic University of America (Washington DC)
Notre Dame (South Bend, IN)
And there are a couple of others that we don't know about yet but they're not really important ones.
The number one choice was Notre Dame. Carson could tell you all about why. He was so passionate about that school and the program they had. He was super excited about the possibility of going there and as he got acceptances from other good schools, he was encouraged and thought that maybe he'd get in. Chances were slim (almost 200 applicants and only 10 get in) but if God wanted him there, then he'd get in.
It's on the "No" list so you know what happened there. He found out the day before my birthday. It was the very last school to contact him.
The list of schools we'll actually go to is smaller than the list of acceptances. We can't really afford just any school, so if an assistantship position was not offered or a stipend was not given, the schools won't really be considered. We're waiting to find out which schools want to offer money right now.
But one of the reasons I'm sharing this is because so much of the family and friends we'd like to keep informed is forever away. So this is for you.
And by the way, we're excited for the possibility of being closer to the east coast. Every place we get accepted I look at the driving distance between that place and Beaufort. 16 hour drive? Woohoo! 11 hours? Yes! 5 hours? Please! So I guess this is also teaching us perspective :)
Please pray about these schools with us.
Pray that if we should take out a loan to go to a certain school, that it would be clear.
Pray for our finances (moving this summer, finding a place, rent in a new city, renting a moving truck)
Pray for logistics (moving, housing, etc)
Pray for peace and continued trust in the Lord (Philippians 4:6-7)
Pray that if we're supposed to take a totally different path, that it would also be abundantly clear.
Thank you dear friends for coming on this journey with us. It's been so neat to see God working through this application process. I know so many were praying and fasting with us each week in light of this school thing. So neat to see the body of Christ work in that way even though it's all over the country/world. Keep us in your prayers!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
missionary training?
It's sort of funny that this is the kind of "hardship" I'm posting about because let's be honest, it's not a hardship.
At the moment, I have sore arms. Very sore. Why's that?
The washing machine decided to be ridiculous and fill up with water and then just sit there, all wet and covered in soap. So sweet Stephanie and I wrung the water out of the clothes, I hauled them upstairs (it was heavy) and rinsed the soap out in the bathtub. After that, they were ready to be wrung out again and thrown in the dryer.
Now I'm sore. And sort of embarrassed that I consider this a hardship. What an easy life I really lead!
Thursday, August 25, 2011
a conclusion to this chapter
It's hard to re-cap this summer's trials and triumphs in a short post, so I won't. You don't have to read this, but I'm writing to record all that the Lord has done in our lives this summer.
This summer, we made a decision that involved Carson moving three hours away to pursue wildland fire-fighting while I stayed on in Spokane, took classes and worked with the church. We made this decision in February or March, several months out from the separation actually taking place.
It's great to plan ahead, but perhaps better to think through those decisions.
As you know, I cried like Carson was never coming back. I had no idea that I had so many tears stored up, no clue that I would be so emotional. He says he cried too (but I think he means that he was just sad). We quickly realized that we had made a decision that was good in theory (making more money this summer for school) but not our wisest. We were stuck in this situation because he was committed to work for the Forest Service and I was committed to take summer classes, do VBS, and various other commitments.
The plan was for him to be gone June - October or November, depending on when the fire season ended.
And then... he broke his foot on July 24. He was running with the guys on his crew and must have tripped or something. He thought it was "just sprained" so he kept running. I thought running on a sprained foot was bad for you, but either way, he kept going for a few miles and then it started to hurt horribly, so he went back. He got the day off work and went to the doctor in the morning. His foot was BROKEN. That night, he drove to Olympia with his foot in a boot and hobbling around on crutches.
So what's next?
We have prayed so much about the next step. Carson was given the opportunity to audit two language classes through Moody that will give him more advantage in his graduate studies, the classes beginning August 23. He was offered a job by a friend at church. It seemed that in all of our prayers, the Lord was leading Carson back to Spokane at the end of August.
Am I happy about this?
Well, obviously! I am thrilled that we'll be together and convinced that absence DOES make the heart grow fonder. We've gotten closer (or at least more similar in mindset) during our separation and that's been so great!
Was the summer hard?
Yes. But as I've said to a lot of people, I was very busy. Carson was the one who probably took it hardest - he had lonely nights and weekends whereas I was surrounded by friends. He worked Sundays and missed out on fellowship while I live with solid, amazing people and go to a fabulous church. I'm not saying I didn't miss him - I do, and I've noticed that I don't sleep as well when he's gone (even though I've had two roommates this summer).
How was the summer good?
The six classes I was able to take, helping teach for VBS, spending time with friends, going to Pennsylvania, going to see Carson twice (and him visiting also), living with two wonderful girls (Josie and Erica), going to two weddings... but I would say that most of all, we've both grown spiritually.
Growth
I can see it in Carson more than in myself. He's had a hard time being alone over there, his only company the neighbor's dog (which he befriended by sneaking her sausage dogs...knew he'd be a sucker for dogs after all). But the Lord has definitely used this time in his life. He's done a LOT of reading - philosophy, history, literature, languages - and is always excited to share his findings. He has a ton of time to read Scripture and pray, and the quietness of the setting he's in at night certainly lends to his getting to read and meditate. He's become more driven (if that's possible), more intentional, more gentle when we're together, more patient, more understanding, quicker to listen, to encourage, and to share his love for me.
Most of all, I've seen him grow in his acceptance of "the foot thing". He was so excited to go and fight fires, hoping to go on assignment and be active all summer, and then a pesky little bone had to go and break. But all the Lord had been doing in his life was evident as he confirmed that he was totally fine with the break, trusting God for the next step.
Letters
We wrote letters back and forth and while mine are basically a play-by-play written the way I talk, happy and cheery, his are rather wordy, eloquent and even romantic. Comparing the letters makes me laugh. He addresses his to me in a different way each time on the envelope ("The Beautiful Redhead"; "Lindsay, daughter of David, of the Island of Browns") and seals each one with a wax seal. He did the same during our long-distance summer of dating, and I absolutely love it. I need a box for these letters. I'm sentimental and don't want to lose them.
Prayer
If you're wondering how to pray, here are some specifics: Since Carson has been gone for about a week short of three months, getting used to living life together is going to be strange. The dynamics are different since his work schedule isn't crazy and I'm not working but going to school full-time. But learning to live together has already proved to be strange. We've lived "alone" (I had roommates) for the summer, and the time before that was honestly not super scheduled so we didn't have a routine at all. I'm looking forward to having that pattern to our days. Please pray for us to figure it out and to grow closer!
What about the next chapter?
This fall, Carson will work full-time, audit a second year of Greek and a first year of German (his job has really flexible hours that allow for the classes AND will allow him to be home at night!). I will not be working, but taking classes full-time. We'll continue to live in the Reilly Building, clean the church and do ministry with CTR. Carson is applying to graduate programs right now but we probably will not have news on that until March. I intend to graduate in May of next year and in the summer following, will complete my internship requirements (couldn't this summer because of classes). We will probably move next summer after finding out where we'll get to go for grad school.
This could very well be our last year in Spokane, but we know that the Lord is the one who determines our steps.
Or in Carson's case, our crutches :)
This summer, we made a decision that involved Carson moving three hours away to pursue wildland fire-fighting while I stayed on in Spokane, took classes and worked with the church. We made this decision in February or March, several months out from the separation actually taking place.
It's great to plan ahead, but perhaps better to think through those decisions.
As you know, I cried like Carson was never coming back. I had no idea that I had so many tears stored up, no clue that I would be so emotional. He says he cried too (but I think he means that he was just sad). We quickly realized that we had made a decision that was good in theory (making more money this summer for school) but not our wisest. We were stuck in this situation because he was committed to work for the Forest Service and I was committed to take summer classes, do VBS, and various other commitments.
The plan was for him to be gone June - October or November, depending on when the fire season ended.
And then... he broke his foot on July 24. He was running with the guys on his crew and must have tripped or something. He thought it was "just sprained" so he kept running. I thought running on a sprained foot was bad for you, but either way, he kept going for a few miles and then it started to hurt horribly, so he went back. He got the day off work and went to the doctor in the morning. His foot was BROKEN. That night, he drove to Olympia with his foot in a boot and hobbling around on crutches.
 |
| The infamous cripple :( |
We have prayed so much about the next step. Carson was given the opportunity to audit two language classes through Moody that will give him more advantage in his graduate studies, the classes beginning August 23. He was offered a job by a friend at church. It seemed that in all of our prayers, the Lord was leading Carson back to Spokane at the end of August.
Am I happy about this?
Well, obviously! I am thrilled that we'll be together and convinced that absence DOES make the heart grow fonder. We've gotten closer (or at least more similar in mindset) during our separation and that's been so great!
Was the summer hard?
Yes. But as I've said to a lot of people, I was very busy. Carson was the one who probably took it hardest - he had lonely nights and weekends whereas I was surrounded by friends. He worked Sundays and missed out on fellowship while I live with solid, amazing people and go to a fabulous church. I'm not saying I didn't miss him - I do, and I've noticed that I don't sleep as well when he's gone (even though I've had two roommates this summer).
How was the summer good?
The six classes I was able to take, helping teach for VBS, spending time with friends, going to Pennsylvania, going to see Carson twice (and him visiting also), living with two wonderful girls (Josie and Erica), going to two weddings... but I would say that most of all, we've both grown spiritually.
Growth
I can see it in Carson more than in myself. He's had a hard time being alone over there, his only company the neighbor's dog (which he befriended by sneaking her sausage dogs...knew he'd be a sucker for dogs after all). But the Lord has definitely used this time in his life. He's done a LOT of reading - philosophy, history, literature, languages - and is always excited to share his findings. He has a ton of time to read Scripture and pray, and the quietness of the setting he's in at night certainly lends to his getting to read and meditate. He's become more driven (if that's possible), more intentional, more gentle when we're together, more patient, more understanding, quicker to listen, to encourage, and to share his love for me.
Most of all, I've seen him grow in his acceptance of "the foot thing". He was so excited to go and fight fires, hoping to go on assignment and be active all summer, and then a pesky little bone had to go and break. But all the Lord had been doing in his life was evident as he confirmed that he was totally fine with the break, trusting God for the next step.
Letters
We wrote letters back and forth and while mine are basically a play-by-play written the way I talk, happy and cheery, his are rather wordy, eloquent and even romantic. Comparing the letters makes me laugh. He addresses his to me in a different way each time on the envelope ("The Beautiful Redhead"; "Lindsay, daughter of David, of the Island of Browns") and seals each one with a wax seal. He did the same during our long-distance summer of dating, and I absolutely love it. I need a box for these letters. I'm sentimental and don't want to lose them.
Prayer
If you're wondering how to pray, here are some specifics: Since Carson has been gone for about a week short of three months, getting used to living life together is going to be strange. The dynamics are different since his work schedule isn't crazy and I'm not working but going to school full-time. But learning to live together has already proved to be strange. We've lived "alone" (I had roommates) for the summer, and the time before that was honestly not super scheduled so we didn't have a routine at all. I'm looking forward to having that pattern to our days. Please pray for us to figure it out and to grow closer!
What about the next chapter?
This fall, Carson will work full-time, audit a second year of Greek and a first year of German (his job has really flexible hours that allow for the classes AND will allow him to be home at night!). I will not be working, but taking classes full-time. We'll continue to live in the Reilly Building, clean the church and do ministry with CTR. Carson is applying to graduate programs right now but we probably will not have news on that until March. I intend to graduate in May of next year and in the summer following, will complete my internship requirements (couldn't this summer because of classes). We will probably move next summer after finding out where we'll get to go for grad school.
This could very well be our last year in Spokane, but we know that the Lord is the one who determines our steps.
Or in Carson's case, our crutches :)
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
change
Change is upon us.
I think change used to be more of a surprise. Now, it's more of a familiar friend. We aren't sure what it will be, but we recognize it.
I didn't mention it online yet, but my last day of work was last week. No more being there at 7:30am.
This week marks the last week of the semester. Classes are finished, papers turned in, presentations given, exams passed. Whew. I think this makes me a senior... finally.
This week, Carson will take the GRE. Pray for him!
This week, Carson will graduate. He's finished his undergrad! Yay!
Next week, I will start full-time classes. Well, one class. It's a three week intensive. I have four directed study classes this summer also. And my online class for the summer began this week. So I'll be busy studying this summer, which I'm not entirely thrilled about.
The week after next, the real challenge will come. Carson is moving.
Yes, just Carson. He'll be working a full fire season this year (till about November) since he doesn't have school in the fall. He will live in the place we lived last summer. And yes, I will stay here. It makes sense logistically even though it kind of stinks.
For five months.
Okay, it really stinks.
But it's only three hours away. He'll be busy, I'll be busy. It will be hard. But we plan to talk a lot, travel when we can, and write letters like we did when we were dating long-distance. Like the summers before it, it will be a little different.
Different is the new normal.
Change is upon us.
I think change used to be more of a surprise. Now, it's more of a familiar friend. We aren't sure what it will be, but we recognize it.
I didn't mention it online yet, but my last day of work was last week. No more being there at 7:30am.
This week marks the last week of the semester. Classes are finished, papers turned in, presentations given, exams passed. Whew. I think this makes me a senior... finally.
This week, Carson will take the GRE. Pray for him!
This week, Carson will graduate. He's finished his undergrad! Yay!
Next week, I will start full-time classes. Well, one class. It's a three week intensive. I have four directed study classes this summer also. And my online class for the summer began this week. So I'll be busy studying this summer, which I'm not entirely thrilled about.
The week after next, the real challenge will come. Carson is moving.
Yes, just Carson. He'll be working a full fire season this year (till about November) since he doesn't have school in the fall. He will live in the place we lived last summer. And yes, I will stay here. It makes sense logistically even though it kind of stinks.
For five months.
Okay, it really stinks.
But it's only three hours away. He'll be busy, I'll be busy. It will be hard. But we plan to talk a lot, travel when we can, and write letters like we did when we were dating long-distance. Like the summers before it, it will be a little different.
Different is the new normal.
Change is upon us.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Where Are Your Eyes?
I find myself often looking ahead.
This isn't a bad thing; it's perfectly fine (and often smart) to plan ahead.
And looking ahead while, say, driving, is the best thing to do.
But I'm talking about the looking ahead and wishing the present weren't the present.
Last year at this time, I was engaged. We were engaged for nine months, which is fairly average, I believe. But it's also a pretty long time. During that time, I moved twice, attended a semester of school, worked a couple of jobs, lived on both sides of the state and oh, planned a wedding. It was a busy time. It was a transitional stage, which was quite often not the best of places to be.
I struggled quite a bit with discontent during that stage of life. I guess it was pretty obvious that that would happen, given the fact that Carson lived six hours away from the months of January through April, and then 3,000 miles away from April till we got married in May. I got tired of thinking of weddings and wanted to just start the life we'd been talking about for nine months. Talking about something and waiting to do it gets old really fast. (side note: I really respect the people who have dated/been engaged longer than I did/was because I have no idea how they did it.)
This year, I'm married. And I do love the life we're living. The apartment, the people I'm around, the church family we are a part of, the school community. Seriously, we've got it made.
And wouldn't you know it, I still struggle with discontent:
"I love this life... but..."
It's the "but" that's the problem. The little areas where I'm not satisfied, not 100% okay with what I've been given. They're so small but terribly tricky.
And for the sake of transparency, here are a few:
...but I wish I had the time to run more. I really do. I love running but running before work is ew. And running after? I'm tired and it's dark.
...but I see my friends who are pregnant and a part of me really desires that. Yes, really, Mom and mother-in-law and people who are praying for this to happen. (there's also that part that screams with reminders of my own childishness)
...but I wish Carson and I had more time together. Our schedules are not optimal. And for this being our first year of marriage, perhaps we shouldn't have committed ourselves to so much... oh well... live and learn.
...but I want to be near _____ (friends and family who live really far away and I haven't seen and won't see for a long time)
These things aren't bad.
But these things are NOT where God has me right now. It's not the life I have been given, so there's no point in trying to live in hope for that.
Right now, my hope should be in Christ.
I should live in light of what He's done for me.
I should be thankful for the abundant blessings given to me.
I should praise Him for being so faithful.
I have not one thing to complain about (except too much stuff... bummer... being so provided for?). Not one thing to express discontent about.
I'm human. I'll find things to wish for and get upset about, but where are my eyes looking? Toward Him or toward what I want?
(and do I really want to answer that question?)
This isn't a bad thing; it's perfectly fine (and often smart) to plan ahead.
And looking ahead while, say, driving, is the best thing to do.
But I'm talking about the looking ahead and wishing the present weren't the present.
Last year at this time, I was engaged. We were engaged for nine months, which is fairly average, I believe. But it's also a pretty long time. During that time, I moved twice, attended a semester of school, worked a couple of jobs, lived on both sides of the state and oh, planned a wedding. It was a busy time. It was a transitional stage, which was quite often not the best of places to be.
I struggled quite a bit with discontent during that stage of life. I guess it was pretty obvious that that would happen, given the fact that Carson lived six hours away from the months of January through April, and then 3,000 miles away from April till we got married in May. I got tired of thinking of weddings and wanted to just start the life we'd been talking about for nine months. Talking about something and waiting to do it gets old really fast. (side note: I really respect the people who have dated/been engaged longer than I did/was because I have no idea how they did it.)
This year, I'm married. And I do love the life we're living. The apartment, the people I'm around, the church family we are a part of, the school community. Seriously, we've got it made.
And wouldn't you know it, I still struggle with discontent:
"I love this life... but..."
It's the "but" that's the problem. The little areas where I'm not satisfied, not 100% okay with what I've been given. They're so small but terribly tricky.
And for the sake of transparency, here are a few:
...but I wish I had the time to run more. I really do. I love running but running before work is ew. And running after? I'm tired and it's dark.
...but I see my friends who are pregnant and a part of me really desires that. Yes, really, Mom and mother-in-law and people who are praying for this to happen. (there's also that part that screams with reminders of my own childishness)
...but I wish Carson and I had more time together. Our schedules are not optimal. And for this being our first year of marriage, perhaps we shouldn't have committed ourselves to so much... oh well... live and learn.
...but I want to be near _____ (friends and family who live really far away and I haven't seen and won't see for a long time)
These things aren't bad.
But these things are NOT where God has me right now. It's not the life I have been given, so there's no point in trying to live in hope for that.
Right now, my hope should be in Christ.
I should live in light of what He's done for me.
I should be thankful for the abundant blessings given to me.
I should praise Him for being so faithful.
I have not one thing to complain about (except too much stuff... bummer... being so provided for?). Not one thing to express discontent about.
I'm human. I'll find things to wish for and get upset about, but where are my eyes looking? Toward Him or toward what I want?
(and do I really want to answer that question?)
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
rest
I'm sitting in front of a window looking at the sky, painted with watercolored shades of blue and yellow. The sun gleams over the edges of clouds (I always think it looks like heaven when it does that). It's a peaceful Tuesday night sunset and yes, I'm enjoying it with a computer in front of me, but I'm pleased to be enjoying it at all.
Things have been so busy lately. Nothing out of control or awful, just little time for the quiet.
Lately, I have discovered that I need the quiet. I need the downtime it provides, the rest and sleep, the ability to get things done that are just background, small things... quiet is something I crave without realizing it.
{And when I do realize it, it's only after I've gotten really cranky.}
I think we were created for these down times. To enjoy a sunset in a quiet house. To sip coffee or tea when no one is around. To spend time digging in a garden for some, reading a book for others, and perhaps even taking a nap. These times of rest can be worshipful as we enjoy the creation we've been given.
We can also enjoy the Creator through the fact that we get super tired (and yes, cranky) when we don't have those moments. We were made not just to be alone but to take time off. God Himself worked for six days and then took a rest on the seventh. I'm pretty sure God doesn't get tired (He's invincible!) but He made that space in time to rest for a moment.
As Christians, it's a little hard to argue with the fact that since God rested, we should follow that model.
Yes, that was the excuse for a nap that you were looking for. To cancel what you weren't looking forward to doing tonight because you've been DOING for as long as you can remember. To let the dishes soak while you go enjoy the sunset.
Maybe rest is just what you need... a little focus on Him, a little breath of air in the middle of your 9-5?
Along with all that He created, I'd agree that is is good.
:)
NOT what I'm looking at right now... this was taken on our honeymoon. If you need to, click on it to make it big and soak up the peaceful feel of this picture :D
Friday, February 18, 2011
Line Leader
When you were little, were you ever chosen to be line leader?
The line leader is the person the teacher has selected as best listener. This special individual has been noticed for sitting down, following directions, keeping hands in their lap, and not talking when the teacher is speaking. Line leader is an important distinction. You stand proud as you walk to the lunch room, leading your classmates down the hall.
I use this example for two reasons. The first is because five days a week, I see this carried out. Three times a day, we form a line to snack and lunch and someone is chosen to lead the group. With head held high, the line leader carries out his or her duty with excellence and a certain amount of pride.
Secondly I use it because it is a reminder. To be the line leader is to be different from everyone else. You're one of them, but you were the only one chosen to lead. Might we say set apart? Chosen?
Last night Carson and I were studying Colossians 3:12 - "So as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."
"Because you have been given a distinction [salvation, line leader :)] act this way..."
We got some specifics out of it too but I thought I'd share that little story and illustration with you :)
The line leader is the person the teacher has selected as best listener. This special individual has been noticed for sitting down, following directions, keeping hands in their lap, and not talking when the teacher is speaking. Line leader is an important distinction. You stand proud as you walk to the lunch room, leading your classmates down the hall.
I use this example for two reasons. The first is because five days a week, I see this carried out. Three times a day, we form a line to snack and lunch and someone is chosen to lead the group. With head held high, the line leader carries out his or her duty with excellence and a certain amount of pride.
Secondly I use it because it is a reminder. To be the line leader is to be different from everyone else. You're one of them, but you were the only one chosen to lead. Might we say set apart? Chosen?
Last night Carson and I were studying Colossians 3:12 - "So as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."
"Because you have been given a distinction [salvation, line leader :)] act this way..."
We got some specifics out of it too but I thought I'd share that little story and illustration with you :)
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
flushed.
A bowl of brown rice.
What could the implications be?
I'm trying to eat better, attempting to show you how I made a delicious meal?
Um. NO.
Neither of those things are remotely true.
I am ashamed to say that hidden in that rice is my cell phone.
Which fell out of my pocket and into a toilet I had just finished cleaning at work.
Plop! Gasp! Realization. Embarassment.
(relief that it was at least clean...)
I've heard/read that the best way to revive a wet phone is to leave it in rice for 24 hours.
So I did.
And 26 hours later, it works!
Monday, January 10, 2011
it's funny
It's funny to think that a place I didn't know existed has taken so much of my heart. Tons of firsts, tons of growth -- both spiritually and physically in a "hey-I'm-living-on-my-own" kind of way. Figuring out that to pay rent one must have money. To understand that budgets are lovely things to have before going to the store. To realize that shopping on an empty stomach is a bad idea... especially for said budget.
It's funny that this was just a bump on the road for my plans. That I would be here for a school year and then be gone, off to a bigger, windier city. Never would I have thought that I would change my plan, my direction, and choose to stay. And for a boy? Unthinkable. I've been here for two and a half years and though that's not a very long time, it's long enough to be familiar with this place, to consider it home.
It's funny to look ahead to the future. To think that this "bump on the road" has been such a joy, and that it will be hard to leave. That a school I've come to love will be left behind, and people who've entered its doors from near and far (like I have), will exit and go on to something else. We probably won't be here forever. We'll leave and maybe visit but this won't be home anymore. This is part of life as it is, but not life as it will be. It keeps going.
It's funny to think that there will be new lessons, new streets to ascertain, new city laws to figure out. There will be more apartments, more class registrations, and more moving boxes. There will be different people, plans, promises to trust.
Life isn't about staying in one place. It goes on. And whether it goes on and you live in the Northwest for the rest of your life or it goes on and you move to a different continent, country or school, change happens. Growth happens. And it's good.
Isn't it funny?
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Life isn't about me...
That's like the tagline of how my day went. It wasn't the best day ever. Not bad, per se, but the formula smell seeping through my clothing really captures the essence of the day. Everyone was fussy, everyone in a weird mood. No one slept long enough. And perhaps I really DO mean everybody, employees included.
Those kinds of things don't make or break the day though.
They really don't even define it. They're just things that happened. Things I don't have to go home to and live with, but things I leave behind when I've punched the time card. I like that. Not that I wouldn't love to have a kid of my own (some day), but I'm glad that I don't have eight babies ranging in age from 3-12 months. Not that it's possible, I'm just glad.
Relatively, this was not a bad day. Certainly not ideal. But I'm (re)learning that life isn't about me.
These babies will learn it someday. For now, they cry when they're hungry, sleepy, want to be held, or have a "surprise" for me to change.
Me? Life can't be about me, because that's really not who I am. Not who I should be. As a job, I get paid to serve little babies. As part of life, I shouldn't be paid to have others first. It should indeed be who I am as a child of God.
Serving my family (which is just my husband for now), God, and those around me is what I should do, joyfully, with love. It should come from a thankful heart.
I know these things. I feel like I've known them forever. But they're truths that are finally seeping into my
Totally corny, but I hope this is a truth that seeps in and sets just as that formula smell.
... Speaking of, I think it's time for a shower...
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Back Where I Didn't Want to Be
[alternately titled: "Guess What? I DON'T Know Best"]
Sometimes you pray for something... and it doesn't happen.
Sometimes you think something is God's will... and it doesn't work out.
What to do? Is God a liar? Should you quit praying?
Obviously, the answer to that is a good sound NO. But sometimes it's easy to get a little upset at the one who made the universe:
"God, I really wanted that! THIS is how I hoped that would go!" (like He didn't know)
This is something I experienced this week. You see, retail and I aren't best buddies. I don't mind it so much, but when it comes to selling something, I'm not so great. Being cheerful and kinda fake and making conversation... well, I use the excuse that I was homeschooled and therefore lack the know-how.
So I went to another interview last week (the day after I started my job). They said they'd call Friday or Monday.
We prayed that God would show where I should be. Because the hours at the other job were better, the schedule was more fitting, and the job wasn't something I was uncomfortable doing, I pretty much expected a call back. When the job I currently have didn't call me with my schedule for the week, I thought "Oh how perfect!"
I called job #2 today. Twice. No answer.
Then the phone rang.
"Lindsay? Hey! So here's your work schedule for the week"
...
Maybe God's plan isn't my ideal. Maybe He doesn't have to say "yes" every single time. Maybe, just maybe, prayer isn't about me getting what I want after all.
Maybe I'm going to be selling clothes for a little while.
Sometimes you pray for something... and it doesn't happen.
Sometimes you think something is God's will... and it doesn't work out.
What to do? Is God a liar? Should you quit praying?
Obviously, the answer to that is a good sound NO. But sometimes it's easy to get a little upset at the one who made the universe:
"God, I really wanted that! THIS is how I hoped that would go!" (like He didn't know)
This is something I experienced this week. You see, retail and I aren't best buddies. I don't mind it so much, but when it comes to selling something, I'm not so great. Being cheerful and kinda fake and making conversation... well, I use the excuse that I was homeschooled and therefore lack the know-how.
So I went to another interview last week (the day after I started my job). They said they'd call Friday or Monday.
We prayed that God would show where I should be. Because the hours at the other job were better, the schedule was more fitting, and the job wasn't something I was uncomfortable doing, I pretty much expected a call back. When the job I currently have didn't call me with my schedule for the week, I thought "Oh how perfect!"
I called job #2 today. Twice. No answer.
Then the phone rang.
"Lindsay? Hey! So here's your work schedule for the week"
...
Maybe God's plan isn't my ideal. Maybe He doesn't have to say "yes" every single time. Maybe, just maybe, prayer isn't about me getting what I want after all.
Maybe I'm going to be selling clothes for a little while.
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