An Attitude of Grattitude

Things I am Thankful For:

• the week off from school
• Christmas carols
• cool weather and warm kitchens
• time to read books
• new and old friendships

A rare non-blurry picture of Cameron!

I'll confess that I was not very Thankful this thanksgiving. To be even more honest, I didn't even think about the things I was grateful for. I'm not sure why I was such a rain cloud on the most thankful day of the year so I won't even attempt to explain it. I was so ashamed of my bratty attitude that I don't even mention it when people ask me how my Thanksgiving was. "It was good!" I chirp instead.

And it was. I have no right to complain. I helped my parents around the kitchen and watched snippets of the Thanksgiving parade whenever Cameron called me into the other room. The weather was warm and I decorated the tables. As usual, we invited a bunch of friends over from church and pot-lucked the traditional evening meal. Apart from my gloomy, selfish disposition, it was a lovely day. I can only hope to redeem myself next year with a better attitude.

Art Class Photo-Progression

One of my early sketches

 When I walked into the first art class at Tucson Parks and Rec, I wasn't sure what to expect. I wasn't expecting the teacher to tell me to "just draw" for three hours with the still-lifes she had set up. But that's what I did for the first two weeks. I think I expected her to give some sort of mini-lecture and then give us the opportunity to practice it. Instead, she wandered around the room, commenting on people's drawings or works in progress that they'd brought. When she got to my table, she said, "Oh you're a very good drawer..." and meandered away, leaving my alone for the rest of the class. 

Big Bites: A Reflection On Time

Sonya Langeford via Unsplash, used under CC0 license

When I graduated from college, I thought my free time would grow exponentially. After all, studying was what took up all of my time, but if you took that away, then it follows that I would naturally have more free time for whatever pursuits my heart desires, right? Wrong.

Even over that first summer, I noticed that I didn't feel much change in the amount of free time I had/wanted to do things like reading, painting, and dancing. It was filled up with other things--soccer (plus practices), meeting up with friends and mentors, and of course spending time with Jake. As fall approached and my career path gained more definition, my time was even more consumed by my work. Believe it or not, lesson planning can take a long time!

These days, my week looks like this
M: Work for CP, Teach for VA, chores, art class
T: Babysitting for women's Bible study (a commitment I will not be renewing next semester despite the "easy thirty bucks"), work for CP, prepare youth group lesson, grading etc. Running with Dad
W: Work for CP, lesson-plan, youth group
Th: Teach for VA, work for CP,
F: Lesson-plan, lesson-plan, lesson-plan. Running.

Obviously, there is not a lot of time for Jake in all this, especially when he works all the nights that I'm free. Because it's so frenzied during the week, I tend to place my weekends on a pedestal as my only days to hang out and have fun (with Jake and others). But this weekend, I overdid it.

On Friday, I facilitated the youth group girl's retreat up on Mt. Lemmon with a team of other leaders. We decorated the cabin, cooked up some lasagna, decorated journals, sang worship songs, learned about God.... etc. etc. It was all a really wonderful time and I got to know a girl from our small group a lot better. But I stayed up til 1 in the morning and was up again the next, ready to serve these girls. It was fun! But hardly relaxing. I got home in the late afternoon and spent the rest of the evening trying to solidify my lessons for this week, calling it quits when my eyes watered from staring at my computer screen too intensely.

Sunday morning I went to early service, worked in Sunday school, and jetted over to me and Jake's small group with two newly purchased loaves of epi bread from the local bakery. After small group, I left for another dinner engagement with some friends on the Northwest side of town--which required a frenzied drive on the freeway taking the I-10 east instead of west, turning around, finding the right neighborhood, but walking into the wrong house, before I finally made it to Farzana's house where we enjoyed good company and much laughter together. It was very pleasant time together and I don't regret it. I rushed home so I could  go running with Dad before Jake arrived for a late-night catch-up before the week started again.

So here we are at Monday morning, the day I'm writing this post, and I'd intended on going to a breakfast hosted by the Tucson Missions Network. Having been two times already, the people there capitalized on my youthful energy and asked me if I could come early to help set up and bring some fruit for the breakfast. Despite the early arrival time (6:30 am, which meant leaving my house at 6am, which meant waking up at 5:55), I agreed and had bought the fruit and everything... but 7:40am rolls around and I wake up to my dad in the doorway saying, "So much for getting up at 6." I jumped out of bed, "Holy crap what time is it?" and in my feverish half sleep tried to calculate the math of how long it would take to arrive if I left in 2 minutes exactly. It was not enough. I'd set an alarm, but it didn't go off and now I'd let my friends down.

Perhaps I needed the extra two hours of sleep, but I didn't want it at the expense of disappointing my friends. I wrote an apology note and will see them in person soon. But I think I bit off more than I can chew. Maybe next time, I'll take smaller bites.

Making the Call

Long ago, I remember watching a pack of kids congregated around the pay phone at the local park. They were whispering. “I double-dog dare you.” Some brave kid picked up the phone, punched the three numbers. When it started to ring, he slammed it back on the receiver and the pack scattered. Less than five minutes later, the small town’s police and fire departments showed up at the park and everyone present got a hefty lesson in the seriousness of calling 911.

This last weekend, I was house-sitting for my friend Nicole’s and I had quite a scare on Friday night! Around 8:30pm Jake texted me asking if I was up for a late-night venture on Mt. Lemmon with him and Dave. Exhausted though I was, I hadn’t anticipated spending any time with Jake so it was a pleasant surprise to receive his invitation. The three of us bought hot chocolate at a gas station illuminated by fluorescent light and drove up the mountain to gaze at the stars. As you climb higher and get above the lower atmosphere layers, more stars become visible. The sky was stunning! The boys dropped me off at Nicole’s house again around 11:15pm or so and after locking down the house, I wearily crawled into bed.

Bark! Bark! Bark!! “Hush….” I groaned, turning over in my sleep. The dogs’ barking grew louder and more intense and they would not stop. I checked the clock. It was 11:52pm. That’s when I heard the rattling on the garage door just below me. I froze and waited.  Maybe it was just imagined. The boys’ stories are just getting to my head. A pause in the barking. The door rattled again. At that point, I was out of bed, pacing the landing and thinking of what to do. After several moments of debating it, I decided it was better to be paranoid than dead; locked myself in the master bedroom; and trembling, called 911. A calm man’s voice answered the other line, “What’s your emergency.”

“I’m house-sitting and the dogs just started barking and then I heard banging on the garage door and I wasn’t sure what I should do.”  It all came out in a rush; I wasn’t sure which details were important and which weren’t.  He dispatched me to the police department where another man asked me more pointed questions.

“What’s your address?”

“Did you see anyone?”

“Are you alone in the house?”

“How big are the dogs?”

“Where is the bedroom situated?”

 “Are you armed with a knife or gun?”

Finally, he said he’d send an officer to patrol the area and asked if I wanted to talk to him. Thinking that I didn’t want to risk opening the door for anyone who was not a police officer, I said no. They dispatched their officer and I curled up and slept lightly the rest of the night.

When Nicole and her mom returned I explained the situation to them, hoping that maybe it was just an overreaction and the dogs occasionally barked at nothing in the night. Apparently, the only explanation for their incessant barking was that there actually was someone there. It came to light that they’ve had several garage robberies in the neighborhood recently as well, so I did the right thing in making the call. It was quite a frightening and sobering experience, but the good news is that nothing worse happened than a little scare. 

Blog Posts to Write....

Stats:

dialogues worked this week: 11
blog posts to write: 10+
avg hours sleep: 8
adventures had recently: 3
stress level: <20 font="">
feeling: content but overworked
currently reading: Paris in the 20th Century by Jules Verne
highlights: winning first playoff game, inadvertently matching shirts with Jake (Wed.), and numerous adventures this week!


(Not so) Weekly Update 

I'll confess that upon returning from our trip to the East Coast, I've been quite overwhelmed with the several hundred photos I took with my iPhone, which has delayed me in posting here. In addition to that, I transitioned back into work-life at breakneck speed and between all the time I have to put into my lesson plans for school and the busy season at CP, my schedule became hectic and unruly.

Still I've been squeezing in time for reading, personal reflection, and having occasional adventures (sometimes with Jake, sometimes without. Stay tuned for more details). I finished reading Dickens'Tale of Two Cities this week! And I am quite proud of myself, if I may say so. I tried reading it back in 2011 and got a solid fifteen chapters in (which I thought rather impressive for a sophomore in highschool) but this time I finished it all the way to it's wonderfully dramatic ending! *Swoons* It saddens me that I put this one down for so long before picking it up again! Ah well. 

Everywhere to Call Home

If time or money were no object, what would you rather be doing?

Occasionally, I like to ask this question because I find that it reveals a person's deeper desires, hopes, and dreams. I like to see the light switch flick on and their smiles broaden as, for a glimmer of a moment, they give voice to those hidden dreams. When I've asked, I've always enjoyed the answer.

To answer this question myself, I always thought in such simplistic terms: "travel" or "art studio." I thought, if time or money were no object, I would travel the world and paint and write and live happily for the rest of my life. But not too long ago, I realized that I've never answered this question in its fullness. For I had only considered the money part of it. What is the most expensive (and somewhat frivolous) thing I desire to do? Travel of course (bien sûr!). Next most expensive thing: a personal art studio.

But the more I think on it, the more I realize that this is not exactly it. I do not want to travel the world merely as a tourist. As Maike expressed it so profoundly this summer, 

"I just feel like I'm intruding on other people's memories, if that makes sense. I've heard so much about Mexico, and had so many friends from here, that I feel like I'm surrounded by their past, and everytime I see people lounging around on street corners I think of my friends and their families and like I am intruding on some private thing... It's been great, and I'm so glad to be here, but I've also recognized this isn't the kind of trip I want to save my money for when I'm older," 

Tourism is not what I want. No, I want to know peoples and cultures intimately. And what does this require? Time. And enormous amounts of it. Money too, yes. But more than that it requires an infinite amount of time to become so acquainted with not just one people, but many. Therefore, I revise my earlier wish--if time or money were no object, I would travel, yes, but more importantly, I would stay. I would stay with one people for hours, days, months, years--as long as it took to know and understand and love them, and then I would move on to the next place--a nomad with no permanent resting place, but everywhere to call home. 

Being a Backsliding Daughter with a Renegade Boyfriend

My parents gave completely different reactions to my announcement that I would be skipping church to go hiking with Jake on Mt. Lemmon this last Sunday. My mom laughed and said, "I would skip church too if I could!" My dad also laughed, but he said, "When I'm giving announcements, I'll make sure to ask for prayer for my backsliding daughter and her renegade boyfriend!" Funny, Dad.

After rescheduling this adventure twice already, we decided that Sunday morning was the best time for it and although sacrilegious, we ditched church to enjoy warm drinks and breakfast at LeBuzz (my favorite French-style café!!) and drive up the the hill for some mountain fresh air!

The morning was filled with marveling at the Lord's creation (especially the turning leaves!), huffing and puffing uphill, and pleasant conversation mingled with the songs of the birds, the chatter of the creek, and the whisper and rustle of wind among the leaves--the epitome of contentment.