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.

Life Long Learning

"Leadership and learning are indispensable to each another." -John F. Kennedy

As my time as a student draws to a close, I've been thinking a lot about the concept of lifelong learning. In fact, today, it was brought up during teacher-training. "As educators," the assistant headmaster explained, "we have a responsibility to our students to keep learning and continuing our personal development and growth." Since graduating, I have wholeheartedly missed the structure for learning that the academic setting provided me; now I must create my own structure.

The question is: how? Thus far, I've dabbled in several different things--cooking with new techniques and recipes, reading design articles that Hack Design emails me, listening to CoffeeBreak French Podcasts (These are my favorite!), and of course trying my hand at a little bit of computer coding too. The only thing my list lacks is reading.

Lately, I've been really convicted about my (lack of) reading habits. Even though I majored in English literature, I do not have the best reading habits. Shocking, I know, but true. I do read occasionally, but not quite with the same enthusiasm that I did when I was younger. However, as a leader, and now an educator(!!!), this area of my life is becoming increasingly more and more critical to cultivate and maintain; I have no excuse not to.

I've definitely found the lack of structure and accountability post-education to be challenging to work around, but through trial and error, I am figuring out tips and tricks that work best for me--like borrowing books so that I have to return them (finished and with interesting comments) within a decent time frame. Or posting my current book on Friday stats, or convincing my friends to read the same book(s) with me, or even roping Jake in for those loving reminders and encouragement that he is so good at giving. Continuing education is not easy, but with discipline and a lot of help, it can be done. And you don't even need to go to class!

Img. Credit: Death to Stock Photo Photography

How Facebook Feeds Discontentment

Lately, I've been really convicted by the discontentment and jealousy I harbor in my life. I found myself scrolling through the news-feed on Facebook and envying the experiences of others. So-and-so went to Argentina! I wish I could travel. Or seeing all the girls dolled up for prom- I wish we had had a prom in high school. Or the engagements and wedding photos! I wish I was closer to that stage of life. Seeing the pictures and trips and job promotions and funny stories of my friends just made me want things that I didn't have...right now.

There are some things that just cannot be (prom for example), but many other things that can be had in time. It is these things (travel, careers, marriage etc.) that cause me the most heartache for they are the earnest desires of my heart but I remain in a constant state of waiting and looking forward. I've always been looking forward. Things will be better when.... I'm older. I'm graduated from college. I'm living on my own. I have a good job. I'm married. I have money. I can travel. Or even more recently--things will be better when my parents come home or Jake comes back. I have constantly told myself, If I can just get through this thing now, I can move on to the next thing. And then (subconsciously I thought), I'd be happy. But these are only empty promises I make to myself; and when I finally get to the next thing, there is always something else

I've also noticed that in my hunger to hear (other people's) stories (something Facebook makes accessible without the pressure of "real" human interaction--a rant for another day), I often lose sight of my own. It's easy to think my mundane existence in Tucson, Arizona is less exciting, less adventurous, less valuable or less insert-your-own-adjective-here because it is not something else. It's not a foreign exchange program in China, or a mission's trip to France. It's not wedding-planning or scoring great internships in preparation for my "dream job" or starting non-profits for good causes. It's pretty ordinary. There are some moments where I can be content with ordinary. But it's hard. And I can't do it if I'm constantly immersing myself in the details of other people's lives to the point where I am not living my own.

So, in a couple days, I'm going to take the summer off from Facebook. The blog will still be running, but I really  want to focus on being present and enjoying my life for what it is instead of resenting it for what it isn't.

The Noise

This is the Life

Stats:

times cried: 2
close calls: 3
cups of coffee: 4
time difference between here and France: 9 hours
days until Jake comes back: 14
days until the 'rents come back: 5
feeling: industrious
listening to: "Hopeless Rom-Antics Super Shuffle"(mix) and Nickel Creek
reading: Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski
learning: to adapt when the plan falls through (flexibility)
highlights: iMessage works internationally(!!!), watching the light change, extreme productivity, meeting up with my mentor, warm coffee and a cozy spot on the couch outside Starbucks.

Weekly Update:

As I'm sure you can imagine, this week has been up and down. But after the emotional rollercoaster of Jake's departure for France and the circumstances surrounding it, I've settled into a rhythm of life. Wake up at 6. Feed Pat. Shoot Pat (insulin shot). Work in the yard while listening to music that reminds me of Jake. Eat Breakfast. Shower. Work. Clean. Sit on the back porch and watch the light change. Take pictures. Ask Siri what time it is in France. Scroll through the newsfeed on Facebook. Make dinner. Watch Movies. Write Jake another letter at the end of the day. Go to Sleep. And repeat. It's not a bad lifestyle, actually--minus Jake's absence of course. I've been feeling super productive between cleaning every flat surface in the kitchen and baking scones and hard labor in the yard (pictures coming soon) in the early mornings. I'm turning into a regular housewife! It's scaring me! The productivity helps a lot though and I find that while I miss Jake a lot, it's not a gnawing ache in my heart (or at least not as much as it could be).

Honestly, the part I'm having the most trouble with is the silence. All this silence is making me realize how much noise there is in my life--not just physical sound, but just mental...noise. Too many things clambering for my attention. Too many thoughts rolling through my head. And I still reach for my tunes. (Bluegrasss is playing in the background right now!) Jake and I talked about that recently--being surrounded with so much noise that you can't hear God. And I thought to myself, I don't really struggle with that, because I don't mind the silence. I don't mind being still, sitting on the back porch with my iced tea and just listening--a thoughtful kind of idleness. But the past two days... noise is all I crave. I love the quiet; I hate the quiet. I love the noise; I hate the noise. It takes all my willpower to turn off the music. 

We're getting along, but I will be glad when life returns to some form of normalcy, or when Jake gets back. Whichever happens first.

10 Years Later...

I never considered myself much of an athlete. Rewind a little bit to 6th grade where all the preppy girls wore their white volleyball t-shirts with little tails in the back made with pony-tail holders because they thought it made them look skinnier. I could run pretty fast, but with the 20 minute commute to school I wasn't allowed to participate in most extracurriculars. My parents made that mistake once and weren't going to make it again.

I played soccer for one season in third grade. And I loved it. Even the time when we played in the mud right after the rain, or the time we had to play so early in the morning (on a Saturday, much to my parents' dismay) that our legs were frozen stiff. There was something about the sport that just got me fired up.

Sports were even less attractive to our family once we started homeschooling--not because of any commute (by this time, I felt like my parents were willing to make more of these types of sacrifices since Mom was no longer working) but because of the hoops we had to jump through in order to participate on school teams. But I got my "fix" on Fridays at home school P.E. Soccer, of course, was always my favorite. But, as time went on, the boys got faster than me, and I started to pursue other interests, like art. Eventually, I like most of the older high school students, dropped out of P.E.

By the time I actually considered playing soccer (either on a school team, or with a club) it was my Junior year of high school and two things held me back.
1. If I played on a school team, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to keep up with girls who had been playing all their lives. What good would my piddly little single season of soccer in elementary school do for me? Nothing.
2. My schedule could not handle the amount of time required for practices and games, due to my recent enrollment in CollegePlus and the addition of college-level work to my studies.

So, soccer sat on the shelf for a little while. But now... Now that school is over, I finally have more time to be more active and pursue soccer again. So that's why I started training for the 5K and playing soccer on Thursdays through Meetups. And guess what! I really really love it! A girl from Meetups invited me to play on her indoor team and last weekend I had my first soccer practice in ten years!! Today is the first game! I am so excited! It's been so fun buying new soccer gear and practicing in the backyard when it's cool enough.
I never considered myself an athlete, but maybe I'm turning into one after all...

The End of a Journey

To be honest, I expected to feel victorious when I finished taking my last exam this week. In my head, I expected it to feel like crossing the finish line of a marathon, collapsing on the ground with joy and tears and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that you did it. I didn't know if I would laugh or cry (or both), but I expected more than anything to feel a deep sense of triumph, walking out of that testing center, driving home, celebrating the rest of the evening afterward...

If anything, I felt relief. Relief that the essay prompts were easy. Relief knowing that countless people were praying for me. Relief that I wouldn't have to do any more studying. But it was short-lived.

Because then, I felt depressed.

There was triumph, yes. A burden had lifted, yes. But at the same time, it didn't feel real. Perhaps because it was just an ordinary Tuesday. There were still errands to run and chores to be done and so on and so forth. The world, like usual, did not stop for me and my victory. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry. I wanted to go out, but I wanted to stay home. I wanted to hang out with a bunch of people but I wanted to be alone. I wanted to celebrate, but I didn't know how. There was nothing that appealed to my senses.

I don't know why exactly I felt depressed, but I learned that it's not uncommon to feel this way. For in the victory, there is also a loss; and in reaching the destination, a journey has ended. Here, my academic journey gently winds to a close and while I celebrate my achievements, and can finally shirk the burden of stress I've carried throughout college, at the same time I also mourn the loss of what I've devoted my entire life to for the past 15 years. The transition is much more difficult than I anticipated, but I remain hopeful that something better awaits.

Beautiful Things

I have a confession to make, lately, I've been floundering a little bit with a sense of aimlessness. When I wrote my autobiography for school, I was thinking a lot about purpose, particularly the journey of discovering my purpose. But when I looked back over the purpose statements I had written during my years of affiliation with CollegePlus (as a student, since I am now employed with them.), none of those statements resonated with me. My latest ideas, though not a written statement, toyed with the idea of helping girls understand their value. Maybe my purpose, I thought, is to use my struggle with self-esteem to help other girls going through the same thing. It seemed to fit, since I have the opportunity to mentor freshmen girls on Wednesday nights and helping out at the youth group is one of the most satisfying ministries I've had the pleasure to participate in.

And yet, something wasn't quite right.

At the back of my mind was the niggling thought that this wasn't it. I couldn't see myself advocating this message for years to come. I'm not the next "Beth Moore" or motivational speaker. I couldn't see myself devoting my life to this "cause." Of course it is a very worthy endeavor and there are so many girls who need to hear such a message, but just like God wasn't my Healer when I wanted to tell people about God being "the Ultimate Healer" (my very first purpose statement), somehow I didn't believe that talking about self-worth was my primary message. So what was it?

The truth is, I didn't really know. And when I finally realized this (literally in the last week), I freaked out a little. For a tiny moment, I felt so lost. What am I supposed to do?

Then today, over tea, I got a fresh perspective on it when a friend of mine asked the table, "What are you passionate about?" The question took a career-spin on it as people went around talking about what was most important to them--teaching, being a doctor, friends, Mom, history... Of course when it got through to me, I said, "I am passionate about art." That is a no-brainer, I've known that about myself for a long time. But as I kept talking about it, I realized that art was a narrow definition for what I am passionate about. It is so much more than art.

I am passionate about making beautiful things.

Art, yes. Writing, of course; that is my major after all. But it's also so much more than that. It's moments and memories and highlights and photographs and table settings and birthday cakes and interior design and conversations.

When I said, "It's so beautiful!!!" for probably the tenth time today, my dad pointed out, "That's been your catchphrase lately." I am drawn to beautiful things, and I think on some level everyone is. Why else do we have such an image-obsessed culture? But I think I am even more drawn to creating beautiful things and making the world around me a more beautiful place for myself and for others.

I may not change the world, ever. But you know what? I can help someone else see the world differently by making it more beautiful. And that is something my soul gets excited about! That is something I will do my entire life no matter where I end up in the world or how old I get. And that is what I believe my purpose is because I may not ever become a writer or an editor or a teacher or [insert whatever career here] but I will always be an artist and I will always love beautiful things.

Stats: Blaming the Weather

Stats:

days with Jake: 364
thesis: 78% complete
hours writing autobiography: 7 1/2 
hours outside: 4
movies: 4
mood: excited
reading: Moonlight on the Avenue of Faith
learning: how to sew an applique, how to analyze an open-ended survey
highlights: thesis coming together, received my first raise!  


Weekly Update:

#Confession, I've been really emotional lately. Not in an angst-y way or anything, just particularly stirred up in the "feely" department. I'm not sure why I am particularly emotional all of a sudden. Last week, I blamed my thesis. But this week, I'm blaming the weather.

Yes, the weather.

Have you ever noticed that February is just sort of...magical? And I'm not saying that because it has my two favorite holidays of the whole year (Valentine's day and my birthday). No, there is a distinctly magical quality to February that just makes me feel all out of sorts. It's slightly chilly, but also sunny, but not too hot either. It can't decide whether or not to be winter or spring so it decides to be both and neither at the same time. How else could it be 80* today and raining tomorrow?

Anyways, all that to say, I've been extra emotional lately, which usually manifests itself in squeals (and sometimes crying, or other times just a tiny little throb in my chest) over silly things like the lantern scene in Tangled, 4 pounds of pink minky fabric, talking to Jake on the phone, Valentine's day merchandise on clearance, finishing my autobiography, miscellaneous displays in Hobby Lobby, making progress on my thesis, stupid memes from Facebook, and classical music. And, I really really miss Jake. I think the long-distance combined with the full schedules, infrequent communication, and our 1 year anniversary tomorrow is gettin' me down a little. (Of course, I'm excited about the anniversary part!) It's definitely weeks like this that make long-distancing it quite a challenge, but we press on.

Welcome Winter Olympics

#confession I'm not much of a sporty/athletic girl (even though I did go through a Tomboy phase in middle school) but I LOOOOVE the Olympics. Not even kidding; I simply adore it. Needless to say, I was a little more excited about the Winter Olympics happening over the next two weeks (even more excited than I was about the Seahawks playing at the Superbowl). Superbowl was fun to watch, but once it was over, the countdown began and now it's finally here!!!!! I have a few favorite events in the Summer Olympics, but when it comes to the Winter Olympics, I pretty much love every event: snowboarding, skiing, figure skating, speed skating, luge, curling, and let us not forget hockey!! I think I will be spending the majority of my 19th birthday parked on the couch watching hockey games. It doesn't get much better than that.

You can find the official Sochi schedule here to find out when events are. I will be spending the first part of the Winter Olympics in San Diego with Jake, but we're planning to watch. (Rather, I'm planning to watch and he's going to watch with me!)

I Can't Learn Language

Originally, I titled this post, "Think Positive Thoughts" but I thought it was a little too generic because I post pretty frequently about the importance of positive thinking already.

My mom was telling me that when you're not good at something, you shouldn't confine yourself to a label, "Oh, I'm not good at X." Instead, you need to take something else that is compelling to you and associate them. For example, a boy says he's not good at math, but he loves basketball and has a mind for the statistics. Basketball stats are math! Or, to bring it a little closer to home, Cameron HATES math, but he loves Legos! And if you think about it, Legos are also math! By associating the difficult subject with something you enjoy you eliminate the obstacles that your mind creates when you say, "I'm not good at that."

Confession: I am not gifted in language.

I am an exemplary student in almost all other regards. I have straight A's in all my classes right now and I am about to graduate from college! Academically, I am pretty well-set. But I struggle with learning new languages. I think there are a few things factoring into this. I got a very late start. I was interested in language, but never had the consistency to stick with one. For my highschool requirements, I fudged my way through Latin. I didn't even learn a "real" language!! I "learned" a dead one! To make matters worse, I didn't even do the final exam in my second year.

But when I heard this new spin on the old "think positive," the wheels in my head started turning. I wonder if I could do the same thing with learning a language! I don't like learning language, but I love art and writing! Maybe I could try my hand at writing stories or poetry or journaling in a foreign language. Or maybe I could incorporate it into my art! A new world of possibilities has now entertained my imagination. Now by this time next year, I will be completely fluent in French! ;) Or maybe something else, who knows?