Brain Dump

It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what's swimming around in the soup of my brain these days -- lots of swirling thoughts all the time.  I feel silly doing a brain dump here, but I'm going to do it anyway because I think there is value in reflecting.

I'm looking at my orchid Margherita (I've been calling her Marguerite, but I think her name is actually supposed to be Margherita). She has no flowers left.  Still, I count it as a victory that she is still standing, and her leaves are healthy.  I've had a very bad run with houseplants in this apartment (even my succulent died! what!) and I smugly remind Mr. Squire occasionally that she is not only surviving, but thriving.  (Mr. Squire likes to joke about my black thumb, and suggested that we name our now-dead poinsettia plant "Lazarus.")

My birthday is coming up.  Another year has passed.  Not a whole lot has changed, except I'm developing wrinkles around my eyes and I have significantly more white hair now than I did last year or at any time before.  I'm okay with all of this, particularly because one of the guys on the breadline last week thought I was in high school. Hehehe. Plus, as Pastor Enoch pointed out, what's the problem with age?  God teaches us in the Bible that age and wisdom are blessings to be sought after, not attributes to be ashamed of.

I've been thankful for how God has been stretching the little free time I have these days.  Last weekend, for instance, I worked during the better part of Saturday, but the evening still felt long because Mr. Squire and I went out for a nice dinner, watched a movie, and stayed up late.  I pray for more of the same type of blessing because I need it.

Been trying to be more diligent about calling my parents more often.  I used to call them every day.  But then when I went home over break, it was so weird with my mom that I lost a lot of motivation to call home again.  But then I think about the fact that no day is guaranteed, and I don't ever want to look back in regret because I didn't talk to them more often--especially since I don't see them hardly ever anymore.  (Sadness...makes me really sad...)  Now they are both retired, and I am thrilled for them.  I am also so, so thankful that through two (three?) major economic downturns, they never lost their jobs -- God shielded them, and us, from that burden.  It is such a tough economy now and I have great compassion for those who lose their jobs, or can't find them.  It's hard.  I am thankful for my job and for my colleagues, and for Mr. Squire's ability to work as well.

It's harder to connect with people when I'm busy.  I was convicted about the need to keep my door open at work, though, so I've been doing that.  It takes discipline and will power for me to actually set aside time to talk with people (because really, I just want to sit and crank out my work), but I was reminded that blessing others in my workplace requires real presence.  And real presence requires real interaction (duhhh).  And real interaction requires creating opportunity for that (by not closing my door).  It's hard somedays, but I'm trying.

I came home last night to find Doggy and JJ on the bed, as pictured.  No one can say Mr. Squire doesn't totally understand me.  :)  These little gestures make life really fun.

I'm tired.  Physically tired, because I still have time to sleep, but I haven't been sleeping well (I dream about work every night, and I frequently wake up early without the ability to fall back asleep).  I'm also emotionally tired, but I'm not quite sure why.  I feel weary, particularly with respect toward church.  I don't think I'm supposed to say that out loud, but there it is.  Going to church every week and meeting with my community is all at once a tremendous blessing every week and a big battle.  It's such a weird dynamic, but I'm very happy and vary weary there, all at the same time.  I chalk this up to my own issues, rather than the church's issues, because I'm just in a very strange place right now, and I'm not processing it very well (or at all).  I hope this passes, and that in the meantime, I don't ruin a bunch of relationships with people whom I actually love.  Regrettably, I keep forgetting (or taking for granted, rather) that this is the first real church community I've had -- like, ever.  Why am I now so freaking picky and critical?  Must be my teenage years -- I'm reverting to adolescent angst.  But why?  Wish I knew.  Hope I can figure it out and move on.

Handfuls of Darkness

It's the tough times that tell us who we really are.  These days, I question who I really am.  Actually, no, that's not right.  I don't question--I witness, and it makes me want to turn away.

I had a good long run of rest over the last quarter of 2013.  That was a tremendous blessing, and one in which God granted me numerous, critical gifts:  assurance about where I am in my work, the discovery of a new artistic hobby, spiritual renewal and stability, and rich times of connection and reconnection with friends.

Things are harder now.  I've been working six days a week rather than five.  I've been getting sick, or feeling sick, more and more.  Good sleep has been harder to come by (though it could be a lot worse).  I'm easily irritated, and not very patient.  I even get grouchy at Mr. Squire at the end of these long days, and for no reason whatsoever.  Trivial inconveniences can set me off or put me in a grumpy mood.  I regress in mental age and gravitate toward my soft toys for comfort with even greater frequency than usual.  I am critical of almost everyone and everything around me--particularly with respect to the church--and I silently judge harshly in my heart, even if I say nothing aloud.

And in terms of perspective at work, I've always taken enormous pride in not getting sucked into the rat race of corporate law...but now I wonder if I haven't hopped onto the hamster wheel.  I still believe that I am acting in obedience in trust by moving ahead, doing what God has placed in front of me with excellence and with my whole heart.  But now that the cost is mounting, I look nervously around at my life and I really wonder:  is this right?  And I still think it is, but it's hard to really know.  That's the problem with not having a ten-year plan or overarching aspirational objective goal for the first time in twenty years, and with having faith that right now, God has chosen to reveal nothing about my future:  I just don't know what's going on.

And so, I stumble in the dark... feeling my way through the future, arms stretched straight ahead and fingers grasping for whatever hints they may find (but mostly finding only more handfuls of darkness), feet cautiously stepping forth... but all of this happening at a steady clip of 60 miles per hour.  That's a fast pace at which to move when you don't know what you're doing or where you're going--but here we are.

Thankfully, I still feel an overall sense of peace about this, though the cracks of doubt and anxiety are beginning to show.  I don't know what the future holds, and that frightens me.  And in the meantime, I feel that my life is moving too quickly, that I am being semi-buried under my responsibilities at work/home/life/church, and I get the sinking feeling sometimes that I am becoming someone I don't want to be.

Then again, as I learned in my Blackhawk sermon today (Eat this Book - first sermon in the Wisdom series), we don't always know why God is doing what he's doing.  He is working behind the curtain, and we don't get to see things from His vantage point.  All we can do is do our best to walk in obedience--and trust that He is working out the rest.  That's feeling like a more and more difficult goal, but I'm trying.