Back to Seattle Again

After three weeks with the family in Virginia, I'm headed back to Seattle tomorrow.

Truth be told, I've been a mess for most of this trip as I've fought with all of the ideas in my head about home and life and transition and work and purpose. That said, I feel so blessed to have had this time to sort through such big questions with the people who know me best.

I can't say that I'm any less confused now than I was three weeks ago. But I guess the best lesson I've learned is that no matter how confusing and scary life may get, the best you can do is to be thankful for where you are, know that there's more life to be lived, and enjoy the memories you get to make while trying to sort through the rest.

And what great memories I'm taking back from this trip!

I watched my little brother graduate from high school.
I went fishing with my middle brother (and caught four fish!).
I visited with my grandparents.
I took a trip to Staunton and saw one of my dear friends in a play at the Blackfriars.
I went to a rave in a PODS warehouse.
I got caught in a thunderstorm.
I caught a few fireflies.
I ate at Chic Fil A (too many times).
I attended a wedding shower for one of my favorite college girlfriends.
I caught up with lots of good friends.
I visited all of my favorite people and spots in DC.
I worked on my tan.
I read three books.
I napped in our hammock and ate almost every meal on the back deck.

Now... back to the west, where there's a summer of memories left to be made!!

Prayer

I've had a hard time praying lately. When life is in transition, it takes so much energy to calm all of the anxieties and thoughts forever racing through my consciousness.

But I found a lovely poem in my devotional this morning to help get me back on the right track.


Praying by Mary Oliver

It doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

Two Roads

As most of you know, I've found myself at quite the crossroads lately. On August 31, my lease in Seattle is up, and on September 1, all of my summer teaching contracts will end.

At first, this seemed to me the perfect opportunity to go ahead and head back east. My plan was to move to DC as soon as I could. Then I started looking at rent in DC and thinking about trying to start up again as a teaching artist, and I realized that my plan may not be as easy as I thought. So then I thought, "Hey, why not stay in Seattle another year, keep doing what I've been doing and start investigating graduate school opportunities," but then I got hit with that whole homesickness thing, so I second guessed the idea. Lately, I've been playing with the idea of moving back to Richmond, living downtown (definitely NOT with my parents), and substitute teaching / teaching afterschool drama classes until I can figure something new out. But Richmond is a smaller city than Seattle, and while I could certainly get some teaching artist work here, I fear that there won't be as many opportunities to challenge myself as I would like there to be.

And all the while, September 1 gets closer and closer...

In all of this, Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken keeps coming to mind.

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

People constantly mis-read this poem, making an inspirational quote out of the last two lines and completely abandoning the mournful tone of the previous stanzas. But really, the poem is not uplifting; it's incredibly sad. Frost laments that he couldn't take both roads and wonders what his life would have been like if he had made another choice.

I feel that so much these days. Only two years away and coming home pains me more every time. I've become so different from the person I used to be, and so different from the people I used to be comfortable around. I don't think that's a bad thing, or that I did things any better or any worse than they did. It just is how things are, I suppose. I've grown up. And growing up often means saying goodbye. But for how long? If I take another step down this untrodden road, will that step be un-retractable? Is this road ever going to lead me home? Or will home always be where I choose to make it?

Song of The Day: Virginia by Deep River

It's been a while since I put up a song of the day. But a friend posted this on Facebook today, and being that I'm headed home for almost a month tomorrow, I couldn't resist sharing.

"Coming home is easy, It's the leaving that's the hardest..."

evenness.

I love how a poem written four hundred years ago can reflect nearly everything on my heart today...

John Donne. A Litany.

I'll warn you. It's a dense read. 17th century poetry is not known for its simplicity. But then again, neither is life.

Maybe that's why John Donne's my favorite. He doesn't sketch the life of faith in simple shades of black in white, as too many Christian artists are apt to do. No, he paints the vivid colors of joy and hope right alongside the bold, dark hues of heartache and frailty.

Because that's where the beauty is. It's in the contrast. That deep, fragile place where the mortal meets the divine. That's where we see the brilliance of grace.

I think I found something moving in every one of the 28 verses. But, just in case you don't have an hour to spend on a line by line metaphysical poetry analysis, here are a few of my favorite bits... hopefully some of you literature/theology geeks will enjoy the read!

XV.

From being anxious, or secure,
Dead clods of sadness, or light squibs of mirth,
From thinking that great courts immure
All, or no happiness, or that this earth
Is only for our prison framed,
Or that Thou'rt covetous
To them whom Thou lovest, or that they are maim'd
From reaching this world's sweet who seek Thee
thus,
With all their might, good Lord, deliver us.

XVI.

From needing danger, to be good,
From owing Thee yesterday's tears to-day,
From trusting so much to Thy blood
That in that hope we wound our soul away,
From bribing Thee with alms, to excuse
Some sin more burdenous,
From light affecting, in religion, news,
From thinking us all soul, neglecting thus
Our mutual duties, Lord, deliver us.

XXIII.

Hear us, O hear us, Lord; to Thee
A sinner is more music, when he prays,
Than spheres' or angels' praises be,
In panegyric alleluias ;
Hear us, for till Thou hear us, Lord,
We know not what to say ;
Thine ear to our sighs, tears, thoughts, gives voice and word ;
O Thou, who Satan heard'st in Job's sick day,
Hear Thyself now, for Thou in us dost pray.

XXIV.

That we may change to evenness
This intermitting aguish piety ;
That snatching cramps of wickedness
And apoplexies of fast sin may die ;
That music of Thy promises,
Not threats in thunder may
Awaken us to our just offices ;
What in Thy book Thou dost, or creatures say,
That we may hear, Lord, hear us when we pray.

Decisions, Decisions

Part of growing up is making decisions. Big, confusing, hard decisions. Like where to live and what to commit forty hours of your week to.

I hate deciding things. Decision making is a roller coaster of emotion. But it's a ride I have to take if I want to be an adult. Usually my process goes something like this:

Step one: feel like my life has no direction. cry a lot.

Step two: decide to do something about it.

Step three: tell everyone what I'm doing about it.

Step four: second guess "do something" plan. cry a lot.

Step five: regret telling everyone my plan.

Step six: epiphany: God's plans might be better than mine, and who cares if everyone else thinks I'm indecisive and confused. Jesus loves me. and his opinion matters most.

Step seven: make new plan.

Step 8: trust Jesus with new plan. cry a lot.

Work.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ephesians 2:8-10

I've been thinking a lot lately about work. About what it is that I should do professionally. What it is that I am meant to do. It's a bit overwhelming, frankly. There are so many options out there.

But this verse popped into my head this afternoon, and it's been marinating there all day. How wonderful to know that everything we do, even work, originates with one thing. Grace.

What a relief it is to realize that it is not I who works but him, working in me through his amazing and wonderful grace. What a relief to let go of all of the worries I have about my career, about the worth my occupation does or doesn't give me, knowing that my value and my purpose is found in his love.

This must be what he meant when he said "my yoke is easy and my burden is light."