My Moment

Last night, I had a "moment".  I threw my hands in the air and said these words to my heebab in a mildly insane voice: "Sometimes I just want to be immature! I want to turn on hip hop music and shake my buns, I want to have photo shoots and giggle, I want to have a farting contest!"  Yes, friends, this was my moment.

Let's back up a teensy bit.  I had had a really long day at work, got home and immediately went grocery shopping and started dinner, only to realize the dish I had picked out (and started) was going to take too long to cook and we had somewhere to be.  I then proceeded to throw a tantrum (aren't I a gem?) while my ever-patient huzzah threw some pasta in a pot.  

Then we went to the church so Sir Boy could run sound for worship practice, and I just felt tired and off all night.  Cue "moment" on drive home after I realized how insanely boring I must appear to all those around me.

During college, I felt so incredibly free and happy to just be myself, and now I am still struggling to find that.  We've lived here in Portland for almost 10 months (woweee!), and I still don't feel like we have any friends who I can truly be myself around.  I have small talk or even serious conversations with people, but we never share a joke or have a wee little gigglefest.  I can't steal food off of their plates at restaurants or sing them the made-up songs that are always in my head.

I'm tired of being so serious all the time; I'm even boring myself.  But I guess in the past I always let the other person be weird first, waiting for permission to show off my self-created genius choreography to that song on the radio.  How do I cross that little bridge of polite behavior, when I really just want to burn it to the ground and do a jig on its ashes?

I think I'm pretending to be a grown-up, even though I still don't feel like one.  I don't have any answers yet obviously, but my wise man-mate suggested this solution: 

"Let's go home and do all those things then!  We can dance around and play games and giggle."

Exasperated me: "It's not quite as fun when it's just the two of us."

"We can have our cat join in!"

Dear Lord, there's no hope for us.

The Hard Middle Ground

The biggest thing I learned in college is that there are a lot of bad things going on in the world and a lot of good people trying to change that.  I grew up in small-town Missouri, and sure, I knew bad things existed.  I saw the children on TV and sponsored a child for a few years when I was a preteen.  But for better or for worse, I was also incredibly sheltered from real injustices.

My town had (has?) an active KKK clan that sent a threatening letter to our high school band director after he paid tribute to Rosa Parks during a concert.  Needless to say, I had zero friends growing up who weren’t from white, middle-class families.  All the bad things on the local news happened in Kansas City, a good 35+ minutes away, and were therefore of no concern.  My youth group participated in the 30-Hour Famine, but I only went to play games and flirt with boys.

Then I moved to Chicago, more specifically to Albany Park, one of the most diverse areas in the entire nation.  I learned about human trafficking not just overseas but here in the US, about homelessness and political wars and racial/economic injustice.  I was overwhelmed with information and overwhelmed by a desire to help.

My dream was to go serve in an orphanage after I graduated.  I loved kids, and wanted to be somewhere where my actions could be most useful.  The college even linked to a 6 month internship at an orphanage in Zambia, and I was sure that was where I was headed.  Then I fell in love. 

As things got more serious between me and the HH (handsome hubbeeeee), I slowly realized my dreams needed to change.  He didn’t want to go to Africa; he wanted to go to Portland.  He wanted a big house with a nice yard, nice cars, and nice things, while I felt all of those things were inherently evil in some way. 

Fast forward and here I am, living in Portland, occasionally catching myself dreaming about the house I’ll someday own.   I work at a job I hate just to bring home a paycheck so I can pay off debt and go out to eat every once in a while.  My education pushes me to be revolutionary, while society pushes me to just blend in, and it is incredibly hard for me to live in the tension.

The sad truth is, I don’t think I would have been any happier in that orphanage.  I would have gained life experiences and perspective, sure, but joy?  I doubt it, simply because it’s not where God was really calling me, I only wanted to go so everyone (including God) would see how helpful I was and how much I loved them/Him.

It’s so much harder to love people from my comfort zone.  I feel like if I was shoved into the unknown, I would love and depend on people because I had nowhere else to turn.  But now I have a TV, a constant companion, even a cat for goodness sake.  Instead of inviting people over for dinner, I can watch reruns.  Instead of volunteering downtown, I could go for a hike or write a blog post (ha). 

It’s something I struggle with every single day.  I feel like I either can’t or don’t love Jesus enough when I’m stuck in my comfortable bubble.  Sometimes I get mad at God because He called us here and I don’t know what to do with the calling. 

But I know He’s here, teaching me something.  I have a feeling it has a little something to do with patience, politics, and money, and a lot to do with faith.  For now, I’m trying to find peace with Him in the midst of consumer chaos and trying to find the courage to believe He’s got something worthwhile up ahead.

{Photo source}

Getting Better With Time

Last weekend, the hubana and I saw Crazy, Stupid Love at a local theater.  The movie is about a man whose wife asks for a divorce.  He moves out and ends up crossing paths with a classic Don Juan who tries to teach him how to play the dating game.  The movie was actually a lot better than I expected, and by the end, I had tears streaming down my face.  For those of you who know me well, this is not an unusual occurrence.  I once cried at a Wal-Mart commercial.  It is what it is.

So as the lights came up at the end of the movie, I was frantically wiping my face with every inch of dry fabric I could find while people flooded past out the doors.  There were many a raised eyebrow or a too-long look, as I’m sure my entire face was puffy and red and screaming I JUST CRIED DURING A STEVE CARRELL MOVIE!

I was super embarrassed.  I did the classic “hiding behind the hair” move as well as generally just staring at the floor instead of other people.  But on the way home, amidst my poor hubby’s comments of “Umm that movie really got to you huh?”, I started thinking.

I don’t want to be embarrassed that I am emotional and feel things deeply!  I have been this way ever since I was a kid, and I have always felt people were waiting for me to “grow up” and not act that way.  And as you can see by my last post, I am getting pretty tired of feeling like I have to change in so many ways in order to grow up.

So in light of these thoughts, I want to share a list of things that I hope I never give up, no matter how “mature” I get.

  1.       I hope I NEVER stop crying during movies.

  2.       I hope I never stop crying during country songs. (Sensing a trend? Don’t judge me.)

  3.       I never want to stop feeling icky inside when people swear.

  4.       I never want to stop singing in the car at the top of my lungs.

  5.       I hope I never stop dancing... alone, with friends, in the shower, ever.

  6.       I hope I never stop dreaming about what I want to be when I really grow up.

  7.       I never want to stop remembering all the stupid things I’ve done so I don’t start to feel too proud.

  8.       I hope I never stop sending my better half ridiculous pictures while he’s away (or while he’s right next to me on the couch).

  9.       I hope I never stop wanting to be better and love harder.

  10.   Aaaaand, I hope I never stop doing slightly insane things like giving each of my stuffed animals a spouse and having imaginary conversations in the mirror. 

What do you hope you’re still doing when you’re all grown up?

*Blink* We're Adults!

There are very few disadvantages I have found to getting married at a young(ish) age, but there is one that nags at me again and again.

Getting married sort of shoves you into adulthood whether you wanted it or not.  I spent over 3 years of my life getting to know my beloved before we tied the proverbial knot, and I maintain that we were totally ready for marriage.  But as soon as we got back from the honeymoon, it was like a switch had been flipped in our minds and our lives.

We were ready, man.  We were ready to own furniture and live on our own together and get real jobs and take exotic vacations and buy fancy cars and a fancy house.  For one whole month, I let this mindset completely take over.

Us newlyweds over here had very little to call our own, and of course what we did own wasn’t good enough (we’re adults, remember?), so it got tossed.  Time to start fresh!  We moved across the country, bought all new furniture and appliances, ate out every day for the first week, and sighed with happiness as we climbed onto our (new!) mattress laid perfectly on our (new!) bed under warm (new!) sheets.

Then reality struck.  I had a minor meltdown (which sir husband man is used to thankfully) and sat down with him for a Talk with a capital T.  Since then, we have had to seriously re-evaluate our preconceived notions of what marriage and adulthood looks like.

I know married couples aren’t the only ones who experience this, but I really do think we get hit a little harder.  People start asking about babies and homes and want to talk about mortgages and bills.  Our whole lives we get fed this sneaky little lie that we deserve better, and we’ll get it at some magical point.  For me that point was marriage.  

So I’m putting it all down in writing, so the whole blog world can hold me accountable!  Yes, someday we would love to have a house.  But when I really think about it, I don’t even want that responsibility right now.  Yes, some far-off day we will probably want to have kids, but the thought of them right now makes me want to pass out.  A better car, of course!  A better job, definitely!

But I am vowing to be patient with these things, and be happy with where I am in life.  I absolutely L-O-V-E being married, and look forward to so many things we can share together in the future.  And in this month of Thanksgiving, I want to say I am so incredibly thankful for:

-My car that is 15 years old with no air conditioning and ripped seats and peeling ceiling that is PAID FOR.
-Our little apartment that could use a teensy bit of storage but it perfect for our budget and perfect for our things.
- All the new things we were able to buy that will (must!) last us a long, long time.
- My job that I’m not crazy about but which allows us to pay extra each month on our student loans.

What’s not to love in a little charm and a whole lot of hope for the future?