Dear Moms Of Kids With Special Needs

Since I am a single, twenty-something college grad with a job, it is possible at first glance for people at church to assume that my life is simple and neat (my life is not neat, but thanks to a decent understanding of fashion and social rules, I can fake it for you on a given Sunday). And because it might look like I come to church just to get lost in the beautiful worship sets, learn something from the intellectually stimulating message, and generally enjoy the aesthetics of a worship service, I feel the need to be especially clear...

Dear Moms of children with special needs;

I LOVE when your kids are in church.

Thank you so much for bringing your family to church. I know it can't be easy. Considering my Sunday morning routine (get myself up, get myself ready, go to church), it's hard for me to know the extent of the effort you go through before your family even makes it through the door. What I do know is that statistically, most parents with children who have special needs choose not to go to church (or go rarely), either from the stress of coordinating logistics, lack of services for their child, feelings of exclusion, or the stress of potential disruptions resulting from their kid's special needs.

Part of my heart cracks a little when I think of all the ways that I am not doing enough to make you feel like you are part of our community, help bear your family's burden, and get to know the treasures that are your kids. God is starting to move my heart in this direction because those are the things that are in his heart, and I am sorry that there are so many ways in which my hands don't yet reflect God's heart. (Isn't that our constant fight??)

But there is one area where I hope I can bring some comfort today: please don't worry about your child causing disruptions during church. Please don't worry that the people around you find your child distracting. Frankly, I love it when church is a little noisy. That's one of the things that I find particularly attractive about our church: the whole church body is there, and they are all participating! It doesn't bother me one bit if your child talks loudly when others are quiet, moves when others are still, or sometimes has difficulty controlling their emotions. Your child's participation in our worship service might be unique, but it is absolutely a benefit, not a detriment.

It's possible that, at some point, you have been discouraged by people who have intimated that your child is 'too old for that kind of behavior' or given you strange looks when you are out in public. I am so sorry if this has happened to you. Satan speaks lies, and he wants you to believe that you and your child are not welcome in church. The truth is that your child is INDISPENSABLE to the body of Christ.

"The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts, and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ... But in fact God has arranged the parts of the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be... On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor." (1 Corinth 12:12-23)

When your child is doing whatever it is that might embarrass you during the church service, I am most often thinking, "I'm so glad they are here. This is what it looks like to be the body of Christ." Although I don't contemplate the underlying logic in the moment, my reaction is largely for two reasons:

1)Your child belongs in our church-disruptions, challenges and all. Your child has intrinsic value because they have been created in the image and likeness of God (just like every other person in our church). Their adoption into the family of God rests on the righteousness of Christ and his work on the cross (just like every other person in our church). Christ was willing to go to great lengths to make your child a co-heir with himself, and since Christ has made your child part of the family, they belong. End of story.

2) Our church needs your child. God created your child uniquely, and the church would be incomplete without them. They are absolutely necessary. They are crucial. Being part of the body means that in addition to having intrinsic value, your child has a purpose as a part of our church. God is using your child to teach our church. God is using your child to encourage our church. God is using your child to display His glory to our church. They have things to contribute as a member of our church family, and we need them.

Your child's presence at church is no accident. It is also no small feat. Although I don't know if the blood, sweat, and tears required on your part are literal or figurative, I do know that when your child is at church, it is by your effort. I know that your family's presence at church is statistically rare, and eternally significant. Thank you for persevering in the face of difficulty, for coming to worship the Lord with us, and for letting your child be a part of our church. I am so glad they are here.

From my heart,

Christiana

P.S. Moms of little ones, I wanted to include you here, but I had too many things to say. Just know that I love it when you bring your children to church for both similar and different reasons, and I will have to express my gratitude some other time.

Turning Off Autopilot

The other day, I was driving on a highway that I take all the time. And I don’t want you to judge me for my inattentiveness, but I’ll tell you straight up: it was 70-E. Now, there is a part of 70 east- and west-bound that kind of intersects part of Frederick near Rt 85 (you should be shocked at my unusual use of proper road names), and the speed limit decreases from 65 mph to 55 mph. Actually, let me accurate: decreased. Used to decrease. I absolutely promise you that when I first got my license, the speed limit decreased to 55 as you entered Frederick and then increased again on the other side. But the other day, I was driving on that stretch of road, like I do ALL THE TIME, and I saw an odd sign that said “Speed Limit: 65”. And I was confused. I know the speed limit is 55 right here, because I know where it changes back to 65. But there the sign stood.

And then I was more confused. I know where the speed limit changes to 55 on 70-W as I drive into Frederick. I navigate by landmark, so seriously, I remember where the speed limit changes. It's by the school buses on the hill before you get to the first exit for Frederick. Only, the next time I was driving that way, I looked for the sign, and it wasn’t there. I did find one a little later that said “Speed Limit: 65.” What madness is happening here?? Do I live in an alternate reality??

I came up with a reasonable hypothesis, which is this: they were doing construction on that part of 70 for ages (I mean, literally years) while they were building the Rt 85 overpass that connects downtown to the other part of town. And when they were done, 70 was absolutely beautiful and no longer narrowed to two lanes through that stretch, but remained three lanes across with this weave lane that I absolutely love (I know it’s weird to feel that strongly about a weave lane, but if you had to drive past there before, you would love it too). So there isn't really a reason to slow down anymore, and my guess is that when they finished construction, they changed the speed limit.

But they finished construction years ago. Not recently. Definitely before I graduated last year. How long have I been decreasing my speed unnecessarily? Its straight up embarrassing. Not the least of which because I do NOT like it when people drive below the speed limit on the highway. I am an unobservant, unknowing speed hypocrite.

Sometimes, it's hard to see what's right in front of you

But isn’t this how life goes? You settle in to the routine, stop paying attention, and one day you realize that you have been slowing down when you didn’t need to anymore. Continuing to be childish in one particular area of your life when in most other instances, you demonstrate the maturity that you have gained in that respect. Continuing to deal with conflict in the same way you always have with someone, even though you have learned better ways of handling things with other people. Continuing to seek comfort from one bad habit, even though you have stopped going to most of your old comfort dead-ends. I know I can settle into a routine and let ages go by before I reassess whether this is the best way to handle life. Often, it takes a dumb mistake like missing a literal sign to remind myself to turn off the metaphorical autopilot and look at life with fresh eyes again.

P.S. I attribute the lack of cat pictures to the fact that Lady M and Elizabeth will never get in my car willingly. But to make up for it, here is a reminder that other people do dumb things sometimes too, including playing their cats as instruments.

When You Need A Vacation From Your Vacation

I just came home from a lovely trip to the beach, and I am totally worn out. Why are vacations so much work? In my mind, I was going to spend three days at the beach with some relatives that I both love and genuinely like... my plans involved the ocean, my book, my ipod, a ridiculously large hat, and very little else. It was supposed to be so restful! And really, I had a great time. The sun, the water, the company.

But sometimes my younger cousins make choices that I think are harmful, and what do I do about it? And sometimes life hurts my older cousins, and what do I say about it? And sometimes I get the sense that I don't quite belong, don't quite fit into my family the way I want to.

I meant to love people, to care for them emotionally, but did I? I meant to have deep, meaningful conversations with people, but things seemed to stay pretty surface level. I meant to relax in God's word while I had all the time I wanted, but time flew by.

Maybe your vacations don't involve people wondering what's wrong with you (Why you are still single? Don't you like boys?) but instead have difficulty with in-laws, conflicts between siblings, or conspicuous absences. Perhaps

Life so hard. I so tired.

you get overwhelmed by the constant stream of people or are tired of dealing with some of them by the time you head home. Sometimes vacations are just tiring.

When I woke up Sunday morning after sleeping in my own bed again (and not in a room with two 12-year old boys, yessss) I was still feeling weary, but I knew that I had to get up and go to church. Even though I mostly wanted to sleep and not have to interact with a single person (sorry every person I saw in church this week, it wasn't you), I needed to go worship and hear the word.

Rest is something that I so often want to create for myself in my situation, but more and more that kind of rest feels like a letdown. It's a counterfeit to the real rest that can only be found in God. Not that I am putting down naps, because REM sleep is seriously helpful for your brain, but meeting with the church to seek God together gave me more rest for my soul than all the naps, relaxing in the hot tub, and floating in the ocean did. I want to look to my vacation for rest, but God is the one who really sustains me (Psalm 3:5), gives me rest when my body is tired (Psalm 127:2) gives me hope for my heart when I can't fix my family (Job 11:18) and gives me peace for my mind when I fail to love people perfectly (Psalm 4:8). So instead of trying to get something from your vacation that it can't really give you, just enjoy vacation for what it is: a break from work and daily life during which you get to go someplace new and do fun things with other people.

P.S. While the beach is a lovely vacation for me, there are much better vacation spots for cats. Although my kitties haven't been to all these places, I would guess that their favorite is inside my suitcase. On top of the lid, on top of my clean clothes, really any spot is great.

That Time When Graduation Was A Year Ago

Yesterday was graduation day for the class of 2014 at Gettysburg. Even before my newsfeed was awash with orange and blue and sentimental statuses, I was feeling nostalgic. Today marks exactly one year since I graduated, and it feels like it was only yesterday, just a world away. How could a year possibly have passed? How could it have not?

I confess that my overwhelming feeling upon realizing that it had been a year since graduation was a sense of disappointment. Shouldn't I have accomplished more a year out of college? I can't say "I just graduated in May" anymore, so shouldn't I have done more? Shouldn't I have made a bunch of friends with people where I live? Shouldn't I have completed things? Shouldn't I miss Gettysburg less? But here I am, living at home, mostly hanging out with my family when I'm not working. I don't have a high powered, exciting job where I am changing the world and/or making lots of money. I haven't fallen in love and I am not substantially closer to being a clinical psychologist or a mom.

And that thinking is so easy to fall into, because I have been trained so well. Make goals. Execute them. Do at least as well as your peers, preferably better. Do great work. I loved the Gettysburg atmosphere, and I thrived in that performance driven, high octane setting (if you consider the level of stress I could sustain for weeks at a time thriving). But the dark side of that is that I can instinctinvely think critically without acting compassionately. My mind twists the truth and throws in some half-truths and little lies until I look at the last year and feel like I have failed.

That is probably stupid and definitely inaccurate. My plan was to move home, find a research position to get the experience I need to get into grad school, and pay off student loans as quickly as possible. I did, in fact, find a research position that I can commute to from home... thanks, God! And its not high powered or a high salary, but someone is paying me to do research, which is exactly what I was looking for. I am paying off my student loans while admittedly mooching some groceries, wifi, and below market rent from my mother. But since I am rather fond of my mother, this is kind of a win-win situation. And why should I feel lame about having out with my family? I love them, and I won't always get to spend time with them like this. My baby cousins (read: every cousin who is younger than me, even if they are 6'2'') will grow up and move away one day. When I go to grad school, I will not be able to take my Mam-maw shopping on Sunday afternoons, and will she be around to take shopping when I am finished grad school? Speaking of school, if I were to hypothetically be either a clinical psychologist or a mom before I finished grad school, that would be absolutely terrifying (in the first scenario) or mildly terrifying and poor planning (in the second scenario). Seeing patients before getting the education/licensing to practice or having a baby while attaining said licensing are so not high on my list of things to do, and thus if I were substantially closer to these things one year out of college, it might actually not be a great sign.

Melissa and this kitten were both at
Focus this year... don't you wish you
were there, too? I know I do.

And yes, I do miss Gettysburg. I wish that I still had shenanigans every Wednesday at 10, that I still lived with 5 of my best friends, and that anytime I wanted to hang out with someone we could just get a meal together because we ate at all the same places. I wish that I had just gotten home from Focus, and that I was energized and sleep deprived and so excited about being on mission with the church. I wish the friends I have here (because I do have some, my heart just believes lies sometimes) knew me as deeply, encouraged and challenged me as frequently, and pointed me to Christ as well as my friends from Gettysburg. But this is what its like to have good friends. You miss them when you haven't seen them for a day, and you miss them when you haven't seen them for months and months. It takes a long time to build new friendships that are as strong.

I think it is okay to miss college, even though it makes me feel a bit like I am doing something wrong. I don't want college to be the best years of my life. But it would be okay if college accounted for some of the best years of my life. I think that is the tension I am feeling as I compare this first year out of college to the four years that came before. Its true that this past year was hard in different ways than before and that it was lacking some things that my heart tells me it wants again in future years. But it was another year of life, and I enjoy having those :) It was filled with blessings and things to be thankful for, and it was not a waste of time.

So here are a few highlights from my first year as a post-bacc:
-Seven of my friends got married, and every wedding was a delight. I loved each individual wedding ceremony, and getting to share in their joy, and also all those built-in reunions.
-For months I got as much sleep as my body actually needed (talk about seasons of life... this one is definitely fleeting). It was glorious. And now I might get up earlier every morning than I have in my life, but at least I don't do homework till at least midnight every night.
-I got a job offer totally out of the blue months after I had submitted an application and pursued other institutes and researchers with no success. Yep, it was totally not my fault that I got this job.

"I am not afraid.
I was born to do this."
-Jeanne d'Arc

-I found a church that I absolutely love. I get to live in a place with a bible-preaching church that loves to worship God with a gospel-centered community who want to grow and become more like Jesus? Is this real life?
-When my brain isn't consumed with exams, papers, and research reports, there is room for creativity to come out and play. I've been playing the piano again and making artwork and creating things. And none of them are masterpieces (although I am quite proud of the sweater and the quilt), but it feels good to create just because I can.
-God has used this time to soften my heart to the idea of adoption, to help me see the value of intervention at every stage for every person, and to understand how attachment (you know, that field of psychology I would be happy spending my whole life in) relates to God's character and redemptive plan. It was so good (and wise, probably) of him to do this when I am exactly where I am now. If He had done this later in life when I wasn't young, broke, and single, I probably would have freaked out about life and thought that He was telling me to do something I didn't want to do. Instead I see little hints of changing desires and and awareness of how much more growing I have to do. And how much more I need Jesus than I realized.
-I've been growing. Slowly. Sometimes it feels agonizingly slow, and I am not content with the pace. But the lessons I am being taught seem to take a lot of time. Perhaps it is the nature of these lessons, perhaps I'm a slow learner. But God is at work in my life, and I am grateful for it.

Springtime And The Feels

There are people in my life who I would describe as “intense feelers.” While my typical feelings range on a scale between 30 to 70 (assuming that 0 is the most negative and 100 is the most positive you can feel), they tend to live much of life in the 0-30 and 70-100 zones where I only venture on occasion. And while I love these people, I struggle to connect with them sometimes because I don’t understand them[i]. I believe it’s difficult for me to empathize with them because it’s not only my reactions to a situation that are different, but my overall experience of the situation.

Don’t get me wrong. I am a feeler. At least, according to the Myers-Briggs, (which I have decidedly mixed feelings about that I won’t rant about expound upon right now[ii]) I fall substantially on the feeling side. I have to assume, though, that the thinking and feeling parts of my brain get along decently well, because I seem to do both of them concurrently most of the time. So in circumstances that cause elation or great distress in my intensely feeling friends, I can’t always relate to how they got there emotionally. If I was in their situation and started feeling that way, the rational side of my brain would give me a good mental shake and say, “You are being unreasonable. Stop now.”

"I just want to looooove you..."

It would obviously not be loving to actually say that to people when they are experiencing the strongest of feels. Even in cases where I may need to gently rebuke a friend for how they are responding to a situation, I don’t think an emotional response is the same as a behavioral response. What you do with the fear, anger, elation, etc is what is right or wrong, not how strongly you feel those emotions. (I am reminded of Psalm 4:4, where it says, “In your anger, do not sin.”) So I am right back where I started: my friends who are more emotional than I am are not doing anything wrong—the same goes for people who are less emotional that I am—but I have difficulty relating and caring for them sometimes because life affects me differently.

I don’t have the answers for how to care for them better, so if you were looking for some insight there, sorry to disappoint. I'm guessing that growing in love and humility would help, and if you have any practical tips, be sure to let me know. However, I feel as if the advent of springtime has given me an opportunity to empathize in a new way with all the intense feelers out there.

Spring is finally here. And it may not come as a surprise, but I am unreasonably happy about it. It seems perfectly reasonable to be happy after the long winter we have had, but maybe not quite as happy as I am. I am happy basically anytime I go outside, look out the window, feel warm, or see any plant anywhere. Combined, that is a large chunk of the day. And we're talking unusually happy... like, when a smile breaks out, unbidden, across your face so wide that all your teeth are showing because the weeds in the field are blooming and the yellow flowers scattered through the green just make you happy. That has been happening pretty much every day for a month and a half. I'm happy when it's pouring down rain. I'm even happy in the midst of the worst seasonal allergies I've ever experienced (there's some irony mixed in there there somewhere...).

The rational part of me wants to get all introspective over this discrepancy between valence of emotional response and emotional stimulus, but most of me says, "It's spring, just go with it. Be happy." I can't explain why I feel this strongly and I don't care. Is this what it feels like?!?! Even if its totally not and I still can't empathize with all you intense feelers, I still love you. And the springtime.

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[i] Speaking of not understanding things, this cat doesn't understand the rules of ping pong, which is just relevant enough to link you to this adorable video. 

[ii] Unless you want to Myers-Briggs type your cats, which I should theoretically have the same qualms with but mysteriously don’t.

Random Rainy Day Thoughts

I walked out of my building this afternoon cautiously, not looking forward to the walk across campus to get to my car. Somehow, I was not particularly smart this morning, and I didn’t wear my rainboots because “I didn’t wear them yesterday when it rained all day, so why should I today? I will be inside most of the time, anyway.” This was unintelligent because (a) I love my rainboots and typically view rain as an excuse to incorporate them into my outfit and (b) as soon as I got to campus today, it poured down rain, and I had to park far from my building and then walk through the wind, getting soaked from the knee down and disgruntled pretty much all over.

So when I ventured out in the afternoon to find that there was a short respite from the rain, a thought popped unbidden into my head, “Aw, you love me, God. Thank you!” At that point, my thought process was pretty much as follows:

Why was my automatic response that God loved me because it wasn’t raining? The rain or lack of it didn’t have any bearing on whether God loves me. I am not a “Your Best Life Now!” believer who expects special blessing and continued prosperity because I am a follower of Christ. I’m more of a John 16:33, Luke 9:23 kind of girl (because, you know, Jesus actually said those things). God isn't some favor/karma genie who gives me green traffic lights when he is pleased with me or helps me pick the fastest checkout line at the grocery store when I pray with proper faith. I don't want to let my heart think God's love changes based on my daily circumstances, nor that I should expect life to be awesome simply because I am a beloved daughter of God.

Another nice gift/way
to have toasty warm toes...

But then I thought about the spirit of my (mental) exclamation. I was thankful because I felt like I had been given a gift. I had no reason to expect that I would get to stay dry as I hiked to my car, but I did. It made me happy, and I attributed this good gift to God. And good gifts make you feel loved! (I know, my logic is so advanced it's shocking) I felt loved this winter on nights when I went to bed and discovered that my wonderful housemate (aka mom) had turned on my electric heater so my bed was warm. I didn't think her love for me was at all related to whether my bed was toasty warm or freezing cold, I just felt loved to get an unexpected gift. And I didn't feel unloved when it rained on my way in to work that morning. Not unloved, just wet. So it's not that ups and downs affect how I view God's love... I am just starting to instinctively attribute good gifts I get to Him.

So apparently my thankfulness-focused Lenten devotional worked? But that's a tale for another time. Meanwhile, I was dry for a large part of the day... even though I forgot my rainboots. Thanks, God!

"Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations." -Psalm 100:4-5  

Tales From The Other Side

In a shocking (cue sarcastic voice) and very unexpected turn of events in the tale of my heart being an idol factory, it turns out that even though I now have a job, I am still a sinner. On the bright side, I am now both a sinner and a gainfully employed person, so I feel like it is a net improvement.

So first things first… long awaited positive news from the job-hunting adventure! I was offered a fellowship position in January at the National Institute of Nursing Research. And I accepted it… but paperwork happens slowly here, so I didn’t start until March. I’m working at the National Institutes of Health main campus in Bethesda, where I am doing genomics and epigenetics(!!) research for studies of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, mild Traumatic Brain Injury, and Phantom Limb Pain (mostly) . So the physical work I am doing is straight genetics, but the big picture is psychology (I get the feeling that the NINR researches whatever it feels like, which is convenient for me because… genomic psychology?!?! I’m sure it is related to nursing. Somehow. And I love it.) The PTSD and Phantom Limb studies are both in populations of Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans, and I think the only way I could possibly be more excited about the PTSD study would be if they would let me walk across the street to Walter Reed Army Medical Center and help with the clinical phenotyping. The mTBI study is in a population of student athletes, and although I haven’t figured out how you get a concussion playing basketball (trip and hit your head? Hit another player with your head? Hit the backboard with your head? So confusing compared to the logical football/soccer/hockey concussions), the rest of the study is straightforward, as far as epigenetics goes, and should be interesting like the other two projects.

Proverb holding the fort.
If the fort was a bag.

I say “should be interesting” because I haven’t really done much yet. Thankfully it took me less than two weeks to take the safety courses I needed to take (again) in order to work in a lab with potential blood borne pathogens. Then I held the fort while my boss was out all of last week. (You do not hold down the fort. The fort is not inflatable. In this particular case, the fort is a lab with a -80°^C freezer that I am organizing within an inch of its life.) So while I told myself that I would just ‘wait until I start my new job’ to blog about it, and then told myself I would just ‘wait until I actually start working on something,’ time trickled away. Sorry, team. I am still learning that exciting is relative, and writing about real life is not going to flow like a good book.

Instead, life seems to be flowing, slowly, in circles. Like I mentioned at the beginning, it turns out that even though I now have the thing that I wanted,  didn’t have, and spent considerable energy pursuing for the past ten months, getting a job did not resolve all the struggles I had before I had a job. In fact, it was an almost laughable moment when I realized-on the day I accepted my job offer-that I had been subconsciously building up a job in my heart as the solution to all my problems and was disappointed to learn that the real thing did not live up to expectations. I did not really have more control over my life than I did before; I did not have the security that I desperately wanted. My new job was not a guarantee that I would get into the grad school of my dreams, there was no way to know for sure that working at NIH would make me happy, and this job would not secure the rest of my career and assure my success. And now that I am working, what do I struggle with on a daily basis? Yep, it's the same old stuff. Turns out I am not magically better at being content, resting in my identity in Christ, etc. now that I have a job. 

Basically, I still have to trust God’s control in my life for security. I still have to look to him rather than choosing to worry about my future. I still have to seek him for real contentment. But I also get to extract DNA while I do those things. Life is good :)

P.S. Here are some other struggles that aren't fixed by a job. I don't really mind most of them, though...

The Strength Of Men

I love that God made men. I also love that I am not one. Sometimes, I think it is easier to appreciate something from the outside, easier to recognize something that is different.

This week, I saw the movie Lone Survivor. It was excellent... difficult to watch[i], but I still loved it. For those of you who haven't seen it, I won't explain the entire plot, but will simply say that it is based on a true story of SEAL team 10 serving in Afghanistan in 2005, and that the title speaks for itself. Watching the movie was painful and involved a lot of wincing and mentally trying to keep myself together, but it also moved me deeply. And it kept me awake that night thinking.

There was a point in the movie, during which the team was literally tumbling down a mountain and I was feeling ALL the conflicting emotions, when I thought to myself, "There is something about men that I love." At the moment, I couldn't put that 'something' into words (because, really, too many feels at once), but as I thought about it later, the word that came to mind was "strength." It wasn't just the physical strength that the men displayed, but the strength of mind and character as they lived and died during their last day on this earth with courage and honor.

As I watched them, they seemed very... other. Very different from me. I could not have done what they did, and it made me appreciate that they could. And yes, I know that I have not been trained to be a Navy SEAL. But the difference seemed deeper, more qualitative. I too, have been made for war, but not for that part of war. My heart yearns to fight, but it is a fight to rebuild, to restore, to redeem, and to rescue. I want to be on the front lines of battle, but it is a different part of the battle, and fighting looks different where I want to be.

And so, as I lay awake and reflected on their fight, I rejoiced that God has equipped and prepared men to fight in some wars that I am not called to. I rejoiced that he has given them the strength they need for their battles, which frees me and inspires me to use the strength he gives me for my own battles. The strength of those men I have never met inspire me, but they are not the only ones who do so. I am inspired by men of strength who wage a Relentless Fight against pervasive sin and equip others to fight with them. I am inspired by men of courage who fight to be a father to the fatherless. I am inspired by men of honor who take a stand against sexual violence.

Although my heart is moved by the strength of all these men, they only dimly reflect the strength of one man. A man who, though innocent, was beaten until he was marred beyond human likeness. After this beating, which had killed others before him, he hauled a slab of wood on his bleeding back up a hill so that he could be nailed to it. And although he could have called down legions of warriors to help him, he allowed himself to be crucified while bearing the weight of every sin ever committed and experiencing a soul crushing separation from the person he loved most. The strength of other men inspires me, but it is the strength of this man, Jesus Christ, that empowers me.

P.S. It was an intense movie. Cats just didn't quite fit. But of course there are some pretty cool cats serving on the front lines, too. So enjoy some wartime cats.

P.P.S. In case that wasn't enough cats for you, there are also cats in the Middle East who deserve some love.

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[i] Side note for gents who want to care for the ladies in their lives... war movies like this usually leave us with deep feelings, and we have some hefty emotional processing to do even though the movie is over. As such, although watching a war movie might make you want to immediately play Call of Duty, doing that will make us want to cry. We sort of want to cry already, so its helpful if you just give us some processing time to pull ourselves together. (And this might not be true of all ladies, but its true for me and the girlfriends I've discussed this with.)

The View From Seven Months

I have been, admittedly, rather sparse with the life details. Part of that was that there was nothing exciting to tell. Part of that was that there was too much to tell. Although I am a sharer, I like to develop some trust before I spill my guts, and there is no way to do that with the entire interwebs. So rather than a blow-by-blow of life, which would be aptly titled “Four Weddings and A Funeral,” I will give you a current update:

What does seven months out of school look like?

1. It looks like paying student loans. Those pesky things come due six months out of school, and by the grace of God, I can pay mine. This is seriously worth being happy about, and I look forward to owing a little less money each month when I successfully make a payment.

2. It looks like working part time jobs to pay said loans. I am working at a wedding venue, which has prepared me fairly well for this recent wedding season (my friends are odd and mostly got married in the winter instead of the summer). I have been working at Bath & Body Works for the holidays, and something about good-smelling things being perfectly arranged in rows makes it a rather enjoyable place to work. I also have been working for a medical billing company dealing with insurance companies. This has been instructional, and also cemented the fact that I never want to work for an insurance company.

Earlier in life, I wanted to be a cat farmer
...but seriously.

3. It looks like endless (and perseverant! I am an optimist!) job searches. I have a few leads in this area that I am really hoping to hear back from in the next few weeks. Hopefully, someone in the near future will pay me to do science! I’m keeping the dream alive. When things are not going according to plan, it is a good opportunity to re-examine your calling and decide if you’re sure that’s where you are being called. If I didn’t feel led to pursue this whole PhD clinical psych thing, it would be stupid of me not to do something more reasonable. But, after some thought, I am still being called to unreasonableness :)

4. It looks like slow and sometimes faltering efforts to settle here and make friends. I have found it difficult to commit to—and succeed at—the effort of making post-grad friends, but I am not the only one. From friends with set timelines (“My grad program is half over and I’m only here for a year total”) to others who really want to make new friends but find the process slow compared to making friends in college, it seems to be a struggle shared by most of my friends who graduated with me or the year before. Its hard to get lunch with people when you both work different jobs, its hard to get together regularly when you live twenty minutes apart by car instead of three minutes on foot, and its hard to be new in town without an incoming class of people who are in the same boat.  But I did have coffee (figuratively speaking) with a girl this week, and it was delightful to have life chats. Yes, I had life chats this week with someone that I met since graduation. It was magical.

I’m not necessarily telling you to prepare for these things if you will be graduating in 2014, nor do I expect the graduated among you to have had the exact same experience as I am having (although if you are, you and I should definitely have life chats sometime). This is just where I am right now. Sometimes I am content, other times I am not. Sometimes I am happy, other times I am not. Sometimes I am busy, other times I wear my ugly sweater all day and no one is around to judge me. Sometimes I snuggle with cats, other times my cats refuse to snuggle. I am trying to “give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

(This was a snuggle time)

P.S. Also, after reading this blog written by a pretty wise man I know, I decided to read the bible as fast as I can starting January 1^st. I have never read straight through from Genesis to Revelation in order before,  so this should be an adventure. Thus, technically, seven months out of school also looks like Genesis… but hopefully Exodus soon. I’ll let you know.

P.P.S. For those of you who also feel like your attempts to accomplish something are like this little lizard hunter's, here are some cats who didn't make it through 2013 quite the way they planned... 

Celebrating Baby Jesus' Birthday

I compartmentalize both mentally and emotionally like a pro[i]. In many ways, I find this to be helpful, such as when action needs to be taken and I don’t have time to feel all the feels. However, it also has some pitfalls, like when I file something away in the ‘later’ box and forget to take it back out… or when it is Christmas.

There are enough people who talk about the ‘real meaning of Christmas’ that it should be easy to remember what Christmas is all about. And with all of the Christmas movies that my mother forces me to watch that I enjoy watching with my mom, I get frequent reminders of the reason for the season. In fact, Linus tells me several times through the month of December.

And yet, although I am definitely improved in my ability to remember that Christmas is about Christ while also doing the things that are done at this time of year, I simply don’t get excited about Christmas the way I do about Easter. I love Easter, the whole Easter season (you can ask me why, I know just the reason). And while I get excited all through lent, cry on Good Friday, and cheer Easter morning, Christmas feels like the necessary prequel, the sponsor of Easter (“This holiday made possible by…”). I enjoy putting up my crèche and reading the nativity story, but Christmas doesn’t touch my heart quite like Easter does.

But I put my finger on why it does that this year. I have identified the problem (and that always seems to be the first step toward recovery). I have been compartmentalizing Jesus[ii]. I have been celebrating Baby Jesus’ birthday instead of celebrating the King of Kings coming down to earth as the God-man.

In absence of conscious effort, Christmas in my mind is a fairly quaint affair. Sure, it was definitely a bit grittier in real life than in the storybook versions (1. Have you ever smelled a place where animals live? 2. Culturally, Mary was up to nine years younger than me… I can’t imagine anyone trusting me with a baby at that age, much less one who is also the savior of the world. 3. The reigning King is actually a baby killer.) Still, I take for granted that God is doing cool things with the stars, sending angels around to appear to regular people, likely ramping up spiritual warfare against Satan’s attacks, and incarnating himself… and I end up just focusing on a snuggly baby.

Don’t get me wrong. I love babies. Snuggling with them is the best (even better than kittens). It’s awesome that God chose to come as an approachable, snuggle-able little one rather than coming in glory and being terrifying. His coming as a baby and submitting himself to our messy existence definitely reveals an aspect of his character that is awesome and makes me love him. But sometimes, I get stuck on Baby Jesus and I forget about Jesus with tattoos on his leg and eyes like fire in Revelation 19. It makes perfect sense on someone’s 50^th birthday to look at their whole life and the person they have become, not just the story of their birth. That sort of slipped my mind on the celebration of Christ’s 2013^th birthday. Hopefully, I will do better for his 2014^th.

Speaking of cats and Christmas... I think 1:30 and 2:00 might be my favorites,  but then there is every other part, and those might be my favorites, too. 

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[i] For a woman, anyway. To be fair, women and men’s brains are wired a bit differently, and thanks to our thicker corpus callosum, women generally tend to be better at multitasking but not quite as good at compartmentalizing. There are admittedly times when I wish I could put unimportant things away in a box but just can’t. Thanks, brain chemistry.

[ii] This isn’t exactly big news for me. I struggle with compartmentalizing God all the time. I think if I could manage to simultaneously recall and coalesce all of the aspects of God that I (only partially) understand to date, my brain would explode. He’s just so big that if I can keep two or three characteristics in my head at once (powerful enough to create ALL the things, loving father, perfectly just, etc.), I’m making progress.