Seasons

Like the winter snow melts into springtime blooms, and the summer greens turn to golden hues; so do seasons of life transform in but a moment. 

Being a native of southern California, seasons weren't something that I grew up with. I remember being a freshman in college and being overly excited when I saw the first frozen puddle in October. My delight carried through the first snowfall--during which I went sledding on borrowed cafeteria trays--and possibly the second, though it quickly faded when I realized that being perpetually cold wasn't actually as enjoyable as I had anticipated. It did, however, provide an excuse to purchase an entirely new wardrobe. My delight returned with the first blossoms of spring, and I was equally enthralled with the bold, deep colors of fall. While some are more pleasant than others, seasons are interconnected- intricately strung together by divine hands. 

There's something beautiful about seasons. They bring change- often anticipated, sometimes surprising. This most recent season in my life came unexpectedly, like a cool breeze on a hot afternoon. What seemed like a monotonous reality turned into a pleasant dream, which then turned into a pleasant reality. From time to time, it still feels like a dream, but it's isn't. It's a gift. It's a long-await gift that I dared to hope for, after what seemed like an eternity of drought. I felt forgotten, left behind. Still, I moved forward, though the cynic in me grew and the hope in me diminished. 

But God has this way of blowing my mind when I least expect it and most need it. I discovered this years ago, and I'm still discovering it today. New country, new community. New relationship. He knew all along, even when I didn't. Especially when I didn't. All of the details that worked together to open the doors to where I am now are evidence of his intimate involvement and abundant grace. Undeserved grace. A gift. 

Adventure for One

Adventure: "an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks" or "an exciting or remarkable experience." 

May 25
In less than 24 hours, I will be lounging in a leather seat and sipping a martini on my way to Portugal. Ok, that's a lie. I'll be sitting in coach with no martini, but I'll be starting what I'm anticipating to be a wonderful adventure. For one.

 June 3
Mission accomplished. Adventure for one was a success.

June 11
If you had asked me three years ago if I would consider traveling oversees by myself, my answer would have been "no." I hadn't done it before, and it seemed pretty risky. And frankly, the thought of spending that much time with myself really wasn't all that appealing. Fast forward to January 2011, and I found myself embarking on my first solo international journey to Kristiansand, Norway. It was a work-related trip, so there was structure and schedule and accommodations. But I intentionally scheduled a 3-day weekend to explore Oslo on my own. I was a bit nervous navigating a foreign country, but I survived. In fact, not only did I survive, but I had a fabulous time being by myself. Freedom. My only complaints: the frigid temperatures and the french guy who slept naked in our shared hostel dorm. 

Kristiansand happened two more times, and I used those trips as opportunities to see the remaining Nordic capitals: Stockholm, Copenhagen, Reyjkavik, and Helsinki. Talk about frigid temperatures? Helsinki in January was the coldest I have ever been in my life. There was a moment, while I was waiting at a bus stop, when I literally thought I was going to freeze to death. I survived. 

My international adventures that year taught me several things: This world is a big, big place. I love seeing new places and experiencing new cultures. I am completely capable of traveling on my own in a foreign country. I'm a lot more fun to hang out with that I originally thought.

Fast forward 2.5 years. I bought my ticket to Portugal and booked places to stay. My bank statement told me it was real. When I told people that I was going, they asked me who I was going with. "Myself." Many were surprised. Some were concerned. I was delighted.

My trip to Portugal proved to be even more amazing than I hoped it would be. All of the things experienced and learned in my previous travels were heightened on this trip. I was reminded of the enormity of this world, of the diversity of colors and smells and tastes, of the similarities in laughter and passion and joy across cultures, of my desire to partake in them. It was invigorating. Life giving. An experience that no one can take away from me. Food for the soul.

Adventure.

Twenty-Six

I stumbled upon a book at Urban Outfitters a couple months back called "F*CK! I'M IN MY TWENTIES." I immediately identified and felt like that adequately explains a lot of things. Oh, roller coaster decade. Sinking and swimming. Valleys and mountains. Deserts and green pastures. Lots of learning and growing. Painful experiences that lead to more learning and growing. Seeing glimpses of glory, or at least faithfulness.

Twenty-five, a pivotal year in the decade, was very much characterized by the twists and turns, climbing and dropping, flipping of a roller coaster. I came out on top, though winded, having developed the machinery that keeps the train on the track--even when everything is turned upside down. Determination. Grace. Perseverance. Hope. Strength. The little engine that could. The view from the top was beautiful and fulfilling, and yet I saw in the horizon more mountains to be climbed and more valleys to face. Twenty-six.

It's only one more than twenty-five, and yet it seems so much older. So much more mature. It solidified my teetering on the fence of adulthood. I'm here, whether I like it or not. Where's the panic button? Actually, and surprisingly, the panic has been minimal. I've had a few months to settle into twenty-six, and I think I'm filling its shoes. Certainly, I have my days when I wonder how I got here and what it's all supposed to look like, but more and more, I'm understanding that it looks exactly the way it's supposed to. On this journey of learning how to live more fully and deeply where I am, I made some goals for myself this year. Most of them aren't anything magical or life-changing, but they're part of what I want twenty-six to look like.

Goals:
-Blog at least two times per month
-Take an international trip 
-Pursue photography more
-Laugh more
-Give myself more grace
-Read at least six books
-Practice thankfulness on a daily basis

Progress:
-It's May, and this is my third blog. I'm a bit behind.
-International trip booked. Leaving for Portugal this weekend. 
-All of my photography money was spent on purchasing extra memory cards for trip.
-All day, every day. Not really, but I think I have this one covered.
-Giving myself grace as I learn how to give myself grace.
-Finishing up my third book. Ahead of the game and loving it. Next on the list: Great Gatsby, Chasing Daylight, Blue Like Jazz, In Pursuit of God, Bossy Pants, Behind the Beautiful Forever.
-Thankful that there's grace for days when I don't feel thankful for anything.

In other news, twenty-six-year-old Anna still can't parallel park or use chopsticks. I suppose some things will never change. :)

How to tie this all in? The twenties are crazy. Crazy awesome. Crazy horrible. Crazy confusing. Part of the journey is learning how to navigate the crazy as effectively as possible, while still pursuing the things in life that are important to me. Let me know if you find a shortcut.

Paper Heart

I started this post a month ago and am just finishing it now. They say better late than never, so here goes.

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and in light of that, I've been contemplating writing a blog. Historically, my take on V Day has tended to be a cynical one. I usually scoff at the endless commercials for diamond jewelry, boxes of chocolate wrapped in gold foil, and dozens of long stem roses-the typical objects a man uses to express his affections toward a woman on V Day. Do I think it's ridiculous that society has chosen one day a year to express "love" through objects? Yes. Did I secretly want a man to give me diamonds, chocolate, and roses on V Day? Yes. Did it happen? No.

Insert sad song here.

Just kidding. You probably thought I'd spend the rest of this blog weaving a tale of woe, but I've decided to tell a better tale. It's the story of a paper heart.

It was 7:28 on a Thursday evening, and she walked into the food pantry with her dad. I didn't recognize her. Or him. This must have been their first time. I copied down the name and address from his drivers license and handed him a white piece of paper that listed the food items the pantry typically carries. Cereal, granola bars, pasta, peanut butter and jelly... This was the first Thursday of the month, which is the day my church community group serves at a local food pantry. We've been serving there for over six months, and it's been both a challenging and amazing experience. Challenging, because we see the faces of poverty and run around for 3 hours in a hot kitchen stuffing grocery bags with food and sometimes have picky clients who insist on particular kinds of canned soup. Amazing, because we're learning the names of the people we serve and have been able to build relationships with some of the clients and have seen God at work in and through us. We've been praying for more "God moments" at the pantry, and we've been getting them.

He finished checking off the items that he wanted, and I handed the list to a fellow volunteer to fill the order. I've assumed the role of check-in coordinator, so I'm usually the one at the kitchen window taking down names and keeping the paperwork organized while others fill the orders in the back. Rather than taking a seat at one of the available tables, they both stood near the counter, waiting for their order to be completed. I make attempts to strike up conversations with clients as much as possible, and this evening was no different than any other. I started talking with the girl. She had long brown hair, brown eyes, and a shy disposition. I found out that her name is Faith. She's 9 and is in the 3rd grade. We chatted for a couple of minutes- about her favorite subjects and such- and then I handed them two paper bags full of food. They thanked me and said goodbye. I carried on with organizing paperwork.

About 3 minutes after they walked out of the pantry, she came walking back into the room with a smile on her face and something in her hand. It was a paper heart. This paper heart.

She handed it to me and said she had made it in school for Valentines Day. She wanted me to have it. I took it from her hand and stared at the masterpiece I had been handed, amazed. I told her it was beautiful and thanked her with an even bigger smile on my face. She said she'd bring more next time and walked out. I held the paper heart in my hand, the muscle heart in my chest about as full as it could be. Such a special gift. It wasn't fancy or expensive, but it was genuine, and it was full of love.

There are different kinds of love, and all are amazing in their own ways. Valentines Day focuses on a specific kind- the kind that so many of us are seeking. I was shown another kind of love that Thursday evening, and it was exactly the kind that I needed that day. I think that paper heart reflected a piece of God's heart- an illustration of His goodness. And really, it doesn't get much better than that, no matter how dark the chocolate or red the roses may be.

Wherever You Are, Be All There

I'm currently reading a book by Ann Voskamp called One Thousand Gifts. The author, who has been diagnosed with cancer, shares her journey of learning to live more fully and deeply, of soaking up all that life has to offer-both the good and the bad-and experiencing true joy. In her reflections on life-on the often mundane and unexciting daily tasks required of us- and the painful experiences-the loss and regret that we all to often cloak ourselves in-she explores the possibility of practicing thankfulness (eucharisteo) and how true and intentional thankfulness in all circumstances can transform our lives and leave us more fulfilled than we ever imagined possible. Perhaps a bit cliche, and she's certainly not the first to propose the idea, but I think there's something for all of us in this search for fulfillment and contentment.

I'm 69 pages in and have really been struck by some of the things she writes and how she writes them. So honest and so simple, yet so profound. Perhaps it's because I've been feeling short of words as of late, or perhaps it's because her words ring true in my life and have reminded me of who I want to be when I grow up. In the few pages that I read tonight, this line stood out to me most: "Wherever you are, be all there." Honest and simple, yet profound. Be all there.

This is something that I've struggled with quite a bit in my life, particularly the past few years. I think that the "Wherever you are" has not necessarily been the "Where you want to be" for me. Of course, if you asked me where I want to be, I don't know if I could tell you. Knowing myself (which I like to take credit for every once in a while), I'd probably respond by saying "anywhere but here." Isn't that the truth? There's always a destination, an aspiration, a goal to be achieved. There's always a greener lawn and a bluer sky and warmer sun. A better job. A more exciting chapter in life. And there's usually discontentment and daydreaming and wishing for a different "wherever you are."

But where's the thankfulness? And where's the joy? And the contentment? Is that something that's being practiced? Where's the eucharisteo? This is where I am. In Philly. Ardmore, to be exact. I'm at my job, and I'm at my church, and I'm in my bedroom that's smaller than I want it to be. And I'm single. But am I present? Am I here? Am I living in the moment and soaking up the experiences and investing in the people and opportunities around me? To the fullest? Am I engaged? I think that's my goal for this year. To be more engaged. Not the kind that comes with a shiny ring, but the kind that comes comes with practicing eucharisteo for the little things and the big things, the kind that can even be thankful for the speed bumps and potholes along the way, because those are part of the journey, and they are part of the "wherever you are." They are part of where I am. And while I suspect that I will always be hopeful for a warmer sun, I'm going to try to be more intentional about enjoying my current view. Kind of like a daffodil bud patiently waiting out the winter, taking it in for what it offers, in anticipation of spring.

I'll end with this line from her book:

"Thanksgiving-giving thanks in everything-is what prepares the way for salvation's whole restoration. Our salvation in Christ is real, yet the completeness of that salvation is not fully realized in a life until the life realizes the need to give thanks. In everything?"

Yes, in everything.

A Constant in the Change

It's been a while since I've written, and I've had a lot to write about, but I've needed some time to process and reflect. This is my attempt at getting back into it again.

Little did I know when I wrote my last blog just how relevant it would be. Shortly after my 25th birthday, things in my life changed significantly. I wasn't looking for the change, and I didn't want the change, but it happened nonetheless. And it shook my up, as change often does. It caused me to experience what I would call an identity crisis. Having a significant part of my life taken away forced me to analyze my situation and to re-think through some of the bigger questions that I suspect many of us are still working through:

Who am I?
Where do I belong?
From whom or what do I derive my worth?
Am I content with where I am in life?
How can I find fulfillment?
How does my faith impact the way I choose to live my life?

These are just a few of the biggies that I've been thinking through lately. Perhaps I should have them answered by now, but we all grow and develop and learn in different ways and at different paces. This is where I am right now. It's a painful process, this journey of self-discovery. But it's a critical one.

Do I have these questions answered yet? No. At least not entirely. I'm more sure of some things and less sure of others, but there is one thing that has been made abundantly clear in this process: God is with me every step of the way. How do I know? Because I've seen it. And I've felt it. And it's awesome. During the time of my deepest pain and confusion, God spoke these words to me in a very cool way (ask for details if you'd like to hear the story), "Ever present, I am never absent, I am always with you." The way this message was delivered to me blew my mind. And God's been doing that lately. He's been blowing my mind.

In my last blog post, I quoted Socrates: "The only real wisdom is knowing you know nothing." What I wrote next was a perfect introduction to this next chapter of my life: "That's about where I am these days. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life, I don't know where I'm going to do it, and I don't know who I'm going to do it with... Actually, that's not true. I'll be doing it with God beside me every step of the way. He has yet to leave my side, and since He's the one who knows everything, I'd say he's a pretty good companion to have."

Truth. I've been experiencing an unexpected and overwhelming sense of peace in all of this change and ambiguity, which is a good place to be. So as I wait for my next move, I'm resting in the knowledge and faith that God will be taking that step with me.

You may be wondering why I choose to be so vulnerable on my blog, and frankly, I often wonder that myself. Being vulnerable is dangerous, but it's also brave and honest and real. And that's what I am. I'm honest and real. Brave is debatable. :)

If at First You Don't Succeed, Do a Cartwheel and Try Again

If you don't know how to do a cartwheel, you're screwed...

Those of you who know me probably know that I'm a perfectionist, in every sense of the word. I'm also an over-achiever. I like to be good at everything. Not just good, but the best. In a perfect world, this would be possible, but it's not a perfect world, and it certainly isn't possible. I'm good at a lot of things, but I wouldn't say that I'm necessarily great at anything (except thrifting). I dabble. Painting, cooking, guitar, sewing, writing.

I've realized that the reason I'm not particularly amazing at any one thing is that I haven't invested the time necessary to become a master (it could also be related to lack of talent in certain areas, but for the sake of my argument, we'll go with the former). My perfectionist mentality often leaves me frustrated when I don't get something exactly how I want it on the first try. I have given up on a number of projects and hobbies because I'm not patient enough to keep trying. This is a tragedy, for I am forgoing opportunities to cultivate my talents and improve my skills. They say that practice makes perfect, but I wouldn't know. I've never been patient enough to test out the validity of that adage.

BUT, that's not the end of the story. I'm still learning.

I'm still learning that it's ok to not be a master of any one thing. It's even okay to be bad at certain things. This is a truth that I am still trying to accept. I often look at artists or connoisseurs and compare my work to theirs. The result: disappointment. But, it's an unfair comparison. I have to remind myself that they weren't born masters. The majority of them invested years into perfecting their skills. If they had given up early on in the game, they never would have realized their full potential. We wouldn't have Van Gogh's Starry Night or Edison's light bulb or Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. 

So, I'm making it a point to cut myself a little bit more slack, to put in more practice, and to accept occasional failure. I might even attempt a cartwheel every once in a while.

Life as a Movie

Earlier this year, I read a book called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. It was written by Donald Miller, author of Blue Like Jazz. This was the first book that I've read by him, but I doubt it will be my last. The first thing I noticed appreciated about this book was his writing style. He writes with very concise, choppy sentences. Kind of like this. Or this. It's a style that you don't (or at least I don't) see frequently. Kind of reminded me of Steinbeck or Hemmingway. I love it.

Beyond my appreciation of his writing style, this book laid out an interesting perspective on life. The premise of the book is that our life is like a movie. We are the main character. Every movie has a storyline-a plot. Some stories are more entertaining than others. Some are full of excitement, while others are dull. But any good storyline has a climax and an anti-climax. And what really makes stories interesting is conflict. It can be conflicting ideologies, a lovers' quarrel, a misunderstanding, a war. Conflict is interwoven throughout the plot, creating varied interaction between characters. Conflict leads to the climax, which in turn, leads to a resolution. Without these elements, the storyline is boring.

Our lives are very much the same way. Miller paralleled conflict in a movie to conflict in our lives, and talked about conflict as an opportunity for growth. Conflict doesn't have to be an argument with our friend or fist fight. It can be an internal struggle, a mind game, conquering our fears, stepping out on that limb, even if we're afraid it might snap. When we settle for complacency and refuse to take those leaps of faith because we're afraid, our life is like a boring movie. No excitement, no conflict, no climax, and no resolution.

There are countless times in my life when I've been afraid to do something. Afraid of the unknown, afraid of under-thinking, afraid of over-thinking, afraid of change... I was afraid to go to college all the way across the country, but I did it, and I have grown in so many ways because of it. I was afraid to move back to Philly for a job, but I did it, and it's been an incredible experience. I've been afraid to let go of certain relationships, but I've done it, because I knew deep down inside that it was the right thing to do. My point: Not to tell you the story of my life via my fears, but to emphasize the importance of allowing conflict into your life, because conflict creates opportunities for growth. So the next time you face an obstacle in your life that is hindering you from being who you want to be or heading in the direction you want to go, woman (or man) up and face it head on. It might hurt a little bit, but it will be worth it!

Chivalry is Asleep

I went out to lunch with one of my guy friends several days ago, and the restaurant was crowded, so we were waiting to be seated. An older couple (in their late 70s or early 80s, I suspect) walked into the restaurant a couple minutes after us. My friend and I were sitting on the bench, and he immediately stood up so that the woman could have a seat. I then proceeded to stand up, so that the man could have a seat too. They both had canes, and I figured they would enjoy the comfy seats more than I would. As soon as I stood up, the old man told me to sit back down. Said he liked to stand. I hesitated, but he insisted. So I sat back down. He then jovially informed me that "Chivalry isn't dead; it's just asleep." What a relief! *Sigh. I have a weakness for old men who wear suspenders, bow ties and Velcro shoes.

The conversation continued. The old man pointed to his cane and said, "You probably think I got this cane from being a veteran of one of the World Wars. Well, I'm here to tell you that I got this cane from being an idiot in the parking lot." The woman pointed to her cane and said, "And I have a bad knee." They then proceeded to tell us about how they had both served in WWII (he was on active duty, she was a nurse), and he pulled a little card out of his pocket that had a picture of his wife receiving a special military veteran award. He proudly bragged a about her accomplishments, and vice a versa. We found out that they met at Villanova back in the 50s and have been smitten with each other ever since. So cute. After a few more minutes of conversing, they called our table, so we said goodbye.

Over lunch, I started thinking about what he said... about how chivalry is asleep. It's so true. Things aren't like they used to be. Guys don't treat girls with the same respect that they used to (broad generalization), and, frankly, girls don't demand it like they should. Having a guy open your door, walk on the edge of the sidewalk closer to traffic or pull off the road to help you change a tire aren't bad things. In fact, they should be expected. I think. I'm probably going to regret this paragraph immediately after publishing the post, since one of my upcoming posts is going to be about how much I love being independent and fully capable of taking care of myself. But, at this moment, I'm feeling like there's not enough chivalry in the world. So guys, step it up a notch. And girls, don't forget to thank your man for his chivalrous behavior. It's rare these days.

Bloom Where You're Planted

One of the quotes that I have heard numerous times in my life is "Bloom where you are planted." The idea behind this statement is that we should dig our roots deep and thrive wherever we are, regardless of our environment. An interesting thought, and I definitely believe that there is some merit to it. After all, a large part of our success and happiness stems from a conscious decision to make the most out of every situation and to be the best the we can be, regardless of circumstances. I do think that who we are as a person is enormously up to us to decide. However, I think that it would be dishonest and, frankly, wrong to assume that our environment does not have a significant bearing on our outcome. We do not live in a vacuum. Our lives are framed in context of the specific geography, point in history, cultural setting, etc that compose life as we know it.

This reality has been brought to my attention as of late in my search to discover who I am, who I want to be and where I want to be. Having grown up in Southern California and now living in Philadelphia, I have experienced almost polar opposite environments, particularly referencing the cultural dissimilarities. California is sunny, both literally and figuratively speaking. It is relaxed, it's open to anything, it's creative. Philadelphia, despite what FX may have you believe, is not always sunny. In fact, it is rarely sunny. It is more academic than creative, and more rigorous than relaxed. Recently, I have really begun to realize that I am a different person in California than I am in Pennsylvania. No, I don't grow a foot or assume a male persona. But I do notice a difference in my personality, the way I express myself, and even the way I feel about life.

And this brings me back to the idea that we are significantly influenced by our environment. One of the things that I've been struggling with most about being in Philadelphia, other than being physically separated from my best friends and my family, is the lack of creativity and openness. Life is so much more rigid out here. Work is more competitive. There are always people to impress. But it's so much more than that. It's the entire culture, the way people interact, the lingo. I feel less inspired when I am out here, or perhaps I'm inspired in a different kind of way.

I recently returned from a 2 1/2 week trip to California, where I had the pleasure of being in two of my best friends' weddings, as well as catching up with a lot of high school friends and some of my family. I had a wonderful time and really let loose. I partied and acted a bit crazy at times, and I enjoyed every minute of it. I guess the best part about my experience on this trip was that I was able to express a side of me that I don't usually have the opportunity to express on the east coast, or at least don't feel comfortable expressing. So it was a bit of a release for me. And I knew that no one was judging me, because they associate with this side of me. We have that connection.

The transition back to the east coast after such a long trip was especially difficult for me this time. There were a number of factors that contributed to the difficulty, but I think the hardest thing for me was letting go of west coast Anna and facing east coast reality head on. Having been back for 2 weeks now, things are back to normal, and I'm feeling pretty good about life in Philly. I'm beginning to realize that there are things here on the east coast that inspire me. They're just different things. Rather than being inspired by sandy beaches rainbow sandals and California burritos, I now find beauty in the changing colors and crisp fall days.

So perhaps my earlier argument of significant environmental and circumstantial impact on our lives is null and void. Well, not quite. I still believe that, to a certain extent, external factors play a determining role in our outcome. However, it is up to us to decide how to act on those factors- whether to let them get the best of us, or whether to make the most of them. And therein lies the beauty of "blooming where we are planted."