Telling Eyes

Her eyes tell the story of one thousand years: adventures, love, heartache. Blue like the ocean deep, pregnant with secrets waiting to be discovered. Oh, to be known. To be intimately known. Understood. 

Pools of emerald ripple in the sunlight. Beauty and joy. Wandering soul. Aimless. To belong, to be home. Vagabond. In search of life's truths, answers, treasures. In search of what is already known, yet remains encrypted. Deciphering, elucidating. 

Now gray as the ominous clouds that engulf the blue. Tragedy and triumph. Specs of gold sparkle in the night. Dreams crumble and are resurrected again and again. Hope. 

She waits, longingly, remembering the laughter and music, the dancing as her heart skipped beats to the rhythm of the band. The memories fade, but the band plays on. 

Reflections

This absolutely epitomizes cliche, but as the year draws to a close, nothing seems more appropriate than to do some reflecting. Sometimes I get so caught up in the minutes and the seconds that I fail to see the bigger picture- how the minutes connect to the days, and how the days connect to the years. A lot has happened this year. It's been a good year. A hard year. A year full of adventure and joy, sadness and pain. Change. I turned 26. I spent ten days exploring Portugal. I applied to grad school, quit my job, and moved to the UK to pursue my masters. Big changes. Sometimes the hardest part about change is the decision to make it. Other times, it's more challenging to adjust to the change.

I'm learning and re-learning a lot about myself in this process, about my strengths and my weaknesses, my hopes and my fears. And I'm reminded again and again of God's faithfulness, especially in my most challenging times. I'm thankful for those times. I think. Because they push me outside of my comfort zone and force me to face my fears and to grow. At least that's the goal. There are a lot of uncertainties going into 2014. More changes to come, undoubtedly. As I anticipate those changes, I look to the One who does not change. Therein lies my certainty- a lesson I am continually learning.

A Tale of Online Dating

I debated if I wanted to publish this, but it was too good to keep to myself.

Like most girls in their mid-twenties, I was hopefully anticipating the day when a fine young man would waltz into my life and sweep me off my feet. Twenty-six was just around the corner, and I was starting to feel the added pressure of finding him. So I joined OKCupid. All the cool kids were doing it.

The fact that this is a free online dating site meant that the quality of most men was significantly lower than what I was looking for, but I figured I'd give it a shot anyway. The only thing I was in danger of losing was my pride. This became the starting point of several awkward dating experiences. There was one date in particular that needs to be shared.

My general MO with online dating was to engage in email dialogues for at least a few weeks before meeting up with anyone in person. This allowed me to gauge their level of potential awesomeness and my potential level of interest. But after several unsuccessful first dates, I decided it wasn't worth my time or effort to invest in conversation before meeting and that I would rather meet in person first to decide if it was worth pursuing. Mistake!

His name was Mike, and he seemed like a cool guy, so I agreed to meet up for drinks. We met up on a Friday after work. He texted me when he got to the restaurant to let me know he was waiting outside and was wearing glasses. I happened to be wearing my glasses that day too. How cute. So I parked and starting walking towards the restaurant. As soon as I saw him, I immediately regretted my decision, but it was too late... I had been spotted and would not be able to escape. We introduced ourselves and walked in.  I guess he was worried I wouldn't recognize him with his glasses, and he was right.  He did not look like his profile picture at all, but it was by no means the fault of his glasses. I couldn't decide if I was more disappointed or amused by that fact.

He was scrawny and was wearing faded baggy mom jeans, a baggy black polo, white new balance sneakers, and, of course, his glasses (picture Steve Carell in Crazy Stupid Love before Ryan Gosling transforms him). I, on the other hand, looked like a normal person and was embarrassed to be seen with him. I was embarrassed as the hostess walked us to our booth and was embarrassed when we sat down at our table. One thing was clear: we did not belong together.

The conversation was painfully awkward and forced, and I could not wait until the end of the date. We had absolutely nothing in common. He works as a park ranger and has never left the country. I'm running out of space in my passport and could have crushed him with my thumb. I'm still not quite sure how it happened, but I was somehow convinced to stay for a second drink. Mistake part 2. The countdown to the end of our date continued. Conversation flowed a bit more naturally as my second glass kicked in, but there was still absolutely no way in any realm of the universe that I was interested.

He tried to convince me to stay for round three, but I insisted that I had to leave. He was disappointed and commented on the fact that we really seemed to be connecting. It was definitely the alcohol. The waitress brought the check, he paid it (after some awkward back and forth about whether or not he wanted me to contribute) and we left. More embarrassment as we walked through the restaurant... Surely people understood that this date was a horrible misunderstanding on my part and that I was not there by choice.

We got about ten steps into the parking lot when our waitress ran after us and explained that she forgot to charge us for our second round of drinks. She apologized and said it was her fault, but he knew. He had to. We only ordered two rounds. So I stood there mortified as he reached into his pocket and paid her the remaining bill in the parking lot, after which he asked me if he could walk me to my car. Ready to be done, I agreed. Mistake part 3.

As we approached my car, I thanked him for the date and told him that I had enjoyed myself. Lies. I gave him a quick unaffectionate hug. As I was pulling away, he went in for a kiss. Gag. I was not expecting it and certainly didn't want it. I've not been in many situations where I feel so awkward that I don't know what to do with myself, but this was one of them. So what did I do? I went in for another hug in order to avoid the kiss. And what did he do? He went in for another kiss as I pulled away for the second time. I was mortified, and I know my face showed it. My entire body tensed up in horror/shock and I slowly backed away. Was this happening in real life? As I did, he looked at me surprised and asked, "No?"

"NO."

I got in my car, traumatized, and drove away, the gag reflex threatening to remove the alcohol from my body. This called for a break from online dating. When I got home, I saw that he had texted me the following message: "Thanks for wasting my time. Bitches be crazy!"

Yes, I'm the crazy one in this scenario.

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. 

Just Do It

Aside from being Nike's globally recognized trademark, these words carry a lot of weight with them. They command. They encourage. They offer a solution.

I've been reflecting quite a bit lately on what it means to 'do.' Google defines 'do' as "performing an action, the precise nature of which is often unspecified." Taking action, even without knowing the exact way to do it or what the result will be. Ambiguous action.

So often in my life, I struggle with moving from thinking to doing. For a while, I haven't been thrilled about a number of my life circumstances. Those of you who know me know that I complain about these things regularly (one of my many positive qualities). I talk about wanting to change things, but I don't always take the steps necessary to instigate the change. I contemplate and worry, but that's usually about as far as it goes. Worry can lead to inaction, and inaction is dangerous. It's stifling.

One of my biggest issues when it comes to making a decision to do something is not knowing what exactly I'm supposed to do. I find myself telling friends quite frequently that I'd love to have a guidebook that tells me how many steps to take in each direction, when to stop, and when to go. I think it's easy to get so caught up in wanting to know exactly what I'm supposed to do that I end up sitting around waiting for clarity, only to let opportunity after opportunity pass me by. Not cool.

Take nine steps in this direction. Stop, do 48 burpees, turn left, and keep walking. 

I'm currently reading a book called Chasing Daylight by Erwin McManus. It's delightful. It's also inspiring. The premise of the book is that each day, we are presented with countless opportunities to do something. To act. Some of those opportunities are more significant than others. He refers those as 'divine moments.'  He says:  

"Some moments have a lifetime of momentum; other moments appear mundane and later prove to be monumental. Every moment is priceless, unique, and unrepeatable. And within the countless numbers that make up our lives, there are divine opportunities awaiting us."

He does not tell us what those divine moments are. I suppose they vary for each of us. And honestly, any moment can be a divine moment, because there is no way to know the full impact an action (or inaction) can have on our lives or on the lives of others. The only way for us to know is to 'do.'

And so, I'm beginning the process of 'doing.' I'm doing something big. It's part exciting and part terrifying, but it's 100% action. Stay tuned for details.

Traveling Reflections

I had every intention of blogging regularly while I was in Portugal, but my busy schedule, and the fact that blogger locked me out of my account because I was signing in from an unusual location, thwarted my attempts. Rather than do a recap of each day (which I may choose to do at a later time), I thought I'd share some of my overall reflections from my time in Portugal. Here they are, in no particular order of importance:

Traveling alone is such an invigorating and empowering experience. Absolute freedom.

The grass is almost always greener on the other side. In Portugal, the buildings were more beautiful, the weather was better, the people were friendlier, the sky was bluer, and the alcohol was cheaper.

It is possible to live primarily on bread and puff pastries for 8 days. 

The affinity for white converses is universal. 

There are so many attractive, well-dressed men in Portugal. So many. 

It is possible to spend two full days with a total stranger and to thoroughly enjoy yourself. At the end of the two days, they no longer seem strange.

Being practically mono-linguistic is embarrassing, especially when nearly every other traveler I met was fluent in at least 3-4 languages.  I walked away inspired to learn.

Many Europeans know more about American history than Americans do.

Canadians are just as loud and obnoxious as Americans when they travel, especially when they’re drunk. 

When in doubt, eat what the locals do. 

It’s great to have an itinerary, but it’s even better to do things on the fly. Some of my best traveling memories were a result of me stumbling across something or meeting someone that I never could have planned for.

Averaging 4 hours of sleep every night is not sustainable. Drinking espressos intermittently throughout the day is an excellent counter balance. For the Portuguese, espressos are not a delicacy. They are a way of life. 

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.