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.

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.

Writer's Block

Writer's block, by definition, is "a condition, primarily associated with writing as a profession, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work." (Wikipedia)

I think I have it. It's been over six months since I've written a blog. Correction: it's been over six months since I've completed and posted a blog. It's not for lack of ideas, because I've started quite a few. 45, to be exact. I've started 45 blogs but have not gotten them past the draft stage. Some are simply a title, an attempt to capture a profound idea that floated through my mind on a Sunday afternoon or a Tuesday evening. Others are words, paragraphs, sentence fragments that begin to delve into that profound idea but fail to offer any brilliant discoveries, conclusive evidence, or clever witticisms that would deem the blog worthy publication. This leaves me with jokes without punchlines and stories without endings. Not much for entertainment.

My inability to produce leads to frustration, which leads to apathy, which circles back around to more frustration. It's a vicious cycle, really. The desire is there, but the creativity, dedication, and follow through aren't, at least at the moment. Perhaps I'm uninspired, or even more credibly, perhaps I've been afraid to write, afraid to be vulnerable, to open up my thoughts again, to offer an opinion, to believe that I have something worth sharing. It's a challenge to regain confidence after losing it, but it's a process worth pursuing. So for all (read 13) of my dedicated followers, I'm going to attempt writing again. Soon. You'll have to let me know how it goes.