work in progress: a look after graduation

A stirring before a whirlwind

The downpour under a yellow sky

These are the currents of change
Bringing forth a new season

It's been two years since post-grad and here are some things I've learned along the way:

→ When you are in a sweet season of life, soak 👏 it 👏 in👏.  Live in it and know that you had to push through some valley lows to climb to this apex. And while it certainly won't last forever, you get to savor this sweetness for this time being. Similarly, when you find yourself in a tremendously hard season (and it will come), soak that in too and learn what it means to grieve well. Sometimes there is a lesson to be learned in it, but more often than not, hindsight is twenty twenty. Don't force yourself to learn from something you're still healing from. When you've walked out of it, you'll know. Keep going knowing that it too shall pass.

→ Silence goes a long way in sorrow. It's okay to not know what to say. What's more important is that you're there.

→ Community isn't optional, it's crucial. If you're asking yourself for whatever reason if it's worth it, it is. Stick with it. If it doesn't feel like home, then keep at it until it does. Invite people to do life with you and similarly, allow people to invite you into theirs. Don't give yourself a timeline on this. It has taken me almost two years to feel at home with my church community and work community and had you asked me any earlier if I found it to be home, I would've said no. It takes time and effort to build relationships.

→ Along the same lines of community, commit to a church. Do give yourself a timeline with this. Don't hop around for a year. No church is perfect; we all need Jesus. Serve where it is life-giving to you. So if that means being the best greeter there is, then be the best greeter. If it's making a mean cup of joe, then brew the coffee. If it's teaching the little humans about the Bible, then teach them well.

→ Grow where you are planted.🌱🌿🌻. In regard to what it means to follow "our calling", I'm going to say something that some people may disagree with. As a Jesus follower, I don't believe that we are all necessarily called to a particular sector or field in life. Our calling isn't to a single profession. Our calling as Jesus-following, disciple-making children of God is to God and God alone. So no matter where you go, you make it a point to glorify Him. Student, engineer, pharmacist, designer, event planner, intern, stay-at-home mom, barista....grow where you are planted.

→ Make time for people you care about and be present. It sounds intuitive but when you graduate and suddenly you find that everything demands your attention, you have to put in the time and effort with friends and family. Sometimes it means saying no to something else to make people your priority. Remember too, that when you are with people, stay present with them. Your actions, no matter how small, will speak louder than your words.

→ Be GENEROUS and WISE. ⏳ With your time, with your resources, with your finances. Specifically, be generous giving to the KINGDOM. I can't stress this enough, but giving to the Kingdom (whether through your energy, time, and/or finances) is a lifetime investment you are making--one you may not necessarily see the fruits of right away, but is priceless.

→ Take care of your physical body. 💪💪 Build those habits now. Run a mile a day or something. But if you're like me and you always think running is a good idea until you realize as you're doing it, you'd much rather collapse on the sidewalk and die than run, find something else that gets your heart pumping each week. Bodypump, yoga, pilates, tennis, hiking, the options are endless.

pluto

Anyone who has held the bitter aftertaste of anxiety in his mouth knows better to leave well enough alone, and yet somehow, we all know what he tastes like. We know we ought not to bat an eye at the discouragement, but we do. We know not to dwell on that thought for more than a second, but we do.  We dwell on it for minutes, hours, days, months...

Surely, we know what anxiety looks like--the looming interview, the project deadline, the exam, dwindling numbers in a bank account, the seconds leading up to stepping out from behind the curtain, the (you) fill-in-the-blank. We know what he feels like-- the disease that continually riddles our bodies, robs us of breath and sleep, shakes us awake in cold sweat, makes us so exhausted that we wonder silently what it'd be like to sleep and never wake.

We medicate ourselves by running or numbing. As if penciling in the lunch appointment this week or the wedding next year on the empty spaces of our calendars will keep anxiety at bay. As if writing out our lives, day-by-day, week-by-week, month-by-month, year-by-year, with the meals we eat, the bills we pay, the clothes we buy, the spouse we will find, the kids we will have, will keep him away. If we plan, maybe we can plan him away.

But isn't anxiety often what drives us to do these things in the first place? To plan everything out only to believe for a few seconds that we're on top of it all?

Control is oft an illusion.

An ink mark on a page is, after all, just that, a mark. You can underline, circle, and highlight all you like, but what happens in the course of your life is seldom determined by the ink in your planner.

What if we stopped trying to figure out our futures and just let Him be in control? What if we stopped trying so hard to calculate the costs to secure peace? What if we just stepped back and decided we were going to live in the season and soak in the promise that He provides because He cares?

daily bread is enough

The past few months of summer have provided some real relief that I haven't felt in ages. There is something cathartic about this season. Whereas most college summers had always carried this mentality of "Okay, here's what's coming up next" and mentally preparing myself for the next step and semester, this summer has been so different. Although the new challenges have been abounding, it has also been such a growing season.

Now I find myself here again. College is over and all of it has been wrapped albeit a little messily in this compartment of my mind. L drove me through Livi the other day and I discovered that I didn't miss it much. No flashbacks or sentimental remarks even for the mushy person that I am. Perhaps it was a little too soon, but being back on campus was not a particularly fond memory. Beautiful as college was, by the time graduation rolled around, I was just about ready to leave and move on with the next chapter of life. There was so much more that awaited.

This new season that has come in has taken ahold of my life in different ways. It is a season marked with dusty boxes packed with all the trinkets I've managed to garner over the past two years of living away from home. The sentimental packrat inside of me is to blame for the organized chaos of my living situation. I lug home two suitcases, three duffels and a gargantuan plastic tub bursting with ratty sweats and tees, four years' worth of RU apparel that will probably end up collecting dust atop my closet shelf, and some odd numbered pair of shoes mixed in a giant trash bag (not meant to be thrown away, just an improvised mode of baggage).

As of this past Friday, all these things were loaded up into our old minivan and headed with me to my new home in Pennsylvania. For those of you who have been following my story and this blog for a bit now, you'll know that I joined staff with a Christian organization called Cru as a graphic designer for the year. Typing these words are crazy to me, but I can't believe that everything came together.

I probably say this every summer, but I've not grown so much in such a short amount of time. Like I said before, my Abba has been so kind and gracious to me and I know this. I know this full well.

Sit back friends and let me recap a little bit of the past three months to you.

On the last weekend of April, I flew out to Virginia where I met with some hundred other interns for the ministry. Over the weekend, the staff trained and walked us through all the logistics of joining staff. Five or six of us were all grouped into tables with different coaches who promptly handed us the pages with our monthly goal.

I choked a little when I saw mine. It was not a small number. I remember thinking, Lord I don't even know more than 20 people who would willingly support me! Not to mention, I had to raise this amount within 10 weeks (August 1st deadline). Panic set in first.

I started off support-raising beginning in May immediately after graduation. The staff had asked us to write up a list of 200 or so names of individuals we could ask from. I had put down roughly about 50 names, so I tackled that list and began working my way down.

Panic fueled that determination until about mid June. Suddenly, I hit a wall. Like, a very, very tall wall and mental hurdle I thought I could not overcome. That number I had to raise kept chewing at my mind and I couldn't see any way around it.

One night, I lay in bed until the wee hours of morning. I was so tired and exhausted but I could not sleep as my mind arranged and then rearranged numbers of supporters I had, how much I still needed, and my quickly dwindling list of people I could ask. If I asked this much from so and so, what if they only gave less than that? I would have to ask more people to compensate, I guess. Why didn't so and so give more? Was it because I didn't ask the right way? What if I was too unassertive? Maybe they misunderstood what I meant. 

I was miserable. I thought about how most peers my age were finding a stable job or what some would argue a real job after graduation instead of having to ask others to support them. I thought about the stability their jobs would hold year after year and how I would need to reevaluate after the end of next year. I thought about living in the big city and the comfort of friends and family within a reasonable reach and how I was moving to a place where I knew no one and had to start from scratch again.

I must be crazy, I thought. I started to count the numbers in my head again. How much more do I need, God? How much more? Then it struck me. Who has been providing for me in every season? Surely, if Abba had put me on this journey, wouldn't He continue to provide all I needed? Isn't daily bread enough, A? The truth was I had become so irritable at everyone and everything because this whole counting business had began swallowing me up that I left no room for faith in the One who had placed me on this journey.

I told God that night I would resolve to stop counting. Because if Abba had put me here, He was going to see me through.

Over the course of July, I watched in amazement as He brought individual after individual on my team. Never in a million years would I have imagined. I have met so many amazing individuals over the course of the past three months. Hearing how the Lord is using them for His glory has brought me to my knees in thankfulness many times. I have called, texted, vidchatted with friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers. Some were young married couples that I had only talked to once or twice in passing at church and some were aunties and uncles that have known me since I was a baby. There have been working friends and some friends still in school (either undergrad or graduate school).

Then the Sunday a week from my deadline, I woke up to an email from a supporter who helped me finish off my goal. I blinked in disbelief and felt the wave of gratitude wash over me.

My Abba is too kind and too good to me and I know this full well.

Daily bread is enough.

I seek for daily bread each day and suffice to say, it is enough. Not for another day more or anything less. It is what has carried me thus far in my life and will continue to carry me for yet another day.

Excitement does not begin to cover how I feel for what's ahead. To God be all the glory.

well, goodbye senior year

I couldn't see him very well from where I sat in the audience, but I could make out that he was somewhat of a sculpted, built guy judging by the animated blur on the screen. He wore these clear round-framed glasses with a tight black t-shirt and skinny jeans. His arms were tatted up with indistinguishable markings. My heart was skeptical about the message he was about to deliver.

Then he spoke. And spoke some more. And the lump in my throat began to grow.

This past year has been one of the most beautiful times of my life. Senior year flew by exactly as predicted. There was no ounce of pretense to it. Everything I thought would happen happened. There were many beautiful memories made with old and new faces alike. New experiences that left me wanting more. Senior year was in many ways what I had expected and wanted.

And yet, there was something I couldn't place about senior year because in the middle of what seemed perfect, I was so empty. The hard truth I had been avoiding was that I wasn't growing in my walk with Jesus and I knew it.

This little fact ate at me consistently throughout the year. I was so stagnant in my faith, because my life was too good. I didn't have any problems that needed to be handled by the big boss upstairs (or so I thought). I found solace in a good group of friends, I could practice my skill and passions in graphic design and I started dating this handsome Jesus-loving man. School work (aside from my terrible thesis which still triggers me to this day) was a joke.

While my life was "too good", everything on the inside began peeling off little by little. It all felt like a facade and that I was a shell parading myself around to conceal my heart condition. My appetite for anything spiritual had become so dulled. Listening to messages never left me feeling challenged or convicted. Worship was dry and forced. My temper and love ran so short. I couldn't be bothered to love on people who weren't convenient and whenever I tried, it felt so heavy and out of obligation. It grew to a point where I began avoiding people. Hypocrisy accused me as I attempted to serve in my community and fellowship. Pride ruined so much of my interactions and yet, ironically, I could barely shoulder and face my shortcomings and failures as a leader and it hindered my ability to give myself freely. My prayers were often scripted at the wall. My need for Jesus was practically nonexistent and whatever was there was constantly being stomped out by my own desires and ability to "get on by" without intervention. My relationships with people became strained and suffered because I didn't understand how to love and yet I just so desperately wanted to be loved. I had more emotional breakdowns from petty reasons than I could count. By the end of it, I started to hate this version of self.

I began to make up excuses of my lack of growth. If maybe my community would care more, than I could just grow. If maybe this specific group of people would notice and seek me out, then I could just grow. If maybe people took time to ask me how I was really doing, then I could just grow. If maybe I didn't have so many burdens, then I could just grow. If maybe so-and-so would just take me under their wing and guidance, then I could just grow. If maybe my family wouldn't be so financially strapped or burdened, then I could just grow. If maybe I wasn't serving in so many areas, I could just grow.

Finally, I pinned the blame on Abba. Nothing is happening in my life, God. That's why I'm not growing. YOU make something happen.

Junior year was the year EVERYTHING had happened. I just wanted radical growth. Anything. I wanted something crazy to happen so that I would run and cling to God. But nothing happened. And so I just sat there and twiddled my thumbs.

Then that night. I'm sitting in the crowd of three hundred something people and that pastor's message cut straight to my heart.

TURN. THE. PAGE. He says, the sweat beading on his brow. No matter where you are and where you find yourself, you need to keep turning the page. You need to keep growing. See Christians love to just tell God that if maybe they could just be in this certain situation, have a certain job, be in a certain relationship, then they would grow. But sometimes, we don't get what we want but we need to grow anyway. We need to ask God to help us to grow despite whatever situation we found ourselves in. We need to stop lingering on the same old page because there's still more to come.

All throughout this message, this pastor with the round-framed glasses is throwing his arms in a wide arc above his head to turn the page of some imaginary book. His motions become bigger and bigger. At one point, I start to think he's going to pull some ligament in his arm, but it starts to make more sense in my head, this whole turn the page thing.

Afterwards, I stumble out of that service and it all clicks for me and I tell Abba, "Help me grow. Forget the excuses. Forget what I have and what I don't. I want to grow. I am so tired of staring at the same page. I want to see what's next in my story."

In the blink of an eye, college suddenly became a closed chapter. My fingers hover between the pages of something familiar and something new. Lately, I've found myself crying for no reason at all. Some kind of sadness and longing sits between my shoulders and it aches. I've found, with time, that when something as extraordinary and life-changing as such a season in your life is over, there's nothing on earth that can bring justice to the closure you seek. But strangely enough, I'm okay with this, because the Author that is still at work spells out the best is yet to come.

So, I turn the page.

just before it ends

The howling wind woke me up this morning

and I heard a voice asking if I ought to be awake

Followed by musical laughter

Peeked over the couch which my back had sunk into

for a night of restless sleep

Framed on the walls of my heart

is this very moment

One day, I will only remember 

the blurred familiar shapes and colors

of a sisterhood that warmed

me more than the junky heater in the corner

I think to myself

if my life was on the big screen,

I would pause this moment forever

And take it in slowly frame by frame

Like the show we watch

for our nightly ritual

and the car rides on frigid mornings.

A quiet hush before the start of a long day

and the warmth of a heater

On days like this

You blink twice

and it will all be over

So don't blink twice,

Keep it on playback

For another day

The moment is passing

I peel myself off the couch

Sit at the table and live for once

Swallowing bites of laughter and coffee

That make up and give more rest

than my sleepless slumber on the couch

So this is what it means to live

To share a moment

I will relive

Over and over again

One day I will tell my own little girls

about the strength in womanhood

and how there is something to be cherished 

about soul sisters 

An ordinary morning turned beautiful

Clocks turn slowly

And I savor each breath of the last few months

that my heart has grown increasingly fond of

I've learned in four short years

That what we choose to call home

isn't a place or a situation

It isn't the impenetrable feelings

of mountain high and valley lows

It is the faces, the voices

of those we've come to embrace

as a mismatched family

that carry over for a lifetime