Adolescents vs. Egg Shells

Yesterday I did something extraordinary.  I used an oven.

I love to cook.  I really do.  But I rarely do it.   Dinner most nights consists of whatever I feel like throwing into a frying pan.  It’s always ready in 5ish minutes.  It’s always edible, but only occasionally delicious.  I always give Ms. Roommate a fair warning before she picks up a fork to sample. 

But going to a potluck requires one to reach beyond the frying pan.  So I pulled out the recipe book, rolled up my sleeves, and got to work.

I was two minutes into my project when I felt myself calming from the inside out.  Flour was flying, eggshells piling up in the strangest of places; the kitchen was beginning to resemble a classroom after an art class. 

But while the room was cluttering, something inside of me was straightening.  While the mixer whirred, my anxiousness settled.  “This is therapy,” I thought to myself. 

How can holding a spoon stir something so deeply within me?  Follow my thought pattern here…

When you cook, you know that if you follow the recipe, you will get the product you’re aiming for.  More or less, at least.  When you separate an egg and beat the white, it will stiffen.  When you add flour to hot milk, it will thicken.  When you forget your cake in the oven for three hours, it will burn.  When you mix butter, sugar, flour, and a few other necessary items together, you will get cookies.

Kinda nice to have a place to retreat to where formulas work.  Where an outcome is known and expected.  Where if you do X to Y, you will get Z. 

It kinda seems like most things in life don’t work in such a predictable fashion.  Yes, there are some laws, some formulas (sowing and reaping, for one), but mostly working with people, ourselves included, reminds us that there are not always formulaic solutions.  A pep talk may inspire one and infuriate another.  Sometimes we need a call-out; other times we need an extra dose of friendship. 

In her song “Fireflies and Songs,” Sara Groves asks this question: “Were you surprised our hearts were not like ticking clocks, with faces and hands easy to read?”  I’ve often thought about that line.  About how we truly are not creatures of predictable formulas.  About how we are wired to be relational, for we were made in the image of a relational Being.  About how the ultimate revelation of Truth was revealed in the person of Jesus Christ.  Not in a formula, or a three-step process, but in a relationship. 

Goodness, we all know those things called relationships can get sticky.  The can cut long and wound deep.  And even after all of our love, care, and guidance, those we invest in ultimately have to make decisions for themselves. 

But oh, how rich they can be.  How much wealth we can acquire from them.  How something can resound deeply within us, whispering “for this fellowship, we were made.” 

So, I choose the friend over the formula in my relationships.  I choose the adolescent over the egg shell in my career.  And I choose to pursue a relationship with my Father rathern than demanding that He reveals the whole picture in my faith. 

And every once in awhile, I’ll pull out the old mixer to satisfy the need for a formula within me. 

My house. My home. My heart.

I went to Thailand last month. 

Thailand.  The land with the sultry air and heavy clouds.  The land of curry and spice. 

The land so far away and yet so close to me. 

You see, Thailand is the land that captured my heart.  Nearly ten years ago, I changed my address to Chiang Mai, Thailand, and kept it that way for almost four years.  My experiences during those four years withing its borders expanded my view of God, of myself, and of the world around me.

And this summer, after five years of separation, I was reunited with this old friend. 

Since I've been home, everyone has been asking me how my trip was.  It's a tough question to answer.  Because it was great, incredible, refreshing, rejuvenating, and any and all other positive adjectives you'd like to insert.  Mostly though, it just felt like going home.  To the familiar that I had just left behind.  My heart beat strong and clear.  Something felt right.  Like I was in my house.  At my home.  Near my heart. 

This feeling might have brought out the cheesy side of me.

Visiting all the old haunts with all kinds of great people.

Sailing rivers (like two hi-so sailors) with yum food.

Hugs from all grown up kids.

Food so yummy I couldn't stop eating.

Reconnecting with far-away sister-friends.

The whole experience was so good.  And yet so hard.  I was so hit by the darkness of the culture, the discrepancy between the rich and the poor (with me included in the rich segment), the sexual sin that seems to have risen in prevalence, the utter lostness of the land.  Even in the eyes of close friends, I saw hurt, raw pain.  I saw blatant examples of how the enemy is seeking to destroy. 

I wanted to fix it.  I wished to alleviate their pain, to change the situation.  But I couldn't.  I felt panicky with only having two weeks. 

And that's when I knew I had to trust that there is One who loves this land far more than I.  One who loves these souls far above what I can even comprehend.  One who truly does reside in Thailand.  One who rightfully calls it His house, His home, His heart. 

Flying back to the land in which He has me now was hard, but it was peaceful.  In my heart I know that this is where He has me right now.  This is where He has asked me to faithfully serve Him, and He now calls me to intercede on behalf of those in that far-off land I love. 

For my Father really does have the whole world in His hands. 



Decade the Third.

I turn 30 next month.  Three-zero.  I leave behind my identity as a twenty-something and take my first step into the next decade. 

I was in high school when my oldest sister hit the 30 mark.  I ragged her about being old as mold and was pretty sure that she should be putting her birthday money away to start saving for a gravestone.  I took every opportunity to rub her age under her nose.  I was awful. 

If I had an 18 year old sister doing that to me right now....o boy....I don't know what I'd do. 

Sorry, Lois. 

My mind has been pulled in the direction of this milestone alot lately, and I've had a few mini-epiphanies (emphasis on mini) about the subject.  So here's a brief list on the things I'm learning about being on the brink of a new decade.

1.  I don't feel old.  I'd like to say that to my 18-year old self.  30 is not old as mold.  I still feel like a kid when I jump into a pool of water, cheer like a crazy person at a ball game, catch the fast kid in king's base (I love teaching), blow bubbles, chase a lightning bug (for a nephew, of course), drive barefooted, or stand at the top of a mountain or the foot of a waterfall.  I still naturally fall into the little sister category when I'm with my family, which results in a renewed feeling of youth each time.  My heart still feels young.

2.  Life really does get sweeter.  I've thought alot about this concept this past year.  Maybe it's the events of my life during year 29, or maybe it's a natural progression that happens around this age.  I experience joy mixed with pain.  I express laughter intertwined with tears.  I see triumph mingled with suffering.  Perhaps I am a late bloomer and my eyes are only now being opened to what that that abundant life is that Jesus promised to give, but whatever it is, life feels much more valuable to me than it did a few years ago, and even the bitter holds a hint of something sweet. 

3.  Dreams sometimes find new faces.  Had I been asked on my 20th birthday to sketch out where I'd like to be at 30, I am sure it would be wildly different from what my life looks like today.  That picture probably would have included a husband, a couple kids, and a position in a high-action, people-filled, God-centered, ministry on the foreign field.  That's not so much what my life looks like right now.  While I hope that someday my life might look more like that, right now I am living a shadow of that dream, a new face of it.  An incredible support group of friends both far and near, a classroom full of teenagers, and a life that brings me a boatload of opportunites each day to serve others. 

4.  I am not Wonder Woman.  I used to be the strong one.  The one who could sleep on a pile of wood, a bed of rocks, or whatever position necessary.  Now, I can't.  After dealing with reoccurring back issues that make me walk like I'm 80, doctors tell me I have some unnatural curvature of my spine.  I hear words like therapy, treatment, adjustment, and time, this will take time.  I have to be careful how I play sports, lift heavy objects, and even how I sleep, but I'm really grateful for doctors that have a hopeful outlook on treating this issue.  The 20s have also brought some bruising to my heart, and I have learned of my need for others and my desperate need for Jesus more with each passing year. 

5.  Chocolate cake makes it all better.  Oh the gooey goodness of shortening, cocoa, and sugar.  Every problem can be fixed with cake. That is, except for the whole BMI issue. 

16 more days till I take the leap...

Because life is more than bubblegum

Tomorrow morning's Bible class covers the topic of stories.  We all have them.  Some we love to tell; others we long to forget.  Each story centers around decisions we made, either consciously or unconsciously, out of our worldview.

I pulled up my old xanga site and had a jaunt down memory lane as I remembered some old stories in my own neighborhood.  I laughed as I saw pictures, cringed at all the spelling and grammar errors (please, save me from myself!), and reminisced on days gone by, on stories filed away.

I'm living a story right now.  Sometimes it seems all storybook-ish.  Other times it feels more like I'm stuck in the outtakes. 

Funny how perspective fades when you're right in the middle of it. 

Tonight I made myself a latte, turned on an instrumental pandora station, and lesson-planned for my World Lit class tomorrow.  This evening that would have looked like a glamour shot a year or two ago.  my first job...my own latte...wi-fi in a cute little house...

Unfortunately, tonight it mostly felt like work. 

How quickly I forget that life is made of years, which are made of weeks, which are made of days, which are made of hours.  In these hours stories are born, matured, and completed.  In these moments, decisions arise.  Decisions that matter, mostly much more than I think they do.

Doing life with middle schoolers has taught me that very few things stay the same from day to day.  I have no promise of tomorrow. 

But I do have today.  Right here.  Right now.  Those 19 set of eyes reminded me of that this morning.  Soon I will send them out the door for one final time. 

But for today, they're still mine. 

I purpose in my heart to makes these moments count.  To allow the Master Author to pen something worthy.  Something honorable to Him.  Something including low-key evenings of prep.  And yes, something middle-schoolish.