june

 I didn't think I would actually post this month, but here I am - drinking cold coffee on my parents' couch after feeding and rocking my niece and nephew while my mom got ready for the day...and I'm typing into the void once again.

Realistically, I know this isn't a void. Way more people have popped in and read the words I've written than I ever anticipated (though the numbers are still few). Words have been elusive this past month and a half. Both journaling and speaking have taken concentrated effort that is difficult to muster.

I had goals, of course, for the time Tanner and I would be in New York. A few of them were accomplished; many of them never materialized. As we pack up to head to Wisconsin, I think that's the lesson God has slowly been teaching me this month. Slowly, because I can't seem to learn any other way. Too often, my goals rely on others' expectations of me. I want to maintain whatever status I have achieved in their eyes, and that has been impossible lately.  Not only have I been unable to achieve goals I think others think I should, but it has been made clear over and over again that no one had those goals for me in the first place.

Any standard I attempt to reach without God is impossible, and He is really only in the business of helping me meet His expectations, not everyone else's.

summer of weddings

while I still haven’t gotten our official wedding pictures back, I thought I would take some time to post a few snapshots from the several weddings I attended this 2020.

In early June, I made the trip to Indiana to be a part of my pal, Hailey’s wedding.



My brother got married mid-June. Gracie, as usual, filled in as my wedding date.





At my own wedding, our preacher ran a little late, so I had to wait in the truck till he arrived!

summer snapshots

(Lydia and I on our way home from Bek’s wedding at the very beginning of summer. 20 hours one way is a long time.)

(Anna and Wes aren’t together, but that’s the joke 🤷🏼‍♀️)

(Tan and I at yet another wedding, laughing too hard like always)

(Tan and I went to a Brewers game with his family before I went to NY at the end of the summer to see my family.)

(During my visit home, I got to babysit my man Elijah.)

(I think the only thing I went to more than weddings this summer was the beach. Worth every second.)

we are parks and rec

Sometimes I wonder if working with Leslie Knope would be better than my actual boss at parks and rec, but I’m also not there because of my boss. Kids like E, who need help making friends on day one and have a whole posse on day two, are why parks and rec is a good time. Or kids like A, five years old and as saucy as the day is long, who just smile and the whole world seems right. Literally, my job is to build relationships with elementary aged kids while playing outside all day long and it’s hard, but 100% worth it.

All of that to say, pray for me and my employment next semester. While working with parks and rec has been an awesome fit, working split shifts Monday through Friday during the semester has been difficult.  So much so that I struggled to invest in work, classes, and classmates well. In an effort to truly engage in the community around me, I’m asking God to provide work that would allow me to have a single shift a day, with enough pay that I can afford this next semester and possibly save for the next step.

✌🏼

Summer Poetry pt 2

control freak:

not afraid to die

just afraid

I won’t know it’s time

chronic doubter:

knowing God’s promise

but still needing

to check and make sure

class A windbag:

convinced I know best

though history

proves otherwise true

cleansed by Christ’s blood:

empowered by the

Holy Spirit

to die to myself

chosen by God:

free from old habits

with liberty 

to live in His truth

control freak,

chronic doubter,

class A windbag,

but then Grace.

I Wrote This on a Newspaper

Seriously, I did.  Not for any particular reason, other than I wanted to see how it would look (I’ll attach a picture at the end).  Of course, surrounding circumstances were such that I haven’t updated my blog recently and there was no normal paper at my disposal.  

It strikes me as funny that I have this ridiculous impulse to maintain a significant measure of privacy surrounding my personal life AND YET, here I am, prepairing to bare a portion of my soul to the internet.  What gives? In all honest truth, there are portions I reserve the right to keep personal, at least for now.  It’s only fair.

Rewind. Why don’t you have any other paper to write on, Vivian?  Good question with a simple answer.  I work on a fruit farm and it’s a rainy day.  I have to remain at my post, but if no customers arrive, I am free to fill my time as I wish (i.e. write this blog post).

But, Viv, how do you have customers at a fruit farm? Aren’t you doing field work? What happened there? I’ll tell you. Bohringer’s hired a woman to run their u-pick wagon for the summer, but there was a misunderstanding and she is only available on weekends, while the farm needs her every day.  The solution: yours truly.  Now I do field work from 5 a.m. to 8 a.m., then I run the wagon until 6 p.m. and tell people where to pick strawberries and take their money when they’re done.

Not a bad gig, you say.  And in most cases and many places, that is true.  There’s always a catch, though, and I’m starting to realize God consistently uses the snags in my life to teach me what I need to know.  This snag is my lovely introversion.

Some days the flow of cars is slow and I relish spending time consciously focusing on the needs of each person.  Just now, as I’ve been writing this, I stopped for fifteen minutes to talk to a woman who is extraordinarily passionate about the New York State Museum. I didn’t even know that was a thing!  But I love those moments because I am able to engage with them in God’s love and smile and truly care about what they have to say.

The busy days are, without a doubt, more difficult for me. People scurry in and out of the field like ants on hyperdrive as I try to direct the newcomers and make change for the exiting pickers quickly and concisely.  Those two jobs seem easy enough, but wait until you have six carloads of impatient people waiting on each line and then tell me it isn’t overwhelming and stressful. On our busiest day this season, I held it together until I got home and thought about making dinner. At the very notion of cutting up squash, I burst into tears.

I share this, partly because it’s real life, but mostly because I rejoice that God sustained my “too much people” meter throughout the entire 13 hour day.  He let me smile at each customer and help them graciously. Who cares if I had a meltdown at home?

Another reason to rejoice is that I officially have enough money to pay for my next semester at EBI in full! (Amen, amen!)

And while the work hours are long, my life has had some play in it as well.  Gracie and I were able to take our almost annual lazy day at the beach a couple of weeks ago, and enjoyed a weekend camping trip before that.  Last weekend I enjoyed some really awesome fellowship with Emmie, who is interning with Ethnos360 at Wayumi in PA. 

Now my summer is already beginning to wind down.  I’m excited for the adventures yet to come, but I’m also stoked for everything the next semester will bring.

And I think that’s it!

Summer Poetry

whispering.

rustling.

waving.

who can guess what the grass is

saying?

gusting.

rushing.

blowing.

who can say where the wind is

going?

listening.

watching.

waiting.

i don’t know why but i am

trying.

(Just some thoughts from the strawberry field earlier this week. And below are two of my favorite views recently.)

PS: Life is good.

Blueberry Bramble

One week into the summer, I have dirt-stained hands and a sun-baked nose.  Each morning my car flies over the backroads snaking through the low mountains I grew up on until I reach the valley.  From down in the strawberry field, the world is diminished into a circle of farm land fenced in by the same mountains, all of which are encompassed by a bright blue bowl of sky.  The early summer sun smiles down from on high and my heart sings.

Work on a farm isn’t easy.  By noon, the odd breaks in my skin ooze blood as I wash my hands for lunch, but within an hour I won’t be able to see the blood for the dirt caking around the wounds. It is work, though. The labor is honest with visible results; my sense of accomplishment is just as real as the sweat beading down my back.  For the first time in my life, a hard day’s work is just that.  Nothing more, nothing less.

As the summer goes on, I’m sure I will lose my rose-colored glasses and there will be days that I complain about my worn muscles and dust-filled eyes. Today, however, learning how to help living things grow, discovering new ways to be a good steward of the land God has entrusted to us, and...I could go on line after line, gushing unintelligibly about my love for my God and all the good things He has made.

This wouldn’t be a true post by yours truly without a little lesson from the week.  Yesterday morning found me in the blueberry field, clipping away at invasive saplings and grapevines.  I worked my way down the row of bushes until I came to a cluster completely overwhelmed by dried morning glory, young vines, and even ivy.  The blueberries were almost wholly choked out, but as I began to slowly free the bushes from the bramble, I also began to understand something I think might be almost profound. 

 If I were to grab a fistful of the antagonizing plants and pull them out, I would kill the very plant I’m trying to save.  The detangling process takes time and care and effort and I remembered the parable of the good seed choked out by weeds.  Never before have I understood how truly overpowering invasive plants can be.  The anxieties and woes of this world are like that.  God freely gives each of His children a blueberry bush of purposeful joy, of eternal perspective, of desire for His glory. And yet, we have other seeds in the soil of our lives that seek to leech off the good plant, to climb over it to reach better light and support.  We can’t help those seeds being there, but if we are poor caretakers, the blueberries will swiftly be overgrown, unrecognizable for the plants we failed to nip in the bud.  

It’s the beginning of a thought that might, in fact, be beyond basic, but it is also profound. At least, it is profound to me.