Snow Days

Just some sights I saw this morning.

Red Eyes

I think I’ve written something by this title before. If you don’t mind, would you go back and check for me? Please and thank you.  If  I did, this is Red Eyes 2.0.

My desire today is to be honest without contention. (Is that the word I want?) The point is, I don’t want to be a whiner. You feel me?

Red eyes for two reasons. Or, rather, two facets of one reason. My stomach is in full rebellion, so I have red eyes from no sleep and red eyes from the horrible, terrible, awful, lingering gas that refuses to stay in my stomach. It’s clear the room gas.  It’s please kill me now gas.

But I guess nothing breaks the ice like a good fart, eh? These farts literally melt glacial planes. “If you smell something, it’s me.” “Oh it’s fine....OH MAN! IS THAT YOU?”

This is the part where I should have an object lesson. You know, when I say something about what God is teaching me through this and it’s funny but also healthy, embarrassing growing pains. Maybe humility? Or lay off the pistachios or canned pineapple or bananas or whatever did this to me? Excess of anything will ruin my guts for days, so remember moderation? Nah, it’s probably humility.

Until next time, humans.

Feel the Burn

When I took biology the first time I went through college, we learned about lactic build up in muscles.  For those of you who might not know (though I assume pretty much everyone knows this), that build up is what creates the burning sensation in exerted muscles.  According to Ms. Laberti the burn isn’t even good for you!  Her advice was, when you feel the burn, step back till it subsides, then continue.  Working out that way is supposedly better for your body.

But who listens to their biology teacher, right? So I do my best to push through the burn every day.  When I feel like I can’t take the burn anymore, I force myself to go another ten seconds. I’m proud of myself in the moment... 

(Hang with me. I have a point at the end of this.)

Then I get to the stairs. Four flights of them. And all I want to do is complain about my aching butt.  There I was, forcing my shaking legs up the stairs this morning, and the same thought that has been haunting me all week rose up in my mind:

How often do I complain just because it’s convenient or relatable? Is that really how I want people to relate to me? Because we have vent sessions every time we talk? Or do I want to let that die as Christ lives in me? Because God’s joy should be evident in every part of this crazy, busy life. Especially through the burn.

No Amount of Coffee

How many days do I begin in the dark pre-dawn? I would venture to say nearly everyone, ever since high school. In my mind’s eye, I can see the morning star blink awake to wash my face in his radiance.  The world would be silent and steam would rise in wisps from the mug in my hands. If every morning could begin the way this day dream depicts, I imagine my life would be the picture of serenity. 

But that isn’t how I greet the rising sun. Instead, I propel myself toward the empty weight room to sweat for the better part of an hour before the sun awakes.  By the time I hustle back to my room and get through the shower, I’ve missed the first glimpses of light.  The sun is fully risen and my chance to say good morning to it with coffee and God’s Word is gone.

The mornings race away.  It isn’t how I want to be, but I try to fit too much into too few minutes. Maybe my pessimist is showing. 

Classes have begun.  I love learning and studying and discussing with people who share my core beliefs and love for God.  But that doesn’t mean they are exactly like me.  In fact, I am constantly amazed by how different we all are.

There is no lack of activities, either.  Everyone seems so friendly and close knit.  They play sports and games together every day with little or no regard for actual skill.  It’s hard for me to not hold my breath for the other shoe to fall.  Maybe it will.  But they tell me it won’t.

So why is this post titled “No Amount of Coffee”?  Partly from a line stuck in my head. (Shout out to The Weepies.) It is also a reminder to me.  No amount of anything will give me the extra time to make everything squeeze into inconceivable blocks of time. Stop trying to make the impossible work.  Just go do and do right.  Is that really very complicated?

Step One (or is it Step Two?)

Dorm rooms.  Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve never actually lived in one until today. Well, yesterday. Anyway the point is that I escaped dorm living for nearly a quarter of a century. No more.

After a brief stay at my parents’ home in NY, I have relocated to America’s Dairyland. A vegan in dairyland.  Granted, I actually didn’t know Wisconsin’s slogan until I got here and read the blurb on every license plate, but the facts don’t change. 

Both of these realities are inconsequential in the grand scheme of life. It is shocking how much thought insignificant things can hijack though. These temporary inconveniences are silly. I know they are.  I know I should be focusing on the fact that I’m in Dairyland for Bible school. The focal point of each moment should be, “how can I serve God radically right now?”  That’s how it should be.

How it is, is that I am afraid.  I am tired. I am uncomfortable. And these might just being growing pains. And everything is probably going according to plan. And obviously, Vivian, your humanity is ridiculous and if you would just chill out and trust God to give you the peace He literally promises to give, it actually will be okay.

Breathe in.

Step one was getting here.

Breathe out.

I am here.

Breathe in.

Step two is staying here.

Breathe out.

God is here.

The Twilight Zone

I stand in the dark predawn in my parents' kitchen.  My breakfast is eaten and my coffee brewed.  The sky yawns from violet to rose, then rose to peach, and from peach to wintry blue. This used to be my daily life until something changed. I think that something is me.

A week has passed since I arrived back in the USofA.  My siblings and friends have lives that cannot be put on hold and I can't help feeling like I need a schedule, too.  Schedules, in this culture, define a person's usefulness.  So where does that leave me?

At first, I had excuses.  My mom and older sister took me shopping so I would have more to wear than pajamas.  Then I joined my mother in daily running around.  It was fun and it was good to spend time with her... But there is something in this country that says, "No job, no worth. No deadlines, no good. No paycheck, no purpose."

The little voice that seemed so strong while I was in the Philippines fights to be heard. "Your worth is not in careers or cash.  Look to your Heavenly Father.  He's already got this."  I want to listen.  I'm trying. Really, I am.

Cultural Sponge

I don't know if Shannon planned on this week being a total immersion in Filipino history and culture, but that is what it feels like.  We spend our days running around the city, hitting up historical landmarks and catching all different sorts of public transportation.  For the first time in my life, I paid to use a public bathroom. The selfie-less year ended with a bang at the Selfie Museum.  (To be fair, Shannon took pictures of me. So, technically, the pictures taken there were not actually selfies.)  After our jam-packed days, I do my best to journal as much as I can remember.

With that said, I'm reminded to be grateful for this season of fun.  The next step looms just on the horizon.  But godliness with contentment is great gain. Tomorrow will be able to handle her own worries; today is for basking in the very sticky, smoggy Manila sun.