I got a vision!

This title is emphatic. This title is charismatic. This title is not me.

But then again, it so is. It feels unnatural for me to say, "I got a vision." However, there is truth in the statement because about one month ago, as I was writing, I received a very vivid picture-analogy for the tone of this season and the next in my life. In my blogger bio (insert right arrow), you'll see that I've found God speaks to me as I write. More than that, though, I recognize God's voice in my life through any sort of process. As I write, as I speak to others, and as I talk myself through something, his marvelous wisdom sometimes peaks through and I'll catch myself feeling astounded that "I" just made that connection or said that insightful thing. I struggle in communicating this notion because it sounds so special; it even sounds prideful. That is probably my own insecurity speaking, though. Nonetheless, I'd like to counter this discovery by listing all the ways I've not experienced the Holy Spirit speaking to me. He usually does not speak to me when I sit quietly with my Bible open, or when I close my eyes and wait for an answer to a specific question, or through signs or wonders or songs or poetry. Usually, that's not the case. It's process that my soul responds to so well and I've found comfort in this. I am humbled by this too because who am I (??) to be the vessel of God's voice in my own life? I know I am unworthy, holy God. You are too good.

With that said, if you buy it (because I'm still afraid that people won't for some reason), I'd like to share one of the beautiful things God revealed to me. I had an idea for a piece of writing actually. I was feeling sarcastic and fed up and just blurted out something like: "It's as if I'm on these starting blocks for a race and I'm the only one who can't handle running!" Moments later, I was in my journal, scribbling this analogy when something in my spirit was calmed and truth began to emerge. The shift proved heavenly and my tone for the coming seasons took shape. Join me, if you would:

March 19, 2012: "I've got to say this season, this last semester of college, is strange. I feel like I'm in perpetual pre-transition...and I guess I am, really. I feel like I'm positioned on the starting blocks for my life's race and when graduation day hits, the gun will go off and...
and I'll start my slow, steady walk. I'll be walking and I fear that people around me will be running, sprinting! I'll be looking over my shoulder, asking the coach, "Really? This is the plan? I'm doing everything right?" I'll look down at my hands; I'll touch my face just to make sure it's all real.
I just pray that I find other walkers. I want to find others who are waiting on careers, working for money, maybe living with their parents again too. And I hope that in my steady pace, you equip me with enough strength and joy to celebrate with those friends who will be running...
running because they have solid jobs, or cool internships, or marriage to jump into. May you use me in this coming season? May I meet interesting, worldly people at a fulfilling job; people who need to meet you? May you give me space in my walk to come in behind younger women and help them in their race?
...And maybe (literally) I'll finally take up regular walking again. And crocheting and book-writing.
And may I not get lost in today's season. May I remember that I'm not actually just sitting at starting blocks, waiting for something to happen. I'm actually jogging toward those blocks as I faithfully finish up school work. So please remind me of your presence and make it real to me, Jesus. Thank you for this picture. So much.
Amen."

I'm still saying thank you. I'm even going to try to get some visual representation of this picture to put in my new home so that on the extra slow, confusing days, I'm reminded that there is purpose in the walk. Hallelujah!

The One Day Testimony

Never in my history of blogging have I ever let this much time pass between posts! I guess this graduating senior gig is the real deal. I've already written 29 papers this semester. Just this semester; yikes.

So what to update? I could tell you about my niece and how amazing it is to watch a little one grow so quickly. Or I could tell you about the dating fast and how though I've been grateful for its place in my life, I don't feel that it coming to an end on April 30th is all that significant in any way. Or I could spill my insecurities about how sharing a less-than-thrilling post college plan with people on a daily basis has been. Or, I could tell you my testimony.

Because testimony, as defined by the dictionary, is "evidence in support of a fact or statement; proof." "Evidence of what, ma'am?", one may ask (because all inquirers who live in my mind are quaintly cordial). Well, evidence of the Christian life I live. As my dear Marianna once advised me, my testimony does not have to be the story of how I came to faith every time. Because believe it or not, I have trouble telling that story. Since so much of my story is wrapped around a sub-plot of battles in emotional turmoil that I've yet to come to complete terms with, I struggle to give a good ending. And Lord knows a good ending is so important in my stories. Marianna taught me that my testimony can be the story of my day. Hey! It's evidence in support of the fact that I am saved by a gracious Jesus; proof that when I lack the energy necessary for believing that God will give my overarching testimony a good ending, my testimony for today is quite enough.

So today, my testimony is this:

I've been drinking less coffee than usual over the past couple of days. For some reason this is encouraging to me. I laughed at work and got sassy with a friend who could take it. We expressed our mutual appreciation for one another and got real honest about the University's proposed code of conduct. As it turns out, we'd love to abide by about 95% of our contract, but when put in contract form, oh(!) does it push out buttons. Sass, you see. I had insightful things to say in each of my classes today. I'm six weeks away from freedom, yet I reached somewhere inward and found that there is a vigor for learning in me. Again, encouraging. I took advantage of a jet lagged friend and got slap happy over something totally neutral in humor. I cooked a delicious burrito with just a tad too much cayenne for dinner. I baked whole wheat chocolate chip cookies and had a spontaneous, yet much needed skype conversation. And you see, in this day, my Father was entirely present. He sent his Spirit to meet me in the art gallery when I needed a breather from theological conversation. He spoke through me as I helped students find lost items at work. He directed my evening away from study, as I had planned, and toward an appropriate respite.

It's my one day testimony, you see.

Aunthood

We've had a baby! Well, I have not had a baby, but there is a new baby in our family: my sister and brother-in-laws' Gracelynn Noelle. She is tiny and so sweet and I love her to pieces.

Being an auntie for the third time around has been thus far a remarkable experience. I've been looking forward to the arrival of my new little friend for quite some time now. I knew I'd be able to count on lots of joy and snuggles. And now that she's here, I have a whole lot more respect for my sis and her husband for all the work that is involved in new parenting. It's an all-consuming job. So much revolves around such a small, small person. It's amazing though.

And with that work in mind, I can truly say that I'm grateful for the season of life in which I stand (sit...or should I say rock?). With a sister eight and a half years older than myself, we've always been in different seasons from one another. I would admit, though, that with the coming baby I was afraid of jealousy that might spring up...afraid of an unquenchable desire for motherhood that may arise from experiencing my niece. However, that is not the case. I love being with her; being with them. But I also love my independence. I've realized that I am not ready to be a mother right now. And ouch how that hurts to write...but I know it's true. Motherhood is for me, absolutely. But motherhood is for me somewhere down the line, not today.

Aunthood is something special, something sweet. And I am so set to enjoy it fully.

Picture: We celebrated Gracelynn's first St. Patrick's Day in "My Auntie/Niecie is Awesome" shirts.

Wake up and smell the freesias.

Greetings. I've been away for good reason: productivity. Long story short, I had a mid-semester melt down and realized some things needed to GO if I was ever going to finish what I'd set out to do. (Said that last phrase in my head with an air of Julia Child.)

8 classes, 22 units. It's a lot...so I decided not to watch TV. Duh, right? Well, it took some gentle prompting from the Holy Spirit for me to realize that TV was a waste of time in this season. He is so good, our God. A breath.

So I've been doing a lot of homework! And guess what. I've been enjoying some of it, particularly my reading for American Lit II. My Bildungsroman class, I like to call it. My new nightly ritual is: work 'til 9:00 or so, grab a bit of dessert, light the lavender candle, and read from one of my Anthologies 'til I doze off. It's been working out marvelously since I need to get reading done anyhow and knew that when I gave up TV, I would have to replace it with some other relaxing evening-time activity. I am thankful, very thankful.

And I've been absolutely captured by good writing. I always derive great joy from a well-put-together sentence (unlike this particular one). Last week, I finished Willa Cather's "My Antonia" and fell in love with the farm. This week is Nella Larsen's "Quicksand" and I'm really connecting with the writing style. I read this sentence yesterday and clutched my heart. This is how I feel about spring!

"Little by little the signs of spring appeared, but strangely the enchantment of the season, so enthusiastically, so lavishly greeted by the gay dwellers of Harlem, filled her only with restlessness. Somewhere, within her, in a deep recess, crouched discontent."
Chapter IX.

And though my heart-clutch was one of joy in connecting to a character, the sentiment with which I agreed was a sad one indeed. Oh Helga Crane, I get you. The new life of spring is so heavy, isn't it?

And so I am inspired. I am inspired to write with more imagery. I am inspired to pay attention to my surroundings, and to take more photos, and to share with you what I see. So today, this is where I sit:

My old, provided-with-the-apartment kitchen table resembles a tie dye T-shirt one might make at summer camp. The "What is that, formica?", lifts off the simple plywood structure here and there, telling the story of the many souls who have used this kitchen for their 9-month school term. But the plants and the light and the good coffee make up for the drab table. For the yellow, fuchsia, red, and purple freesias I brought home from dinner at my Nana's last night sit contently in a mason jar, promising that this spring won't be all bad. They smell sweet, but they tickle my allergies just enough for noticing. My succulents in their yellow pot give me hope that I can keep a plant alive; maybe I will be a good parent. Books stacked up just beyond my inviting computer tell me that it's Friday. There is time to sit before I work...time to write and enjoy the coffee from a Disney Princess mug before it gets altogether too juvenile for me. The coffee is cold, but it will soon be refilled and fragrant again. My ESV version of the Word, Therapeutic Techniques text, and "Encountering Theology of Mission" tell the story of my mixed collegiate studies. I feel comfortable in my long peasant skirt-dress as I dream of cooking through "The Epicurean". Some dissatisfied girl downstairs whines though, unaware that her complaints are being published. She needs the gate opened. Oh, listen, a kind fellow answers her call. A deep breath brings me back to my kitchen: now crumby, asking to be cleaned. By Sunday, we will all have done our chores and she will smile again. My "Miss. Austen's quiet sounds" playlist sings and I am filled with peace. These are the sensations that make up my morning.

May you find something good to read this weekend and take a moment to notice your surroundings.

It's for the Ladies.

Dear [insert endearing nickname here],

How was your Valentine's Day? Did you have a Valentine? Did she dress cute and draw compliments from your lips about how she was the loveliest of all girls yesterday? Did you have fun? Or were you alone? I prayed for you yesterday...and so did your future sister-in-law. She probably prayed specifically, while I prayed more generally (because it takes a lot of emotional stability to pray with focus for things you don't yet have). Something like, "Oh Lord, be with him. Let us find one another."

I, for one, knew that Valentine's Day #22 would be a go-alone. I knew because of the fast...but this foreknowledge somehow made the lovey-dovey day easier. It's as if I had told myself, "Nothing is going to happen this year. Delight in the personal traditions you love, be a girl, and keep busy." And I did. I kept very busy with my personal Valentine's traditions.

You see, when we do find one another, I may not be totally into the whole Valentine's Day thing all that much. I may view it as a day for ministering to single women because I received some blessed ministry from my sister and brother-in-law last night. Our breakfast-for-dinner PJ party was the perfect end to my *celebration of all things girly* day. Here's how it went:

First, the outfit. Oh the outfit. You can tell by walking around and perusing colors which girls are having good Valentine's Days...and which ones are either in denial or in mourning. But my outfit was jeans, pink and purple tweed pumps, a pink sweater, and heart jewelry. Breakfast was sausage and an egg, sunny-side up in the shape of a heart. I broke away from some dietary limits yesterday and allowed myself 1 tasty coffee beverage and 1 tasty dessert. This was in the plan. So a mocha was in hand as I slipped into work 5 minutes early. I found a great fine-tipped fuchsia sharpie that I used throughout my shift and enjoyed holiday festivities at the workplace. Classes went on as usual, but then came the PJ party. All the good breakfast foods, lots of pink, Glee, and flourless chocolate cupcakes (recipe here)...but most importantly, the company of a loving couple and another fab single lady. We even saw an appearance by Mom and Dad who dropped by bearing gifts.

So you see, I'd love to go out with you and celebrate our love together on future Valentine's Days...but you may have to just accept that fact that I've gone through a lot of personal formation in February 14ths past and I may need some time to just be a girl on those days. I will; we will minister to single individuals on Valentine's Days...because I know what it feels like for someone to look over and notice that I'm alone again. And to reach out and love me there. What beauty.
I love you. Well...I'll one day love you, that's for sure. And you'll one day read this and hopefully agree that Valentine's Day is for the ladies. See you some day.

Love,
Christine

Love life? ...you really goin' there?

Why yes I am. I'm about to talk about my love life.

Kind of.

More like my lack of a love life. And I say this phrase without (outright) bitterness because, as I mentioned a week ago, I've embarked on an intentional three month dating fast. Through life circumstances and friendly advise from true friends and prayer and a "what the heck" attitude, I've decided that this would be best for me at my point in life. The point in life where I looked, as a dazzley-eyed fourteen year old and thought, "by the time I'm graduating from college, I'll be engaged to the man of my dreams and I'll be married by 22." 22 was always my number...I decided upon 22 when I was about 10. It seemed like a great age to get married. And many people I know are following their own "22" time-lines. But it's not happening to me. 22 may actually come and go without any love action whatsoever. Am I ok with that?

Not really. Oh boy, no...to the point where, over the past couple of years, I have intentionally searched for love. Looking around every corner and falling into that Christian womanly accursed stereotype of seeing every male as a potential mate. It's shameful to admit this, but I do so all the same because I know many, many women can agree and relate. We have guy friends, sure. But what we see is potential. It's a sad, sick reality that I'd love to get over but am not sure I can by sheer willpower.

And I've been hurt. I mean, generally and specifically. My own devises have left me lacking in the kind of love old Christian couples talk about...that kind of eternal friendship we're all longing after. But more specifically, I'm like Gigi from "He's just not that into you." I fancy myself confident and bold (which is true of me), but when I get hurt, I take it hard and hit low lows to the extent of the highs at which I aimed.

I was at this point about a month ago where I started saying to close friends: "I've come to the conclusion that I just have the worst timing, the worst luck, the worst taste in men!" And those very friends laughed and assured me that I wasn't crazy...but I think they partially agreed with me too. Maybe not about the luck, or even the taste. But the timing.

So it's time for a break. Over the next three months, I will be exploring (on my own, and maybe with readers) things like:
Why are certain qualities in men truly attractive and what makes me over-accepting of those qualities which aren't?
Do I really love and trust God enough to be ok with 10 or 15 more years of the single life?
HOW do I gain more contentment and joy in my life with Jesus?
What kind of a man do I really want to marry?

And I will be attempting a greater level of close relationship with my creator, as I strive after the truth found in Hebrews 10:22-
"...let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water."

Thanks for reading and considering my journey with an open mind of your own. More to come.

Middle-of-the-Pyramid Update

I'm calling this my middle-of-the-pyramid update because since this post, I've been eating LOTS of fruits and veggies.

No physical, emotional, or spiritual improvements from the yeast free diet as of yet. Ha. But my doctor did encourage me to focus on the foods I can have rather than those I can't. So here is a list of foods I've been enjoying for the past two weeks:

Mexican! It's surprisingly easy to do a yeast free burrito with my brown rice tortillas.

Almond milk. Gross if not refrigerated or if sipped alone, but in a cold smoothie, it really does the trick.

Oh yes, smoothies. For snacks and desserts... as a filling dessert, I've been doing frozen banana, peanut butter, cocoa powder, and almond milk in beverage-form.

Gluten free crackers.

Chocolate sweetened with beets! {Found, of course, at the one. the only. Trader Joe's!}

Farmer's marked fruits.

Itallian sausage, onions and peppers, quinoa (this was my dinner tonight).

Some days have been miserable. I am so grateful to have all the food I need in life... to live in a country where trying a diet like this is possible. But it has not been very fun. Drastically changing the way I eat begs me to pay attention to what physical desires are saying about my heart's condition. However, there is grace and I am clinging to it tightly, because never have I had so much respect for something as seemingly simple as a diet!