Flying High

I haven't had a real vacation for 2 years now and the wear and tear is starting to show. I'm much grouchier and moodier than normal and so exhausted that sometimes I worry I have some terrible, undiagnosed disease. But - my blood work came back normal - so I decided to diagnose myself, I do work in the medical field so I'm qualified, right? While I'm fairly certain you will not find this diagnosis in the "official" ICD-9 book, I do exhibit every symptom, so I'm pretty sure it exists in more than just my rapidly deteriorating mind. DX: 999.00, NAE D/O NOS (i.e. No Adventure or Excitement Disorder, no other symptoms). The only cure appears to be an extended vacation in Prague or Italy or Krakow or......

In an effort to maintain my fragile sanity, I have begun reminiscing and reliving some of my favorite experiences from past adventures. This is where a travel journal pays off (thanks Becky for giving me my first one ever!) And I'm thankful for my slightly annoying and obsessive habit of journaling every detail - it's making my memories much sharper after so many years.

So, here's the first retelling of a very long line of funny memories. I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I enjoyed creating them.

*****************************

It all began with one very long Lufthansa flight from Newark to Munich, a connection I almost missed due to my inexperience and a fumble with my passport. The connecting flight was late (aren't they always?) so the airline had a buggy waiting to pick me up and rush me to a different terminal where an entire airplane full of restless passengers was waiting to depart.....waiting just for me. It was mortifying to be rushed through the airport on what amounts to a golf cart as the driver honked his horn and yelled in a harsh Jersey accent for people to "get out of the way!"

Upon arriving at the gate I was greeted by an impatient ground crew entirely lacking in southern hospitality. I was bewildered, terrified and on the verge of tears at the thought of flying over the ocean to a different country, completely and utterly alone. Next I boldly boarded the plane and let's just say that the welcome I received was a little "hostile". People were angry to be kept waiting and glared at me while simultaneously ducking as my backpack and I made our way to the very last row because, of course, my desired window seat had been reassigned.

I was herded to the middle of a row of 8 seats in between huge German men in need of a shower.... Men who spoke no English and kept touching me and smiling at me and saying apparently hilarious things to each other in German. I'm pretty sure they were flirting but it's always possible that I had spinach in my teeth or toilet paper on my shoe.... But wait, it gets better. This was a long time ago, years before the smoking ban went into effect, so guess what? I was lucky enough to spend 8 hours sitting in a cloud of unfiltered, German nicotine, a few smelly feet away from the bathrooms. Between the nicotine, body odor and bathrooms is it any wonder I couldn't see the more "charming" qualities of my seatmates?

After a sleepless night sitting in a seat that did not recline, I guess you could say that my big adventure was off to a bumpy start. And although I didn't know it there would be more turbulence on the ground than there was in the air. I would go on to spend a few hours sleeping off my jetlag on a subway bench; blow $22 on subway tickets because I was hopelessly confused and desperately lost; walk several hours from hostel to hostel trying in vain to find a place to lay my weary head; and finally book the last hotel room available and promptly fall fast asleep until 8:45 am the next morning.

When I emerged from that flight I was a terrified, exhausted girl with bloodshot eyes, flat hair and no makeup, but over the next few weeks I would grow into a woman bursting with excitement, joy and a deepened faith in God and her own abilities. I returned home with an awakened spirit and I'm determined not to let it fall asleep again.

Carryon Baggage

14 years ago I embarked upon my first overseas adventure, a trip that would change my life by igniting a passion for all things European. As my launch date approached, I stayed busy packing, weighing, repacking and wearing my backpack around the house. I'm sure it took every ounce of self-control for my parents to keep from bursting into hoots of laughter as I traipsed around with 60 pounds of turquoise nylon strapped to my back. I was determined to "train" for my big adventure and completely unwilling to part with anything on my list. I was landing on foreign soil after all and I was not inclined to use German toothpaste, Austrian shampoo or Czech deodorant!

Since that most excellent adventure I have traveled abroad many times and experience has taught me that it is always better to pack less not more. Everything must fit into the overhead bin or underneath the seat in front of me, especially if I have to haul it around on my aging, decrepit back! And I have been rewarded by breezing to the front of the customs' line right past the huge crowds of people watching the carousel of luggage in a frenzied state, trying to figure out which one of the 312 black suitcases is theirs..... Plus instead of using my precious moola on a shiny cart to hold all of my cargo, I get to spend it on a $6.00 airport soda. Woo-hoo!

Through the years I have also pared down my other "baggage", if you know what I mean... Downsizing has definite advantages. Things are simpler and my perspective is better, and even when life comes at me fast or circumstances are painful I handle them more graciously than I used to. I used to hit everyone in the face with all of my bags, and while I probably still do, at least the bags are lighter now and the injuries no longer life threatening!

While I have gained freedom by disposing of so much junk, it doesn't mean that I don't need help carrying my load periodically. If you are "lucky" enough to really know me let me apologize in advance, because you may be required to do some heavy lifting from time to time, especially when I am exhausted and unable to figure out how to keep moving forward. But, I am a firmly committed "carryon baggage girl" so most of the time I'll carry my stuff on my back, which frees my arms to help carry your stuff if you need me to.

That Kind of Day

Ever have one of those days where you feel like the mountain you're climbing is growing taller with each step you take? The kind of day where situations get worse instead of better no matter how much wisdom or prayer you apply? The kind of day where everything is 200 times more difficult than it should be?

THAT'S the kind of day I had.

Today it was personal. I don't play office politics well and it came back to bite me. Apparently I'm terrible at hiding what people assume I'm thinking with assume being the key word. I'm cursed with a face that displays a variety of emotions, often misinterpreted if I'm not smiling and chipper. When others assume I'm angry, I'm often just deep in thought, usually of the "Saturday Night Live" variety. Unfortunately most people suffer from the same degree of narcissism as I do and are convinced that every thought in my head and every facial expression are somehow directed at them. Add to the mix my struggle to communicate honestly with people who have not earned my love and respect plus my sarcastic, sardonic and dry sense of humor and you can see why I'm in a pickle!

What's a straight shooter like me to do? I'm terrible at emotional games and extremely intolerant of the junior high antics that keep me from focusing on my real job. But the people who share my "too small" workspace have a different moral code than I do. And as impossible as it sounds they are even more insecure than I am and will do anything to make themselves look better, even if it means dragging someone else's name and reputation through the mud.....even if it means resorting to lies, gossip and slander.

Honestly, I feel a little battered and bruised and I'm pretty sure my heart is black and blue. Obviously I have glaring flaws that need attention, but it's excruciating to hear about them from people who do not care about knowing or loving me. I cannot begin to examine them until I first hold myself up to God's truth and focus on what his opinion of me is. Otherwise it's too easy for me to live in that ugly, negative place, and I have done that for far too long.

Please be kind to me if you happen to cross my path in the next few weeks. A lot of arrows have found their mark landing smack dab in the middle of my heart and I'm finding it hard to pretend that it isn't killing me. I want to rebel against our culture for demanding that I hide any ugly emotions. I don't want to live a lie. Faking it is just not my style. Neither is chipper...... But, I really don't want to wound other people either, even those I find difficult to love. I guess I'll spend the long weekend licking my wounds and trying to figure out how to play the game. I just wish I didn't hate it so much.

THAT'S the kind of day I had. I sincerely hope yours was better.

American Idol Addict

Yes. I admit it, I LOVE it. It's my guilty pleasure. ***GO DAVID COOK*** And even though I attend a home group on Tuesdays and a prayer study on Wednesdays I am able to enjoy it thanks to the inventor of TIVO, whose face I will gladly kiss if I ever see it!

I love it the early stages when all of the terrible singers audition. I find myself laughing until I cry at their antics. Of course I also cry for real when some of them are heartbroken because no one has been honest enough to tell them that, no, they really should not sing in public, EVER. I get mad at Simon sometimes, especially when I think he has been unfair, but I have to admit that I prefer his approach to Paula's "nicey-nice" one. At least you know where you stand with him! ***GO DAVID COOK***

Once Hollywood Week begins I lose interest pretty fast, I don't think it's possible for me to care any less about the silly dramas that unfold between highly emotional contestants. I just want to see and hear people sing! ***GO DAVID COOK*** Ah, but once they narrow down the playing field to 24 I find myself drawn back into the frenzy. I watch every performance and listen to every note as if my personal future is at stake. This year I chose my favorite early. ***GO DAVID COOK*** A young rocker with the ability to make me like a Dolly Parton song about a sparrow - THAT takes talent. When he sang "Music of the Night" and "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" I was swooning. And, when he redid "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson, and made it amazingly cool, I nearly wept.

This week will mark the finale, and since it begins on Tuesday I will be conspicuously absent from home group (sorry HG, some things just need to be seen live!) ***GO DAVID COOK*** And, thanks to some scheduling conflicts my prayer group will meet on Thursday relieving me of the guilt I would feel when choosing to watch a television show over devoting myself to prayer... ***GO DAVID COOK***

In case you're not sure who I'm voting for, I will close with the following:

GO DAVID COOK!

DAVID COOK ROCKS!

GO DAVID COOK!

DAVID COOK ROCKS!

Check out these performances if you don't believe me!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dMZ97pNilI - "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_aiawC-9aM - "Billie Jean"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHo5I811n0k - "Hello"

To Dye or Not to Dye

Perhaps it's time to consider obtaining a part time job so I can afford to dye my formerly luscious locks back to the shiny raven hue of my youth. Today at lunch my adorable 9-year-old niece, who will eventually sport gray hair of her own (which I hope to be around to witness, if only so I can gloat) commented that she noticed very little gray in my head full of black hair. Although flattered, only I knew the secret reason why - I have devoted several hours in the last few weeks to plucking out those pesky little wiry, white strands from my tender head!

Since I can no longer honestly list my hair color as black - it's really black and white - I have been considering the pros and cons of hair dye.

Pros of Natural Hair

• Cheap, or to be more politically correct "budget friendly"
• Saves hours of time spent at the salon with a head full of foil
• Green....environmentally friendly....no chemicals
• No root touch-up every 6 weeks
• The gray proves that I have earned SOME wisdom.....

Pros of Dyed Hair

• Shiny, shiny, shiny!
• Saves hours of time spent in front of the mirror armed with a pair of tweezers....
• Helps maintain low unemployment levels in the chemical/cosmetic industry
• Brings the illusion of youth

What a dilemma! Can I really be one of the lone holdouts of my generation? And if I start dying the hair on my head, then what about my graying eyebrows? Must I dye them too or just keep plucking? Then there is the matter of my mustache, if only it would turn gray.....but no, it stays stubbornly black and forces me to break my "no chemical" rule on a routine basis. After all, a girl can only take so much "au naturale".

Until I make my final ruling I have learned to part my hair differently and use mascara to temporarily cover the obvious gray when I don't have time to pluck OR when plucking would leave a bald spot (which is more and more frequently.) If you happen to notice some gray then please remember that I earned it and it means that I'm smarter than I was when my hair was solid black. But if the gray is suspiciously missing then I guess you'll know how I spent my weekend!

Flowers

Almost every day, after several hours spent working or lately perfecting the fine art of CYA, I take a nice, long walk through the historic district surrounding me. I walk all the way down to my favorite street - Lynwood - and take the long way back to my little pad. I zigzag up and down the blocks and walk by stately mansions, some still in the process of being restored to their former glory. I make sure to walk past my favorite home every day, a strange green and white structure mixing Spanish and Craftsman architecture. It also boasts a beautiful garden, beautiful enough to elicit admiration from my 8-year-old nephew!

As I walk down the tree-lined streets my sense of smell is filled with the mingling aromas of honeysuckle, roses, magnolias, lavender and a variety of other flowers carefully tended and proudly watching over the old homes. The air smells so fresh and fragrant that I wish I could find a bench on which to sit so I could linger in the scent.

As I continue walking, my eyes feast on the beautiful colors and shapes of the delicate petals gracing the proud stems. The shockingly orange, yellow and pink hibiscus on the corner. The beautifully tended and sculpted rosebushes. The gorgeous, flowering magnolias. The whimsical and wild honeysuckle. In my mind they collide and resemble an abstract painting.

Being surrounded by beauty brings deep peace and contentment to my weary soul. That's one reason why flowers are one of my favorite gifts. It makes me feel special to have someone spend money to give me a few moments of something beautiful. Flowers are also one of the few indulgences I allow myself. I think it's because they are impractical and contrast sharply with my practical nature. No matter how hard I try I cannot resist their beauty, nor do I want to. Besides, I can ultimately justify the expense; it really IS practical to buy myself flowers because it keeps me on my diet. After all, I purchase flowers with money that would have otherwise been spent on food!

So, if you happen to see a girl with her nose buried in the magnolia blossoms, or her mouth agape as she drools over the abundance of choices in the flower department at the local grocery store, it's probably me, appreciating God's creativity and bold use of color and form. As I find rest and peace in beauty my soul finds the freedom to worship the One who loves me enough to delight all of my senses.

Tonight

Tonight I am tired. Tired of caring. Tired of trying. Tired of dreaming. Tired of working. Tired of bothering. Just...plain...tired.

I'm worn out from hoping, and worn out from loving, and worn out from living. Figuring out how to live in this world is exhausting. It's draining the life and soul from me. I'm...worn...out.

Sometimes I wonder why everything has to be so hard. Hope seems fruitless, and people seem cruel, and life seems uninteresting and lonely and pointless. Maybe tomorrow my hormones will be stable and the world will be happier. But not tonight, no tonight is dark and bitter, and my heart is sad, so sad that I cannot even find my tears. Tonight the journey is killing me. Tonight I am angry and disappointed in God and myself and others. Tonight I am selfish. Just...plain...selfish.

Even as I type these words and give legitimacy to the emotions and anger and disappointment mingling in my heart, I feel ridiculous. I feel ridiculous for thinking my life is hard. It really isn't. I feel ridiculous for expecting God to make things easier. I feel ridiculous for not being grateful that he made me a fighter. I...feel...ridiculous.

I feel guilty for not being able to see through the lies that I have embraced. I feel guilty for not being able to cope better than I am at this very moment. I...feel...guilty.

When I face these moments, when I stare down into the pit of despair and decide if I will jump in or jump over it, I feel the heaviness crushing my heart. These are the moments when my choices will either strengthen or weaken my faith. These are the moments when I will decide whether or not I will believe though I cannot see. These are the moments when I will choose whether or not to cement my faith in God's truth or in the enemy's lies. These are the moments when I beg God to help me believe because I am incapable of doing so on my own. These...are...the...moments.

Tomorrow is another day and although the disappointments may be bitter I am comforted. I have hope. I have peace. I have truth. I have love. I have God. I have Jesus. I have the Holy Spirit. I have a future. I have a promise. I...have...faith.

Space

I had a day off last Friday and do you know what I did? Absolutely nothing important. I didn't answer my phone. I didn't take a shower. I didn't change out of my pajamas. I didn't get my mail. I didn't take a walk. I didn't cook (I ate tortillas with hummus all day......) All I did was sleep, watch movies, sleep, eat, sleep, work on a collage, sleep, journal and sleep some more (I don't feel too guilty about all of the sleeping since I've had insomnia for 3 weeks!) Of all the things I should have done - cleaning, organizing files, laundry, exercising - I chose to do none of them and I was blissfully happy as a result.

One of the things I love and hate about living alone is well, actually being alone. I'm such a dichotomy because on the one hand I crave intimacy and quality time with those I love (which differs greatly from quantity time), but on the other hand I need a lot of space and time alone to recharge, and trust me when I tell you that I can get pretty irritable when I don't get enough of it! Just ask anyone who has lived or traveled with me. :-)

Because I still want to get married, the fact that I am so horribly selfish kind of worries me. If I can't even handle a roommate, how would I ever function as a married woman? How would I ever deal with all of the forced "quantity" time? How would I handle sharing everything with a man, even one I adore? How would I negotiate time for myself without making him feel neglected? How would I justify how I spent last Friday? How would I handle the vulnerability that a healthy marriage requires? Am I too set in my ways? Am I too old of a dog to learn new tricks? Am I too damaged?

You know, for so many years I gave every second of my life to others. Lately the pendulum has swung the other direction and I've spent a lot of time focusing on my interests. Since I've recently been reminded that the world does not revolve around me I've decided to quit hiding behind my introverted personality. Yes, I will always need space and time alone, but I no longer want to be so focused on myself that I miss out on opportunities to know and love others. I no longer want to be so self-absorbed that I forget to let God use me as an extension of his love and grace. I no longer want to be so introverted that I fail to act on behalf of the marginalized people of this world. And mostly, I no longer want to hide from the healing that healthy relationships offer, even if they push my boundaries and require more of me than I expected. So, please be patient with me as I learn how to be present and authentic and selfless. I have a long way to go. The good news is that I'm no longer reading the map upside down so at least I'm headed in the right direction!

InSoMniA

Sleep is one of my favorite things to do, especially since I upgraded from a futon to a pillow top mattress last year. Just the thought of resting in my comfy bed snuggling 3 pillows makes me sigh contentedly. I like my sheets, my comforter, my sound machine, my jammies - everything associated with sleeping. I seriously enjoy putting one day to bed and waking up to a fresh start on the next one, although I will admit that I usually don't enjoy the waking up part for at least 30 minutes, or until I've consumed 12 oz of caffeine.

Unfortunately, when I feel stressed sleep is the first friend to desert me. We've known each other my WHOLE life, and yet she abandons me at the first sign of trouble. It's really very annoying and she always leaves when I need an escape from my neurosis!!!

For the past 3 weeks I have been unable to sleep well. Not only do I have trouble falling asleep, I also have trouble staying asleep. That's why you will often receive an email from me at 3:42 am! Sometimes I clean, sometimes I blog, sometimes I read, or I pray, cry and get really angry but it doesn't matter. My dear friend has left the building and isn't planning to return until about 3:00 pm the next day, right when I'm in the middle of a meeting with 9 doctors, 12 nurses and 16 receptionists.......

Instead of counting sheep I've started counting the number of times the train whistle blows at night (it's at least 100). I've also sat on my patio and watched a surprising number of people come and go from the complex in which I live, and I wonder which one ripped me off....twice! I've listened to the sirens of police cars, ambulances and fire engines and wondered what emergency awaits them. I've flipped on the TV and watched very strange infomercials. Did you know that there is a miracle cure that "they" don't want you to know about? I'm not sure what it is because I'm too cheap to buy the book, but I could be missing out on something huge.

But mostly what I do is try to listen to God. I listen for his voice to tell me why he loves me. I listen for his voice to tell me his dreams for my life. I listen for his voice to tell me how to love and support those I cherish. And then I petition him. I petition him on behalf of the many people I love. I petition him on behalf of the hurting, broken, marginalized people trying to survive one more day in this cruel world. I petition him to draw me into deeper intimacy with him and to make me effective as his servant. I petition him to keep reminding me that I am his and worth far more than I can ever comprehend. And I thank him. I thank him for never letting go of me, even when I tried to escape. I thank him for putting faithful, beautiful, amazing people in my life who speak truth and grace and mercy and hope to me. I thank him for loving me despite my unlovable qualities. And then finally, I rest in him. I rest in the silence (except for the train and sirens). I rest in the warmth of knowing that I am his. I rest in the healing he is bringing to my deepest wounds. And I let him love me. And I love him. And then I sleep.

Easy Button

Could somebody please hand me an easy button??? I ordered one on amazon.com but they are out of stock and don't know when they will be able to get another one......... Very funny you might say, but lately most of my attempts to make positive changes in my life have failed, it seems I've been using the let's make things harder button. I've been told that I live my life waiting for the other shoe to drop, but how else am I supposed to live? THE OTHER SHOE ALWAYS DROPS, that's why I put out an APB for the easy button!

Sadly, when God allows (or causes???) disappointment to enter my life, it's automatic for me to begin looking at others and comparing their lives to mine, which is a VERY slippery slope. Every one has SOMETHING difficult - a painful cross to bear - it's just that when they have things I want, things for which I have faithfully petitioned and fruitlessly hoped, it's easy to overlook the magnitude of their difficulties. It's hard to see the depth of their pain through the lens of my own. (it's SO embarrassing to admit how self-absorbed I am!)

To be sure, the disappointments in my life are not devastating. Much worse things happen to people the world over on a daily basis. And I don't have answers to my endless questions about why God allows the things he allows - I don't have a clue why he operates so mysteriously. But I am fairly certain that if he made me privy to all of his reasoning it would confuse the *!@* out of me! So, even though lately I've been deeply disappointed about some things in my life, I'm going to choose to believe that God is still good and that he is not out to get me..... I'm going to choose to rest in his love instead of my fear. I'm going to choose to believe that he is trustworthy. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm going to press the trust and obey button. But I'm still keeping my eye out for an easy button.....