Sometimes, when given a few moments of silence, or when I read a book full of convicting messages about the work of God that Christians should do and are often fearful to do, I find myself wishing I were someplace else. Just somewhere that had more opportunities, more avenues, more developed programming for people my age and not just for the 18-22 range.
But, in the wishing for a different place, I feel a bit sheepish and with any amount of introspection thereafter, I discover the underlying issue.
I wish I were someone else. More motivated or active, someone who possesses more energy and drive, someone who was less fearful and who didn't live within such a small comfort zone. Someone who was not a homebody, who loved outside adventures, who had a vision of the future, rather than the future that I see which is always full of dread, full of the negative possibilities, fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of moving.
I'm often immobilized by fear. Whether or not the object of fear is worth fearing, I cannot tell you. But I know that I live in a world surrounded by fear. And that's scary.
I have become so calloused, firmly believing that one person can't really make a difference. Maybe if attached to an external organization, one driven by people who have vision, maybe then people, collectively, can make a difference. But I have seen no evidence that any one person makes a difference for good.
Beginning a book by IJM's CEO Gary Haugen, I've been pretty convicted that this stance is the typical American view. And it has brought many of us to lives of inaction. And it's a lie.
Upon this realization, though, I find myself asking, what am I supposed to do? How does this information change my life? Or, maybe more importantly, will I let it?
But how, and where, and when will anything change? And how do I trust God and people enough to open myself up to changing my views, but also my way of life? What will it mean?
At this point in my internal court room, the questions start rolling in. But how will this knowledge and any action taken upon that knowledge change my method of organization, my life, my job, my family? Will that be good change or bad? Where will it go wrong, as inevitably everything in life does anyway? How will I respond to that? Isn't it easier to NOT try to implement change and NOT deal with the ways in which I will not cope well with a new life transition?
You can see the fear taking over. Those questions, my whole internal system of analysis is borne of fear and lack of trust. And this is my typical mental process when encountering any and every thing around me.
Isn't it scary? This glimpse into the internal workings of a preoccupied mind that is full of questions and no answers. That has knowledge and very little action. That wonders who is even listening and if her own life change could ever really matter to anyone anyway.
23 November 2009
21 November 2009
Reading for fun
I always try to have one book going in my effort to read for fun. For the past few years I've kept track in a little notebook of every book I've read, or begun, as has been the case lately. I used to say with unnecessary pride that I finish every book I read. But in the past year, I think I've decided that isn't always best. I read one great book by Kathleen Norris and then began a second one. After reading 50 pages of it in 2 and 1/2 months, I decided I'd give it a rest. If I can't get into a book, even after trying for weeks, I am finally okay with simply cutting it loose and moving on.
I read Jane Austen's Persuasion, finally, after years of meaning to and checking it out 5 times in the last year, but never reading past pages one through ten. It was fantastic, and I remember, all over again, why I love Jane Austen. Her books never disappoint.
I decided recently to reread a book I've listed as a favorite, The Scarlet Letter. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time getting through it. The Puritanical language is slowing me up.
So, whilst reading that one off and on, I picked up a new novel that my sister had suggested to me, The Weight of Silence. I'm always a little leery of popular fiction. Call me a snob, but I have read such good literature, that I am often disappointed by the efforts of modern novelists to be coy, clever, and prolific. Truly, the book cover drew me in; knowing nothing about the content, the picture intrigued me. By the time I got my hands on the copy both Emily and Leslie had read it, each in less than two days. I subsequently finished it in a 24-hour time period. Though 373 pages long, this is the most compelling book I've laid my hands on in several years. The most shocking thing about it is that the author has never published a book before; this is her first novel. If this type of narration and character-driven plot with unforgettable characters is her standard, then I believe she will be quite successful.
Why do I love this book?
#1. The Characters. In the same way that Barbara Kingsolver laid out the chapters of The Poisonwood Bible, Heather Gudenkauf has six characters that each narrate a chapter, and they are arranged in no particular order other than one which will speedily feed the plot. Every character, save the main one, 7-year-old Calli, narrate in first person. Calli's chapters are in third limited. This is deliberate and comes together beautifully in the end.
#2. The Story. Heartbreaking, deep, breathtaking, and believable, this story speaks to emotions and feelings (love, hate, betrayal, fear, abandonment, and hope) that we all experience in life at various times and levels. It calls forth the unquenchable spirit of the Young, their bravery beyond what adults can really comprehend, and their understanding, at times, that is far wiser than their years. Astonishingly enough, the action of the story takes place during one day, like the TV show 24 or the movie Bella.
#3. The Writing. Gudenkauf's skill in story-telling is remarkable. Besides the six narrators, there are many more characters that feel fully developed and three-dimensional. The main antagonist is never allowed his own voice, or I should say his own perspective, and yet the reader is provided an intimate view into his deepest and darkest, his truest self. One of my favorite parts of literature is character development -- when I can love and hate characters, when I know fully what they are capable of, when their actions fit seamlessly into what I expect out of them. Never once in all 300+ pages did I question the actions or words of a character. I believed her story.
Perhaps more than the average person, I believe wholeheartedly in the transforming power of literature, how it can open your eyes and enable you to see the world, yes, but also yourself. Almost as a looking-glass, a mirror from which you can hold up traits, character strengths and see how they fit with you. But also, through which you can identify weaknesses, struggles, and pain, in order that you might be more fully self aware and work toward positive change. For me, education and literature both serve this function. Some might call it enlightenment, all I know is that it can change you if you let it.
This book is powerful because of the universal human aspects upon which it touches, sometimes digging more deeply than we prefer to go. It reminds us that the events of just One Day can impact and transform our lives, that we should be mindful to cling to the hope that we have and to work toward change for ourselves and those we love, because each day has the potential to alter us permanently.
I read Jane Austen's Persuasion, finally, after years of meaning to and checking it out 5 times in the last year, but never reading past pages one through ten. It was fantastic, and I remember, all over again, why I love Jane Austen. Her books never disappoint.
I decided recently to reread a book I've listed as a favorite, The Scarlet Letter. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time getting through it. The Puritanical language is slowing me up.
So, whilst reading that one off and on, I picked up a new novel that my sister had suggested to me, The Weight of Silence. I'm always a little leery of popular fiction. Call me a snob, but I have read such good literature, that I am often disappointed by the efforts of modern novelists to be coy, clever, and prolific. Truly, the book cover drew me in; knowing nothing about the content, the picture intrigued me. By the time I got my hands on the copy both Emily and Leslie had read it, each in less than two days. I subsequently finished it in a 24-hour time period. Though 373 pages long, this is the most compelling book I've laid my hands on in several years. The most shocking thing about it is that the author has never published a book before; this is her first novel. If this type of narration and character-driven plot with unforgettable characters is her standard, then I believe she will be quite successful.
Why do I love this book?#1. The Characters. In the same way that Barbara Kingsolver laid out the chapters of The Poisonwood Bible, Heather Gudenkauf has six characters that each narrate a chapter, and they are arranged in no particular order other than one which will speedily feed the plot. Every character, save the main one, 7-year-old Calli, narrate in first person. Calli's chapters are in third limited. This is deliberate and comes together beautifully in the end.
#2. The Story. Heartbreaking, deep, breathtaking, and believable, this story speaks to emotions and feelings (love, hate, betrayal, fear, abandonment, and hope) that we all experience in life at various times and levels. It calls forth the unquenchable spirit of the Young, their bravery beyond what adults can really comprehend, and their understanding, at times, that is far wiser than their years. Astonishingly enough, the action of the story takes place during one day, like the TV show 24 or the movie Bella.
#3. The Writing. Gudenkauf's skill in story-telling is remarkable. Besides the six narrators, there are many more characters that feel fully developed and three-dimensional. The main antagonist is never allowed his own voice, or I should say his own perspective, and yet the reader is provided an intimate view into his deepest and darkest, his truest self. One of my favorite parts of literature is character development -- when I can love and hate characters, when I know fully what they are capable of, when their actions fit seamlessly into what I expect out of them. Never once in all 300+ pages did I question the actions or words of a character. I believed her story.
Perhaps more than the average person, I believe wholeheartedly in the transforming power of literature, how it can open your eyes and enable you to see the world, yes, but also yourself. Almost as a looking-glass, a mirror from which you can hold up traits, character strengths and see how they fit with you. But also, through which you can identify weaknesses, struggles, and pain, in order that you might be more fully self aware and work toward positive change. For me, education and literature both serve this function. Some might call it enlightenment, all I know is that it can change you if you let it.
This book is powerful because of the universal human aspects upon which it touches, sometimes digging more deeply than we prefer to go. It reminds us that the events of just One Day can impact and transform our lives, that we should be mindful to cling to the hope that we have and to work toward change for ourselves and those we love, because each day has the potential to alter us permanently.
19 November 2009
Perceptions
I just this very moment found out that I won an award this morning.
Oddly enough, it came from Arizona, and since I live in the Midwest, it was at first perplexing. Let me divulge the title of the award, and then we can talk specifics.
"Looks the Most Different from When They Wake Up to When They are Ready for the Day"
At first, I said, "How could I win this award? I don't even wear make-up." And my hair isn't really too crazy when I wake up, usually just a few more waves than day-time hair. I was baffled.
Then I got to thinking, and digging deeper, I found a few reasons why my 7-year-old niece might find me "most different" from waking to leaving the house.
At that point in the conversation, my dear sister piped up: "Well, don't forget your wheelchair and IV pole. Oh, and your metal leg." Which certainly could complement the above list. But thanks, Em, I'm not quite there yet.
Oh the minds of the young! How free and hilarious they can be.
Oddly enough, it came from Arizona, and since I live in the Midwest, it was at first perplexing. Let me divulge the title of the award, and then we can talk specifics.
"Looks the Most Different from When They Wake Up to When They are Ready for the Day"
At first, I said, "How could I win this award? I don't even wear make-up." And my hair isn't really too crazy when I wake up, usually just a few more waves than day-time hair. I was baffled.
Then I got to thinking, and digging deeper, I found a few reasons why my 7-year-old niece might find me "most different" from waking to leaving the house.
- My very thick glasses that reduce my eyes to the size of peas.
- My plastic mouth splint that covers my top teeth and prevents my jaw from fully closing to spare me from TMJ disorder face pain.
- My hand braces, which keep my wrists straight and prevent the carpal tunnel pain whilst sleeping.
At that point in the conversation, my dear sister piped up: "Well, don't forget your wheelchair and IV pole. Oh, and your metal leg." Which certainly could complement the above list. But thanks, Em, I'm not quite there yet.
Oh the minds of the young! How free and hilarious they can be.
16 November 2009
Reverting, always an adventure
Today I had the great fortune to revisit an old stomping ground: the Orthodontist.
I had years of orthodontic work done during the ages of 12-14. Back in 2005, my senior year of college, I returned for a new problem, no longer crooked teeth and crooked jaw, but a clenching jaw causing popping and clicking and pain about my face. I continued to visit the office for the duration of my grad school studies.
About a month ago, during a particularly stressful period of time, I found that I'd wake up in the morning with my jaw clenched tightly against my specially-made jaw splint that is to prevent clenching. That brought me to the conclusion that I'd worn down my poor device so much by clenching and grinding in my sleep that it needed a significant adjustment.
Thus, this morning, I found myself back at my old orthodontist's office, saying hello to some faces I've known for half of my life, changing my name in yet another medical office, and seeing new assistants gazing into my open mouth who are far younger than myself. That was, perhaps, the most startling part.
Of course it had been three years since I'd last seen my orthodontist. I trust him implicitly with my particular jaw needs, and thus I refuse to find one that's a reasonable distance from my home. While reading my chart, he asked the fewest number of questions possible to get the information needed, made the necessary adjustments to the splint, and then, stepped around in front of me to chat for a minute. When he found out I was a librarian, he shared that his brother is a librarian at a prestigious NY school and began regaling me with the difficulties that all librarians are facing with funding cuts and the loss of resource budgets.
As he chatted, he lowered himself into a nearby chair and removed his paper mask and I found myself shocked by how much he has aged in just three short years. Somethings about him don't change, like his wild red, curly hair, his most notable feature, although it was less robust than I remember. But other features were markedly different: his eyes were a bit sunken, his face wan, his belt very tight against his thin frame. I began to wonder at his age, then at how long he has dedicated his life to perfecting teeth and helping stress-filled people like myself cope with strange jaw-related issues like TMJ disorder. It's interesting to think of having a profession in which you can so concretely measure your success. He's helped x number of patients and corrected x number of orthodontic problems. My profession has absolutely NO method of measuring how we help people, even though that's a large part of what I (we) do.
It's funny, and seems very odd to even say this, but I will always have a soft spot for my orthodontist. He was always cheerful, even when he was ripping out glued-in appliances and some of your teeth along with them.
I had years of orthodontic work done during the ages of 12-14. Back in 2005, my senior year of college, I returned for a new problem, no longer crooked teeth and crooked jaw, but a clenching jaw causing popping and clicking and pain about my face. I continued to visit the office for the duration of my grad school studies.
About a month ago, during a particularly stressful period of time, I found that I'd wake up in the morning with my jaw clenched tightly against my specially-made jaw splint that is to prevent clenching. That brought me to the conclusion that I'd worn down my poor device so much by clenching and grinding in my sleep that it needed a significant adjustment.
Thus, this morning, I found myself back at my old orthodontist's office, saying hello to some faces I've known for half of my life, changing my name in yet another medical office, and seeing new assistants gazing into my open mouth who are far younger than myself. That was, perhaps, the most startling part.
Of course it had been three years since I'd last seen my orthodontist. I trust him implicitly with my particular jaw needs, and thus I refuse to find one that's a reasonable distance from my home. While reading my chart, he asked the fewest number of questions possible to get the information needed, made the necessary adjustments to the splint, and then, stepped around in front of me to chat for a minute. When he found out I was a librarian, he shared that his brother is a librarian at a prestigious NY school and began regaling me with the difficulties that all librarians are facing with funding cuts and the loss of resource budgets.
As he chatted, he lowered himself into a nearby chair and removed his paper mask and I found myself shocked by how much he has aged in just three short years. Somethings about him don't change, like his wild red, curly hair, his most notable feature, although it was less robust than I remember. But other features were markedly different: his eyes were a bit sunken, his face wan, his belt very tight against his thin frame. I began to wonder at his age, then at how long he has dedicated his life to perfecting teeth and helping stress-filled people like myself cope with strange jaw-related issues like TMJ disorder. It's interesting to think of having a profession in which you can so concretely measure your success. He's helped x number of patients and corrected x number of orthodontic problems. My profession has absolutely NO method of measuring how we help people, even though that's a large part of what I (we) do.
It's funny, and seems very odd to even say this, but I will always have a soft spot for my orthodontist. He was always cheerful, even when he was ripping out glued-in appliances and some of your teeth along with them.
10 November 2009
Ahh, here it is again. This restlessness.
What am I waiting for? Or hoping for?
I can't determine if it's simply the days and months leading up to winter that cause this unsettledness in me, or if it's really something else. And what would that be, that something that brings disquiet to my mind and anxiety to my soul?
I don't recall if a year has ever passed by that I haven't felt this. It's so familiar and yet unwelcome.
Instead I desire peace and tranquility of mind and spirit.
But this is my reality. Oh, to change that. Would that I knew how.
What am I waiting for? Or hoping for?
I can't determine if it's simply the days and months leading up to winter that cause this unsettledness in me, or if it's really something else. And what would that be, that something that brings disquiet to my mind and anxiety to my soul?
I don't recall if a year has ever passed by that I haven't felt this. It's so familiar and yet unwelcome.
Instead I desire peace and tranquility of mind and spirit.
But this is my reality. Oh, to change that. Would that I knew how.
09 November 2009
Something I never wanted
Has anyone ever really wanted their face plastered on a billboard?
And by anyone, I mean any regular Joe-Schmoe. Maybe Hollywood personalities have desired that their whole lives, but by golly, I have not.
You could tell me to count my blessings because, in fact, I will not have my face on a billboard. However, just recently, I have been made the friendly face of the library for an advertisement that is to be a web page "banner" regarding our new Information Desk. They wanted a picture of it. Sure. No problem. With a person at it, okay, small problem. All librarians hate to have their pictures taken. And, I might conjecture, being a younger librarian, some believed it to be a good idea that younger faces = better advertisement. Breaking molds, removing stereotypes.
Thus I have found myself photographed at our Info desk, on a Friday morning, really not wanting to be there, and showing my Gottschalk chin. Dang it. Can't escape it. For the first time I look old.
Not my best moment. Too bad it was captured on film and is soon to be posted to the web site.
And by anyone, I mean any regular Joe-Schmoe. Maybe Hollywood personalities have desired that their whole lives, but by golly, I have not.
You could tell me to count my blessings because, in fact, I will not have my face on a billboard. However, just recently, I have been made the friendly face of the library for an advertisement that is to be a web page "banner" regarding our new Information Desk. They wanted a picture of it. Sure. No problem. With a person at it, okay, small problem. All librarians hate to have their pictures taken. And, I might conjecture, being a younger librarian, some believed it to be a good idea that younger faces = better advertisement. Breaking molds, removing stereotypes.
Thus I have found myself photographed at our Info desk, on a Friday morning, really not wanting to be there, and showing my Gottschalk chin. Dang it. Can't escape it. For the first time I look old.
Not my best moment. Too bad it was captured on film and is soon to be posted to the web site.
05 November 2009
Recent Addictions
I love it when the seasons pass by each other this time of year, the slight chill in the air requires soups and hot beverages enter the weekly, if not daily, diet.
In early October I began making soups. I've made several, although at this point I can't remember all of them. One was Alaina's Grandma's recipe for Cheesy Smoke Sausage soup. Delicious. Another was chili, which is always divine. Beef vegetable was really good, too. A new recipe.
I've been using the Crock Pot at least once a week, which Kyle thinks is slightly ridiculous, and he could complain about that were it not for the fact that he loves almost everything I've made (there have been, of course, a few bombs). Emily supplied a few cookbooks full of Crock Pot recipes, and I feel equipped for the winter months now.
ANother thing I decided in October was to start making a special concoction of cider, cranberry juice and cinnamon. I'm not even certain where the recipe came from, but it warms your home with the incredible smells of cooking apples and cinnamon. Plus, it is sweet and warms you right up.
Mid-October, I went directly to the Hot beverage aisle in Meijer and found my favorite tea medley: Celestial Seasonings' Fruit Tea Sampler. What's interesting to me is that they change one or maybe two of the fruit teas that make up this divine box. This year they added Blueberry. Now, I've had blueberry black tea before. It was pretty good, but it doesn't even hold a candle to the flavor of this one. Plus, this herbal version is caffeine free, a growing necessity in my life. I've had Blueberry tea every day this week. Mmm-Mmm-Good.
While I can't even pretend to like winter, I do like having hot things: food, soup, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, hot cider, and electric blankets. Those things are fun. So I guess I'm thankful there's a time of year where I can have or use all of these things in rapid succession for months on end.
Happy November!
In early October I began making soups. I've made several, although at this point I can't remember all of them. One was Alaina's Grandma's recipe for Cheesy Smoke Sausage soup. Delicious. Another was chili, which is always divine. Beef vegetable was really good, too. A new recipe.
I've been using the Crock Pot at least once a week, which Kyle thinks is slightly ridiculous, and he could complain about that were it not for the fact that he loves almost everything I've made (there have been, of course, a few bombs). Emily supplied a few cookbooks full of Crock Pot recipes, and I feel equipped for the winter months now.
ANother thing I decided in October was to start making a special concoction of cider, cranberry juice and cinnamon. I'm not even certain where the recipe came from, but it warms your home with the incredible smells of cooking apples and cinnamon. Plus, it is sweet and warms you right up.
Mid-October, I went directly to the Hot beverage aisle in Meijer and found my favorite tea medley: Celestial Seasonings' Fruit Tea Sampler. What's interesting to me is that they change one or maybe two of the fruit teas that make up this divine box. This year they added Blueberry. Now, I've had blueberry black tea before. It was pretty good, but it doesn't even hold a candle to the flavor of this one. Plus, this herbal version is caffeine free, a growing necessity in my life. I've had Blueberry tea every day this week. Mmm-Mmm-Good.
While I can't even pretend to like winter, I do like having hot things: food, soup, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, hot cider, and electric blankets. Those things are fun. So I guess I'm thankful there's a time of year where I can have or use all of these things in rapid succession for months on end.
Happy November!
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