Finding Emmanuel

So last night was my first real night out in LA since I moved. I've been to happy hour once with my roommate and her friends and then out for dinner for my roommate's birthday, but definitely the first out-to-a-bar-solely-for-drinks-and-socialness since the big move and the start of my job. My coworker Lauren and I headed down to Manhattan Beach to meet up with a few people I had met at a holiday party last weekend.

As we were driving down from the hospital (oh yes, we worked a 12 that day) to the south bay area, everything seemed perfectly natural. And yet, as I was sitting there sipping my fat tire, looking across the table at Lauren and next to me at Josh, our local guide to the dive bars of Manhattan Beach and my connect person from the weekend before who had graciously invited us out, I couldn't help but feel a little...whelmed by the situation. I say "whelmed" because I wasn't overwhelmed - struck down by the situation or paralyzed by any particular emotion - but definitely impacted.

Huh, I thought. I guess this is what the social part of life looks like now. And it's not a negative or really even a positive statement. It just is. For all intents and purposes, I pretty much avoided the college drinking/social scene until my senior year.

You see, I'm a collector of good conversations. I love stories. Human connections are what keeps me going from day to day. It's part of why I love being a nurse. I love hearing about my patients, their lives, their hopes and fears. I'm not opposed to alcohol. I love a good beer or a great glass of wine and i'll never turn down champagne, but while bars are great places to chill out, have a few laughs, and generally unwind, I crave the intimacy of a few close friends over for dinner.

Perhaps what I'm really trying to say is that I'm getting tired of small talk. When you're always the new person, when you're constantly meeting people and not meeting up with people, the same information - the interesting facts and important details - get recycled over and over like stale air in a plane. And when everything stays on a surface level, there's a heartbeat of intensity that is missing, leaving me feeling slightly dried out and those human connections - such a force of life - slightly dead.

From my childhood, from my years in college and my summers in various places, I should understand by now that community-building takes time. In fact, the larger the group, the longer it takes. The five or six of us volunteering in Sierra Leone fell into community quickly - the intensity of our experiences as well as the shared life and ample free time when we were restricted to our house easily facilitated strong bonds of friendship. In a city like LA, where you many only see any given person once a week at most, community is harder to construct. It feels rather like trying to cling to a handful of sand in the shallows of a beach while the tide whips in and out around you, prying the small grains from between your fingers. Let up at all, and everything's gone in an instant.

It seems a bit dramatic to throw in a line like "it's times like these that define our lives," but I can't help but feel the little bit of a challenge, the push to hold on tighter despite the pull of the sea - these tides of work, material culture, comfort. How much do I really care about community, deep and enriching? How long and how hard am I willing to fight for it? How far am I willing to go for it? How much traffic will I wait in to get to it?

Good questions all, and as I sit here on my couch, meditating on Sufjan Stevens' christmas albums, I ultimately find a core of inner peace, a center of perfect community that is forever closer than my breath and stronger to hold me together than fingers made of steel. Emmanuel, God with us.

coming to christmas

it's a rainy day in the city of angels. after a week of work (more about that later), i was all ready for a day off. plans for an afternoon in the park, maybe an outdoor cup of coffee or stroll on the beach. and now rain. it's funny how quickly i've adjusted to the general sunniness of southern california. i didn't even look out my window this morning and was absolutely shocked when i stepped out of my apartment to find wet. very, very wet.

but as it turned out, a rainy day was exactly what i needed. after a walk to trader joe's which left me thoroughly wet, i warmed up with hot tea and a warm oven, baking up a batch of christmas cookies - ginger oatmeal with fresh cranberries. yum. let's just say my apartment smells heavenly right about now. with over the rhine's snow angel record playing on permanent repeat, i feel a little closer to christmas, despite the distance from anything i am used to around the holidays. when i was away from home in boston, it was still easy to get into the holiday spirit with snow on the ground and huge decorations in store windows downtown. not to mention enough garland and holly on the campus buildings to dress a whole neighborhood. but here, it's been a bit different. very few homes are decorated, very few christmas trees make their way into shop windows. at work, we have one lone, artificial tree at the end of the hallway.

work, by the way, is going well. really well, actually. i am consistently floored by the warmth, encouragement, and support i have received as a new employee and a newly graduated nurse from the other staff members. my patients have all been lovely - all with their own quirks, of course. i find more than anything else, though, that the authority, decisiveness, and responsibility of the nurse that at first was so overwhelming and seemingly far off is becoming more and more a part of who i am at work, and i'm enjoying this new role quite a bit.

other things are coming slowly, a church community, a few choice hang-out spots. i am still exploring, and in a city like LA, there's quite a lot of exploring to do. :)

in case i don't happen to write again before the holidays, merry christmas! i really love this time of year, and while it might look a bit different this year, i still believe there is plenty of light, love, and laughter to be had and shared. many holiday blessings for your christmas and new year - i've got some twinkle lights to hang!

thanks.

tomorrow will mark one week in la-la land (as my mother calls it). i’d like to say that i have fit into this city like a hand into a glove, but that would be glossing everything over a little too much. actually, when you think about it, i’ve never had a pair of gloves that really fit all that well, so maybe that cliché is relatively close to the truth. because, you see, the reality is that there are many things i love – my apartment is in a great neighborhood, i can walk to trader joe’s, my roommate and her friends have been more than welcoming, and my job promises to be everything i could hope for and more. but there are also a lot of things that take getting used to. some things, like the way of driving and general direction-sense, i will have to adjust to. other things, like the ever-present emphasis on image and external appearances, i feel creeping in to my train of thought and will have to work extra hard to stay comfortably un-l.a.

as we near thanksgiving, i am absolutely floored with gratitude. my job, my apartment, a roommate who is pleasant and helpful, parents who take off two weeks of work to come with me, who have provided so indescribably much for me in not only the past few days and months, but in my whole lifetime as well.

i’m always a little uncomfortable with the idea of thinking of those “less fortunate” in order to bolster your attitude of gratitude. it feels like i'm taking advantage of those who are caught under systems of oppression, recognizing their need but then sitting back and saying something along the lines of “thank thee, o god, that i am not like other men.” if i’m not mistaken that jewish priest wasn’t exactly the hero of that particular parable. i suppose, then, that true thanksgiving should lead us to recognize that what we have is actually a gift – one that wasn’t necessarily meant to stay in our sole possession. if everything we have is god’s, then everything we have – down to our time, energy, and ideas – really belong to everyone around us, god’s children.

of course, this quickly gets more complicated, especially in a city like l.a. where the homeless population is significant and omnipresent. extend that out to those individuals who make conscious choices to do drugs, abstain from psychiatric medications, willfully commit crimes. are they god’s children, too? there’s a fear that if i open my arms too wide, i’ll lose myself in the process. but isn’t that exactly what christ did?

after all, what's box unpacking and picture hanging without a healthy dose of soul-challenging theology. :)

what we do with them

jet lag isn't completely gone. but each day is filled with its little victories - this morning i woke up at 6:30 am. definitely a bit improvement on the 5:15 am-on-the-dot wake up i've been living with for the past few days. i'm still tired earlier than normal, but my days have been steady enough to also play a part in my exhaustion.

i'm moving to california. i imagine this doesn't come as a shock to anybody in particular, and i of all people should know this. but i think perhaps there are many layers of realization and many levels of knowledge. mentally, i've been organizing this whole cross-country shenanigan since i graduated in may. first it was to be a month early and now, finally, four months later, it's really happening. plans, details, little bits and pieces of information flow freely from my mouth with an ease and confidence that don't betray the moments of sheer panic that periodically stab through my heart.

you see, it's not just that i'm moving to california. i moved to boston four years ago to attend bc, and i've moved for summers to various locations around the country and the world. my whole life has been a grand sequence of moves. it's what this particular move means. it means my bed comes with me, and my room for the last six years that was always my haven, my sure sign that i was home from the stresses of school, will change. it means i live somewhere else and come home to visit my parents, not the other way around. it means i have responsibility, a job with expectations of me, an apartment, an income, a budget.

in those moments of breathless terror, it's much easier to hunker down and simply wait for the feeling to pass - much easier than looking up and seeing the harsh and gaunt realities we lump together under the ambiguous name of "life." loneliness, isolation, frustration, embarrassment, steep learning curves, and awkward moments stand before me. the cousins of transition, they try to hide among their brighter and more exciting siblings - exhilaration, discovery, adventure, surprise - yet their negative energy casts a pall over everything creating an atmosphere of dread, worry, and concern.

they say misery loves company, and i'm hoping that will prove to be true. if i square my shoulders, stare these clinging fears in the face and consciously choose against them, do you think they might just leave in order to find someone else who might join their un-merry band? one thing i think i've sorted out about life (from what i've known of it so far) is that they never stray too far. i used to think there was one perfect serendipity, one ultimate destination for each person where these morose fellows were banned once and for all by the infinite positivity born out of total fulfillment. well, when put in those terms, i guess that would be my best working definition of heaven...

but for now, for this life and this earth and this set of broken people, i imagine life sort of like one of the last scenes from a beautiful mind. In answer to a question as to whether or not his psychotic hallucinations persist despite the many years since his diagnosis and multiple forms of treatment, john nash, played by russell crowe, answers that they are always there, he has simply learned to ignore them. meanwhile behind him, you see the man and child - his consistent hallucinations - standing. silent. these feelings of overwhelming despair are with us every day, in the ebb and flow of emotions that float beneath the surface of our seemingly rational minds. they, like nash's illusory friends, will always be there. it's about what we chose to do with them.

there and back again, a traveling story

i'm back in oegstgeest once again. crazy to think that the in-between has held nijmegen, frankfurt, prague, brussels, aalst, ghent, brugges, and antwerp. but, the beauty of it all is that nothing has felt rushed or contrived, and it has been a joy to discover once again the natural rhythm that traveling is for me. the dynamic of arriving, discovery, and learning that manifests itself in the exponential growth in familiarity with the city streets, transportation, language, and people.

in brussels, oom ad, tante mareijke, oma, and myself met up in one of the central parking garages before filling our afternoon with the royal museum of art, the grote markt, and mannekin pis with a healthy dose of walking around and picture-taking sprinkled in. then it was off to our hotel in aalst, about a half hour drive away. we were treated to an elaborate dinner in the hotel restaurant as a part of our booking package, and while i enjoyed it, the late hour left much to be desired. one thing i really haven't adjusted to is the generally late hour of eating here in holland, and europe as a whole. five on the dot goverened so much of my life while on board ship, and while i recognize that's a bit too early, eating your main course at nine is just a bit too late. :)

still, we all survived (obviously), and were up and ready to take on brugges the next day. and take it on we did. parking near the center once again, we roamed through the streets despite the misty rain and managed to squeeze in the grote markt (there seems to be one in every belgian city), the belfry, nearly every chocolate or lace shop, the stadshuis, and the beguinage, which i learned is a place for elder, unmarried women to live in community in a consecrated life something like a step lower than full consecration as a nun. good to see there's hope for community living at every age :)

the next day was ghent and while the weather was much lovelier, the day itself seemed to drag on. maybe it was another heavy meal the evening before or the late hour of sleep, but i started the day somewhere hanging narrowly above exhausted. that plus the fact that over 70% of the historic city is covered in tarpaulins and under restoration kind of marred the fairytale like atmosphere the city normally has. still, we had a fine time walking about and spent quite a lot of time admiring the polyptych by hubert and jan van eyck that sits in st. bavo's church on the (surprise, surprise) grote markt.

the last morning, we parted ways at the hotel and birgit, merlijn, oma, and myself headed back to oegstgeest via a short stop in antwerp while oom ad and tante mareijke spent some time in aalst and also stopped over in leeuwen on their way back to nijmegen.

all in all, plenty of coffee drunk and cobblestones walked and history learned to satisfy even the hardest of history buffs, and for me it was quite, quite satisfactory. back in oegstgeest, though, i'm already missing oom ad's precise english and slow rhythm of speech that easily marks him for a teacher.

back in oegstgeest, we have a few more items on the agenda including a trip today in the car with birgit and merlijn as well as some last minute shopping for the essential dutch food groups: cheese and stroopwafels. tomorrow is oma's birthday and we will have a small get-together here at birgit's house for some of oma's friends and family before going out to dinner with the boys as a happy birthday/tot ziens treat. then thursday morning early will find oma and myself in schiphol, boarding a plane for the us-of-a.

definitely enough left to be done and experienced, but my traveling eyes are turning homeward once again...

dutch

kind of crazy to be blogging twice in one day, but seeing that i will definitely be away from the computer while we're in belgium, i figured i could load all of you family and friends up with an extra comment or two on my adventures thus far.

today - just to give a quick update - oom ad and tante mareijke returned from their friend's party around noon, and we hopped in the car around one, headed toward appeldorn (obviously something to do with apples at one point in history or another). there we met up with andor, monique, and their two children ivo and annika for some honest-to-goodness dutch pannekoeken. some people eat pannekoeken and say they are just like french crepes. it is the closest thing one might compare them to, but for the dutch it's a dish all its own (mine, if you're curious, was kaas, tomaaten, en ui and i'm still full full nearly six hours later).

which brings me to the theme of this particular entry: dutch.

every evening, around nine pm or so, i am absolutely exhausted. as i reflect on my days, there's no stupendous expenditure of energy that would warrant such tiredness, and a comment from marte, on our trip, made it all so clear to me. she asked if being around dutch all the time made me tired, and suddenly, i realized it did!

i find myself in a very unique situation. commonly, as most dutch people speak english, an english-speaker making painful attempts at dutch is quickly rescued by the gracious conversation partner(s), and english becomes the language of choice. it is not uncommon for expats to live years within the country and never learn a word of dutch beyond the basics of ''hello,'' ''goodbye,'' and ''thank you.'' i, on the other hand, find myself surrounded by family that have somehow come under the impression that i speak dutch. interesting. before leaving, oma swore up and down that it would be only english and that she herself would personally intervene in any and every conversation necessary to be sure that i was included. i'm not sure what is more surprising, her promise or that i believed her.

but, of course, that's not practical in the least, especially with shakier english-speakers like tante mareijke. so? so i have been spending a very quiet trip. :)

a friend once dared me that i could not be silent for ten minutes straight, and while that was many, many years ago, and i have since come to value the merits of quiet observation, these past weeks have taken it to a whole new level. i find myself appreciating, once again, the powerful communication inherent to body language, tone of voice, facial expressions, and gesticulations. also, i am amazed at the incredible language-learning potential in complete immersion. with dutch swirling around me almost constantly, i find myself noticing sentence patterns and commonly used words that then become intuitively understood by mere repetition.

like the word maar which is the conjunction ''but.'' from hearing time and time again that drawing out of the word and emphasis unique to the introduction of a contradiction in the voices of birgit and oma in the first days here, i taught it to myself (and confirmed it later on, of course). now oma and i have a pattern - i listen throughout the day and then mentally hold onto a few words i think i have figured out or some that completely mystify me and we go over them in the evening. as i write them all down in my moleskin journal, i realize how much my vocabulary has grown.

five year old annika still has me beat (she can count all the way to thirty!), but slowly but surely i'm getting a little closer every day. and here is the pinch - in view of my mental energy, i'm quite looking forward to englespraten but in light of the progress i've made in just a few weeks, i'm already missing those words i might have learned in the months to come. misschien een dag...

more on prague

oom ad and tante mareijke are off to a small birthday party for a friend in their athletic club, and oma is comfortably sorting through clothes for belgium with all of her hairs neatly dried and combed into place. here in the little garret office that has become my home, i have a few minutes to myself for some further writing on prague, as promised.

first, our host kate. always ready for a laugh and a huge conversationalist, both marte and myself felt right at home the moment we walked up to the looming mass of grey concrete and brick that is her apartment building and she popped her head out of her window to shout a ''hello'' to us down below. with convertible couches, a designated storage space, room in the refrigerator, and our own copy of the house key, it was challenging to not feel instantly at home, and of course we did. sheets, blankets, pillows - everything was provided, and with a cup of tea in hand we sat down for a long, get-to-know-you chat. she works for an it company, and had recently been to the us for a conference. we chatted about boston, new york, san diego, jon stewart, and stephen colbert for the large part of that first night.

in the following days, we say kate at least once or twice. usually she was just getting up when we were heading out the door (since her company is based in the us, she has a large amount of flexibility with her hours, usually working some from home and going into work after lunch) but we also often caught her in the evenings as well. she was always interested to hear how our days were turning out and quick to offer us advice and guidance as well as her wonderfully outspoken opinions!

we found her through the couchsurfing online community, and it was an awesome experience. everyone who doesn't yet know about it should check it out at www.couchsurfing.org

one of the biggest advantages was her insight into the culture of the county and the aftermath of communism, which i mentioned before. i realized, as kate was talking one morning, that the czech republic was the first post-communist country i had visited, and i was at times surprised and at other times not to see how prominent the fingerprints of that time still exist, exactly twenty years later. for one, there seemed to be very little nationalism, in terms of pride in the country's history and even awareness of the sort of stories we heard on walking tours and in the guide books. kate explained that soviet education was more about the greater soviet union with an emphasis on communist themes rather than the individualism of then czechoslovakia versus romania, ukraine, bulgaria, etc. similarly, people themselves rarely speak out in public, often avert their eyes on streets and in trams, and only the younger generation, born after the fall of communism really display that gregarious impudence characteristic of youth.

another thing quite shocking to hear is that, growing up, kate was taught in school that jews did not exist. under a completely areligious government policy, judaism and other faiths were taught as sort of relics of the past rather than active influences. she knew about franz kafka, the famous czech writer, but only recently learned he was jewish. when we made a point to visit the memorial of the czechoslovak jews who died in world war ii, she sort of regarded us with a look of quizzical bemusement.

no facet of life has been unaffected, it seems. while people got married very early under communism because having a family moved you higher on the housing list, now most people delay marriage until their late twenties or early thirties because there is greater access to other things like traveling, work, university, etc. the first mortgages are appearing and many people cannot afford to buy homes or flats because their salaries haven't changed that much but the prices set by private industry have. so many fascinating tidbits that cracked open a whole new aspect of czech life and culture.

i definitely didn't see everything - sometimes because of the weather, other times because we didn't want to pay the cost of admission, and in the end, because four days really isn't enough. still, as i said to both marte and kate, i think we both saw enough to know that we would very much like to come back...

op de fiets redux

just back from a looong (read: 2.5 hr) bicycle ride with my great uncle, Ad. i love that when dutch people talk about bicycles, it's always by the full name or just "cycle" - it kind of highlights the quaintness of dutch "cycling." bike somehow always brings to mind harleys and the like, and you have to sort out for yourself which one, based on the surrounding details in the story. but with cycling you kind of know right away there are no overweight men with doo-rags and leather jackets involved.

dutch bicycles are different from the general american ones, anyways. they are usually more relaxed but with narrow tires, sort of a cross between a beach cruiser and a road bike. my old red bicycle from my time at bc would fit in just perfectly on the dutch fietspad. i have yet to see a bicycle with more than three gears, and with 60% of the country reclaimed from the sea, you rarely need to shift at all.

in any case, it was an absolutely wonderful ride as we passed along the dike off the vaal river and in between the little family farms and country homes.

yesterday was quite lovely also. we went first to the museum in nijmegen and saw an exhibit of some illuminated manuscripts from the mid 15th century. they belonged to catherine of kleve who resided in nijmegen at that time. the various pages normally live in new york and london, but they were specially reunited on home turf for the celebration of the city's anniversary. i have read a few different novels recently that involved medieval manuscripts and their illuminators, but i realized i had never really seen one in person. the miniatures were absolutely incredible to behold in person, and i'm very glad we went. you do go a bit bug-eyed, however, after several rooms of squinting in the dim light used to preserve the pages.

after that we did a bit of shopping in nijmegen center before hopping on a bus to bring us back to the house. for dinner, we hopped in a car and went to ''oriental palace'' where there was a chinese buffet and a rijstafel especially for oma. she hit up one of the young men working there as an entertainer, hoping to brush up on her indonesian, but unfortunately he was from the philippines and happened to only speak english and dutch.

when we arrived back at the house, i was able to show off my pictures of prague via oom ad's computer cable. i already miss the city and our wonderful host.

today is already half done, and i have very little idea of anything else on the agenda, but the sun is shining and the high is 15 degrees celsius, which is a lovely jump up from the 2 degree weather in prague, so i'm as happy as can be! for the meantime, i believe lunch is calling my name.

praha

i'm sorry to have left everyone in the dark for the past week - my little routine of morning blogging was interrupted on wednesday with a rushed morning, a whirlwind of sightseeing (including nordvijk, an art program for physically and mentally disabled adults in leiden, the apple orchard where leon works, and lunch somewhere in between). then i hopped on an afternoon train to come to nijmegen, the first of many legs of travel on my prague adventures. here's a quick rundown:

thursday: early morning drive across the border to catch a german train, somehow manage a train transfer all in german, arrive in frankfurt and meet up with marte, a dear friend, kindred spirit, and erstwhile traveling companion. walk for a bit around frankfurt and do the necessary catching up before boarding a bus to the hahn airport, two hours outside of frankfurt. catch a plane, land in prague, catch a bus, metro, and tram. arrive at our host's flat, chit-chat until 1 am, and sleep.

friday: walking tour of prague. we hit up an awesome free walking tour/stand up comedy show hosted by the ever-entertaining isaac from (in his words) a small village north of mexico known to some people as los angeles. gotta love it. somehow manage to see all the major sights in the old town in the midst of freezing temperatures and drizzly rain. honestly, some parts were completely blurred out by the pressing realization that i could no longer feel my toes and the constant contemplation of the feasibility of buying a winter coat from h&m. still we survived and warmed up over a delicious meal in a quaint cellar restaurant serving up a delicious czech beer. funny story about that later.

saturday: the rain seemed to hold off, so in the morning we headed up to the castle complex on the east side of the vltava river that overlooks the old town. a recommendation from a local on the tram directed us to a little pocket park with an amazing view of both the castle and the old city. (look for pictures once i'm stateside). we wandered around the castle, heard the 27 loreto bells, and ate our sandwiches on a park bench while discussing the communion of saints. awesome. in the afternoon we trekked over to the old town again and decided to splurge on some ballet tickets for swan lake. when in prague, right? we ended the day at a really wonderful little cafe recommended to us by our ever-hospitable host, kate. soup, original pilsner, and a shared piece of seasonal pear cake was just what the doctor ordered to banish the autumn chill.

sunday: mass in st. james' church in the old town followed by a cup of hot chocolate at a nearby cafe. marte opted for mulled wine which was also delicious. then as the sun broke through the clouds, we chose to wander for a while and soak up the art nouveau architecture of the old town center. heading over to the jewish quarter, we spent some serious time of contemplation at the memorial to the czechoslovak jews who died in the concentration camps of wwii and the children of terezin ghetto whose drawings survive today. more about that later, too. we took a quick respite from the cold in a truly unique teahouse (also more to come), before heading off to the ballet!

monday: last day in prague. we hit up the vycherad cemetery and church, the john lennon graffiti wall, and the remaining synagogues in the jewish quarter before meeting up with kate for a drink at the same awesome cafe which was conveniently near her work. our last few hours were spent chatting about our various lives, hopes, dreams, and the laughter of strangers-cum-friends. picked up our bags from her office and then repeated traveling process in reverse to bring me to nijmegen at four minutes past 8 this morning.

so, so much more to say, but a museum here in nijmegen is calling (or maybe it's just Oom Ad's voice downstairs...)

delft

yesterday, we had a leisurely morning here in oegstgeest. birgit ran some errands, and i posted on the blog. (today is off to a similar start if you couldn't tell!). soon enough we bundled into birgit's car, hoping the sunshine would hold out as we drove off to delft. birgit has an old schoolmate there who runs a catering service and cooking school, so luckily we got an ideal parking space in the center of town but not before driving to the house where oma grew up - still looking, of course, the same as it always did. birgit knocked on the door, no one was at home, so we unfortunately did not get a good peek inside. we did, however, get to meet up with oma's old hairdresser, still in his shop, still cutting hair.

it was remarkable, in a way, to stand there and watch these old friends connecting with each other. perhaps they saw each other only two years ago when oma last visited, but the last time she really lived in holland, she was only 19. he maybe looked a little worse for the wear of life, but had a darling smile and that same impish glint in his eyes that my opa had. maybe there's something to dutch men... :)

another observation about the dutch: life is lived with no hesitation or reservation. two minutes after meeting this older man again, the conversation launched into obama, the nobel peace prize, american and dutch healthcare, and immigration. there seems to be, in everyone i have met, a universal interest in the opinion of others and, of course, strong opinions on the behalf of the asker who is not hesitant to share them, either. still, i so appreciate that sort of direct, blunt, and open way of talking. i don't know if i ever would have put it that way, and in many ways our family is much more american, but still, there is an honesty and openness unique to our extended family that i have always really valued but never was able to put my finger on exactly.

after coffee with birgit's friend marcel, we were off to delft, walking along the cobblestone streets through multitudes of exclamations and memories from oma. "this used to be the best music shop!"she told us in dutch as we passed what is now a fancy electronics store, and so forth. the museum birgit wanted to take us to was closed, since it was monday, but we found a nice alternative in a little tea shop and cafe that was serving some traditional dutch foods that were on oma's list of "things to eat." she had her flees kroketjes while birgit and i split the vegetable ones and a salad.

delft is a lovely place, much smaller than amsterdam, obviously, but twice as beautiful. for me, much more manageable!

birgit is back, and i have to dry oma's hair. today: den haag and the peace palace as well as some errands in the market at oegstgeest. tonight i have the opportunity to meet up with a friend from my time abroad, eva, who lives right now in delft. such fun!

amsterdam, etc.

After a later-than expected awakening, breakfast was a noisy but happy affair in the house yesterday morning. Dutch and English flew back and forth over bread, tea, cheese, jam, eggs, and leftover vegetables from the night before (in accordance with Birgit's new paleo diet). After we all had our fill - and the boys had a good laugh out of my eating vla for breakfast - we trundled off to the Leiden central station where we hopped on a train for Amsterdam.

I took to staring out the window while the younger boys regaled Frank with their boating adventures in scouts the day before. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what they were talking about. It was all in Dutch, so I can never be quite positive, but the handful of words I picked out and the wild gesturing were enough to piece the basics together.

We arrived in Amsterdam under ominously cloudy skies. Still, determined to see the city, we took off down one of many streets we would walk over the course of the next three hours. Later, when Merlijn would ask me what we had done and what I had seen, I didn't quite know what to tell her. Come to find out, we walked basically the entirity of downtown Amsterdam without my ever really realizing it!

Near noontime, we stopped at a cafe in Leidspleine. Funny story: we all ordered a different coffee. A large carmel latte for Frank, a medium Americano for me, and a medium "bambino" (a latte but with chocolate milk, so basically a mocha) for Koen. Leon said he didn't want anything. We get our drinks and sit outside. I asked Leon again if he was sure he didn't want anything, and he intimated he didn't want to spend his money on coffee. When Koen told him it was paid for with money Birgit had given Frank that morning, Leon nearly fell out of his chair. As the three of us nearly fell out of ours in laughter (especially Koen), Leon tramped inside to get himself his own "bambino."

Walking around, I recognized again the tall, narrow houses, rising above tha canals. The odd, outward slant of the buildings - for lifting furniture to the top floors - reminding me of a sort of surrealist painting. We saw the myriad of people who are drawn to Amsterdam, from the eccentric to the tourist, all traipsing about the same narrow streets. Amsterdam is unique in its diversity, and it was wonderful to be back in it.

In the afternoon, we met Merlijn, Birgit, and Oma back at Amsterdam Centraal before walking to a small museum. It's called Onze Lieve op de Solder, Our Lord of the Attic. Apparently, when Catholicism was banned in Holland during the 16th century, Catholic parishes moved into hiding. This one was the largest and best preserved, built in the attic space of three buildings. Walking through this narrow house, maintained in the style and furnishing of the 16th century, you climb up one last set of stairs and come up into a long, thin church obviously stretching back much further than the space of the house you were just in. Clever space-saving devices were built into the structure of the alter and the galleries, and the place has become a museum dedicated not only to this chapel but also of Catholic regalia specific to Holland. It was definitely impressive.

Following that, we made our way over to the newer part of Amsterdam and the modern construction that encamps the old city. A brand new concert hall has opened there, near the discovery science museum, and we sat in their lounge for a coffee (again). Then it was off to Merlijn's for dinner.

Definitely a fun, full day, and more to come. The boys are off to school and the sun is shining for the first time since we arrived. I think a visit to Delft is in the air...

Day 1 - An adventure with Oma

Goeiemorgen!

We arrived safely at Schiphol a bit late - our flight was delayed coming out of London, and while we made up a significant amount of time in the air, there was thick fog over Amsterdam. We landed close to 9:30, and Birgit, Leon, and Koen were there to greet us. Oh my word, those boys have shot up into the sky! Frank was waiting at the house and of course we all sat
down for a cup of coffee and a long chat. :)

Then I helped Oma unpack her things while the younger boys got ready for scouts. A quick lunch and they were on their way, then the four of us headed over to Leiden to the market to get vegetables and fish for dinner - Oma and Birgit in the car and Frank and I op de fiets! One problem that became very clear very soon is that my legs are strikingly shorter than those of my Dutch family! I took Birgit's bike, but could really only reach the pedals with my tip-toes. Once I was on, I managed all right, but let's just say getting on and off were a completely different problem in and of themselves. By the end of the day (45 ride each way), I had mastered my own technique leaving Frank close to speechless with laughter. Well, I don't mind being the butt of a joke or two - especially around here, between Dutch honesty and my family's humor, I guess I should get used to it. :)

Last night Birgit made a lovely dinner and then we basically were all in bed by 10. I'm told by Birgit this morning that Oma practically fell asleep sitting up on her bed, but that she and Frank kindly tucked her in. I'm glad because I was fast asleep upstairs!

Today we are headed into Amsterdam to meet up with Merlijn. The boys and I will take the train and have some time in the city by ourselves while Oma and Birgit have coffee at Merlijn's apartment. Then we will meet the three ladies in the city for a bit of a tour around before heading back to Merlijn's for dinner.

The rest of the time will have to sort itself out. I know Delft is definitely on the schedule before I head over to Nijmegen on Wednesday. One awesome piece of good news - our host in Prague confirmed that we could stay with her in her flat, so everything should be set in that regard. Awesome!

The love of Oma, Birgit, the boys, and myself to all of you!

Have a Happy Sunday!

Much love,
elle

further musings on community

i knew a month had gone by since i last wrote. i didn't realize it had been a month on top of a month!

fall has settled - somewhat - over east texas, and as temperatures have dropped, i find my defenses against missing boston, college life, and the community i had there falling as well. i miss it. i miss gearing up for the life is good pumpkin festival. i miss the row of maples on the opposite side of conte forum that are always the first to turn - a shocking red that almost seems to mock the gathering of gray cloudy skies.

i'm leaving for holland in a day or two, and as i pulled out fall clothes to pack for my time there, it was like revisiting old friends. my well-worn corduroys, jewel-tone sweaters, and huge scarves bring me that simple joy, like catching a glimpse of someone dear to you from across a crowded room or train station - the eagerness of anticipated reunion. moving to southern california doesn't afford many fall moments as far as i can surmise, and so this brief re-visiting of my fall wardrobe is a particular treat.

each item reminds me of boston. when i wore that sweater to that persons birthday party, or when i practically lived in those cords through finals week - connections to people and a place, neither of which are foreseeably in my future in the same, living-with, tangible way. i have spent a lot of time alone these past few months. it's almost been like a long, extended version of the silent retreat i attended at the beginning of the year. not as intensely focused or overtly spiritual, but an ongoing process of revisiting the vulnerability, timidity, and doubt of loneliness. nouwen talks about transforming, through grace, our loneliness into powerful solitude, recognizing god's infinite omnipresence and the reality that our connectedness with others, no matter how deep, can never bring about the full self-realization that comes from our connectedness with god.

as i have physically (although not necessarily mentally, spiritually, or emotionally) stepped out of my community at boston college, i have come to more fully realize how particularly special that gift was and is. it's going to take a heck of a lot of time, energy, emotion, and investment to build such a community again. as well as an equal amount of those things to maintain the community that will always be very dear to me. in some ways it's the both/and of liberation theology. i can maintain my connection to an extemporaneous community while investing myself in the community of my here and now.

at least i hope so :)

food.

i'm curled up on the couch in my room at the guest house, eating my favorite combo (yogurt + fruit + cereal = perfection in endless variety), and reading recipe blogs. food is so awesome. we've had a mixed relationship, and only recently i have really come to love, embrace, and savor the beauty of food. apples. eggplant. tomatoes. peaches. swiss chard. bok choy. black beans. red beans. rice. not to mention cheeses. cherries. and always, chocolate.

each ingredient in a recipe brings its own unique flavor. mixing and matching them takes your tastebuds from one continent to another. like cilantro and its progeny, cumin - so essential to cuisine in latin america, southeast asia, and north africa. go figure.

the best thing, though, is how food so quickly becomes more than just food. a meal prepared for friends becomes the foundation for community-building. friendships are forged through food - whether that's grabbing lunch with a co-worker or grabbing a donut in the parish hall after church. food - it's collection, preaparation, and service - plays a central role in every culture on earth, past or present, and it's hard to deny that mystical bond in the kitchen, as i slice onions like countless women and men have sliced onions, since onions were first discovered/cultivated/eaten.

baking bread is like that, too. there's a slow magic to how the dough rises, a sort of intoxicating goodness in the smell of yeast, and again that connectedness to others through the moment of floury, arm-exhausted satisfaction of finally getting your loaf in the oven.

for the past few weeks, the readings in mass have been from luke's gospel - the section on jesus as the bread of life. it can't be more aptly timed, as the book take this bread by sara miles sort of fell into my lap a week or so ago, thanks to my mom. the book is an intimate look inside the moment/journey of conversion that this irreverent, gay, activist female experiences. it is beautiful in its raw emotion, and part of my soul as well as my intellect resonate strongly with her words. for one of the first times in my life, i realize how absolutely fortunate i am to have been raised with the eucharist. sara's sheer, enthralling hunger for christ's body, despite the way christian faith flies in the face of everything she previously held as truth, challenges me deeply.

i'm still chewing on this (terrible pun, i apologize, but i couldn't resist!), and hopefully will unpack more as i continue reading, but in the meantime, i've got some banana bread to make...

gratitude

sometimes i get into these funny places where i feel like there are really important things to say - i am drawn back to my blog - but i'm not quite sure what that/those thing(s) is/are. other times, there are things that have just been said so many times that it feels somewhat inane to reiterate them. i'm drifting toward the latter as i realize how often in the last two days i have communicated the same basic message: my job is challenging. there are things i really don't like. there are things that i do like. in the end i'm thankful for the lessons i'm learning.

the funny thing is, no matter how many times i've said it, i don't really feel that thankful. when i woke up at six this morning and had to drive into tyler to pick up supplies for the week, drag a huge cart overloaded with things like bagels and toilet paper up the hill in the sam's parking lot, and when i came back, hot and sweaty, only to encounter the monday/first of the month administrative work piling up on my desk - i wasn't feeling that inner hum of harmony and peace that wells up from a deep place of gratitude. i was hungry, hot, frustrated, and flusterpated (which is kind of like flustered + frustrated + exasperated - imagine a hen that has just moments before been booted across chicken yard). very far from grateful.

as much as i idealize a life of contentment and wish it upon myself, i wonder if that's really in my cards, or - an even bigger question - if it really should be.

my flusterpatedness (now we're really stretching the word) is somehow good and right when raised by stories and newsitems on the violation of women's right in the war zones of the eastern congo, or palestinian children being kicked out of their homes in jerusalem, or the older woman in our church in assisted living with few to no visitors. there are many un-right things in this world crying out to be righted. the blazing temperatures in the pacific northwest are the silent screams of a planet stretched beyond its resources. the border tensions and huge volume of illegal immigration speak to a shattered economy, the fallout of poor trade policies advantaging large corporations at the cost of human decency.

st. ignatius of loyola teaches, in his spiritual exercises, that the sin of the world is all connected - and kind of original butterfly effect. we, as humans, are all tied together, even through our failings. my selfishness and pride contribute to the greater sin of the world by acting as stumbling blocks for those around me. when i exhibit prejudice and biases i contribute to those larger prejudices that lead to situations of gender disempowerment or ethnic disenfranchisement. when all i can see is my own needs and desires, i take part in the greater self-centeredness that forgets the elderly, poor, and marginalized.

contentment is a valid goal, but only if it leads me into a deeper awareness of the others around me. too often contentment can fall into complacency. i don't think god calls us to live apathetically - jesus' example points to something quite different. still, as i journey through indignation and righteous anger at the ills of the world, i must continue to battle against the impatience, lack of faith, pride, and selfishness that warp my ability to see others around me and to order myself rightly among them.

because, ultimately, when i put it all into perspective, gratitude comes.

when life gives you strawberries...

last week wednesday, one of the staffers here received a donation of flat upon flat of strawberries. with over eight pounds of strawberries, what is one to do? make jam, of course. so, as a family, we set about doing just that. fruit, sugar, lemon juice, and pectin? check. sterilized jars? check. lids on tight? check. then all we could do was sit back and wait for it to gel. as my mom and i watched "so you think you can dance" in the living room, we began to hear the tinkling pops of the lids sealing down on all the jars.

earlier that day, i was thinking back to one of my favorite books, animal, vegetable, miracle by barbara kingsolver, and the inspiration that it was for me to embrace real food, and make a commitment to extend those values important to me down to the foods i choose to eat. last winter, it was rather difficult, and on a tight college budget, it's hard to reconcile spending a few dollars more on locally-grown knobbly root vegetables, when all i really wanted was a huge spinach salad. compromises were made, and i found new joy in sweet potatoes, squashes, and onions.

part of my plans for moving into my grand new life included getting a bread machine, food dehydrator, and a huge pot. armed with these things, and an avid frequenter of the farmers' markets that promised to abound in southern california, i would enjoy local food, befriend local farmers, and move my diet to a more sustainable bent. visions of making dried fruit and dried tomatoes, canning huge jars of tomato sauce, freezing parboiled produce, and enjoying it all with fresh bread every week.

some of those dreams, like others, i've had to lay aside for the time being. fortunately, i live in the heart of east texas farming country, and although no trendy farm stands dot the road like they do in new england, plenty of folks have booths up in their lawns, vending the fruits of their backyard labors. our garden is overflowing with zucchini, tomatoes, and formerly green beans (the heat finally got to them), and as we begin turning things over, i'm pushing my parents toward a fall garden with potatoes, onions, and winter squash.

granted, i am far from being a home-grown food expert - our strawberry jam never quite gelled. it still has that bright summer strawberry taste, but we'll have to settle for a thin strawberry spread. my handful of experiences with gardening aren't much to go on, when i think of it, but i am excited for the adventure of learning more, of spending some quality time with my dirt, wherever i am, to learn about its needs, cultivate its health, and support the growth of food for me, and of course for others. because, in the end, what i'm most looking forward to is having friends and neighbors over, feeding them with the food of my garden, and celebrating the goodness of this life.

strawberry spread, anyone?

life lessons in sunset with bob dylan

i must say, nothing more particularly puts me in the mood to write on my blog than a sunset. tonight, as i was driving back to my new residence after a lovely dinner at home, the big, fat, texas sun was setting directly behind me - not the fiery red that speaks to the immense heat we have been getting recently, but the soft orange glow behind and dusky grey-blue of twilight ahead. another day done.

one particularly great thing about inheriting your brother's car while he is away is that the driver's armrest storage bin comes loaded with awesome music. when you're in a music funk as i currently am (feeling like i'm listening to the same ten songs over and over again), it's such a treat to pop a random, unmarked disc into the dash and wait in that delicious anticipation of what will come. not all of it i love, but one treasure i discovered just this evening is the bob dylan greatest hits collection he had stashed there.

rolling down my windows, celebrating the breaking of the heat, watching the purple sky creep from in front of me to behind, and listening to "blowing in the wind," i was very happy. so happy in fact that the first thing i had to do is grab my computer, brew a quick pot of tea, and come sit outside in the rocking chair to write this down....

and be met by ravenous mosquitoes. let's just say i'm going inside fairly shortly.

isn't it funny how life moves in such predictable ups and downs? nothing is really as romantic as "they" would make it out to be, and the perfect moments have to be ended sooner or later. but still, i'll take the mosquitoes if that means i get a few more perfect sunsets.

balloons'll be glowing...

how do you begin to describe the bewitching simplicity of light and air and color? despite the oppressive heat that has settled on and around east texas, my family packed into our car yesterday afternoon and headed over to longview for the great texas balloon race. ever since we moved to the area six years ago, i've seen images on the local news of these great blobs of hot air bobbing about in the clear blue sky or glowing like a series of giant night lights in the dark. i've wanted to go for some time, but this year - being back at home for summer for the first time since i left for college - we actually went.

after a bit of an adventure getting to the grounds, sorting out the lay of the land, and grabbing a mint limeade, we settled on a bit of grass not too far from where the trucks and gondolas were assembled. country western music wafted through the late summer heat, and i enjoyed some top notch people-watching before the first sign of movement drew our attention to the field. directly in front of us, a balloon crew began to spread out a giant mass of fabric. it looked as though several pots of bright paint had been dumped on the dry, browning grass.

before we knew it, one and then two balloons slowly filled with air, the sound of their burners overtaking the twangy guitar. if i could put into words how absolutely breathtaking it was to watch this billowing mass of colored silk not only take shape against the setting sun but then rise into the sky, drifting away on an unseen wind. so utterly simple and yet so utterly full of mystery.

but as the sun began to set, any sense of exhileration from the previous display was overwhelmed by the unimaginable. as night fell, and darkness took over, countless balloons, in huge long rows, began to fill. the orbs of color, beautiful enough in the daylight, were unsurpassingly magical at night. i've included a picture, taken by someone else, because there are absolutely no way of describing it all.


walking amidst them, as they twinkled on and off, i was overtaken by an indescribable feeling. the closest thing i can tie it to is bliss. absolute utter peace borne out of true pleasure and all-encompassing awe. i felt like a child again, caught up in the wonder of the unimaginable made real right before my eyes.

lord knows where i will be this time next year, but i'm crossing my fingers to make my way back to the east texas regional airport and the balloons that have stolen my heart and imagination.

joy: lost and found

i remember watching the movie hook as a kid. it was one of about 200 or so titles that the caribbean mercy had accumulated over the years from various donations. in nine years of sailing, we cycled through a lot of them.

one of the characters in the movie, a lost boy - and of course i can't remember his name - had lost his marbles. i'm sure if i watched it again now, i'd pick up on the irony that such a predicament was supposed to cast over his character, but as a child, i just remember feeling really sorry that he had lost his favorite toys. the scene where he finally gets them back was one of my favorites, that and when julia roberts as tinkerbell (who would have pegged that one?) gives robin williams as peter pan a good talking to or the imaginary food fight turned real.

in any case, i've felt a bit like that lost boy these past few weeks. the process of adjusting to this new in-between i find myself in was interrupted by a wonderful ten days spent in seattle with some of my closest friends from college. while enitrely blissful, i wrapped myself in the ignorance of how challenging this change might be for me, weaving a delightful cocoon that blocked the hurt and disappointment from my emotional field.

coming back to texas, it was a whirlwind of a few days before i found myself sitting in this office with an entirely new set of day-to-day responsibilities and realities. instead of falling into step alongside other new nurses eager to start their own careers, with the impossible dynamism of youth, my colleagues are much different. caught between high school students working the coffee shop counter as a summer job and the older professionals who fill the ranks of finance and accounting. instead of dealing with patients, i deal with hotel guests and hungry customers.

somewhere in there, i got bogged down. somewhere in there, i lost my marbles. i lost my joy. more deeply, i lost the ability to see potential in my new coworkers as peers, worthy of an honest conversation and a level of friendship. i was so busy looking back on the life i thought i would be leading right about now that i lost sight of people like janet and joyce - beautiful older women who work happily to serve those around them. i lost my vision for their inspiration, their example, and the (many) lessons i could learn from them and others like them.

i don't begin to profess that i have "found my marbles." at least not fully. i'm beginning to see that they were lost, and they are worth the effort of finding. there will still be days when i am frustrated, overwhelmed, and absolutely ready to throw in the towel. but i'm beginning to realize also that perhaps this is my life. it's time to live it.

allergies

summer is here, and hopefully that means a chance for more frequent blogging. i feel as though my once-a-month trend during the school year sadly left much unsaid - there are so many adventures and questions and thoughts that would have benefited from a much more thorough vetting than simply my mind or the ears of my roommates.

i've started a bit of a job. yesterday was my first full day, and well into day two, i'm (maybe) beginning to get a little bit of a feel for things. i'm working as the interim manager for a coffee shop and guest house at the ioc, where both my parents work and my brother as well. it's a bit of a family affair, i suppose.

i've always had these rather idyllic imaginings of running an inn or a bed and breakfast. i imagined hosting guests, decorating rooms, making beds and healthful breakfasts, turning down sheets. mostly the joys of hosting and feeding friendly faces, sharing in the joy of someone else's holiday-making cheer. i, however, did not include in these visions any semblance of the immensity of number-crunching, supply-sorting, order-figuring, and general volume of data consisting of those infarious numbers whom i so displease. especially the numbers proceeded by dollar signs.

i suppose i should have, but who said dreams should be tied to reality? i, even in the past 48 hours, have come to a deeper appreciation of how non-business oriented i am. the concepts of profit margins and bottom lines leave me feeling squeezed of air. maybe i'm allergic to capitalism? a few months ago, i showed the first sign of this strange ailment. when i initially accepted my position at ucla, i realized that i would have to buy a car in order to survive in the city. a creeping feeling of dread overcame me then, at times all-encompassing but soon ebbing into a faint throb in the back of my head.

while in my senior practicum rotation in labor and delivery, we had a client who desperately needed iv penicillin to treat an infection threatening both her life and the life of her baby. she was allergic, and alternative therapies were tried. when they proved ineffective, the medical doctors recommended a desensitization trial - she would be exposed to 1/1000th of the typical dose and gradually transitioned to higher and higher dosages. such a procedure has been documented through clinical research to almost eliminate the risk of allergic reaction. it was successful for her as well.

if i really am allergic to capitalism, is there any desensitization process for me?

as i try to sort that one out, i'm happy to be working. period. i find it a special blessing, however, to be working with such lovely people and in an environment and position that promise to continue to challenge me in new and unexpected ways each day.

adventuring

yesterday, my brother and i were driving from houston back to our home in van after a visit with my grandmother and the dentist. after somehow managing the zoo that is houston's highway system and the animals that make up its drivers, we were well on our way to home. about two hours into our four hour drive, we both noticed a strong sulfur smell - the beautiful rotting egg stench that is so unmistakable. as we made our way through the highway interchange and accelerated, the smell disappeared, and we both chalked it up to the construction site we had just passed.

within the next hour or so, the smell had returned a few more times, and we began to suspect that the stench was actually emanating from somewhere in our car. interesting. so we pulled off at a rest area less than an hour from our house, popped the hood, and found our battery spewing steam and some sort of liquid that was turning the black plastic shield around it white. lovely. i'm not much of a mechanic - i'm actually not anything close to resembling a mechanic - but i do know that batteries are not supposed to get so hot that they spew things left and right. it was so bent out of shape, that once we had turned the car off, it was impossible to start it again. it was done, and out in the texas heat of late afternoon, so were we.

we put a quick call into my dad who thankfully was able to run out to us with a new car battery. while we waited for him to arrive, we were approached by all sorts of visitors. men of various ages, occupations, and sizes of beer bellies all offered their help and particular opinion on the cause of our car trouble. "well tha's jus too bad..." was one of my favorites - the man uttering these words of condolence somehow managed to speak around a mouthful of chew, his baseball cap crushed down upon his head. shortly thereafter, he returned to mowing the grass on the property, riding around in his white undershirt and jean overalls.

another favorite was on of the rest area staff who proferred the suggestion that everything could be traced back to the fact that the car was a saturn. "ya always git trouble with them saturns. man i could tell you all sortsa stories 'bout my saturn couple years back." thanks for the advice.

all in all, though, it was only a minor blip in the trip, and we enjoyed the free wi-fi and air conditioning of the rest area information center. i whiled the moments away catching up on email, puzzling crosswords, and searching for new job postings online.

as i was searching the same hospital websites for the umpteenth time, looking for something new i guess, i was thinking about the men, their offers of help, their opinions, their advice. it reminded me of that day, a few weeks ago, when i got a call from my job - there's no money in the budget for hiring right now, can you wait until november? i was in the texas hill country with my extended family. as people started trickling back from the mall and the lazy river and wherever else they had gone for the day, the word went around, and i started hearing all sorts of plans and ideas and thoughts and opinions from aunts and uncles and cousins. incredibly, everyone knew someone at some health center or outpatient clinic or had heard that somebody-or-other was hiring nurses. then came the consternation - nursing is the recession-proof career! but there's a nursing shortage, how can it be that so few hospitals are hiring?

at the time, as i was processing my next steps and adjusting to the fact that the life that had seemd to fall so easily into my lap was now perhaps indefinitely postponed, i didn't exactly welcome these conversations. i thought that if i could just sit down long enough and think hard enough, i could puzzle out my next move - like the crossword puzzles i love. but sometimes with crossword puzzles, you need someone else's eyes, someone else's knowledge and experience.

i am learning that there are definitely times in life when the same principle holds true. i might go so far as to say not even times, but that life itself is better when lived with other people. relationships with family and friends of all ages help define the boundaries and edges of who we are. rene descartes said "i think, therefore i am." i would say, given my recent experiences, "i am loved, therefore i am." not just by a creator god who is continually revealed in new and different ways, but by family, friends, strangers even, who form a fabric of support capable of handling any of life's unexpected bumps and breakdowns along the way.

we'll just have to see where this "way" goes...

awareness

today marks my third-to-last morning in college. my third-to-last morning sitting at my computer with my cup of coffee, amidst the clutter of books and papers, phones and snackfoods that consistently inhabit our kitchen table. my third-to-last morning when i can sit in the relative silence of sleeping roommates and sleeping next-door neighbors, spy the sunlight streaming through the window in our living room, and contemplate the wonders of the day.

this day is pretty straight forward: rehearsal for baccalaureate mass, laundry, packing up the rest of my odds and ends, meeting my family for dinner after their flight into boston, and then a late evening catch-up with friends.

i rub my still-sore feet and wonder if the mild ringing in my ears is ever going to go away. last night was our "commencement ball" - a prom of sorts for graduating seniors, except with the addition of a cash bar and ridiculously short dresses. still, despite the general air of debauchery, i had an amazing time with my roommates and my dearest friends from these past four years. the music was good, and we danced the night away, much the chagrin of my toes today.

the dynamic of boston college has never ceased to amaze me. i marvel at the contrast between libraries filled to capacity during finals, burgeoning alternative spring break service trip programs, and the cut-loose, let-go attitude of thursday, friday, and saturday nights. i am blessed to be surrounded by a group of like-minded people who also wonder at the statements made by a university purportedly committed to social justice that throws down thousands and thousands of dollars for a senior week shindig. meanwhile, every department of the university including financial aid have had to cut 2% of their budget due to the economic downturn.

i really did enjoy myself, and i am thankful to those individuals on the senior week committee who i'm sure put in hours of time and energy to coordinate these social events. i loved having somewhere different to go with my good friends, a space and time to dress up, step out, and celebrate the significance of graduation from college. still, one image in particular rankles me even now.

yesterday afternoon, my roommates and i hitched a ride on a trolley - the transportation of choice as it turns out for bc students to travel about the city and bar-hop before arriving at the dance. we had opted out, eyeing the price tag and determining that a $1.70 t ride would equally suffice. however, upon arriving in the public garden for pictures, we ran into a group of aquaintences who had extra room and more than graciously offered us a spot.

as we toured around town, the crackling, distorted music blared from the speakers, assailing passersby through the trolley's open sides. down all sorts of side streets and back alleys we rode, the driver kicking in the hydraulics every once in awhile to the great pleasure of all on board. as we were finally making our way to the sheraton hotel where the ball was being held, we drove through the heart of boston's downtown. as we passed amidst the skyscrapers of boston's financial district, i turned to look out the window only to be confronted with the sight of one of boston's many homeless individuals. unable to stand for whatever reason, this man was scooting along the gum-stained sidewalk in torn, cut-off jeans and a grungy button-up cotton shirt. as i looked down at the dress i had borrowed to wear that night, the clear nail polish on my clean fingers, and felt my freshly washed, curled hair teased by the breeze, the contrast disgusted me.

as i move to los angeles next year, one of the only things i can really count on is the continuation of this struggle. the tight rope of appreciating those opportunities given to you while holding them critically is one that challenges me continually. similar to any balancing act, the only way to broach anything remotely reminiscent of success is to remain persistently aware. aware of oneself, aware of the vibrating hum beneath your feet, aware of the swaying motions demanding the ultimate flexibility.

life update along an easter parallel

goodness. it's amazing how time has a slippery habit of getting away from you, particularly when you use things like blogs to keep track.

a lot has happened in my life since i last wrote, and those happenings have radically reshaped my vision for the rest of this semester and at least the next year of my life. i have been out to seattle, a mountaintop, and the farthest reaches of my positivity and faith and back again in the two months or so since I last wrote here. In the course of discerning my next step after college, I have gone from a vision of my life as a rugged outdoorswoman hiking the olympias in seattle to a tree-hugging, beach-loving, community building member of the ocean beach neighborhood of san diego, before settling (or really having my life settled) in the dynamicly overwhelming metropolis of los angeles.

not to draw an over-religious analogy, but in the spirit of easter, which i celebrated on the side of mt. greylock in western massachusetts, i can detect a striking parallel to to story of christ's final sacrifice and victory so central to the christian faith. the process of watching, waiting, hoping, praying otherwise known as "discernment" here at bc - patiently and unpatiently pushing for the future to unroll itself in front of you like the vivid carpets that prevail all over morocco - is not unsimilar in my experience to the dark and fretful hours in the garden of gethsemane.

granted, the unknown and fear i faced in this process is no where near the magnitude of that facing jesus as he prayed both sweat, tears, and blood. however, the moments of overwhelming terror, apprehension, and doubt that i experienced offered me a unique moment to appreciate more fully, in the weeks of lent, those long pre-dawn hours when christ felt utterly alone.

yet despite the tortuous journey, i have come to the other side - i have a job in labor and delivery at ucla medical center in west la; i have been blessed quite unexpectedly with a roommate that i know, love, and trust; i have found via the internet parishes with great potential granting me a vision of what my life could potentially look like. in the end (although really this continues to be an ongoing process), i am stepping into a dawn of promise, claiming the resurrection in my own life.

yesterday morning, i found myself at st. mary's chapel for 8 am mass. the priest spoke about how we, as evidenced by our physical presence, might all classify ourselves as "morning people." more importantly, he pointed out, is that we as christians identify ourselves as the morning people we are called to be, the dawn of salvation, liberation, and glory that we are promised and that we have promised to make real for all people on this earth.

the last weeks of classes, final exams, and graduation all loom ahead, and it is still quite easy to fall into the pit of despair that dictates all life ends after college, new graduates condemned to an abyss of lonliness and eternal separation from friends and those collegiate "good times." however, as the sun streams through my window even now, i claim the dawn, the resurrection, the hope and joy that proclaim this is the first step, one of many steps, along a path of discovery, growth, challenge, and peace.

sparkling unknown

until the beginning of this week, if you had asked me what my plans were for next year, i would have rattled off to you my vision of working on the labor and delivery unit at the university of washington medical center in seattle, living in a community of jesuit volunteers, deferring my school loans for a year, and generally celebrating my transition from college student to real world player.

a lot of that came crashing down around my shoulders on tuesday when the nurse recruiter with whom i had been in contact wrote to say that the labor and delivery nurse managers were now officially sure that they would not be hiring new grads into their department. in fact, they were over-hired and would most likely not be hiring anyone into their department, much let a newly graduated nurse still wet behind the ears, so to speak.

suddenly, the prospect that i may not be working in labor and delivery next year, that i may not be in seattle, that i may not be doing jesuit volunteer corp became real for the first time. all of these beautifully-crafted plans, so in line with who i feel god has called me to be in the world, were turning into smoke and drifting away from my grasp.

taking a step back, it's really not all that dramatic. there is another hospital in seattle which is a really good option for labor and delivery and where i know someone on the floor who might be able to maximize on networking. also, i had a tentative job offer for the unit at UCLA medical center, and while LA would perhaps be one of the last places i could imagine myself living, i recognize that there are positive aspects, too - like my brother being there for school and a close proximity to the ocean.

this whole process of "taking a step back," though, has threatened to rob me of my balance. my confidence in my skills, my background, and my experience here at boston college felt suddenly threatened, and with that, my confidence in my own self, my confidence in my ability to discern a plan and a vision for the future from the murky leadings of god's still, small voice within my deepest desires. i told a friend that i never really picked up on juggling when in third grade my teacher thought it would be an important skill to learn and spent the entire afternoon trying to teach us. juggling might have come in handy now, as i widen my scope to include hospitals up and down the west coast as well as some closer to home as well.

so where does that leave me? somewhere close to square one, definitely. but also, it leaves me in the midst of that uneasy, in-between place we like to call the palm of god's hand. i've often thought of it as a place of deep peace and rest, and that is in many ways god's deepest desire for us. but sometimes, god calls us to be uncomfortable, to step outside of our plans and realize that they were always god's.

practically speaking, it leaves me with a much larger number of applications to fill out, reference letters to collect, and the generally sparkling unknown to face. i've got a new stage of life coming, and it's time to celebrate...

adjustments

waking up this morning, i half-stumbled through our darkened dorm apartment and flipped on the light of the bathroom. my vision was blurry before the wonderful invention of contact lenses slipped into my eyes, but even they didn't help that much. my head was still swimming a little bit. trying to sort out if i felt ill or what was even going on, i felt my hand grasped by a familiar but unwelcome friend: fatigue.

she's my morning companion more often than not here at school, and the beginning of this semester is not that different. i have to push by her to clamber into the shower and fight her with cold water and coffee in order to start my day. she disappears for awhile but not before sucker-punching me and leaving behind dark circles under my eyes. she'll be back, she says, in the afternoon.

early mornings heading out to clinical placements are a common thread of my college experience. if you polled the nursing students here at bc at least, i think you would find that the overwhelming majority, if not all, of the soon-to-be nurses would tell you that the hardest part is the early mornings. and the late nights studying.

now, i wasn't studying last night, as school only began yesterday. in fact i was watching bc lose terribly to wake forest in basketball. still it was a blast to sit and yell and cling to that desperate hope that in the last minute and a half of the game we would surge forward fourteen points! (it obviously didn't happen). so i have no complaints if i'm a little groggy today.

but it's harder this morning. i spent the week before school being engaged in a five-day silent retreat out in a beautiful rural property out west of here. the forest reserve dipped down to the charles river, all blanketed in a thick carpet of pristine snow. i haven't seen so much natural beauty in a long time. the silence itself, while at times intimidating and overwhelming, became another friend. one like those dear to me at a distance, reaching out, a mutual longing to be together again, curbed by a tacit acknowledgment that things just can't be like that right now.

it's unfortunate that i have to adjust my expectations of things like sleep or time with god when the semester begins. but in many ways it is like a long-distance relationship. god is still present, we just touch base for a few moments everyday instead of lounging in each other's presence for hours on end, sharing whispered secrets and inside jokes.

i struggle to not be disappointed as i let that vision of god go for a time. i feel the freedom from god to be present here, to seek god in the dear friends in my life and the classes i take. but part of me protests against the separation. isn't there another way, my soul cries. but then the rejoinder simply comes: why so downcast, o my soul? the lord is marvelous indeed.