Sweet Irony

I burned my cookies...

Position Vacancy

Up until now, it’s been no big deal. Even the paperwork, the essays, the interviews, the countless emails to the Registrar’s Offices and Admissions teams, even the trips (well, trip) to California to visit a school, and, yes, even the acceptance letter and two letters following, granting complete and utter funding for my education. None of it hit home like receiving a “position vacancy” email for my own position while I’m busy doing the exact job in the description.

I’d like to think I handle things like this well, but to be completely honest,  at 10:26am as the email arrived in my box, I freaked out a bit and quite literally, Brandon accused me of “being a girl, right now”. I’m a little nervous about all the newness and change in my life recently. We’ve moved in to a new place, and haven’t really seen anybody. And between unpacking and vacation, we’ve been unable to “put our roots down”, so to speak in our new community. And since I started this blog by talking about community, I think I should point out right about here, that moving out of community has challenges of its own, as well.

We’ve been out of regular-church-going for about 5 months now, and my heart aches to be with a consistent community and to submit to a liturgy. But for one reason or another, we are temporary “heathens”, if you will. This is no secret, and my husband and I are working on checking out some churches in our area this Sunday, but until then, we crave. And I do believe that is part of the difficulty. And more than likely, contributed to my melt earlier.

We need each other. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we don’t like to admit it. Or rather, I don’t. Whether it’s because I think I come off needy, or over-sensitive, or whether it’s just plain pride-- any way you name it, it’s there. And it may carry an extra dose because I’m an extravert, or performer at heart, but I am convinced that we all need community for all the things in our lives that whirl around us without reason—especially as things are changing. I trust my community to be God’s voice of reason and grounding in my life. I trust them to rejoice and struggle with me. And even though this was a momentary shock of reality, a few days out, I’m ready. I’m ready for the world and the plans God is carrying out. I’m ready for the questions and none of the answers. I’m ready for community through people that walk everyday in subjects that don’t matter in some abstract reality, but that change and shape who we are at our core.

So, I’m making cookies tonight. And if I don’t see someone in the hallways-- beware, Kern Hall residents, I’m coming to find you.

An unexpected gift

I read all day long, so have gotten out of the habit of reading regularly when I go home. I love to read, and so have been picking up some books as of late to prepare to for seminary this coming September. I’m easing into it, you might say. I’m doing a little bit of non-fictional reading, but on vacation this past week, sunk my teeth full-heartedly into The Crystal Cave (by Mary Stewart). 

The book’s entrance into my life is perfectly synonymous with its content. It appeared unexpectedly in my mailbox one day from a good old friend, with a note that read, “Found this at an estate sale and thought of you.” That’s it. I turned it over in my hands, feeling the weight of the over 500 pages and smelling the distinct odor paper collecting dust. It was clearly printed in the time when  uneven pages were in style, adding to its ancient look. I peeked in the cover to find that it was published in 1970, not nearly as old as its worn blue binding portrayed. But, date or not, it was a gem--an unknown surprise, waiting for that perfect moment when you can find a quiet, solitary place and snuggle up with a cup of something warm to delve into whatever treasure it is storing just for you.

So, that’s precisely what I did. And when I found a moment of peace and secrecy, I peeled back its pages to engulf myself in its world. It was the book I had been waiting for my entire life. And I knew it as soon as my eyes had breached its cover.

It’s one of those stories that starts out simple, yet wraps you in the passing wind of its everydayness. It is of a different land, a different time, and a far-different hero, with a legend much larger than life. But it is the actual life and the story behind the myth that is much juicier than the fable.

If you can find a copy, or want to borrow mine, I’d encourage you to read it. And don’t google its contents. Let it surprise and entrance you some cloudy day, in a corner, sipping your warm something and letting your imagination run wild.
Trust me, it's worth it.