Before I Forget.

Quiet mornings at home with the dogs and a cup of coffee are my favorite. I'll be getting more of these in the coming months and years, as my new job will allow me to work from home when I'm not on the road.

This morning, I felt compelled to write out a bit of a reflection on my journey over the past year and a half or so. It has been such an emotional struggle and period of growth, and it's so easy to forget what you learn once everything seems to be "okay." In my efforts to remember and remain humble about what brought me to this point, here is my first public blog in four years. Nothing about 2010-2014 has gone the way I imagined it would. It's not necessarily that I expected one thing or another, but I could have never anticipated what actually took place. Isn't life full of surprises? Here's hoping these words remain true moving forward.


I finished my Master's degree last year. Nothing about that went the way I thought it would, either. I would have never thought I'd be someone pursuing a degree online, much less because I planned to move across the country in the middle of my program. I love learning and always have, and my heart still aches for the missed experience of being in a classroom and seeing live lectures. I'm well aware of how nerdy that sounds. My concentration, in industrial/organizational psychology, was largely influenced by a comment a former coworker made about the possibility that studying organizations would lead to a position as a trainer. I imagined myself coordinating a large-scale training program, designing curriculum, and empowering people do to their best work. That sounded good to me, so I dove in. There was a very, very short decision-making process between deciding it was time to return to school and beginning my first class... as in, less than two months. For future reference, I advise investing a longer period of time for prayer and consultation when presented with other life-altering, high-commitment decisions.

Fast forward to the pit. This was the sinking feeling in my stomach last year when I realized, as we so often do when we think highly of ourselves, that my skills and experience weren't worth nearly as much as the energy I put into developing them. As the emotional individual I am, feelings of worthlessness and anger at my wasted time became very powerful. I applied for jobs, many of which I believe would have bored me to death, and experienced ongoing rejection. There was a cover letter that went viral earlier in 2013, and the recent graduate wrote, "The truth is, I have no unbelievably special skills or genius eccentricities, but I do have a near perfect GPA and will work hard for you." This became my mantra. My fingers itched to write something like that in each cover letter I submitted, but I'm not nearly bold enough to do something like that. I kept thinking to myself, I just need someone to give me a chance--to look at my resume and think, 'She seems like not an idiot; let's give her a try.' But that is not what happened.

Earlier this year, I began to pray more fervently about the job situation. Child welfare is emotionally exhausting, and I couldn't sustain the level of energy with which I was operating. I was running on fumes, sometimes on nothing. My prayers began with a plea for God to deliver me out of the field, begging God to give me something different, even if just for a little while. I wanted to make a deal that I would still help people but not like this. It was someone else's turn to do trauma assessments and deal with abused children. I needed a break. I needed something different. I needed something I didn't know I needed. Even as I continued to search job boards, become more burnt out, and somehow go to work every day, I knew my prayers were selfish. I am a very, very selfish person. Being aware of it is part of the battle, but the selfishness itself makes it incredibly difficult to change my attitude. Add to that the fact that I can logic my way out of anything, and it was a very stagnant place to be. People around me, seeing my burnout and having no idea what it is like to be a social worker, tried to be encouraging. I appreciated their comments, but I knew they were wrong. At some point, I just tried to stop talking about it. What do you say when people ask how you are doing? Most people say "fine" and think something else. My something else is usually something related to the vicarious trauma I've encountered that week, something I would never pass onto someone else (both for confidentiality reasons and the fact that I know most people can't handle that kind of reality).

[Noteworthy and loosely related to this topic is a spiritual gift inventory I took in college. My top gifts included voluntary poverty and suffering. I remember those more strongly than others because, frankly, they scared the bejeezus out of me. Who on earth wants to hear that they are gifted in living with limited financial resources and being in pain? That sounds terrible.]

The first few months of this year, I really wrestled with God. I was angry and disappointed in myself, but never with Him. I was--comforted isn't the right word, but bear with me--comforted by the idea that God is less concerned with my happiness than I am. I tried to focus on the promise of Heaven, and I reminded myself that my time on this earth is finite. Sound positive? Probably not, but it was. I started praying in my office every morning before I turned on my computer or checked my voicemails. I took time to thank Him for the good things in my life, because I am very fortunate. I asked Him to forgive me of my selfishness, which I know I will always be working against because I am human. As someone prone to bouts of depression, I wasn't looking for "happy," I was just looking for some peace. Some contentment. Joy can exist even amidst exhaustion and despair. Things don't have to be perfect to appreciate the beautiful reality of God's love and provision.

Over time, my prayers began to change. If God wasn't going to give me something different, then I needed to figure out a better way to cope with the present. I started to pray for strength, for peace, and for a compassionate heart to serve people I encountered the way Jesus would. I prayed regularly and sincerely. Some days, it was as simple as, "Please just be here with me." And somehow, I started to survive a bit better. I was less frustrated, my mouth was a lot cleaner when I was frustrated, and I slowly became better at leaving work at work. This is still an ongoing process for me, but I have truly seen a change this year that I can only attribute to grace. I found a place of acceptance, or so I thought, with my current circumstances. I watched a TED talk that was influential, in which I learned that the body can react well to stress if you internalize the message, "Things will be okay; I can handle this." So I started telling myself that, outloud, on a regular basis. I can handle this, and it will be okay. 

In June, I received an email that a new full-time position had been created for a trainer within my current organization. I was so excited. Maybe this is what God has planned for me! This is why I'm still here! And it seemed like I had prayed with the right combination of sincerity, humility, and hope that suddenly, God was rewarding me for my patience. This concept is laughable to me now, because that just isn't how prayer works. Aren't we just so good at assuming causation and interpreting things in terms of an exchange?

After my interview at the end of July, I was told I would have an answer by the beginning of August. The interview went well, I was enthusiastic about the job, and I really, truly felt like I could make a positive difference in a position with more influence than what I had been doing. The call didn't come. I was crushed. Cue a brief grieving process, because I had too much work to do to have extended periods of sadness or loss over not getting the job. Confusion, anger, and disappointment returned, so maybe I hadn't learned quite what I needed to at that point in time.

The next month and a half was an extended period of waiting and uncertainty. As it turns out, there were some delays with the offer and setting up the position, which had nothing to do with me personally. I did a follow-up phone interview for the same position and made a point to truly express how passionate I am about training. It fills me and energizes me, and I believe I'm gifted in that area. More waiting and uncertainty. I had been confident enough in my chances that I had told people about the position and my interview. In some ways, I regretted this decision. Though it meant I had others praying with me, it also meant people constantly asking, "Have you heard yet?" -- a question to which I would respond with a deep breath, reminding myself they didn't mean to verbally sucker-punch me every time they asked. "I promise you'll know when I know," became my calm, collected, reasonable response. I continued to pray for the job, but with the added notion that I would be okay even if I didn't get it.

But I did get it. Yesterday, I received a phone call with a fantastic job offer.  I  will be coordinating a large-scale training program, designing curriculum, and empowering people do to their best work. So there you go.

And there's a funny thing that happens when things seem to fall into place and you see the world through rose-colored glasses. It's an odd questioning of the past, rehashing old circumstances and testing their validity in light of the bigger picture.

Was the last year and a half really all that bad? Yes and no. It's been a long year and a half, I'm a crybaby, and I didn't even understand what I could have been learning from it all until the last couple months. Time passes slower when we're angry and focused on the wrong things. I spent a lot more time frustrated than I did at a point of acceptance. While it's hard not to regret my immaturity, the outcome necessitated the journey.

Did it matter that I prayed so much? Absolutely, it did. Not because prayer got me a job, but because I believe with my whole heart that I needed to get to a place where I truly trusted that things were going to be okay, in my current position or elsewhere. This period of waiting hasn't been as much about my work as it has been about my heart. I'm a different person in a lot of ways. Finally, I learned to look outside myself for a long enough glimpse to see that there might be something bigger at play. This was especially tested over the last couple months, when I was so certain I was the right fit and yet so fearful that I wouldn't be chosen. I was challenged to trust that, even if it wasn't me, things would be okay, and that I could handle it.

Has my worldview really changed? You bet it has, because you know what? God would still be good even if I were destined to stay in my current position. He would still be God, and I would still have the promise of Heaven. I continue to pray for a compassionate heart in my work. I continue to pray for strength and peace. I continue to want to get better at being the person I was designed to be. Last year, I was only focused on the tangible reality of my day-to-day life, and I'm thrilled to say that is no longer the case. (2 Corinthians 4:18, amiright?)

I have known for some time, with some unsettling calm (it's not as much of an oxymoron as you think), that I am in the right field. Child welfare isn't very many people's calling, which is why there is such a drastic shortage of safe homes for children in need and workers to support those families. I know I'm uniquely created with a heart for this, and my purpose is to make this system function better. The design of the system affects the outcomes, which are children's lives in this case. I can't think of anything more important for me to do right now. I very much appreciate the support I've gotten as I've wrestled with these issues, but I remember asking over and over again, "But what if I'm not supposed to be doing something else?"

So, it is still my turn to be in this field. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I will work for a cause I care about and do something I love. I just don't want to forget the struggle that got me here, because God is molding me and shaping me more all the time, and I am more sensitive to that than I ever have been before. Things will be okay. I can handle this. God is still good.

40.

I realize that the number of the blog is incredibly appropriate. If you don't know the U2 song I'm referring to, it's a good one. Singing a new song is hard. Waiting patiently is hard. Having faith that God is going to set your feet on solid ground is hard.

August was a really tough month for me both personally and professionally. It's hard, I think, when everything seems to be spiraling downward, to see anything from a positive angle. When you are asked, "So what are you looking forward to in the next six months?" and all you can do is shrug, that's not good. Our vision is clouded by the storm and it becomes so overpowering, it's all we can see. Knowing cognitively that things will eventually work out does not necessarily make the present moment easier to deal with. It seems that it should, but we all know that it often doesn't.

At the end of the day, we want to know why things are the way that they are, but a majority of the time, we don't get those answers. We get answers to the things we don't care about - the "hows", "whats", etc. We already know "what" is happening. We just don't know is "why" it is happening.

In writing the message I will give next Sunday, I have done a lot more soul searching than I have for past messages. I have had more conversations with God and wrestled more with what I need to say. Though this process of exploring my craving for meaning, my deep desire for things to make sense, I have learned that sometimes things don't need to start making sense for me to be okay. Sometimes all I need to know is that life isn't arbitrary - there is a bigger story. Sometimes it's enough to know that better things are coming and take the interim time to find some solid ground in the community that surrounds you.

So really, all that's left is to say thank you to those that I have been so blessed with to be my solid ground.

My love, thank you for supporting me and comforting me every single day. You mean the world to me and I've seen God's love and mercy in you so much through the storm that embodied the past few weeks. (Words never seem like enough, do they? Here's hoping you understand just how important you are to me.)

Anyone who has asked if I was okay, given me a hug, or simply allowed me space as I've needed it, thank you.

And to whomever God used to touch my heart with the gift on my doorstep, I've been trying to figure out the right words to say thank you, but I don't think I have them. The reminder that people are watching out for me even when I don't realize it is incredibly powerful, and I cannot express how full my heart feels. I feel like the best thank you I can give is a commitment that someday I will be that person for someone else who needs a little bit of their faith restored. And I promise I will.

I honestly believe that one of life's greatest attractions is that through times of challenge and pain, new beauty is able to reveal itself more fully.

39: Coffee Shops

People don't go to coffee shops for the coffee. Making coffee at home is faster, more convenient, and far more economical. It's silly, really, to go somewhere else and spend significantly more money on something you can easily create in your own kitchen.

I think people go to coffee shops for the atmosphere, or at least I do. There are few things I find as calming and enjoyable as spending the afternoon at a local coffee shop. It's a change of environment, there are people around, the aroma is intoxicating, and I can't imagine a more appropriate playlist than what I am hearing right now.

And as I sit here, enjoying my vanilla latte with the foam art on top, typing the next update letter for my supporters, the song "Let it Be" begins to play. I just wouldn't rather be anywhere else at this moment. Despite the caffeine boost, I feel peaceful. I am away from the hustle and bustle that exists outside, but not isolated. Just here. And calm. And smiling.

Thirty-Eight: Dress Up.

I don't know what it is, but dressing up is perhaps more fun to me now than it was when I was a little girl. Dress up appeals to kids at a young age and helps their imagination grow--it's actually really good for their development. As adults, "playing dress-up" seems weird, but I think given the right context it can still be awesome. Growing up, going to college, and working can be soul-crushing at times, and it's nice to be able to escape into a made up world where you look your best and break out of the normal day-to-day agenda. To escape routine and responsibility can be great fun. I think we should do that more often.

The spring formal was a blast this past weekend. Even having coordinated it, I was able to thoroughly enjoy myself.

We need to redefine what it means to grow up. It can't possibly be as mundane as some people make it out to be.

Let's dance!

37: Best Day Ever... a new holiday, perhaps.

April 26th is awesome.

Eli James Gregory Suddarth was born at 2:22 AM and is absolutely perfect. He's 7 lbs. 5 oz. and 19.5" long. I am so thankful to have been there to meet him, even though I was crying my eyes out. He's so amazing.

Also, I got a job. My ideal job, in fact. It's with a social service agency and it means I get to stay after I graduate. The way it came about was a little strange and made me wonder if God had a hand in it. I submit that He did.

I'm overwhelmed with thankfulness at the blessings today has brought... and all of them before 10AM.

Thirty-Six: Waking Up

It's no secret that I'm not a morning person. I do not enjoy waking up. I never have, but recently, as I've acknowledged the value of sleep, it is even more bothersome having to get up. Sometimes it's because I haven't slept enough. Other times it's because I'm instantly overwhelmed at all the day will bring. Some days I just feel sick and can't imagine doing thinks like eating breakfast. In any case, waking up is pretty much the worst part of my day. Every day.

But I think that gives me an interesting advantage in life.

When I wake up, that is the worst I will feel all day. Things are not going to get worse than that disoriented, head-achey, sleepy, nauseous feeling that I get when I roll out of bed. I've got nowhere to go but up [I'd really like to do that someday]. So really, the rest of my day is welcomed with open arms. It's just those first ten minutes or so that are kind of a pain in the neck.

The thirty-fifth. On sociology and chicken pot pies.

Two weeks ago I attempted to make a chicken pot pie. I say "attempt" because ultimately, my only accomplishment that evening was discovering that my oven was broken.

Thinking I'd just modify my plans, I tried this:

Image 1: Not-so-bright idea

Just as an FYI, there is a reason chicken pot pies are made for oven and microwave use. They are not meant to be casseroles or stove top mixes. It did not taste good.

A week later, an appliance repairman finally made it to my complex, took a look at my oven, and determined the piece that had stopped working. Several days passed and he called to inform me that the part replacement didn't exist anymore, so he was just going to bring a new oven. (I'm not gonna lie, I danced a little bit.)

Well, when they measured for my newer, bigger, more functional oven, they did not take into account the fact that I have baseboards in my kitchen. The oven was 1/2" too wide for the space allocated between my wall and counter.

Image 2: Baseboards FTW?

The appliance guy just left it like this in my apartment. He said he'll be back sometime this week with either a plan to rip out my baseboard (with my landlord's permission) or another small oven. And I know it's not a big deal, but I'm legitimately upset about this. I'm frustrated that I have an oven I can't use in the middle of my kitchen and that instead of leaving me with that one, they might bring back another small oven that looks kind of like a toy. What is my problem??

For the past two years, I haven't even had an oven to call my own. It was definitely not considered a "necessity". But after having one for the past semester, suddenly it's a huge inconvenience to be limited to a microwave.

Karl Marx outlined four premises of history in The German Ideology, and this situation speaks wonderfully to the first two. The first premise was that we produce what is necessary to satisfy our basic needs (there would be no history if we could not produce food for our survival). The second is that once the first needs are satisfied, they create a whole new set of needs (for example, a fork is suddenly a "need" as well as the food that warrants its use).

A year ago, an oven was an amenity, not a basic need.
I have become incredibly spoiled.

And maybe I'm not the only one.

So there's some food for thought. (Pun intended.)

Entry thirty-four: signs.

Today I realized that yield signs are not clear. When two lanes are merging into one and you see a yield sign, you know instinctively to slow down if someone is in the lane next to you (or speed up, whichever you prefer). My beef isn't with the concept of a yield sign. I actually think the signs themselves are a good idea. My problem is in the orientation of the sign. Clearly, the upside down triangle is deceitful.

Exhibit A:
Normal Yield Sign

On street signs, we have been socialized to understand that an upward arrow means "forward" and a down arrow means "where you are right now". The upside down triangle characteristic of the yield sign is misleading; it is telling us that we will have more space ahead, which is the OPPOSITE of the truth.

Then you get crazy people who think signs like this are a good idea:

Exhibit B:
Yield Ahead (Just an FYI) Sign

I just don't understand. Flip the triangle. It isn't that difficult. There is no need for a yellow sign which contains multiple images. If you flip the triangle, it becomes the arrow.

People need to chill out with their sign-age.

(Inspired by Google search, illustrated by Kris.)

33: In which I break the blog title rule and a barista breaks a social rule.

I am mildly insulted that today my Starbucks barista assumed I wanted my latte nonfat. I'm not trying to be super sensitive, but this is the third time someone has made that assumption. Different people every time. Different stores every time. I clearly say what kind of latte I want, and then they call it out and add that I want it nonfat. I don't even like milk that much, let alone if it's watery skim milk. I just feel this is an assumption that should never be made, because I don't feel comfortable correcting their mistake. What would I say? "No, please, I want the extra calories; I'm clearly not dieting if I'm at your coffee shop." I mean, I could say that, but I wouldn't because then I'd really feel terrible about myself.

If I am going to spend more than $1 on a cup of coffee, I want to make it count. Did you think I was going for a healthy meal when I ordered a slice of coffeecake to compliment my chai? But alas, I am now committed to a watered-down coffee experience, because YOU have made me feel uncomfortable about wanting the real deal.

The psychological aspect of this situation fascinates me.

Treinta y dos

I wrote in July that I'm not a "crier". And I wasn't lying; up to that point in my life, that was a true statement. It makes me laugh now, because sometime within the last six months that changed. And that's okay. It's just an odd thing to have to get used to. Somehow though, I feel more human, more real, as a result of this change.

Something that constantly amazes me is how much music can affect you. Some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard both heals my heart and solicits tears. In the past, I spent a lot of time avoiding beautiful music because of the emotional component. I'm starting to appreciate it more. Although it requires more of my emotional energy, there is so much more substance and depth, it's worth it.

In the past few days I've played my piano more than in the past few years. Or maybe ever. I hope this isn't a short-term kick. I really want this to continue. If I can't have silence in a physical manner, at the very least it quiets my mind.

"Without music life would be a mistake." - Nietzche