and so we build our lives.

Perhaps it is because I just finished reading this book by this man, which on top of making me cry every time I sat down to read (and I'm talking about the audible, gasping, non-attractive kind of crying here), made me think a great deal about story and what it is that makes something epic and beautiful. Perhaps it is because I am finally entering a relatively calm stage of this early post-collegiate-20-something-with-a-full-time-job life. Or perhaps it is because living alone affords me an opportunity to be more introspective and thoughtful.

Whatever the reason, I have been thinking lately about life in general. When people ask me for an update on my life, I tell them I am learning about balance. And frankly, this is about all I can handle right now, this project of learning how to safely juggle the flaming clubs of a full-time work week, sleep, exercise, preparing food, growing my relationships with those I care for, engaging in my community, keeping my sinks and floors clean and maintaining my education and awareness of current events (many thanks to NPR and the BBC).

I've also been thinking about how important it has become to me to have what I consider a meaningful career, though I get stuck on this one, because I realize that it is an incredible privilege to be that picky. Many do not have the education or social positioning to be choosy about a job, even in a good economy. And it doesn't seem right or fair that people have to devote 40+ hours a week to work that they don't find meaningful in order to keep the heat on and put the food in the refrigerator to enable them to live another day to wake and return to that job and make the most and wait for the weekend.

But I do think that we are called to steward well whatever resources we have been given, and this pursuit of vocational calling remains important to me. At present, I have a job I enjoy relatively well, and my organization pursues a mission that has become very important to me. But my work doesn't bring any excess of joy when I start my commute to the office in the morning, clutching my coffee in my mittened hand. And as much as I can wrap my mind and heart around the importance of what we do, it doesn't (routinely) make me choke back tears upon sight of a photograph or a few words of a story. Now, mind you, I am VERY thankful for my job. And I'm not leaving too soon. But I'm also not going to stop seeking a career more directly focused on the things that make my blood run (thanks, KP).

So as I think about life and balance and vocation and with my peers ask the same questions over and over again and become entranced by the lives that people older than I have created throughout their years, I come to this: as we go through our days, making decisions and weaving in and out of one another's stories, we build our lives. And as I stand here in this season, with my plans and dreams still in flux, I am truly beginning to build a life.

This feels like a larger version of my current project of settling into this new home... As I stock my shelves with spices and flours and sugars, so also I piece together the elements of my life, finding how to best fit everything that a healthy and faithful and full life necessitates. As I arrange and rearrange the books on my shelves, so also I made decisions about the shape of my life.

I was thinking about this when I went to get my hair cut on Saturday morning down at my hairdresser's shop/home down on Division, which is filled with the most eclectic and lovely vintage clothing and handmade treasures. As she cut my hair, I thought about how my friend is part of that store, part of why I go there again and again and why I didn't mind getting up early on a Saturday morning to fit an appointment into her busy schedule. The next customer clearly felt the same, bringing baked goods from a local bakery that she shared with both of us, and we talked and laughed and the sun streamed through the windows and the stranger with hair dye on her roots didn't care that I saw the hair dye on her roots. I lingered in the middle of my friend's beautiful life, a life that didn't come easily but rather on the heels of a realization that she didn't find an earlier version of her life fulfilling. So she built a more beautiful story, from vintage boots and silver earrings and carefully swept floors and honesty and laughter.

My friend Nicole has a beautiful life as well. She knows what she is called to, at least in part, and so she lives with confidence. She is a mother and an artist, and she speaks truth all over my life. When I see her sweep into a room with strength and grace and humility, I know I am okay, and when we part, I remember that the world is beautiful and that I have a story to live, too, even if I am not sure of all its elements.

I searched for a tablecloth for the little square table in my front room until I found the perfect one at a nearby antique store: it is a cream colored square of exactly the right size, with brightly colored flowers stitched into a lovely and graceful pattern, the bumpy knobs of thread popping their rounded heads out of the soft fabric. And so also I hang pictures and twinkle lights and silver stars on the walls of my life; I stack my brightly colored bowls and buy ingredients for banana bread and big pots of soup.

And slowly I build a life.

jumble.

I don’t have any one specific point to make today, just a few thoughts to offer, and as I haven't posted for so long, I feel quite alright forgoing my usual attempt at a thematic post. I hope you all are well, and many apologies for my brief absence!

Life continues, and it really is good and altogether quite lovely. I recently celebrated a birthday, enjoying the company of my parents and lunch at my favorite restaurant ever (free of charge as a birthday gift from the kind owners of said restaurant!) the weekend before, a peaceful dinner with a few of my dearest friends at another favorite the night of and a small potluck this past weekend, which also served to christen my new home--more on that in a moment. I love potlucks. At this particular potluck, I gave very few specifics when asking people to bring a dish to pass, which resulted in a meal consisting of my big pot of vegetarian chili and batch of Dorie Greenspan's World Peace Cookies and guests' contributions of eight bottles of red wine, five types of bread, two batches of hummus and Dave's promised package of Oreos. As one friend very aptly put it, it looked like a glorified communion. But the 20-or-so of us ate well, laughed much and were happy.

I am feeling somewhat old, in the most positive sense, of course, at what I realize is still quite a young age. As I begin this new year of living, I have once again been thinking about everything I have learned in the past few years, but particularly in the past few months, and how very glad I am to be in this post-collegiate, great big world before me, young single and free, idealistic and hopeful stage of life. Honestly, my friends, the world is glorious! There is so much life to be lived! There is so much hope to be held! It is not always easy or beautiful, I know, especially at first glance, but I am convinced more and more each day that we must indeed choose joy if we are to have it.

In other news, I have been working full-time since the start of the month at a job that most days I like reasonably well, and I recently poached my first egg. Today I am wearing dark pink tights, which, as always, is making me feel a little better about the world, and I wrote/edited up a storm at work today. A storm, people. And finally, most excitingly, I have moved yet again and am now happily settled into a new little place in a big old purple house. I love it. I think it is absolutely perfect. The space, the location, the hardwood floors and brightly colored walls, that amazing little hutch in the kitchen, the fact that the kitchen is so adorably tiny, the pocket door between the two biggest rooms, the footsteps of my upstairs neighbors, the bay window above my bed. With all respect and love to past roommates, I have not been this happy to come home in a very, very long time. Goodness, I haven't felt this at home while home in a very, very long time. Furthermore, when one of my landlords asked me to be sure to regularly take out the trash because they do not have mice in this house and told me that they have all of the paint colors to touch up my walls once I’ve decorated and explained that I could call if it gets too cold and they would come adjust the heat, I wanted to throw my arms around him and embrace him and then burst into tears of pure joy. I didn't. But let me tell you, I was very close. All that to say that I love this new little place of mine. Come visit anytime. I have a fold-out couch. And leftover wine. Just saying.

To close this post, as it is Martin Luther King Jr. day, I offer a few of his own beautiful words, with somber reflection on our soiled human history, recognition of the inexplicable and confounding tragedy that has now fallen upon Haiti, awareness of our brokenness and the brokenness of this world and persistent hope for the future:

“Now let us begin. Now let us rededicate ourselves to the long-but-beautiful-struggle for a new world.”

Amen. Let us begin indeed.

(in)decision

A big decision looms, and I do not know what to do.

For a few weeks now, my prayer has been that God would close all the doors but one -- the right one -- because I honestly do not feel equipped to make this decision. Unfortunately, I am beginning to think that this will be one of those times when God does not give me what I want. It seems, in fact, that he might throw ALL of the doors wide, wide open and leave me to choose which one to walk through.

Dang it.

I really wish we could have done this the easy way. You know, with God forming the clouds into arrows that point towards the neighborhood or city where I should move and writing the answers to all of my questions in chalk on the sidewalk outside of my house and having a stranger at the grocery store spontaneously burst into song with words outlining my whole entire future, from today until the day I die.

But no. And, of course, I am sure that all of this is for something, for some greater purpose that I just don’t understand. But that doesn’t mean I like it.

This has been particularly difficult for me, I think, because in addition to being quite awful at decision-making and somewhat (extremely?) irrational when I am stressed and/or tired, I am facing this very significant life decision on the heels of a season of no options... of no tangible possibilities or offers or even workable suggestions for jobs or relocation or future plans. I guess I just expected that when that whole time of uncertainty ended, the something that followed would be clear. And singular. And simple.

But, as two of my dearest and wisest friends told me in two separate conversations, what is MOST difficult here is that at the end of the (metaphorical) day, no one can tell me what to do, and there is no "right" answer. This is quite unfortunate, as I would really like one right answer as well as someone to tell me what it is. I am sure I should find some peace in this, because it means that all will be well regardless of my choice, but it mostly just makes me confused. Don't get me wrong, I do believe that God is guiding me to my decision. But it's not black and white this time.

My head is spinning.

And I’ll be honest, today and yesterday have not been the best of days. I’m very weary. And I just spilled half a pan of lentils on my kitchen floor. I know, right? I almost cried. I might have used a word I won’t repeat here.

Yet in the same world and in the same little life in which lentils spill on the ground and wise decisions seem impossible to make, there also reside much beauty and all manner of good things. As I drove home from work last night with the new(est) Imogen Heap album playing in the background, I saw the moon rising in front of me, enormous and glowing white in a sky fading from blue to purple to darkness, and then I saw in my rearview mirror that the sun was setting just behind me, coloring the opposite horizon red and orange and yellow and pink. It was so intensely beautiful and strange, I nearly cried.

And then tonight, prior to the lentil-spilling incident, I sat down on the couch with my coffee to get some work done and saw that my neighbor across the street has flashing Christmas lights. Several types of flashing Christmas lights, to be specific. I smiled in spite of myself. Though aesthetically quite horrendous and not at all helpful to my ability to focus, I find it somewhat delightful. It’s Christmastime, after all.

So at the end of the (non-metaphorical) day, I will crawl into my warm bed and try to turn off my mind and let myself dream and remember that, in the words of Julian of Norwich, bless her soul,

“All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.”

thankfulness can be hard.

At my present job at Crossroad Bible Institute, I have my very own office. This office houses a big wooden desk, a computer, a phone with its own extension, several drawers for my very own use, a comfortable chair, another chair for visitors and even a (fake) plant. I also have an email address. This is all very new for me. In my nonprofit experiences and internship days, there was nothing like this. I am no longer perched at a desk-like table in the midst of other people’s offices. I am no longer using the organization’s oldest computer and oldest desk, made of cheap and flimsy plastic. I am no longer sharing an office with another person. Nor am I sharing an office with two other people, people that have jobs requiring a great deal of phone communication. I no longer have to make do with just one little file drawer. I no longer have to use my g-mail account for work correspondence, nor do I have to tote my laptop to the office each day. I no longer have to borrow my coworkers’ phones to make calls.

I should be thankful.

Especially since tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

And I am! I really am. Very thankful, even.

But.

I really wish I had a window.

oh the possibilities!

Everything. is happening. at once.

I do not know what is going on with my future. And I speak of the relatively immediate future, the one that starts around January 1. Honestly, several (3) job/place possibilities, none of them certain options, all of them quite appealing but for very different reasons, all of them at once.

I unloaded all of this on a friend tonight who, poor man, just came by the flat to pick up a pot. I loved how he responded, though, after pausing a moment to think: "at least things aren't staying the same."

True. Nothing stagnant here. And things are moving in directions that make sense, even if there are several directions in which they are moving. It's not just chaos or cloudy water anymore. So I resolve to be thankful that things are not staying the same... life is interesting and exciting, full of hope and always unpredictable.

And as I always always say, in this also we find beauty. If only we will stop shielding our vision in hopes that ignorance truly is bliss, stop running so fast propelled by our fear that the world becomes a blur, stop staring at ourselves in the mirror out of selfishness and vanity and just stand still with our eyes open wide, we will be overcome by the beauty.

See, the former things have taken place,

and new things I declare;

before they spring into being

I announce them to you.

(Isaiah 42:9)

small things.

Too much time has lapsed since my last posting. My apologizes. My sister noted this today, and as she now has (at least part) ownership of two blogs that stay quite up to date and as she is, after all, my sister and dearest friend, she is more than entitled to kick me into gear whenever necessary. So thank you, sister of mine; this was the nudge I needed to just sit down and start typing, to choose one of the many thoughts swirling through my mind and pin it down in words on this page.

So many very small but very beautiful things have happened in my life as of late. This has provoked some good thinking and reflecting, and what I have come to is this: life, though we hesitate to say it straightforwardly, is unpredictable and tumultuous and often strange and just downright hard... but in the midst of the struggle and confusion, there are many small moments of beauty bringing hope and joy. And in this big, strange, confusing life, it is these small moments that carry us through.

This latest season of my life has been the most confusing and uncertain that I have yet experienced, but these small moments remind me that life is a wondrous and worthwhile thing... and not just in spite of everything but rather because of everything... because beauty glimmers through the cracks of the brokenness and dirtiness and imperfection of our lives. So I thought that I would share with you some of the beauty I have experienced:

[A SIMPLE ACT] One rainy day, while grocery shopping at Harvest Health, I ran into a professor from my dear alma mater. I never took a class from him, nor does he teach in any of my areas of concentration, but I know him from various interactions on campus and around town. We paused to talk; I admired his beautiful baby, who he affectionately calls Beetle, and he asked what I was up to these days. I explained my part-time job and yet-unsuccessful search for a second job, and after a short but lovely conversation, we both continued on in search of grains in bulk and ingredients for vegan baking. As I checked out, he paused en route to the door, reaching into his shopping bag and taking out a cookie (and not just a cookie, mind you, but a very good vegan cookie). Handing it to me, my wonderful professor friend said, "This is from Beetle. Good luck finding that second job." He disappeared out the door. I held back the sudden urge to burst into tears. The whole world felt kinder.

[UNANTICIPATED CARE] My job at CBI expanded significantly as of this week, which is a tremendous blessing as I can sustain myself financially with these increased hours plus freelance writing/editing/etc. And the smaller -- but no less significant -- moment of beauty was this: when my supervisor, an incredibly kind woman who had been keeping up with my second job search and praying for me throughout, heard that my job had expanded (the additional hours are in another area of the organization), she was absolutely thrilled, nearly to tears. And this from a woman I've known for just a month.

[COMMUNITY] A friend of a friend's family has a farm and presses apple cider every fall, and several friends and I joined them for this lovely event a few weekends ago. The day was filled with the beautiful community of a group of strangers, small children unabashedly expressing the amazement we all felt at the magic of the wondrous old cider press, freezing fall winds and brightly colored leaves, homemade pumpkin bread and donuts and spicy vegetarian chili, copious amounts of cider and, of course, my beautiful friends.

[FRIENDSHIP] My once-housemate and very dear friend E was in town last weekend for a wedding, accompanied by the wonderful Larry, and we met on Saturday morning for a lengthy brunch at Marie Catrib's (note: favorite. restaurant. ever.). E is a beautiful human being; she makes me feel more alive. Larry is one of the kindest, most genuine men I know. Amazing food, hot coffee, good conversation. Beautiful. And then one of my closest friends from back home appeared here that same weekend; Kevin is traveling with and running video for a concert tour. Spending time with him encouraged my soul and threw me back to our high school days, where I found some lovely memories I had forgotten about. And then I observed him in action, and I was so proud. I love seeing my friends doing exciting things in the great big world.

[ART] One night during ArtPrize (which was wonderful all around -- good work Grand Rapids), I left the public library and turned the corner to see the mosaic on the side of the Children's Museum shimmering in the darkness, sparks of light darting from the tiny mirrored tiles and twinkling in the quiet street. Magical.

[FAMILY] My parents came to visit for no reason in particular, and they are fabulous people. My mother is immeasurably kind. My dad is hilarious. They love so well. And they came bearing sweaters I had forgotten I owned and thick winter socks to keep my toes warm as the temperature drops.

[FOOD] My recent baking endeavors have been successful, though not always conventionally successful... which ultimately made them all the more wonderful... more details to come.

You see, my friends, these small moments make all the difference in this complicated life. A cookie for encouragement, the bustle of community, art that speaks of hope, the mere presence of a friend, good food eaten with loved ones, warm clothes for the coming cold, fall leaves and apple cider... This is how I carry on.

So I am sitting here in my room in our little flat while blustering winds blow outside and raindrops gently patter on the windows, cuddled up in two warm sweaters, smelling the lingering scent of coffee mingled with traces of the delicata squash I roasted for dinner and listening to Rosie Thomas singing peace into my ear.

And I know all will be well.

good/bad (this is life).

(Good)

A few nights ago, I went on the most wonderful run, and oh yes, my friends, it is fall indeed. As I ran, the wind whisked through the leaves, leaves colored green to yellow to orange to red like fire, and I could hear the trees creaking in that erie way they do when the cold settles deep inside of them like it settles now already in my bones. I ran past a football field and thought of being sixteen and caught up in that strange and completely different world that is high school (thank God it's over). Canadian geese honked loudly in the distance as I passed Reed's Lake, bringing to mind nights at the wetlands in Midland with my dad when I was young; I never loved it quite as much as he or my sister did but was drawn in whatever small way to something in nature and thrilled to make my dad so happy just for having come. I ran down these streets that I've run down so many times before, past houses and down sidewalks whose shapes have become so familiar, and the smell of fall nearly overwhelmed me...

For whatever strange reason, after a day that seemed rather inconsequential, happiness was overwhelming me as well. And the mystery of changing seasons and the memories bombarding me and the hope of the future threw me into this strange place of beauty and I felt so deeply that the world is new the world is new the world is new.

And then the next day started so well. I went to the farmers' market (which, as many of you already know, is one of my most favorite things in the entire world), and the farmers were all bundled up and my toes were cold and I wandered through with the handful of other people that come out to sparsely populate the Wednesday morning market. I bought apples and tomatoes and zucchini and eggplant and onions for my house and talked to one of my favorite farmers, a darling old man with surprisingly straight, white teeth who I first bonded with early this summer over the beauty of swiss chard. I went to breakfast alone at Gaia, and it was warm and wonderful and peaceful. I talked to the waitress and listened to the rapid flurry of Spanish bouncing between two Puerto Rican men and a little girl sitting up by the window and wrote and drank a copious amount of coffee.

And I was feeling relatively, surprisingly positive about life in general.

(Bad)

Then I went to work, job 2, nonprofit 2, currently part-time/temporary but with promise of becoming part-time/not temporary. At the end of a few mundane-but-not-so-bad hours of sorting and filing, I found out that the possibility of the job becoming more permanent had lessened significantly.

And suddenly I did not feel quite so positive about life in general.

None of this should have been surprising. I knew, first of all, that things weren't completely settled in my life, and they never will be because life just isn't that way. And for weeks now, I have been telling people that I think that this phase of life I am entering into is one in which things will remain in flux, up in the air, shifting constantly. Whatever happens next, I realized mid-summer, is very unlikely to be a full-time job. With health benefits. Check back in a few years, and even then don't count on it. I've become quite okay with this.

And yet. And yet, I am tired, I am tired of being tired, I am tired of being confused, I am tired of the puzzle pieces of my life not fitting together. (Yes, Kyle VZ, don't you worry, Old Stacy will never go away completely.)

And this is the thing: loosening our grip on our lives, choosing peace (thank you Ryan), knowing that life is hard and crazy but choosing to enjoy living anyway... these are things we must do every day. Of course it's still hard. Of course things are still uncertain. I have to throw up my hands and give it all over, every day.

As part of my job at Crossroad Bible Institute (part-time job 1), I read through the Bible studies completed by our students, who are currently in the US prison system (more description of this job later). Yesterday, I read the following in one man's prayer:

"Le entrego todas mis cargas, mis angustias, pesares, anhelos, deseos, planes, mi vida, mi ser y que sea lo que Dios quiera." (More or less, "I give him all of my burdens, my distress, grief, yearnings, desires, plans, my life, my being and that it may be what God wants.")

All of it? Wow. But yes, all of it. I give him all of it today, I'll probably need to do it again in an hour or so and tomorrow I'll do it again. And to really mean this is terrifying, but it's the only right option. So may it -- all of it -- be what he wants.

And I know even now that it will be good, and it will be bad. May I choose to enjoy living, regardless.

changing seasons.

Hello there, dear readers, and welcome to my (new) blog!

As I sat down to write a terribly belated post for my old blog this afternoon, I felt disheartened by the fact that my posting there has been so very spotty and perturbed by the resulting randomness of my writing. ALSO, due to my minimal and inconsistent posting, last summer’s posts appear on the same page as this summer’s posts (ahem... pardon me, post), and so I once again found myself bemoaning my less-articulate, not-quite-as-mature, only-one-year-younger-but-still-clearly-younger self.

And I was just not in the mood to begin yet another post with an apology for my lack of diligence and sincere-but-tired promises to write more faithfully.

So I decided that I would begin afresh! And what better time than now? I have burst out of that clear and structured pathway that is the pursuit of a four-year undergraduate degree at Calvin College and into this great big beautiful chaotic wonder of a world. I am learning so much and finding out how very little I know. I haven’t a clue what the future holds, and let me just say, I am FINISHED trying to figure that out. (Because I can’t.) So here we are, my officially post-collegiate, (becoming) grown-up blog.

At the beginning of the summer, on the old blog, I listed my reasons for returning to this whole blogging business. For posterity’s sake, I list them again:

1. I want to communicate better and stay more closely in touch with those that I love.
2. I said, over and over, that when I graduated from college, I would write for myself, for pleasure, for practice, for the shear joy and beauty and growth that come through writing. Not to fulfill requirements, achieve the “right” GPA, please professors or impress conference panels... just to write.

So that’s why I’m here. To share with you, and to write for me. This will be more than just a running update on my life, which would be something more in the spirit of my adolescent diaries, and we don’t want that, trust me. I WILL give those updates, fear not, extended family and long-lost friends, but I also plan to reflect on life, on this journey of faith, on passions of mine such as justice, food and feminism and on whatever else begs reflection. And we will see how this evolves along the way.

On another day, I will summarize in more detail what I am doing these days, but in brief, to tide you over until then: I am still in Grand Rapids, I still live in the Eastown flat with the twins (along with the addition of a new roommate) and I have a (part-time) job (!!!) for which I couldn’t possibly be more thankful. All of this will last at least through December, an amount of stability that the woman I refer to as the new Stacy finds incredible. (She is much more flexible and significantly less concerned with plans than the old Stacy.) I think that I am close to securing part-time job number two and am possibly looking for part-time job number three. Everything is more complicated and harder than it used to be, but in the complexity there is beauty and depth and reality. In the end, I wouldn't want it any other way.

And it’s officially fall. I’m finding crazy-new hope in this. A few weeks ago, I was talking with a friend of mine that works at Baxter Community Center, the local nonprofit where I worked this summer. At that time, I felt as though everything in my life was up in the air; everything was chaos. I was unemployed. I had been, until just a few days before, on the brink of homelessness. The relationship that I had been in (with, for the record, a really wonderful man who remains a very good friend) had just ended. I was detailing this list for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to be cheerful but feeling kind of awful. And my friend responded by marveling at how the changes in our lives so often coincide with the changing of the seasons. She said that when she sees this, she thinks, praise God, he’s bringing change in my life also. And she told me that she was excited for me. Now I’ll be honest, that blew me away. Excited? No, no, this is not exciting. In concept maybe: oh look at the great big beautiful open future! Anything could happen! Anything!! However, I needed to pay the rent and buy food. And I was sad. And nothing made sense. But this dear friend of mine somehow managed to infuse my spirit with hope. Things are ending, things are changing, but something is coming...

Something is coming. And so I open my arms, open my heart, open my mind, and welcome this new season with hope.

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.

--Frederick Buechner