What did I do?

I've been having one of those "WHAT THE HECK DID I DO?!!!" sort of weeks in regards to moving to Portland and choosing to go to PSU (Portland State University). It seems that in every way possible I am not in Texas, at Westmont, or (this may be a bit too honest or raw for some people ) getting things my way. This is a good experience, but it is not without difficulty and struggle. I chose this place because it was not like Westmont or Texas. I wanted something new. I still do.


But I think that sometimes even though we think we want diverse experiences or adventure or "something new", we still need some fabric of familiarity from which to grab. Amidst downtown parking meters, campus safety after my night class, disorganized academic institutions, classmates saturated in relativity and new-age thinking, and no familiar faces, I am thankful for the newness of it all. I'm thankful that it is not easy. Struggle is a catalyst for many good things.

And things in my home are ever evolving and challenging me. God knows exactly where we need to be stretched and exactly where we need support and encouragement. That's a comfort.

But back to the conversation about desiring "something new" . . . as I said in an earlier blog, there is a lot of idealism that commonly saturates starting over. It is not that we become someone new, more able to deal with life's challenges. Rather, we find ourselves in a new set of challenges. And it is this new set of challenges that requires a new approach to journeying through the struggles and challenges of that stage of life. And I think that there is something of freedom and control to have chosen to change the circumstance and then to have to adapt to a change that you made. It is much more difficult to adapt to the change when it is someone else's choice to change the situation. But that's another lesson...That one I am gradually learning about as well.

The moral of the story is ...well there is no real conclusion to this blog...I'm just rambling...

does anyone relate?

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monkey

Brandi, my roomate, was in the middle of a story the other day when she started yelling "Oh my gosh!!! oh my gosh!!!" as she looked out our front windows.

"What!!!!?" I responded.

"A MONKEY! ON A BIKE!!! LOOK! GO OUT AND LOOK!"

Sure enough, I went outside and there was a man on a bicycle with a big fuzzy 6-foot stuffed monke! He was just cruisin'. No big deal. The monkey was bigger than the bicycle. Its tail was probably 4ft long. It was quite a sight.

I didn't get a photo. but it was incredible. trust me.

this photo I found on google images. The monkey was that scale in comparison with the bike, and it was a normal-sized bike!

urban joy

I had forgotten how much I love living in the city. I haven't really lived in a city in about 4 years, since I spent a semester in San Francisco. I had forgotten how different and wonderful it is. There is something about living iso close to everyone that energizes me with a childlike curiosity. I find myself pausing to enjoy watching or listening to a myriad of things that one only finds when one's neighbors are so close.

Things I love:
-the kids walking in front of our house each morning and afternoon on their way to school. I love how their backpacks look fluffy and too big for their bodies.
-the random conversations that I get to eavesdrop on in coffee shops...sometimes I don't like these though... ;)
-looking out my bedroom window to see my neighbor's puppies wrestle in the backyard
-driving over the Willamette R. at sunset and seeing the lights of the buildings and the clouds create a masterpiece
-walking everywhere
-city parks!!!
-getting to know my neighbors and developing friendships and community
-not being able to hide from homelessness and poverty around me
-quirky coffee shops everywhere
-The coffee shop I'm in right now andthe woman sitting at the table next to me who is balancing her checkbook while her baby sleeps in her arms, wrapped up in her red scarf, her hand gently holding his head.
-weird and interesting people all around
-randomness

I don't know, but I like living around all these people and witnessing all these little moments a lot more than I like the privacy of suburbia. All the unexpected beauty and interaction and difficulty is teaching me and drawing me out.

A beautiful new place. Here I am...here am I....

I moved to Portland ten days ago. It has been a wonderful ten days. I have had many "only in Portland" moments that have delighted me. A few to share would be:
-hiking with my roomate, Jenni, in Forest Park. (a wonderous forest wilderness in downtown Portland!)
-driving over the Willamette River at night with the city twinkling and reflecting off the water
-spending time at Powell's City of Books, losing track of time amidst new and used books and buying bi-lingual Dr. Seuss books
-Pinot Noirs, Tillamook cheese, and marionberries...enough said.

My roomates are amazing. My house is quickly beginning to feel welcoming. I am getting to know the city. I am beginning a few friendships. I am spending time with old family friends. I am listening and seeking carefully in this season. Life is good. Really good.

Amidst all the excitement of getting used to this new "home" I have come to a few sobering realizations. First, I have realized that just because I want to be a person of a certain integrity and character doesn't mean that I actually am or that I will suddenly wake up to be able to make the right choices or set the right boundaries. Just because I want to be on time doesn't mean that I am actually succeeding at doing it. Just because I want to be more guarded in some of my conversations doesn't mean that I know how to do that well. And just because I want to live missionally and love incarnationally doesn't mean that I know how to live that way yet. So I have been failing and rethinking things and forgiving myself a lot. I am realizing how unwise and immature I am. I am realizing that relocation does not mean renovation of the heart. And I am realizing that the only cure for loneliness and wrestlessness is quality time in prayer. and that sometimes the times when we most need to pray are the times that it is the most difficult. I suppose that is why it is called "spiritual DISCIPLINE." I am coming to terms with how undisciplined I am and how in need of some discipline I can be.

All in all, these realizations make me thankful for grace - from God and from others. I am thankful that I believe in redemption, healing, and the start of a new day.