When in fear, ICE SKATE

Yesterday, ISIS released a new propaganda video threatening New York City.  Scenes of a man strapping a bomb to himself amidst flashes of Times Square and other crowded streets were in the clip, making us the second city to be "targeted" in the United States, behind D.C.  As my roommate and I watched the video, a rush of fear and anger took over my body. I could feel my face losing a little color as I noticed familiar street scenes not far from our apartment.  "It was only a matter of time," I thought, with the realization that I was no longer living in my safe small town finally settling in.  News anchors moved quickly, explaining possible risks, actions being taken to make the city more secure. Scenes from the aftermath of the Paris attacks this past weekend kept flooding the screen and eventually it all got to be too much.  I had to clear my head and remember truth in the midst of all these facts.

We live in a fallen world.
 "...the enemy comes only to steal and kill and destroy," but Jesus came "...that [we] might have life, and have it to the full."  (John 10:10)

I was tempted to let the fear get comfortable inside of me. It would have been easy to stay on the couch and watch the news all night, filling my head with worry and my heart with doubt.  Isn't that what the enemy wants to happen?  To paralyze with fear and keep us from hoping or noticing good? To keep us inside, too scared to go out and live? This just fired me up.  I serve the God of the universe and he has already overcome this world. (16:33) I have no fear because LOVE casts it out and when I remain in love, I remain free from the chains of this world.

So you know what I decided to do instead? Ice skate.

The Rockefeller Ice Skating Rink just opened last month and I won't be here for the official tree lighting, so it seemed like the absolute best time to do it.  Plus, it was the last day before the official "season," so it was less expensive and there were little to no people! (It was also 10:30pm at night...) Thankfully, my friends are just as spontaneous as I am so a few of us met up and skated until they kicked us off the rink.  It was amazing.  There is something about taking hold of fear and saying "Yes, I see you but you're not going to keep me from living a full life." Afterwards we were sore and a little sweaty, but we felt alive...


I'd say we handled the news pretty well.

DOC NYC

The other day I had one of those experiences where I felt like my soul was fed the food it had been craving.  I attended the "First Time Filmmakers Day" of DOC NYC at the IFC Center and let me tell you... I am pumped for where life is heading.  I've had an idea for a documentary floating in my brain for a little bit now, so when I found out about DOC NYC I knew I had to attend.  The directors, producers, speakers and community at the event were overwhelmingly supportive and passionate about creating non-fiction films.  "I hope you're not in this for the money," one of the directors told me after I mentioned my interest in pursuing documentary filmmaking.  "These are passion projects."  I loved that phrase, "passion project." That's what I want to create and I finally figured out how to tell stories I've been wanting to share.

Now, on to learning the ins and outs of this industry... 

Storyline Conference

This past weekend I flew to Chicago to join my parents and my boyfriend for a conference called, "Storyline."  The man behind the whole thing, Donald Miller, has been one of my favorite authors since high school with his books, Blue Like Jazz and Searching for God Knows What, Scary Close, and others.  I remember becoming a Christian and reading his book thinking, "Woah, Christians can also be "cool!?" In other words, I thought he was a total badass for cussing in his books and his raw stories actually led me to pursue writing my own in a similar manner.  When I was a freshmen in college at Belmont University, they actually started filming a movie based on Blue Like Jazz  and my friends and I got to be a part of it. (They cut out my one mermaid scene, but I'm over it) Anyways, Donald Miller's has one way or another been like an old friend to me. 

At the conference, I had the incredible privilege of listening to stories told by creators, counselors, writers, and more.  Each person had something they were passionate about and if there is one thing that I learned from every single one it is that "Life is a process." In other words, each story consisted of a journey that the speaker had taken or the different routes they found to pursue their passions.  Sometimes they did not even know what they were doing but they trusted in God's provision, who seemed to correct their steps along the way.  I learned that to be human is to experience valleys and pain and to get better you have to walkthrough those places, hopefully alongside other faithful warriors.  To be passive and reactive to life is to miss the opportunity to co-create something wonderful with God.  I don't want to enter the pearly gates and Him ask me, "Why were you so afraid to even try? Didn't you know I will always be with you?" Instead, I want Him to exclaim with joy, "Good job! My good and faithful servant!!"  

I've become far too passive for my taste, but still acknowledging that sometimes God has us in seasons of waiting, filling up and listening before jumping the gun without having a reason.  Bob Goff recently posted, "It's easy to confuse a lot of activity with a purposeful life. Get some rest." I think I tend to confuse busyness with purpose, when in actuality, my busyness more often blinds me from the purpose of my actions all together.  

The night I got back from the whole weekend I slept for a solid 12 HOURS. My body did not do a whole lot of physical activity but my mind and heart were exhausted.  I don't think I will digest the rich food offered to me this weekend for a while, but until then I will enjoy and walk through the process. 

Memory Keeping

I can't tell you how many times I have sat in front of a computer screen, stretched out my neck on either side, rested my hands on the keys... and froze.  Days, weeks, even months of experiences piled up inside my head yet I haven't been able to complete an entire thought about them before getting frustrated and moving on.  I've kept these moments inside my mind hoping they will stay fresh there forever until I can give them a proper introduction and conclusion. Instead, however, I have locked them up with barely any room to breathe. Writing is such a catharsis for me and I hold a firm belief in the beauty and power of memory-keeping. How can we (and others, if we allow) witness growth, maturity or God's hand in our lives if we are not sharing it?  Even the slightest gesture of a journal or note can make a difference.  With this, I am committing to recording more memories and stories.  There can never be too many out there, you know. 

"We live in a fallen world..."

First off, let me start this by saying that when I moved here, I wanted to be uncomfortable. I wanted a change of scenery, to be in the mix and to get to know people from different backgrounds and experiences. I wanted to be challenged, my eyes widened and my mind opened to a world outside of the bubble I have comfortably lived in for so long.  I have been experiencing these things for the last 3 months and tonight is the first time I am feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.  

I volunteered to serve meals at the Rescue Mission tonight and left feeling pretty beat down.  It wasn’t because it was tough work (it was) but rather the reality that we live in a fallen world. Tonight this realization hit me hard and I can't seem to shake it.  I arrived at the mission about 3 minutes past 4:00pm and raced in to profusely apologize for being a little late.  The man behind the counter didn’t even acknowledge my tardiness but rather gave me a smile so genuine I could feel his joy seeping from his spirit.  “Hi there! Can I help you?”  “Oh, yes, I am a first time volunteer…” “Great!”, he said as he gave me two sheets of paper to sign.  After I finished, I gave him back the pen and he looked me in the eye and said, “Thank you so much for being here.”  I quickly looked away, “Oh, yeah! Well, thanks for letting me come on such short notice!” (I emailed them just the day before) I had a hard time accepting the “thank you” when I was the one just showing up and leaving right after and he was working there day in and day out.  Praise God for those committing their lives to the seemingly thankless and not-so-glamourous occupations.

I’ve worked in a kitchen before, so I felt comfortable with the protocols: hair net, apron, gloves, check.   I even found myself quickly picking up the fast lingo & tough love coming from the kitchen staff. “You’re our only volunteer tonight. I usually have at least two, so you’re going to have to work hard and move fast,” the cook told me.  “Yes sir! I responded, as if I were on a ship for some reason… thank goodness I didn’t actually salute… For some reason, I half expected it to be overflowing with volunteers.  It surprised me that for a city where you can barely walk 10 feet without getting shoved by someone on the sidewalk, I was the only volunteer that night.  (I guess because New York is so expensive to live in, most people are still working from 4-6:30pm, barely affording to keep themselves afloat.)

Anyways, there was the cook that made all the food and has since he got clean 7 years ago through the 9-month program at the mission as well as a dishwasher who was currently going through the program, and then there was me.  They run a pretty tight ship around there and we quickly had a system going. I loaded up the plates, the cook passed them to people in line & the washer took them back, washed them again and handed them back to me to refill for the next group.  I was feeling pretty good and happy about the way things were going until I saw a young mother with her child coming through the line.  I noticed they were both rail-thin and I knew the cook would be okay if I handed her a tiny extra drumstick of chicken for the child.  What seemed like a no-brainer for me, giving the mother and the child each a piece of chicken, ended up becoming a big problem to the young man behind her as I handed him his plate with one piece of chicken. “What is this? Why am I only getting one piece when she got two?” he exclaimed. “I am sorry, sir, she has a child with her. Everyone only gets one piece and there are two of them, so they each should get a piece,” I said calmly, trying to make him understand. “That is messed up and I can’t believe it. It’s amazing the kind of world we live in now,” he exclaimed as he slammed his plate on the counter and stormed off.  “What does that even mean?” I thought. “In what world would you not feed both the woman and her child?”  You see, the woman with the child was caucasian and the man behind her was an African American.  He saw my choice to give her two pieces as racist and for a solid 15 minutes he refused to sit down at his table. Instead, he stood at his seat and stared at me, hoping I would feel his anger and realize I had messed up.  But, I knew I didn’t. I knew race was not why I handed her another tiny piece.  I handed her an extra drumstick because her child was starving and needed food, too.  I then began to feel a tinge of guilt, “Why didn’t I just give her one piece like everyone else? Then, he wouldn’t be so mad at me and everything would be fine.”  No, that would not be right either; that child does not deserve to be punished because he was in a stroller and unable to hold his own plate.  What kind of world do we live in now where racism is automatically assumed?  I finally asked the two men working there what to do because not only was his stare getting stronger, but my heart was breaking over the whole thing.  “How do I fix this?” I asked them.  “You don’t, honey, you just don’t worry about it.  Don’t let him bother you, you’re doing a good job. We just live in a fallen world.” Those words almost made me cry.  I cannot base what I do off trying to be good or making people happy, it will never be enough: We live in a fallen world.  My efforts to play it safe and make sure I am always “culturally relevant” or “pleasing everyone” will be in vain because I do not serve this world and its ever changing tempo… I serve the one and only Father above.  I have no idea what that young man has gone through nor do I have any idea what the other people passing through that line have experienced.  My heart ached that he felt so wronged by my actions because that meant he had experienced something painful in his past.  How could I have expected to show up and feel good after diving into a community where people are trying to escape the world and eat at least one meal in peace? 

I heard a sermon recently where the pastor bluntly told everyone to stop trying to do what others want you to do.  “When you reach the heavenly gates there will not be a crowd of people asking if you did what they wanted, no, there will be you and God and He’s going to ask you what you did with what He gave you.”  That hit me hard. So often I work to please others, not step on anyones toes and make a good impression so that everyone remains calm and O.K. What a TERRIBLE way to live! Essentially, it means I walk on egg-shells trying to adapt to whatever anyone wants me to be in order to be accepted. “The stronger your convictions are the more opposition you will face when you follow God,” said the pastor.  In other words, the more closely you follow the Lord, the more likely you are to ruffle people’s feathers because the Gospel is not some sugar coated funny business; The Gospel of Christ is offensive to those living in accordance with the world.  By saying “yes” to God you are also saying “no” to looking like everyone else.  You are choosing to behave differently, not basing your joy, happiness or peace on whether you are accepted by others or not.  How are others to distinguish Christians from the rest of the world if we are constantly trying to just blend in?  That sermon was exactly what I needed to be reminded of before I entered into the mission tonight.  I will never be able to understand the hurt of another, but I can love, serve and honor God through loving, serving and honoring others as much as possible despite the reactions I might receive in return.  

Change for the Better

I cannot tell you just how many days and nights I have sat in my bed wanting to type out all of the things floating around.  I want to document the craziness that has been my life for the past few months and keep up with the amazing things God is doing but the more time passes the more I just think, "It's been too long now and nothing will make sense." However, I am finally throwing all of that away with a big "WHO CARES JUST DO IT NOW" mentality.

And what is "now" exactly?  Well, in a few short weeks I will be flying to New York to find a place to live... what. Part of me cannot believe it is finally almost here and the other part of me feels like time could not move fast enough!  I have dreamt of doing it for years yet as time moves closer I cannot help but already miss every little thing and person around me that I have come to know and love.  I left work today almost in tears because I realized just how beautiful our little art community really is and how ridiculously lucky I have been to work so closely with the people that I do. The tears kept coming when I pulled into my driveway and saw my brothers and my best friends cars and I realized I was living the dream because I was living with them.  Then, I got dressed and drove to an event where my other friend was having a jewelry show and realized how amazing it was that I got to be apart of it and witness her doing her thing.  THEN I got home and my dad came over to fix my brothers door which only kept the waterworks coming because I realized that I was living right down the road from my parents and seeing them on a regular basis has been an incredible gift.

Why am I still leaving?  I don't know, honestly, but I need to go.

I have such a love/hate relationship with change. On the one hand, I crave it and on the other I wish things could stay in "the good ole days" forever.  But, how do I know these are the good ole days?  These days are good, but I hope they keep getting better.  I have these fears of when I grow older that I will never be as free as I am now.  I may not be, but that does not mean I will not be happy.  I may not be able to live with my brother ever again but that does not mean I will not continue to have a relationship with him and see him often, the same goes with my parents and my best friends.  Nothing that changes has to be lost, it simply takes on a new look and hopefully for the better.