The problem was obvious...

**Note: This situation didn't happen to me, but I saw a video of this interaction for a class. I took the opportunity to write about it as if I were in the counselor's shoes.**

The problem was obvious: he was beating his wife. It said it right in his chart. But we weren’t going to get anywhere if we started with that. He didn’t even want to be here in this office with me. His wife had coerced him into getting this counseling session and there he sat, shut up. He wouldn’t even look at me. And here I was, the very non-aggressive male counselor, trying to help in some way. We were stuck—or so it seemed.

Like in Al-Anon groups, the first step is admitting there is a problem. But he wasn’t the talkative type. “I have my problems,” he said simply. “Like to deal with them on my own.” Problems? That was an understatement.

I took the gander. “What kind of problems?” I stayed neutral, nonverbally open and receptive.

“Just… problems.”

Right. Okay. Patience was going to be the name of the game. I wasn’t going to probe too deeply, but let him indicate how much he was ready for, like squishing a ball of dough and letting it bounce back into shape. No stretching yet, just test the rebound. Let him hear what he’s saying, and show him I was listening, not a hint of accusation in my voice.

“You want to deal with them on your own, you say. So why might your wife want you here?”

“Well… My wife wants to go back to school. She nags me about it.” Okay. That wasn’t the primary issue here, but it was a concrete description. Definitely something to work with.

“She nags you. She wants to go back to school.” I repeated. I’m listening. Keep going.

“Yeah. But she works in a job already and she takes care of the kids too.”

I repeated his words again. “She’s got the kids and she works.” Keep going.

“Yeah, she works. Seems like she’s got enough going on.”

We continued in this fashion for awhile. Tedious but effective. Eventually, the issue of nagging is expanded. She nags him when he’s eating, when he’s falling asleep, when he gets home from work. He’s stressed already and it makes it worse, hearing she wants to go back to school. He dislikes change. Plus, he doesn’t want to lose her or for her to outshine him by becoming a lot smarter than he is by taking classes. But, as revealing that was, it wasn’t getting to the violence part yet.

“Nagging seems to be one part of a larger issue. Did something happen recently that brought you here today?”

It might seem like a lot of work and redundancy just to get him to admit one thing—he does beat her—let alone the one thing that I the counselor already know. But with a lot of patient listening, we got there. To gain any ground, I knew I’d have to build rapport with the guy. I would listen to his story and I wasn’t going to accuse him. He could hear himself describe how irritation at home had turned into a much bigger problem. I listened to the underlying factors and not just the violent symptoms.

No matter how dramatic or harmful the symptoms, even starting with direct, albeit well-meaning, questions would have put him on the defensive and halted any hope of progress. We wouldn’t have made it to positive, mutual steps to change if I had just started point blank with “How can we help you stop hitting your wife?” I heard his fear, his stress, and even how he cared about his wife. See how reasonable his side of the story begins: there’s enough going on already, he’s afraid he’ll lose her, she nags him even when he’s trying to fall asleep after a long day. Put yourself in his shoes. If you were stressed, afraid, guilty, and sleep-deprived, as well as having an anger management problem, you might be more prone to lash out at your wife, too! I’m not justifying his actions, but I saw what had brought him to that point. I believed that he wanted to change, and he began to see that too.

I learned a lot that day. Made me wonder what’s on the inside of people that I miss with all my direct questioning. Made me glad progress could be made with such a resistant client. It reminded me how a point-blank statement like “he’s beating her” can have so many pre-formed judgments that immediately pop up in my head. Those judgments make me less empathetic and less willing to listen, because I want the change for that person now. However, if the client isn’t ready, then that’s where I’ll stay too. The key is tapping into his intrinsic desire to change. And thankfully, we got there… eventually. It’s just that the way there wasn’t so obvious.

Stoplights and names on paper.

I tend to believe that God does big miracles and is involved in grand schemes but I'm less likely to see God is small, seemingly-no-purpose events. For example, stoplights. My husband told me one day several months ago that he believed getting all green lights through a city once was a God-thing, a small blessing meant to bring him joy. I pooh-poohed that. "Stoplights?" I said. "You weren't even rushing someone to the hospital! What's the point? Would God do that just for you?"

You see, I don't see faith as something that simply "makes you happy", that God caters to our self-centered, little-kid wishes that have no lasting impact. I am a principled person. I care very much about the shoulds and the musts. Sure, I'll appreciate a beautiful sunset and give Him the praise for it in a quiet you-and-me moment, but purposefully interfering with electronics and man-made patterns that affect many people in traffic just to make one person smile? Not so sure about that. The idea didn't even sound biblical. Yes, God intervened many times in the Bible to show Himself, to bring people to Him or to grow the "key players" in His story. Yes, Jesus said even the hairs on our heads are numbered (Matthew 10:30), but I just thought that was showing God both knows all and that he cares about us as individuals. But I don't see stories about God-ordained occurrences that made people smile, nothing more.

Then this week has been an amusing monkey wrench in all of that. First, a little more necessary backstory. Carrying on my family's tradition, I have a "prayer bowl" at my husband and I's dinner table. Each night that we are home for dinner, one of us chooses a piece of paper from the bowl that has someone or something to pray for, making sure not to peek before we pick. I wrote the names months ago: family members, work places, the president, etc. Usually we decide who will bless the meal based on who is more connected to the name we drew.  

This week, however, we've nominated the other person to pray and "taken our chances" that the name will be related to the other person. And it's worked out. After it happened a few nights in a row, I wondered out loud if God was specifically "planning" who we'd pray for. Ben jumped on that. "You believe God would do that but not intervene with stoplights?" I had to laugh. Touché. My faith is probably too small.

The following day, Ben and I were asked to consider more involved roles with the worship teams of our church. Somewhat unexpected stuff. An hour later, we were sitting down to dinner and who should we pick from the prayer bowl but "Vineyard worship team". I laughed and laughed. If anything, I think God has a sense of humor!

As a Christian, I'm inclined to believe there are few coincidences. Some things seem too significant to be pure chance, yet sometimes too small to be the "hand of God". I don't know... I don't have it all figured out. Here's what I do know however:

1) God's in control of everything, directly or indirectly. He also has cosmically big purposes. I may not see the point of "small" happenings but ultimately He may be working them out in a certain way for the sake of the bigger picture. 

2) Prayers matter. The missionary Paul wrote frankly to one church, "you help us by your prayers" (2 Corinthians 1:11). So God may well be wanting an extra prayer for someone one day, so out of the "random" prayer bowl comes their name.

3) He cares about growing my faith. There are lots of people in the Bible who had specific encounters with God that were ordained to increase their trust and belief in Him. I'm particularly reminded of Gideon from the Old Testament, who was chosen by God for a big task. He had the audacity to test God about this: “If now I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you talking to me." (Judges 6:17) So he places a wool fleece out over night. If it has dew on it but not the floor around it--that'd be God's sign. God does it this way. Gideon tests Him again, in the opposite way: no dew on the fleece but dew on the floor. God does it that way. Gideon is convinced and goes on the quest. That's awfully patient of God! He must have really cared that Gideon had enough faith!

Years ago, my sister chastised me years ago for not praying when I had lost something. I have prayed in those circumstances ever since--not just so that I'll find them, but also to show God I trust Him with everything and that I believe that He cares. Still not sure where I stand on the stoplight issue but that's okay. I'm guessing my God is challenging me to grow again: to believe He is so big, He's that minutely involved.

Thoughtfully yours,

Ellen

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)

"You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways." (Psalm 139:1-3)

 "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29-31)

Haikus

Reading through my poems today. Brings me joy.
Think I'll share a few haikus I've written most recently. (They're not related.)

1)

Some people curse you,

but you were useful to me.

Thanks Inhibition.

2)

I am PhotoGirl.

Any superpowers? No.

But I look epic.

3)

Woke after bad dreams,

Now I write to forget them.

Tomorrow: wear cape.

©Ellen H. 2012

Characters and change.

            Gee thanks, Netflix. In the past few months, I’ve watched more TV series episodes than usual. With this change, I’ve realized what bothers me about TV/book series and stand-alone movies/books: the amount of character development. Here’s the difference: in order to perpetuate a series and keep conflict between characters, the characters must develop slowly, if at all. In contrast, a movie and character-focused book are most fulfilling if there is a marked change in the protagonist and antagonists. And I’ll tell you what: the lack of significant progress in series really bothers me.

            Take two TV characters that serve the same purpose: Sheldon from Big Bang Theory and Barney from How I Met Your Mother. (Actually, the whole HIMYM series feels like it never progresses, but I won’t go there.) Both guys are main—but not primary—characters who frustrate those on- and off-screen alike and create humor by shock-value. Their conflict is vital to the series and their humor is vital to its flow. They are a constant for the show, insurance for however long the series lasts. But time and time again, the same type of jokes is told and people end up unsatisfied. This is lamented, but the other characters and the viewers are just meant to get frustrated, then laugh and shrug, saying, “That’s just how he is.”

            I suppose this is true to life. People have enduring personality traits that often play out in predictable ways. However, the other end of the spectrum of how people work exists too. Stand-alone books (and short series, like trilogies) show this. The protagonist must change as the events happen to him. If he didn’t, the readers wouldn’t find it believable. Because life changes people.

C’mon, you protest, enduring flaws make people realistic and relatable. Again, I agree in principle. Still, this is where my personality, even unreasonably so, has a hard time. I strongly want to believe that people can improve, and will. If they don’t, and we just laugh with (at?) them, aren’t we essentially condoning those flaws? We’re implying we want those imperfections—no matter how much they hurt others—to persist, because they amuse us. When I keep up with a show with such characters (and I do), I'm indicating that I relate.  Implying just how deeply screwed-up I am.

Yeah, yeah, it’s just TV, and comedy at that. But deep down, I can’t shake how much this bugs me. It’s like either I’ve lost hope in the human race or I’m the butt of some grand joke by the show’s producers. As the credits roll again, I just want to shout: Change is possible! Do not limit yourself to a box—not yours, nor anyone else’s. If your flaws hurt others, especially repeatedly, seriously try to improve! If anyone, I promise to try!

Perhaps the catch here is that the TV shows I mentioned are comedies. Viewers don’t watch primarily to see some life-changing experience, but to be amused. In a decent-sized novel or full-length movie, however, usually the conflict has to be big enough to stand alone, which would naturally deeply affect the main characters—otherwise, why read or watch? Maybe dramas are more my thing. The conflict there typically is of a more serious nature, right? … Maybe. The thing is, BBT and HIMYM deal with important bottom-line problems too, but just in sillier settings and with sillier commentary. Friendships, love interests, self-esteem, goals in life… in fact, these are more relevant conflicts to my life than surviving on an island or solving crimes.

I’m not sure how to end this. I still want to watch these shows (though not daily) but they still bug me, and probably always will. Ha, I guess this character isn’t going to change amidst conflict… for now.
--Ellen

[Reading List update: Finished Bridget Jones’ Diary, Eat Pray Love, and now that I’m sick of first-person female contemporary novels, I’m about to begin Dune, classic sci-fi book.]

Summer Reading List - In Progress

Many months after school is out, I am a still a nerd.

As I was approaching college graduation, I realized that I hadn't done much reading for leisure, sick as I was of reading for requirements. Now that, academically speaking, I'm a free bird, I've decided it's time to take up the beloved hobby once again. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Doesn't mean I'll read all of them, but I'll be open minded. You may see that I am tending toward the famous or of particular personal interest, because part of my intent is to be more well-read and relevant. Here's my list of completed books so far this summer:

1) Wicked, by MacGuire. A popular musical is loosely based on this alternate Oz story.
2) The Chocolate War, by Cormier.
3) Deadly Currents, by Groundwater. Fictional thriller set in realistic, present-day Upper Arkansas Valley (my region).
4) In Progress: One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Marquez. Translated into English from Spanish. Author went on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

If you're interested in my opinions on any of these, let me know. Otherwise, I'd love to hear your reading picks!


Thoughtfully yours,
Ellen

The result of a fun writing prompt.

Especially pertinent to this blog's title, I am sharing the result of a prompt from a writer's group I attended today. We free-write for all prompts, so that means you keep your pen going, you don't cross out and you don't judge what you wrote. Except for a few minor edits, I have left it alone. For this particular prompt, we had 10 minutes for "You were just told that a spaceship crashed into Cristo’s Over the River drape in the Arkansas River." Read on for my fictional, satirical, locally-relevant work. (For my sake, imagine that OTR is already built):

 *     *     *

Who knew a spaceship would become a rivership?

Upon hearing the news, I imagine the catastrophe in my mind’s eye: a ripped drape, a broken spaceship, the gawking tourists. Karma had struck Mr. Cristo and the heavens had spoken: no Over The River project would be blessed.

As I inwardly survey the wreckage, questions fill my mind and the gaps. Are there people aboard this ship? Or is it a UFO, now clearly identified in the light of day? Will traffic be stopped in the canyon for days, like seems to happen often? Can rafters get out before the swift current smooshes the raft and dumps out its contents?

Of course, the hullabaloo in Salida will be the Over The River wreckage, the political aftermath, and more local fighting to ensue. The town of Crestone had begun séances, the informant told us, to plead the universe to bring peace as well as protection from extraterrestrials.

Traffic would be bad because of the tourists, not just efforts to clean up the mess, and all the reporters staking out to catch a glimpse of any survivors on board. I want to see the carnage myself, to not rely on secondhand information, but inevitable traffic jams stave off my impulse.

Of course, economically, the local commissioners secretly couldn’t be happier: all those reporters, extra tourists and the opportunity to erect a someday-historic sign: “Site of the 2012 spaceship crash”. Maybe the Mayan’s were right: there’s something strange about this year.

 
*     *     *

I resolve to fight.

I stoop down to pick up the piece of mail I had dropped from my full arms. My flowered summer dress wafts around my legs brightly in the long, dull hall.
Such a petty thing to be doing, the prim, little secretary picking up the mail, in her dry but secure job.

It struck me then just how humbled I felt and how unexpected this job is. I have a college degree in Spanish and I'm a receptionist? Getting mail for an office as one of my primary duties? Too easy. Not to be arrogant but I say that to preserve my self-confidence, my... potential. Am I settling? Sure, I'm learning stuff, but it's far from what I want to do long-term. Then again, I never expected to "have it made" right out of college, doing work that involves my passions perfectly. I wanted a variety of experiences in work, especially medically-related, and that's what I'm getting. However, in that moment, I was suddenly aware of reaching back to the floor when I'd rather be reaching above my head!

More than that, something about this stage of life, of such routine, has sucked up the artistic reflections I normally enjoy. I don't write in my journal like I used to, not even reaching for it to jot down the especially poignant ideas. I can't remember the last time I wrote a poem. Without a piano where I live, musical musings waft away, unheard. Certainly, it's not the marriage aspect of my life that's done that--that part is great. But unlike my college days, busy though they were, this kind of work-life routine has taken much of my desire to do right-brained hobbies.

"Most men live lives of quiet desperation" wrote Thoreau. Picking up that dropped envelope made me feel that way. I've called that feeling other things as well-- a "dark force", for one. It tugs at my heart with nowhere to go; it stretches me out in a tight space. Know what I mean?

So I resolve to fight back. It's not that I don't have things to reflect on. It's not that I've stopped enjoying writing, art and music. I just need to fight to keep those hobbies that I find so fulfilling, and seek out what inspires me. That means more alone times outside. A set time to go to my parent's house to play my beloved piano and worship. Holding off dishes long enough to write down that intriguing thought. Whatever it is. In fact, I'm putting off grocery shopping right now so I can finally write this blog.

I simply refuse to be someone who gets so used to routine that hobbies are a thing of the past and work is the only thing to talk (or complain) about. I want to feel more "me" than I have been lately.

Do you?

Faceoff: Brides Magazine vs. Our Wedding

Blog-readers I've returned. The wedding and honeymoon are over, the guests have all gone home, and my new husband and I have begun to settle into routine with work and home life. Each month, however, I still receive an issue of Brides magazine, since I have a free, one-year subscription from creating a registry at JCPenney. Reading the latest issue, I was finally able to compare all the aspects (now wondrously set in stone) of my own wedding to their advice and ideals.

Can I say right here how glad I am how different ours was, compared to the "perfect" ones pictured in those pages? Heck yes. So here is my brief breakdown of 5 of their "wedding must-haves" and how we did it differently!

1. The Long Timeline
Every issue of Brides includes a year-long calendar leading up to the Big Day that lists what to do, in what order, to prepare.

How we were different: Our engagement only lasted 5.5 months. Know what I was doing a year prior to my marriage? Wondering if our relationship was still going to be long-distance in a year! (No offense to couples who are engaged longer, but it was a blessing for us not to wait that long, for several reasons!)

2. The Fabulous Dress
Brides magazine says (in my words): "Spend hours browsing pictures of models in couture gowns. Eventually find the Perfect one for you. Pay nearly anything to buy it...you'll be wearing it during THE most important 1-6 hours of your life!"

What we did: I clipped some magazine pictures. I looked for sales. I bought a dress the second time I entered a store. Then I made my own sash to go with it, and borrowed my sister's veil. Shazam. Beautiful, time-saving and it didn't break the budget.

3. Details Are Everything
Brides says: "Every detail should match your theme. Every details should shout YOU. In fact, the more adorable details, the better. Spend hours pouring over ones you can buy, or spend even more hours making your own so-cute-you-could-die details."

What we did: I bought decorations in one day. Having no knack for decoration myself, I left the final set-up in the hands of many female (and a male) friends, and it turned out simple yet great!

4. Cake Obsession
Brides says: "After the dress, this is the next best important object of the wedding. Pay through the nose to have it look exactly like you want.
Looks > Taste, of course."

What we did: I got quotes from 2 vendors. I decided based on cost and reputation for taste. (Taste > Looks.) In the end, we had twice as much cake as we needed...oops! For all our planning, it just couldn't be foreseen. Those are some expensive leftovers... Cake, anyone?

5. Here comes the... groom?
Brides says (rather, implies): "The groom has few opinions, and even those can be overridden. He should basically not intrude in wedding plans because this is bride-dominion-only. But he should be model-like handsome... gotta make the best of those professional pictures, right?"

What we did: My fiance booked the honeymoon plans himself. He took care of the groomsmen suits. He was with me to taste cake and dinner samples.... And he's doing exactly half of the gift thank-you's. That's perfect for me! (And he was handsome anyway!)


I promise I'm not bitter toward Brides--I always knew they cater to a demographic with more money, more style, and more bridal-obsession than I have. I clipped pictures from their pages to form ideas and show others what I was thinking of. For a free magazine, that's great! I just have to say that while our wedding day turned out beautiful, fun and very special, I am so relieved to be through with the planning, and now onto the best part: Ever After.

And a happy one it is. :-)

Thoughtfully yours,
Ellen H.

Expiration Date.

Merely weeks until I get married. There’s an expiration date on my single life.

Hold onto the tender breeze, I think. As if that were possible.

All those romantic love songs are permanently coming true for me but none of the songs of unrequited love will apply ever again. It’s a bittersweet exchange. I always liked those sad songs and how well my heart ached along with them.

What have I learned? I think, as I face graduation from the Single life into a life of Co-dependence and Co-existence. Am I prepared for this next stage? Did I learn enough in the last? 

Any lessons gained are slippery in my hand in this breeze… 

There will be countless tests in our future life from which to learn the wrong answers and the better ones… but still, isn’t there a baseline requirement of how much one should know before she’s acceptably marriageable? Did I earn at least a C? I suppose the proof is in the pudding—Ben believes that I am acceptable, flaws and all. Enough to team up with and learn the ropes together. Certainly I think the same of him, so that means something, that we see each other the same way.

In the meantime, I think I’m trying to hold onto my independence, my individuality. 

My wind-blown hair tickles my face as I hold a fluffy dandelion, seeds floating away. Make a wish…

I want to believe somehow that my friendships with guys won’t be drastically affected… but they will be. To be sure, I’ve have time to adjust to the idea—first dating, then engagement. For one, I won’t be dating another guy again, ever. That's a little strange to remember sometimes. (Although, for the record, I plan on using lots of pick up lines on my husband. Simply the idea of this silly plan makes me grin.)

More than that, though, I don’t want to believe change is coming because these friendships—or whatever you call some of those relationships—have defined a major part of my identity, and suddenly, that won’t be acceptable. It probably wasn’t ever a good idea to let them define me so deeply, but now it’s obvious that there’s an expiration date to that life.

I liked that me with guy friends. It made me more interesting, in my humble opinion. It made me more accepting of different types of people, and they did teach me useful things for my relationship with my fiance...

But I’m sad. Another reason is that these friendships won’t and can’t be as close. Boys can’t confide in me in the same way because that will make our hearts vulnerable and it wouldn’t honor my husband. I agree with this. But shoot, I’ll miss those deep convos. Maybe pride is telling me that those guys need me: to be a confidant; to give a Christian perspective; to boost their self-esteem at times. Or maybe my track record with girls is making me fearful that the overall number of close friends will diminish upon marriage, because girls won’t make up those numbers. Sure, I have in-the-moment girl friends, but barely any let’s-keep-in-touch-no-matter-where-we-are friends. Forget writing letters and for-old-times get-togethers. At least in my life, it’s been males who have kept in touch, no matter if someone had moved, if it was summer or winter break… Even if we weren’t dating anymore, we often stayed friends. (Okay, mixed motives might have influenced that in some cases.) I didn’t even date girls, yet there seems to be more obstacles with staying in touch with them!

Maybe girls are more likely to tolerate long periods of little communication because they know they’ll catch up someday (what I call “feasting”). Whereas, with guys, they might prefer spreading out that communication in smaller pieces (“snacking”) and do something in person rather than talk for hours. I can handle having some relationships of the former… but not all of them, and not with the ones I really, really appreciate. In my book, the closest of friendships are both snackers and feasters, requiring both and wanting both. That is, they’re worth the effort and inconvenience... Hm, ponder that. But that’s just me.

Now I wonder: does marrying my best-ever guy friend mean that I’m signing off on a goodbye letter to the rest of the list of guy friends who don’t fit the 1-Person Slot for Male Life Companion? If so, farewell, good guys. I’ll miss you terribly. 

Selah.

Hmm. Wait.

Then again, milk has an expiration date for a reason. It goes sour. I can choose to look at this situation differently. My friendships as I’ve known them will go sour. It’s time to invest in a new style of friendships that will blend well with the recipe I’m working on: Married Life Mixed with Friends and Family. How about that?

Blow wind, blow…

RSVP, anyone?

RSVP means "respond please" in French. Is here something culturally that's going on that makes that phrase have no meaning?

Yes, I'm going to do a bit of ranting here. I am currently planning a wedding--my own, that is-- and collecting RSVPs is proving to be exceedingly difficult. I set up an online website for responses so I understand that older folks might consider this an obstacle. But I am far more frustrated by the large chunk of invitees who are my ever-connected, Web-savvy peers. I've heard it all: "I was so busy!" "I forgot!" and the most infuriating lack of excuse at all. Is this individualism at its strongest? "My excuse beats your request, no matter what."
:-(
It takes 2 minutes to RSVP. No one is that busy. Not that many people are forgetful. Planning a house party for 10 is hard enough... planning the difference in budget and space between 100 and 150 guests for a wedding reception is much harder!

Sigh. I am not one to say that this generation is overall worse than the last. But the lack of consideration is just astounding. Have RSVPs have gone the way of handwriting lessons, now considered obsolete? Funny thing is, last I heard, people are still planning weddings these days, so I can't see how guest counts aren't still useful... Or maybe our up-to-the-minute communication methods have made us believe that everything can be last minute? That makes more sense, but advance notice has its place!

Okay, okay, I'm complaining a lot. The bright side? I've learned a valuable lesson for myself for years to come: RSVP, Ellen. People appreciate it.

Woot. (That's sarcasm for "hooray.")
--Ellen 
 
P.S. Add this frustration to the long list of reasons why it's a good idea to only get married once. ;-)

Everyday Sanctuary

We ride in the car: I'm in the passenger's seat; he drives. A Christian song we both like is playing, and we nod our heads, tap our fingers, sway our shoulders. Yes, Lord.
Thoughtful, my friend comments, "The inside of my car is the closest thing to what my personal sanctuary would be."

Hmm. My writer's mind grabbed the moment and stored it for later. "Personal sanctuary." Interesting how a word that I associate with church--"sanctuary"--was paired with "car". Take it as a sign of my generation. And coming from my friend, who especially likes to drive, it makes twice as much sense. Although I don't like to drive nearly as much, I could identify with his words as well.

God is everywhere--in majestic churches and in mundane cars. That my friend and I tend to worship in both those places shows how He is smack-dab in the midst of everyday life. It's a personal space, because, at least for myself, I'm most often alone in my car. I'm not embarrassed to sing along with music, comfortable because no one can hear, free to be earnest. And my prayers spoken out loud there sound like conversations, probably more than any other time. It's easy to imagine Jesus close by, sitting in the passengers seat.

(Momentary soapbox here: The main Christian radio station that comes into my area is KLOVE. I have to say right here that I'm not a big fan of their overall choice of songs, their annoying talk shows, or the biannual fundraisers that seem to go on for ages... However, they do seek to edify their audience, so when I turn on my car and catch the verse of the day, for example, I am often encouraged. I won't complain about that! So that also contributes to creating a personal sanctuary in my car.)

A sanctuary is a special, physical place that is used habitually for spiritual awareness and worship. That's my offhand definition anyway. With that meaning, other locations such as my bedroom, the living room couch, the spot at the piano, and the Remote Outdoors in general also qualify as personal sanctuaries. I've been well aware of those locations. And please understand: I still enjoy church sanctuaries. Gathering a group of believers in one place to worship is important and powerful. But this was a new thought, so just add my personal list, "inside of my car". Hey, why not?

Can you relate? Where's your personal sanctuary?

Musingly yours,
Ellen

Functions of an alarm clock.

The volume knob and timer are broken on my music alarm clock. Pretty important functions, wouldn't you say?

A college grad lives at home again. No job; no girlfriends her age. Pretty important life aspects, don't you think? Mind you, I have a loving and stable living environment, and I'm better in all ways for having gone to college. Similarly, the alarm clock still plays music and the alarm can go off... but only at 7:11am. Things could be worse... but we're both missing some important functions.

Feelings bubble to the surface, plus guilt for having them, but they're there all the same. So I have made a pact with these feelings: voice most of them, but don't give them total control of the stage once they're out. Often when I permit one, the direct opposite speaks up next. "Step up to the open mic, but leave time for the next, please." So here they are, fighting for the limelight:

I'm homesick. I deeply miss college life and the friends I had there. Then I feel guilty because I live at home, and I'm finally close to my best friend/fiance after a year of long distance. Believe me, this is great. But the human heart is quickly discontent again, so I feel... weak for admitting it.

Then again, no one will deny the worth of an honest friend who's not your fiance! Hearts crave it. And work-- doesn't Ecclesiastes say that work is good for a man? (See Ecc. 2:24.) Even if it's not a dream job, the structured days, the affirmation of usefulness and steady income--certainly those are nice.

Life now is a distinct shift from college. I expected to miss things... but it's been months now. Still no steady job and scattered interactions with friends at best. "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation," the Apostle Paul teaches (Philippians 4:12). I truly want to live that out.  But peaceful trust in God during this odd season is hard when I feel like that alarm clock: functional but noticeably lacking.

Part of what's hard is that I liked the Me back in college: She was oh-so-deliberate, interesting, and successful. A's and awards are affirming accolades! In four years, I learned to thrive in that environment. Now it's something new, and survival mode is still kicking in... my timer seems to be broken. It's like entering a foreign country; suddenly your money means nothing in that context.

After college, I worked a great summer job, moved home and got engaged. Life is moving in a specific direction, to be sure. God, You have led me this far!  (See last January's entry.) You still know what You are doing. That's my conclusive inconclusion.

However, I'm not sure what to do with my alarm clock. Do I keep it? iHomes aren't cheap and I love using my iPod to wake up. Do I replace it? Setting other times and volumes are essential to using it fully. Do I get it fixed? I can't do it myself, so I would have to send it in. Might be cheaper than replacing it.

I'm not sure what to do with me, either. Seek a context where my "currency" is valid? Do what feels like starting over, learning new skills? Keep trying here and waiting?

I'm aware that I'm not the only one asking these questions, especially in the current economy. People in all stages of life, college graduates to nearly-retirees, are in the same fix. All the more reason to trust God--my default in all uncertainty--because He sees all, knows all, and can do anything. "With God, all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26) In the meantime, I'll keep praying, love the people around me, and explore all my options... Wonder what I'll be writing about next year at this time!

Thoughtfully yours,
Ellen