I Don't Drink.... Wine

Two days ago I did something I had been wanting to do for 20+ years and had never been able to do: I gave blood.

I remember being back in high school and there would be blood drives and I was always so disappointed that I wasn't old enough to donate. Once I became old enough, I found out I didn't weigh enough. (Yes, I know, everyone should be lucky enough to have that problem.) I once even went down to a drive they were having at the mall I worked at in the hopes that maybe now I met the requirement. They took one look at me, after I had been sitting there for a while, and said "I don't think you weigh enough." I'm pretty sure they even weighed me to double-check, and sure enough I got rejected. But then I saw the church I'm interning at was hosting a blood drive and I decided this was my year.

Why have I felt it so important to give blood? I couldn't honestly tell you. I guess maybe I've always wanted to help where I could, and giving blood is so easy. It's something that is needed, it costs nothing, and the miracle of the human body means that whatever I give is replenished within a short amount of time (according to giveblood.org it takes about a month). Someone's life can be saved for two hours out of my day. The better question is why wouldn't you want to give?

I was told that a lot of people are nervous before they give for the first time, but not me. I was so excited. My mom likes to donate every year around her birthday (which is in the beginning of December) so when I told her Asbury was doing a blood drive she decided to put it off for a few weeks and we would go together. We ended up being walk-ins, but since neither one of us had anything planned for the day other than watching General Hospital and going to the movies to see Spectre later that night, we certainly didn't mind waiting. If you've never donated, when you go there's some tests they have to do to make sure you're able to give, such as an iron count, pulse, and blood pressure.  I must be a very lucky person because I don't eat as well as I should and I don't exercise as much as I should but my numbers were great. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up!" Yes, coffee and cookies! (I've been eating a LOT of sugar lately.) Finally I got to a table and laid down. There was a little difficulty finding my veins and I was told I have small veins (as does my mom) but before I knew it they stuck me with a needle and I started squeezing. Seven and a half minutes later I was done. I slowly sat up, somebody consistently making sure I felt okay. I slowly made my way over to the cookie and juice table, partly to be cautious and partly because I was feeling like I do when I haven't eaten in a while: just a little off, shaky, and light headed. I sat down and drank a juice and started on some mini Oreo's, chatting away with a congregation member who was helping to run the drive, and then..... I started feeling more and more light-headed and I got really warm. I started to put my head down, since you hear that's what one should do when one is about to faint, and Ed noticed I was not okay. He calmly got someone over to me who calmly moved me to this chair that tips back and he rolled me off to the side and lay me and the chair on the floor. Cold, wet paper towels were placed on my head and neck and I was told to cough a couple times so the blood could get moving. Yep, folks, I almost passed out after giving blood. I guess there always has to be someone, right? Truthfully, I had a feeling I would be "that person" going in to the situation, so I wasn't panicky or even really all that surprised. It didn't take long for me to feel better and after chugging half a bottle of water, eating the rest of my Oreo's, and sitting and talking, I was ready to go. Now, the part they don't tell you is how you'll feel for the rest of the day. Walking up the stairs in my mom's house just about took me out. I was so out of breath that you would think I had been sick and laid up for days. I guess it makes sense since they take a pint of blood out of you. I was exhausted by about 6 that night, and even the next day taking my laundry to and from the basement winded me more than usual. Now, if you ask my mom, the reason I almost passed out is probably because I still don't weigh enough. Truthfully, I have no idea how much I weigh, so this may be true, but I did it. I donated blood and helped to save lives.

So my New Year's wish on this 31st of December 2015 is this: if you have a chance and are healthy enough to, please give blood. It's not scary and in the grand scheme of things it doesn't take a lot of time. Did I mention the free cookies and T-shirt? If you're not sure where or when, check out redcross.org  for more information. And along those same lines, consider being an organ donor. If you know me, you know this is something I have talked about many times in the past. When my dad died they were able to take skin, tissue, and corneas and give them to someone else. Someone else got a chance at a better life because of my dad, and what greater gift is that? I am an organ donor and I've made sure everyone around me knows this so that if anything happens to me there is no question: use what you can to save someone else. I don't need it. I'm dead. Go to donatelife.net  for more information.

With all that being said, please have a safe and happy New Year. I'll see you in 2016!!!!

My FREE T-shirt!!

The Perfect Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Greetings my readers and happy holidays. I hope you all had the Christmas you were hoping for.

So, I knew I wanted to do a post-Christmas blog but I wasn't sure what sort of direction I wanted to go in it. Today as I was talking with people at church about how our Christmases were, the idea of "the perfect Christmas" came to me. What does that mean? Can we ever truly have a Christmas that doesn't come with mistakes or where things fall short of what we wanted? Does the perfect Christmas look the same year to year, or does it change based on how that year has gone for you and/or what your plans are?

If you ask me, I had the perfect Christmas. Everything did not go smoothly (I started one service five minutes early and set my bulletin on fire at another, for example) but it was perfect for me. For the first time in years I did not have to work Christmas Eve or early the day after Christmas. This was also the first time I've experienced five Christmas Eve services. No, that is not a typo. We had five services at my Supervised Ministry church. And I loved it. Christmas is one of my favorite times of year and the Christmas Eve service is always a highlight for me, so I think the fact that I got to have multiple services and share Christmas with that many people was great. Speaking of church services, all three of my sisters came to the 4:00 children's pageant service.

My family taking up an entire pew

I literally cannot remember the last time all four of us girls were in church at the same time, and to make it even better all my nieces and three of my four nephews were there as well. Asbury has become such an important part of my life that I was very excited to share my church with them. (And did I mention the whole favorite service thing?) I even went to church on Christmas day, which was a first for me. It was a great casual, low-key service filled with readings and carols, and a perfect way to start off Christmas day. Well, I guess technically the start of my day would be watching one of my nephews open his presents since one sister stayed at my apartment on Christmas Eve.

The rest of Christmas day was spent at my mom's watching Christmas movies, eating, and napping. Mom made her traditional lasagna (so good....I can never make a lasagna as good as she does). It was great to just relax and be with family, because after all isn't that what Christmas is all about really?

I watch a lot of TV and movies and they seem to set a standard on what Christmas should look like. Everyone wears pretty clothes and gathers for dinners and parties. There's kissing under the mistletoe and sledding or ice skating (not here, thank you 65 degree Christmas Eve), fancy turkey dinners are eaten by several generations of relatives, that one embarrassing relative does their thing, and the one grumpy person finds the meaning and spirit of Christmas as everyone gathers around the fire for a carol sing or a reading of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. Or some variation of this scenario. But I find, at least in my life, that's not really what it looks like. AND THAT'S OKAY. My perfect Christmas may have sounded boring to some of you. Some of you may have wished that was your Christmas and for some of you maybe that's what your Christmas looked like too. We shouldn't put such pressure on ourselves to make the holidays look like something unauthentic to who we are and how our family lives. We shouldn't try to make Christmas look like it did when we were kids or even look the way it did the previous year. Yes, we all have traditions that carry us through year to year, but there are still going to be things that are different than before. Figure out what's important to you, what you need to feel the Christmas spirit. I have a friend who wasn't going home for Christmas and she chose, despite many invitations, to stay home alone and just have a day to be alone and relax and just be. That was a perfect Christmas for her at this time in her life. Don't compare your Christmas to any other Christmas. That's not what it's about.

So now, I'll ask you,and really think about your answer: did you have a perfect Christmas? I bet if you really think about it, you'll realize the answer just may be yes.

My love of Hallmark and Lifetime Christmas Movies

I am a horrible blogger. In my attempt to do blogmas I went a whole two days in a row before I stopped. But in my defense, I had a lot going on this weekend. I'm back now, and hey, it's my blog so I guess I can do whatever I want!

So, today's Blogmas topic is on cheesy made-for-TV Christmas movies. I love them. Love. Them. When I stopped being able to afford cable it was the one thing I missed most aside from Shark Week. The highlight of my Christmas season would be spending time at my mom's (who has cable) and binge watching movie after movie. Last year I discovered that I could buy some of these movies on DVD and that Netflix carries some of these movies. Heaven had been found.

Why do I love these movies so much? I'm not sure. They're predictable. They all follow a similar formula and you know after the first five minutes what is going to happen and how they will end. And I'm okay with that. Look, I love movies that make me think. I love twisty-turny movies. But during the holidays there's usually so much else going on that you need to put your brain on a timeout for a bit. And because they don't require a lot of focus, they're great to put on in the background while you're baking cookies or wrapping presents. When my sisters and I are at my mom's we can still have a conversation while one of these movies are on and not worry about missing any of the plot. Perfect. Shoot, I'm watching Christmas in Boston right now! (An ABCFamily movie from 2005)

Now, I do have a collection of regular Christmas movies that I also love. No Christmas is complete without Elf or The Ref or Polar Express. But if I can't also fit in Holiday in Handcuffs or 12 Men of Christmas then it wasn't a good Christmas. Maybe it's because everything turns out happy and right in the end, whether the lead couple finally fall in love or get married or the kids believe in Santa Claus or whatever the plot is. (Okay, usually it's the whole love thing. Cut a girl some slack.) My poor step-dad doesn't get it and to him they all blend in together. He's been known to leave a room and walk back in a couple hours later asking, "Is this movie still on?!" My mom's usual response: "Oh no, this is a new one!" But love them I do, and I am not ashamed. I know I'm not alone. What's your favorite cheesy Christmas movie? Let me know!

O Christmas Tree

This Christmas the bane of my existence has been my Christmas tree.
Or more specifically, my sister's cat Puck and his relationship with my Christmas tree.

He only looks sweet and innocent

Backstory: when I moved in to my studio apartment a few years ago I knew that the six foot fake tree I had would not fit so I got rid of it during the move and at Christmas I bought a two foot pre-lit tree. It's the perfect size for my space and the last two Christmases it has sat on an end table pretty much ignored by my cats. This year however.... I no longer have that end table because my desk now sits in that spot. The desk is designed for small spaces so there is just enough room on top for my laptop and my printer (no Christmas tree). So this year I decided to put my tree on a stool from my dining set in roughly the same spot as it has been the past two years. I took the tree out of the box and it's missing one of its feet. Okay, speed bump, but luckily one of my school books is an almost perfect size for the tree to rest on where the third foot would be. However, this does mean that the least amount of pressure on the tree makes it start twisting and moving. Problem number one. The stool and/or the floor are not straight. The stool wobbles a bit and I know the floor is crooked so there is not a stable surface for the tree to rest on. Problem number two. Now we get to the cat. More brief backstory: I have been fostering my sister's cat for her since August while she waits to get her own place. So don't you know, Puck has now decided the best thing for a late-night snack is my tree. Problem number three.

I can't tell you how many times I have woken up in the middle night to hear Puck chewing on the needles and then the tree falling over. I've only come home a couple times to the tree being knocked over. This means I can't catch him in the act to spray bottle water in his face to try to discipline him. Instead, almost every night, I've had to crawl out of bed to pick up the tree and all the ornaments that

Every night.

have fallen off, put the tree back up, place the ornaments in a pile, and try to get a little more sleep before Rocky (one of my other cats) decides I should get up and starts meowing in my face. In my tired frustration I even found myself just this morning telling Puck "You've practically ruined Christmas you know!" More than once I've had the thought: "I should just not have a tree this year."

But I go on. Every morning I get up, feed the cats, put away the dishes, and start my coffee. While it brews I redecorate the tree. Luckily it's a small tree with not a lot of ornaments on it. But I was thinking the other day that there must be a lesson in this. It would be easy to just pack away the tree and ornaments and wait until next year. It would be easy to not decorate it so I wouldn't have to go through with putting them back on almost every day. But I don't. A Christmas tree makes me happy. I have so many fond memories of decorating the tree as a kid. We always had a real tree and Dad was in charge of stringing the lights (accompanied by a lot of cursing). We had those big colored bulbs that you can't really find any more. And then we would get to put on the ornaments. All the ornaments that we girls had received from our Grandma over the years. The Baby's First Christmas ornaments. The ones that were family heirlooms. I love when you turn all the lights off and there's nothing but the flow of the tree lights. Christmas day was the one day of the season we would turn the lights on first thing in the morning and leave them on all day, a tradition I still carry on today. So much like the tree, any time I feel knocked down, I need to pick myself up and shine just as bright, no matter how many times it happens. I can still stand tall, even if my foundation is a bit wobbly and I need a little bit of support.

It's The Most Loneliest Time of the Year....Or Is It?

I'm sure this is just what the world needs, another blog on being single at the holidays. But since I'm trying to do this Blogmas thing (where you blog every day before Christmas...sue me, I started really late), here are my thoughts on the situation: It doesn't completely suck.

I know I know. Gasp! What?! A single woman during the holidays is not sad and lonely and depressed?! Well, for the most part, no I'm not. Look, I can literally count on one hand exactly how many times I've had a boyfriend during the holiday season. And still have fingers left over. So, it's not like there's a montage of all the cute holiday coupley things I've done in the past replaying every year as I break out the Christmas decorations. In fact, it's been so long since I've been a we instead of a me that any memories I have are pretty fuzzy at this point. So, suffice it to say, I do not spend every night between Thanksgiving and New Year's sitting on my couch watching cheesy Christmas movies crying in to my spiked hot chocolate.

There's actually, if you think about it, a lot of benefits to being single during this time of year. There's no pressure to get my man the most perfect gift that will make him Instagram #bestgirlfriendever. I don't have to worry about being dragged to parties with people I don't know or being forced to spend awkward family time with people who I'm not sure if they even really like me. There's no fighting over whose family we have to spend the day with. I can watch all the Lifetime Christmas movies I want without being judged. And New Year's? I get to watch the ball drop in my jammies and go to bed right afterwards. (Okay, sure, I bet a lot of couples do that as well.) Suddenly my life isn't looking so bad now, is it?

But, I will confess dear reader, that I do succumb to those moments of loneliness. It's hard not to when you're constantly bombarded with images of happy couples on TV or in magazines. There seems to be this cultural idea that you have to be with someone or else you're just a sad, bitter person waiting for the right one to come along. And while the thought of being surrounded by lots of people gives me anxiety, I do sometimes wish I had that one special person to be with. Now we can cue the montage: decorating the Christmas tree with Bing or Michael Buble crooning in the background. Curled up on the couch under a blanket watching Elf. Ice skating downtown (even though I'm pretty sure I would spend most of my time on my butt on the ice. Oh, but look how cute he is helping me up! And now we giggle and kiss....). Waking up Christmas morning to exchange presents. You get the drift. And it's not to say that I can't do any of those things by myself, and I do. Except the ice skating. But yes, there is something about this time of year that makes me wish I wasn't alone. Perhaps it's all the talk of togetherness and people coming together to spend time with each other. Maybe I watch too many Christmas movies (darn you Hallmark Channel!). Maybe I just give in to the cliché of our society. Who knows.

So, there are pros and cons to being single during the holidays. Truly, most of the time, I love it. I have the cats to keep me company during those Christmas movies, traditions both personal and family that I carry on every year, I've decorated the tree so damn much this year I may never want to do it again (more on that in tomorrow's blog), and I need no excuse to listen to Bing dream about a White Christmas or Michael croon about a Blue one. And once in a while I stop making faces at the jewelry commercials and give a little sigh of regret that there's nobody to leave a Christmas list for. Or more importantly, nobody to spike my hot chocolate for me. Whatever your relationship status, I hope you find peace this season and to remember the grass on your side of the fence is just as green as on the other side.

I love lamp.

Gift Giving

Part of my morning routine these past few weeks is to change the wooden blocks in my countdown Santa to reflect how many days are left until Christmas. With equal parts excitement and dread, I changed those blocks today to read "09." Yes, folks, we are now in the single digits portion of the Countdown to Christmas. When did this happen? It seems like just yesterday I was thinking that I had weeks left to finish my Christmas presents and now I feel like I'm in a scramble, especially since our Family Christmas (Part 1) is this Saturday. Three days away. And now I'm just a few steps away from full-on panic mode when it comes to Christmas present. Like, if one little thing goes wrong I might just scrap the whole idea. Now, there has never been a time in my family, especially as me and my sisters have become adults, where anyone has pressured anyone else in to giving presents. There's been years where I've sworn I would only give the nieces and nephews presents, but inevitably under the tree have been presents for the adults as well. I just can't seem to stop myself.

Now, if there was any year where my family would understand a lack of presents from me, it would be this one. I am currently not working and living off of my student loan refunds as I go to school full time and engage in my Supervised Ministry. (There's a previous blog around this if you missed it and are curious as to that decision.) At first I went back to the stand-by of "presents for kids only." But then I realized that even if I only spent $10 on each niece or nephew, that would be $70 right there. So I decided one day as I was flipping through my The Stitchery catalog that I would cross-stitch mini stockings for everyone and put together little gift bags with candy and homemade Christmas cookies and other as yet to be determined little items. Everyone would get the same thing, but I would get to give presents this year.

Some of the patterns I've been working on

I'm sure you're thinking that I should've just decided to not do Christmas presents this year, and you're probably right. But see, there's a problem: I love giving gifts. I love birthdays or Christmas when I get to purchase something I think the person will like and give it to them. I love the stress of walking in to a store and wandering, some times with an idea or a text from one of my sisters, and sometimes with no clue. I love searching and I really love when I come across something I think they'll like. I love wrapping it and giving it to the person, even as I wonder if they'll actually hate the gift and I'll be "Crazy Aunt Summer who always gives us weird/crappy presents I don't want." So I didn't want to not give presents this year because it would actually ruin Christmas for me. Oh, sure, I can make a Christmas List with the best of them, but I don't ever expect or need presents. It truly is not about the getting but the giving. While I know this year will not be in the Top Ten for present-giving, I still am able to give something. And I love that part of the gift bags will be homemade. I know it's very likely the kids or the men in the family will think my gifts lame or stupid, but I will give them anyway. Gladly.

I'm looking at the time and I really should stop blogging so I can try to work some more on those stockings. I guess my final thought is this: at the end of the day presents aren't the focus of Christmas. Okay, let's be honest, they kind of are. But I don't think in 10 years anyone is going to say "Remember that year Aunt Summer gave us those crappy gift bags?" I hope they'll remember the time spent with family, which we don't get to do that often. They'll remember my mom's lasagna and laughter. Maybe they'll even still have those stockings and the fact that they were made by me will mean something to them. And even if they don't, I can always remind them that Christmas of 2015 was the year Aunt Summer stopped working so she could focus on becoming Pastor Summer. That sometimes sacrifices must be made to follow a calling. That in life some Christmases are better than others, but as long as we're all together there will never be a bad Christmas. That maybe it's not about getting what you want, but the fact that someone loves you enough to give in the first place.

Home Chef

I started doing Home Chef a few months ago just before I quit my job (see previous post). I had heard about Blue Apron and started doing research on different groups that will send you the ingredients to make meals throughout the week. This seemed awesome. As someone who takes a bus grocery shopping can be difficult. As someone who lives alone, cooking elaborate meals or going through the effort of planning (and shopping) can be overwhelming and exhausting. The fact that I could have meals sent to me and I wouldn't have to buy ingredients that I wouldn't use before they went bad was extremely appealing. So I signed up and haven't looked back since.

Let me back up and explain a little bit how Home Chef works, and why I picked this one out of the other sites I looked at. There's no contract to sign. I'm sure that's one of your top concerns, as it was for me. I didn't want to be locked in to anything or paying for food I didn't want or wouldn't eat. I can skip a week or more, I just have to tell them ahead of time. In fact, I plan on receiving an order next week but skipping the next two. Most meals are $9.95 per serving, although there is a fruit basket option and a smoothie option that are both $4.95 per serving. The only requirement is that you pick a minimum of two meals to get delivery. Each meal comes with a choice of 2, 4, or 6 servings. If you spend $50 or more you get free delivery. Less than that and delivery is $10. When you sign up you can fill out a profile with your dietary restrictions. You'll get an email at the start of the week with the meals they have picked out for you to receive, but you always have the option to go in and edit your meals. You have until 12 pm CST (or is it PST? Shoot, now I can't remember) to finalize your meal, including changing your meals, your delivery day, how many servings, or if you're going to skip. Each meal comes with the ingredients already proportioned out for you. All you have to do, depending on the meal, is maybe some chopping and of course the cooking. The only things I've ever had to provide out of my own kitchen is olive oil, salt, and pepper. So why Home Chef? Price wise, it's about the same as the other ones I've looked at, if not slightly cheaper depending on what I order on any given week. First off, I picked Home Chef because I felt the meals were ones I would actually eat. You know, nothing too fancy. Secondly, there are many more options every week, about 10-12, including a seasonal fruit basket (right now you get pears and apples), breakfast, and smoothies. Every meal comes with a recipe card, so if you ever want to duplicate a meal you can. The recipe card tells you how to plate the meal so it looks pretty and gives you drink pairings. Since the smallest serving choice I can do is 2, I really get two dinners out of every meal (the day I cook it and leftovers for later in the week). I think I've covered all the basics. If you go to homechef.com you can check out all the details for yourself and check out their recent menus. (And if you know me and want my email for a referral, we should both get a $30 credit!)

But now I'm going to do a review, if you will, of the Home Chef meal I cooked for dinner tonight: Pumpkin Gnocchi in Sage-Brown Butter Cream with Candied Pecans, Sun-Dried Tomatoes, and Bleu Cheese. It's labeled an expert recipe and I did feel a bit out of my element with this one. Why? I had to make the gnocchi from scratch. Preparing the Swiss chard and sage was easy, although I didn't feel there was much I had to do with the sun-dried tomatoes. They were supposed to be julienned, but were already pretty close to that before I touched them. Then came the gnocchi. I don't know if they didn't send me enough flour or if I did something wrong, but I was supposed to work with the dough until it wasn't sticky. I ended up using up all the flour they sent me and adding a ton of my own before I felt I could work with it. But after that it was pretty smooth sailing. The smell of the sage-brown butter cream smelled like Thanksgiving, but I should've started it later I think because I wasn't sure how to keep it warm while I boiled the gnocchi. If I kept the heat on I was afraid it would boil over and if I turned it off the cream added a film on top. But I wilted the Swiss chard like a pro (maybe) and before I knew it I was plating my dinner and getting ready to eat. The prep time is listed as 40 minutes but with my issues with the dough my time was about an hour. End result? A tasty meal that I probably would not have ever made for myself. One of my friends on Facebook said that she had just paid $18 for a similar meal at a restaurant! I don't know if I'll be attempting homemade gnocchi again, but I loved the fall flavors of this meal. While not one of my favorites that I've made, I'm still pleased with the results.

So you're unemployed....now what?

Hello my faithful readers. This is a blog I've been wanting to write for a while, pretty much ever since I made the decision to quit my job. I just haven't known how. So finally I figured I'd take a look back at a little over a week in to my life without Target and see how it's going.

But first, let me talk a little bit about what led to the decision. I won't lie, there were things going on that were causing me to be unhappy, things that I won't go in to here because I've tried to leave them behind me. But the stress that those things were causing me was one of the factors I considered when I wrestled with myself over whether or not to leave. See, I had actually had this idea in the back of my head since about halfway through my last semester. When I would be so tired after coming home from work that I couldn't focus on homework or when I was struggling just to finish the reading before class knowing that I hadn't retained anything or when I would walk in to Biblical Greek and have to tell my professor that I hadn't finished the assignment because I had run out of time, those are the times when the idea would pop up: "What would it be like if I didn't have to balance a full time job and full time school?" Then I would push it to the back of mind and soldier on, because that's what I had done for the three semesters prior to this. But I couldn't quite the shake the idea. Then the semester was over and I was able to rest and put a lot of my focus towards my Celtic Spirituality class and the trip to  Scotland we were taking. I came back from those 10 days away, had a day to recover, worked the next 9 days in a row, and then was off again on a Middle School Mini Mission Trip to the Adirondacks with the church I am doing my supervised ministry at. I got back from that and woah, now it was mid July. School was starting in just over a month. And the soul searching began. I kept remembering how I felt the last semester (when I received a promotion to team lead) and the struggle-filled balancing act I had gone through. I remembered what it felt like to focus on something that had to do with my career and my current internship (for lack of a better word). I remembered all the stresses I had felt during the summer. I thought ahead to the upcoming semester, and realized it would be worse than the previous one because I was adding basically another part time job on to the full time job and the full time school. I prayed and thought and thought and prayed. I came close to crying almost every day and every time I thought I had it figured out one way I would immediately start figuring out why the other way would work better. I told a couple close friends and one of my sisters what I was considering, mostly just to see if I was being an idiot. And then I made the hard decision to quit my job.

There was a sense of relief. There was a sense of sadness (I had been there almost 6 years). And then, my last week there, came the panic. Oh God, what did I do? I just did away with my steady income. I have no one to lean on, no one to support me. I will admit, the panic has not been helped by the people who ask what I'm going to do now. I immediately start assuming I'm a complete fuck-up since I have no other job and am not actively looking for one. At this point why would I jump in to another job when part of the point of leaving was so that I had time to focus on school?

So I have had to constantly take breaths and remind myself why I left. I already feel the change just in this first week. There isn't a nagging worry about what's going on at work when I'm not there. I don't wake up wondering if anyone besides me will show up or will I have to open late or close early. I don't have to have this constant cloud of work hanging over me while I'm trying to do homework or while I'm in class. I don't sit at work wishing I could be doing homework. I don't feel guilty if I take some time for me. I have the luxury of being able to spend a couple hours on homework and not have to get up extra early or stay up late. I'm not trying to concentrate on reading while on the bus or in my office where I can still hear what's going on in the break room. And I know once I start my supervised ministry in earnest how lucky I will feel to be able to focus on the discernment process of where my future may lie. Honestly I think my only danger right now is making sure I don't get too lazy and get sucked in to hours of YouTube. (It's happened). On a personal level, I also want to make sure that the three days I have off in a row are not three days of my not leaving the apartment except to get my mail. (Yeah, that happened too Friday and Saturday)

So how has my first week been? Pretty good. I see where the adjustments still need to be made. In fact, I'm contemplating writing out a detailed timed schedule for every day so the YouTube incident doesn't happen again. I still of course panic almost every day about money, but it's coming less and less. Now, I don't mean to say this is a decision everyone should make. I had to really examine what was going to be bests for me personally, emotionally, spiritually and healthwise. At the end of the day I put my well-being over having money to splurge on expensive makeup or a trip to Germany (which I am still wracking my brain trying to figure out how to make that happen). I know this next school year will be a lot of ups and downs. I'm sure I will periodically question if this was the best decision. But all I can do is trust in God. God has always taken care of me and I have to have faith that will continue to happen. As a worrier this is not always easy for me, but I have faith in myself that I can do this. If you're reading this, continue to support me. That really helped when I started telling people. Almost everyone I spoke to, even if they were sad about me leaving work, understood and supported what I had to do. And that means the world when you make a major life changing decision on your own. You can support me by praying for me, sending good thoughts my way, listening if I feel like I'm starting to panic, loving me as I continue on this journey.

Ipsy Glam Bag August 2015

So, I'm kind of over all the deep thoughts and emotions that this blog has been recently, so I've decided instead of being productive and doing dishes, I will review my recent Ipsy bag!!!!!

Now, I love my Ipsy subscription because I get the chance to try out things I never would've thought of or simply can't afford. In this month's bag, I had a good mix of items I was excited to try, things I was nervous to try and never would've bought on my own, and things I was just eh about. So here goes....

First, the bag itself. It is so stinking cute!!!!
It's made of a textured vinyl/plastic material which mean it would wipe clean easily in a gorgeous black and white houndstooth pattern. I can easily see using this as a clutch if I meet up with friends or perhaps as my fall makeup bag in my purse or backpack.  I'm going to a lock-in this weekend, so maybe I'll use it to carry my overnight toiletries. The zipper and zipper pull are a nice pop of bright pink so it adds a bit of fun to the bag. I love collecting these makeup bags and still use most of them for one thing or another.

Item 1: Albertini Divine Skin Hydrator In Shower Body Moisturizer (Unscented)
         This item is the one I was sort of meh about trying. I had tried an in shower moisturizer years ago as a way to streamline my morning routine, and while I don't remember loving it I don't remember hating it either. According to the package instructions you can either apply it in your shower, rinse off, and pat dry or you can apply it after showering and leave it on. The couple times I used it I chose to apply it in shower. Now, it says to use a small amount and I don't know if I used too little product or not, but I didn't feel it moisturized me any better than the lotion or shower gel I currently use. I could see the water beading on my skin after applying and my skin did feel smooth after my shower. But I guess I'm an old fashioned gal and I like the routine of applying my lotion after my shower. Plus, I like scented products since I don't wear perfume. I'll probably use this periodically to change up my routine and will definitely try it after shower to see if the results are different, but as of right now I don't see me rushing out to buy the product any time soon. If this is something you're interested, it's available at albertiniinterntional.com for $16 (9oz. tube)

Item 2: Lord & Berry Lipliner in Nude
         Oh boy was I nervous to try this. I am not a lipliner kind of gal. I've been afraid that the line would be noticeably different or that my lipstisck would wear off after eating and drinking and all that would be left was this line around my lips. So when I saw this in my bag I made a little face and thought, "Man, I don't know about this." I swatched it on my hand and the color looked really dark, so it was with trepidation that I took a chance a couple days later and decided I would wear it. The whole point of Ipsy is to try makeup and hair things I normally wouldn't, and the Ipsy stylists I follow use liner, so why not, right? I applied it, sending up a little prayer that it wouldn't look ridiculous and....it actually didn't!! The color was lighter on my lips than it had appeared on my hand and as I looked at myself in the mirror I realized I have a NYX Butter Lipstick that would match it almost perfectly. When I was done I realized the liner gave my lips  more finished look that I really liked. I will definitely use this liner again and may even purchase more liner in the future, although probably not from Lord & Berry. They are a little bit out of my price range. ($18 at lordandberry.com)

Item 3: Doll 10 HydraGel Cream Blush in Flirt
         My other product I was nervous to try. I have never worn anything other than powder blush so I wasn't sure how I would feel about a cream blush. The color was gorgeous, but I know that cream blushes have a more intense color/pigment so I wasn't sure how it would look on my fair skin. I like a nice, natural, flushed look rather than a oh-my-god-she's-wearing-too-much-blush look, you know? So I had a couple days where I was running late in the morning and was trying to simplify my routine, so I put it on really quick and was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly it went on and how lightly. It blended in with my foundation really easily and looked very natural. Now, I will say, I put it on just this morning and felt like I was a little heavy-fingered with the blush. It looked a little darker than I prefer, so when using a cream blush I know I have to be careful with how much I use. I'll probably use a very light amount and slowly build it up to the point where you can notice the color, but it doesn't pop out at you. I actually may buy a cream blush in the future. I was a little disappointed because when I went to Doll10.com it appeared that the color I had was the only cream blush they offered, but since my sample seems to be close to what I would consider a normal size, I guess I'll just be content with what I have for now. ($16 at the website)

Item 4: eco-beauty by LaFresh Group good night night cream
         Oh my goodness, when I got a sneak-peek of this month's bag and I saw this was one of the items being offered I crossed everything I could in the hopes that I would get this. Months and months ago I receive a sample of their day cream and I just absolutely fell in love with it. It feel so hydrating and cool going on and I swear my face never looked better. The downside? One jar cost $30. So I never bought it but every time I've bought day cream since then I've let out a little sigh of regret that it wasn't from LaFresh. So you can imagine how excited I was to go to bed the other night and use this sample. It did not disappoint. The same creamy texture, the same level of moisture, and a light cucumber smell. While I still think the day cream is better, I do love this night cream. I'm trying to find the balance of using enough so it will work properly and not so much that I use it up too quickly. Now, LaFresh was one of the companies that had a deal with Ipsy this month for a certain percentage off, but imagine my disappointment when I went to LaFreshGroup.com and saw that the price of their day and night cream had gone up to $40. Even with the discount it is still definitely not in my budget right now. Like a friend of mine said a few days ago, though, you do get what you pay for. I would say if you have the money you should definitely get their creams. And the fact that their products are natural, biodegradable, and cruelty free is definitely a bonus.

Item 5: Noyah Lipstick in Desert Rose
         This is the second time in my over a year with Ipsy that I have received a sample of lipstick from Noyah, so I was definitely happy to see it in my bag. The last color I got (which I am blanking on now) is a really nice color for colder weather and it's one I pull out often. I've been going with bright colors for the summer, so it was nice to get what I would call a transition color. The pink is light enough that it will still fit the warmer temps, but dark enough that on those random cold days that will start popping up it will look in season. I personally feel that the lipstick goes on a bit dry so I would recommend putting on a little chapstick or lip balm (untinted) to soften and moisturize your lips at the beginning of your makeup routine so it goes on a little smoother. When I went to noyah.com I was very happy to see that the makeup line is kosher and all natural. They had gorgeous lip colors on there, but at $18 a tube I will probably have to abstain for right now.

So there's my thoughts on the August Ipsy bag. Are you an Ipster? Did you get any of these products? What are your thoughts? Did you get something different that you want to talk about? Leave me a comment! Gentle and kind thoughts, only please. There's already too much negative in the world.

Also, I was trying to add pictures of the products but for some reason my one drive and my blog do not like each other. Maybe next month....

Tooting My Own Horn

About a month ago I finished my second year of seminary. I was relieved to have some time to myself, excited and sad to see my friends graduate, and then I eased myself in to a new routine that didn't revolve around homework or thinking about homework or not doing homework and inwardly lecturing myself that I should be doing homework. Just a few days ago I got the email that my grades had been posted. Did all my hard work pay off......?

Yes it did. Now, obviously you have a general idea throughout the semester of how you're doing. There are quizzes and weekly one page papers and so you have a vague sense of if you're doing okay or not. But there's still that moment of trepidation right before you click on the link. Did I really do as well as I hoped? Is there a chance I did better? Is there a chance I did worse? Especially for me where in my classes a good portion of the grade comes out of class participation. I say this because I am an introvert and this means it is not always comfortable for me to speak up in a group situation. I like to sit back and observe and take everything in, letting things that are said sit in my brain for a while before I speak up. Unfortunately this means that class is sometimes over before I can say what's on my mind. (The irony of this is that I'm an actor. Put me on a stage in front of a crowd of people and I will perform my butt off. No, I don't' get it either. Perhaps I'll blog about it one day.) But I've gotten off topic. I'm sure you're just dying to know how I did. Here goes:
Women and Gender Responses to Faith, Belief, and Understanding: B+
Biblical Greek: B+
Intro to Preaching: A
GO ME!!!

I'm proud of myself. There. I said it. Screw being humble and modest. And for one moment I will stop comparing myself to other students who do way more than I do. I work full time, usually 38-40 hours a week. I received a promotion in January to Team Lead of my work center. I got in to and then out of a relationship in the span of two months. It was a really brutally cold winter which does not make me a happy motivated person. I had to deal with finding a site for my Supervised Ministry for next year as well as my Evaluation I (which determined whether I would be able to progress in my studies at CRCDS. I passed.) All of this on top of reading a crap load of stuff for class every week, twice preparing a sermon (only the third and fourth time I've ever preached a sermon), and busting my ass to translate several passages of Biblical Greek on a weekly basis, sometimes having to translate ten or more verses in just two days. Did I always hit the marks I wanted to? No. There were definitely times I didn't put as much as I wanted to in a paper or in studying. But I was able to balance everything in my life and still pull off decent grades. So I say again, GO ME.

The one major thing I learned this past semester was to not be afraid to take time for me. I turned to coloring as a stress relief. I made sure I fit in an hour or so of TV just to unwind my brain after hours of translating Greek. And lest I think that was enough, I got a really nasty cold a couple weeks before the end of the semester. I didn't go to class one day but ended up doing homework most of the day anyway. I went to work for a full shift the next day and to class all day the day after that. I went to work the following day and by the time I got there I knew I wasn't going to make it. I was sick. I went home early and literally did nothing but sit on the couch for the rest of the day watching TV. Despite the fact that this put me a bit behind in homework I felt a hundred times better the next day. Clearly my body was ready for a Sabbath Day.

Now, I don't know what next semester is going to hold for me. I'll still be working full time, although I'll have to cut back to four days instead of five. I start my Supervised Ministry this summer (which is an internship at a local church) and I have no clue what that will look like other than I know I'll be in services Sunday morning and youth group Sunday evening. I will be going to school full time and taking Biblical Hebrew, Black Church Perspectives on Faith, Understanding, and Belief, and a class for my Supervised Ministry. Yes, I'm completely exhausted just thinking about it. I'm cramming in as much social time and TV time as I can this summer, hoping that somehow it will balance out when September comes. But now I know what I can accomplish. And I am proud of me. And isn't that the most important thing.....that we can be proud of ourselves?

Why I Chose to Not Have Children

Recently a friend of mine posted a link to an article from Huffington Post on her Facebook page. The subject was things that childless women wanted other women to know. I immediately clicked on the link, started to read, and found my eyes welling up with tears as I could relate to so many things that were said in the article. (It's called 7 Things Women Without Children Want Moms To Know...I suggest you look it up) I won't quote the article or anything here, that's not what this blog is about. It got me thinking about my own childless state, how I got here, and where I see it going.

Let me backtrack a bit. In case you don't know, I am 36 years old. I will be 37 in August. I am single. I have no children. As I said on my Facebook when I reposted the article I mentioned, it is partly by choice and partly by my life situation. As a disclaimer, everything I am about to write pertains only to me and my situation. I do not speak for other women without children. We all have our own stories to tell, this happens to be mine.

As far back as I can remember I always wanted children. If you dig back through old pictures of me as a child you will see me taking care of my dolls, even "nursing" them. I envisioned that by the time I turned 26 I would be married and that after enjoying a few years of blissful married life my husband and I would start having kids before I turned 30. I wanted four and didn't care about the sex of the children (although I do still love the name Deveraux for a girl). I am the oldest of four so a big family seemed only natural to me. But the age of 26 came and went and there was no husband, no prospect of kids. Instead my sisters started having children. First one sister and then another. At one point, half joking, I said to a co-worker, "If my youngest sister has a kid before me I'll kill myself." (We're all so dramatic in our twenties, aren't we?) I'm sure you can guess what happened next: my youngest sister announced she was pregnant. I still distinctly remember sitting in my apartment and crying, not tears of joy either. I couldn't believe that something I had longed for my whole life wasn't happening to me, but to all three of my sisters instead. It didn't seem fair. I had so much love to give so why wasn't a husband and a family working out for me? Family events would find me coming home depressed because all I had was an empty apartment. At this time I wasn't allowed pets where I was living so I didn't even have the comfort of a cat. I felt left out of family conversations at holidays because it always seemed to center around being pregnant, giving birth, or raising children, things I couldn't relate to. I turned the dreaded 30. On those nights when I would feel particularly lonely I would find myself lying in bed at night crying, wondering what was so wrong with me that nobody wanted to marry me and have children with me. It may seem a bit much to some of you reading this, but when you've wanted something for practically your entire life and it wasn't even close to being in your grasp, bouts of depression and pity are to be expected. Any time I was around a niece or a nephew as a baby I would spend hours just holding them, telling everyone that since I wasn't likely to have one of my own I needed all the baby time I could get. I was only partly joking.  I even remember at one point telling my mom that if I was still single at 35 I would look in to having a child on my own. (Clearly that didn't happen.)

So what changed? First, I lived with my youngest sister and her two small boys (at the time ages 1 and 2) for nine months. She worked a lot so I took over parenting tasks when she wasn't there. A lot of nights I fed them dinner, gave them their baths, and put them to bed. My youngest nephew had a tendency to spit out his binkie in the middle of the night and cry when he couldn't find it. Being a light sleeper I would often wake up, go in there, and find it for him. I would get them up in the morning and dressed for day care. If I was off on a weekend day and my sister was working I was taking care of them all day: breakfast, nap, lunch, TV shows, walk to the playground if it was nice. I did their laundry once a week when I did mine. I don't want to make it sound like my sister was a slacker parent. She wasn't and she's not. I'm just trying to explain that my eyes were opened to what day to day life with a small child was like. I started to wonder if I actually had the patience or unselfishness to become a parent. (I often joke with my sister that living with her and the boys is what made me decide I didn't want children. I'm still not sure five years later how serious that statement is).

Second, I got older. The reality for a woman is that the closer she gets to 40 the less fertile she becomes. I've sat down and done the math. Even if I meet the Future Mr. Summer Sattora tomorrow, when you factor in an average dating time of a year before getting engaged, another year or two of being engaged, and then even if we start trying right away, I would be 38 or 39 at the time of trying to have a child. While not impossible, the chances are a lot slimmer than when I was 28 or 29. And who's to say we would conceive right away? I could easily be in my early to mid-40's before a child is born. These are daunting odds for me. Also, I don't date often. It's not uncommon for me to go two or three years between boyfriends (and they don't usually stick around for long). Seeing as how I recently got out of a very brief relationship only a few months ago, then by my past history I won't even date anyone until I'm probably 39. So by my earlier math I would be 42 at the earliest before trying to get pregnant. Again, daunting odds. So maybe it's just easier to state I don't want kids when perhaps what I mean to say is that I don't see children as a likely part of my future. But you don't want to tell people that because then they immediately try to make you feel better and I don't want to hear how you never know what your future holds or if it's meant to be it will happen or lots of women have children in their 40's or whatever nonsense someone tells you when they're trying to not feel awkward around you.

So that's my story. I'm now at a point where 95-98% of the time I am more than happy to be a single childless woman in her mid-30's. I can watch what I want, eat what I want, be in my pajamas all day, go where I want when I want..... you get the idea. But yes, there is that 5-2% of the time when I wish children were an option for me. I know I would be a good mother. Maybe not a great one, but a good one. I still have a lot of love to give. I've been known to joke that if my soap opera future husband and I had children they would be beautiful blue eyed babies. But you learn to accept what you have in life. You learn to want what you have, not what you don't have. Maybe the dream hasn't completely died yet. Somewhere in the back of my mind is still the thought of you never know. If the right guy came along and the stars were aligned I wouldn't hate the idea of a child. But I also know that if the right guy came along and didn't want kids I would be okay with that too. I no longer feel like something in my life is lacking. I have my two cats and any time I spend with my nieces and nephews is bliss for me. I'm also lucky that I am surrounded by people who don't question my choice to not have children. They accept it and they accept me just the way I am. Your story may be different. Again, I encourage you to read the article from Huffington Post I mentioned at the start of the blog. A woman is not less of a woman if she doesn't have a child. Accept her childless state and if she wants to share her story, whether she is childless by choice, circumstance, or what have you, listen and still accept her. We all have our different paths to walk in this life.

Joyful Disbelief

Today I got the chance to preach in my home church for the first time since I started seminary and for the first time in over two years. It was like coming home. Between working full time and going to school full time I'm not able to go to church every Sunday so it was nice to be there again. I preached on Luke 24:36-48. Below is my sermon. Enjoy.

When I was reading the scripture for today I found myself rereading verses 36-42 over and over again, trying to picture what was being written about. My focus has been so much on those verses that I will be basing most of my sermon this morning on those (rather than the entire piece). I will read them again for you now: “While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, ‘Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.’ And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’ They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence.”

“While in their joy they were disbelieving.” At first glance this phrase is a little odd. How can you disbelieve and still have joy? The RSV translates this phrase as “And while they still disbelieved for joy.” That seems to be even odder, doesn’t it? How can you disbelieve because of or for joy? But I thought a little more about it and as I thought I kept thinking of what it would have been like to have been a disciple in that room seeing Jesus after he had died. I would have mourned him, grieved for him, cried and yelled, unable to sleep or eat perhaps, wishing for just one more chance to see him or speak with him or even touch his hand. Sure, the women returned from the tomb saying that they were told “He is not here, but has risen.” But I hadn’t seen him. I wasn’t there. And sure, two of the followers of Jesus had told of an encounter on the road to Emmaus, but I hadn’t seen him. I wasn’t there. And maybe a small part of me remembered Jesus saying he would be resurrected, but since I wasn’t sure I believed he would be killed let alone raised from the dead, I figure it’s just a vain hope. So there I am, sitting in a room with my fellow disciples, talking about these visits, when suddenly a voice I never thought I would hear again says “Peace be with you.” Standing there before me is my teacher and my friend and my brother whose body I saw tortured and beaten and crucified, appearing to be alive and healthy and whole. I can imagine that moment of hearing his voice and feeling everything in me stop. My breath, my heart, my mind. I would’ve gotten those chills that run up the back of your neck to the top of your head. All I could do was stare, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me, or perhaps if I had finally snapped under the pressure of hiding from those who had killed him afraid I would be next. I wouldn’t be able to move, maybe even wondering if the other ten were witnessing what I was. And then when he continued to speak, declaring himself to be really there in front of us, that feeling of happiness that would’ve welled up inside me would have taken me over. Tears would have filled my eyes and my limbs would have become shaky. I probably would’ve fallen to my knees, longing to run to him and embrace him, muttering prayers of thanksgiving to God that Jesus wasn’t dead after all. Joyful disbelief indeed.

I wonder if someone in that room looked at Jesus as he was asking them why they were frightened and why they doubted and wanted to say “Why do you think?! You were dead and now you aren’t!!” I mean, sure, I can imagine Jesus was a bit frustrated. He probably wanted to say, “Listen dummies not only did I tell you this would happen but I told you it was necessary to happen to fulfill prophecy! Why are you so surprised?” Maybe the disciples weren’t the only ones experiencing joyful disbelief. Jesus finally has the chance to be with his chosen eleven (Judas being out of the picture at this point) and it is not quite the reunion he hoped for. He is joyful to be with them again but disbelieving that they don’t immediately rush to embrace him. Who knows, maybe Jesus had imagined the reunion in the days prior to his arrest, picturing what it would be like when he would present himself before his apostles, how each one would react, and the  happiness everyone would feel at being reunited again before going to spread the word of God. He was human at that time, so it’s possible. We just don’t know. So maybe there was enough joyful disbelief for everyone in that room.

Now I’m sure some of you have been sitting here thinking you’ve been experiencing déjà vu and feeling like some of the Scripture words are sounding vaguely familiar. Perhaps you’re hearing, “When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this he showed them his hand and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” That’s John 20:19-20. Very similar, isn’t it, except it’s got a lot of joy and not a lot of disbelief. Now, we know that there are four gospels which tell four varying accounts of the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. There is a lot that is similar and a lot that is different. Here is one example of a story that is almost eerily close in wording. We know that the four gospel writers were writing in four different places at four different times to four different audiences. So when we come across something that is the same, it makes us sit up and take notice. Don’t worry, I’m not here to teach a New Testament class and talk about different sources that the gospel writers got their words from and etcetera and etcetera. But it appears that there must have been some sort of tradition, probably oral, that told of Jesus appearing to his disciples. Whether it’s based in fact or not is not for us to discuss here today at this moment, but it would seem that there must have been something compelling enough here that two of the four gospel writers included it in their testimony, almost word for word. On a side note, Mark 16:14, which is included in the “longer ending of Mark” which is missing from the earlier Greek versions of his gospel, has a similar story but it’s not nearly so nice: “Afterward he appeared to the eleven themselves as they sat at the table; and he upbraided them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they had not believed those who saw him after he had risen.” Perhaps there’s a reason this one is not included in John and Luke? It’s heavy on the disbelief and light on the joy.

            We can even look at the fact that in Luke’s version Jesus appears before them in physical form. He asks them to touch him, he shows them his wounds, and he even eats in front of them to prove he is not a ghost or a spirit. Talk about joyful disbelieving!! I’m sure that even if the disciples believed he was going to be raised they probably didn’t think it would be as a flesh and blood body. They probably believed he would be in the form of some heavenly creature, something with form but no substance. I mean, if someone I was hanging out with all the time told me they were going to die but then be risen I certainly wouldn’t think it would be in the same physical form. I watch Ghost Hunters. I would assume it would be a shadowy figure or something transparent, something on another realm. So imagine my disbelief if all of a sudden this person appeared to me in the same form I had just celebrated Passover with a few days ago. It was almost like he hadn’t died at all, like he had just gone away for a few days on vacation and returned refreshed and rejuvenated. Although, I guess, in a way, you could almost say that’s kind of what happened. So despite our joy at seeing him it would be hard to believe what we were seeing.

What does it mean for us today to be filled with joyful disbelief? Imagine for a moment how you would feel and what you would do if all of a sudden, in the middle of this sermon, Jesus appeared in this room and said to us, “Peace be with you.” Go ahead, I’ll give you a minute to really picture that, live with it for a moment. (Pause for congregation to think about this) How would you feel? What would you do? Go ahead, shout out what you’re thinking. (Allow a couple minutes for the congregation to express themselves) I would like to think I would be like Mary outside the tomb, running up to him yelling “Rabboni” through my tears. I mean, who among us wouldn’t want a Jesus hug? But I think in reality I would cower in a corner, every doubt or fear I had ever had in my faith life causing me to step back and hide. Here would be the embodiment of my faith, the Son of God, the person in the Bible I look up to the most and want to know the most about, and I would feel insignificant and unworthy. I would feel life-altering joy at being in his presence and at the chance to speak with and be with him, but I would also feel disbelief, wondering if he was really here, wondering why he chose this room, wondering why he would want to embrace someone like me. I would be filled with joyful disbelief. Can you relate to that?

But I think that Jesus would sense that and would come up to me, or to you, and say “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your heart? Touch me and see.” To have faith is to be constantly filled with joyful disbelief. I mean, let’s think about it, some of the stuff we believe in is pretty, well, unbelievable. Let’s start with what we celebrated a couple weeks ago: the Resurrection. Trying to explain that to someone….. “So there was this guy and he pissed people off by speaking about loving everyone no matter what and so he got crucified but then it’s okay because three days later God raised him from the dead.” Just for starters. Sounds pretty out there, am I right? But as Christians we believe in this, even if we have different ideas of what that means. We find joy and comfort in this idea of the resurrection, in the idea that Jesus was the Son of God, in the idea that he died for us. We find joy in his message of loving everyone no matter what, even when we’re faced with a world that seems to tell us the opposite. And yes, sometimes we can’t explain why we believe, we just know that we do, that something inside us gives us the strength to believe even when we don’t know why.

I haven’t forgotten about verses 44-48, don’t worry. I don’t want them to feel left out, because there is certainly joyful disbelief there as well. After all, this is Luke’s version of the great commission. He writes, “Then he said to them, ‘These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, ‘Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.” The eleven must have been filled with so much joy that the teachings of Jesus were going to continue and then at the same time filled with so much disbelief that they were the ones being entrusted to do this. Isn’t this how we all feel, knowing we are called on to do the same? As Christians we feel so much joy that we get to share this message of hope and love, and yet we feel so much disbelief that we are being entrusted with something so important. While we are not lucky enough to have Jesus appear before us and open our minds to the scripture in the same way he did for the apostles, this doesn’t mean that we aren’t just as worthy. I would be surprised if these witnesses didn’t feel trepidation and fear as they ventured out in to the world. It’s easy to get caught up in the moment in a small room with others who have shared your experience with Jesus, but it’s quite another thing to venture forth from Jerusalem and start preaching the word to people who may not want to hear it. But isn’t that what we’re called to do? To venture forth from this room in Rochester NY and spread the word to people who may not want to hear it? We must find a way to merge our joy and our disbelief so we can face the risen Lord and say, “Jesus, I may feel fear and doubt and disbelief, but Lord I feel confidence and strength and joy also. I will go out and even in my disbelief I will find the joy to tell everyone of your message. I will find a way for others to feel what I feel when reading these words of Luke and when I imagine myself in that room seeing Jesus for the first time. I will be your witness.” That is how we will preach our joyful disbelief.

As You Wish?

Am I too nice a person? I'm sure some of you reading that statement that know me are thinking yes and I'm sure there are others of you reading that statement that know me that are thinking no. But it's a question that's been on my mind the past few days and one I don't have the answer to. It goes hand in hand with another question I don't have the answer to either: Should I stop being so nice?

Those of you that know me in my work life are very likely to say that I am not necessarily a nice person. I mean, I am, but there's definitely a bitter, cynical, jaded streak to me that has grown over the almost twenty years of retail/customer service that I have endured. I've seen favortism, people getting away with being nasty, people taking advantage of the system, people playing the system, and I'm looking at both employees and customers. It's gotten to the point where I find it hard to give anyone the benefit of the doubt and I assume the worst in most situations. I don't necessarily like it, and I know it can make me a bitch, but that is my reality.

Then we get to my personal life. It's pretty much the complete opposite there, especially with people I care about. I find myself giving second (or third or fourth or....) chances to people who blow me off or break plans or screw me over. I look for the good in those around me and truly believe it's there, even when other people are telling me it's not. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in not rocking the boat when someone tells me they'll hang out with me and then at the last minute cancels or I don't hear from them. I come up with excuses for behavior and try to find the meaning and true reason behind what may just be someone being an ass or playing me. And I don't necessarily like it. I can feel taken advantage of. I can feel stupid for believing someone is different then others see them. I wonder why I have to be so nice.

It feels at times like there's two Summer's. (Okay, sometimes like there's a lot more, but that's a blog for another time.) I wonder sometimes if I should switch the two mes and be nice sweet kind forgiving Summer at work and bitter mean Summer in my personal life. Or maybe I just need to meld the two, like Victor Garber and Robbie Amell did in The Flash. (My nerdiness is failing me because the coffee hasn't kicked in and I'm totally blanking on their character names.) If I could somehow be less cynical at work and more unforgiving in my personal life then maybe a happy medium could be reached.

I've actually been working on being nicer at work and I know it sounds odd to say it's a struggle, but it can be depending on the day. Habits are hard to break and there's a default setting that I all too easily fall back in to. I get easily annoyed and get short with people. I assume people are treating me with disrespect. I assume people look down on the area I work in and it makes me automatically put up a wall and keep them at a distance with my words and my attitude. But I was recently called out on it and I'm making an effort. If you deal with me in a work setting, please be patient. Offer a gentle reminder, or maybe occasionally just check in and make sure everything's okay. Sometimes the attitude has nothing to do with work. But I am trying.

It's harder being a bitch in my personal life. It's harder to look at someone and write them off. It's hard to not continuously make an effort to build a connection with someone, even if I know I'm likely to get rejected or ignored. I feel like I should maybe put up more of a wall than I already have just so I can stop so easily getting hurt. But I know there already is a wall up and I know that combined with my being an introvert it would be all too easy to just stay in my little bubble. So I guess maybe I've answered my own question: Am I too nice? Probably but I don't think I want to change that. I look at the person I could so easily become and I don't like her. I know that I get hurt. I know I get taken advantage of. I know others around me are looking at me and thinking I'm a fool. But being true to me means I give those second (and third and fourth and....) chances sometimes. I'm going to work on putting up a boundary and knowing where my limit with some people has to be. And maybe others will just have to deal with the fact that personal life Summer is a little bit too nice. All I ask is that you don't take advantage of it and help me with my boundaries. Don't make a plan if you think there's a chance you'll break it. Don't think that just because I say it's okay that it really is. Maybe just walk away if you're thinking that you can treat me however you want just because I'll forgive you. And maybe ask yourself if that good I see is really there and if so how you can live up to that.

What's Your Fantasy? What's Your Reality?

What constitutes a lasting relationship? I sure as hell don't know. Does anyone? It seems that love is something we are all striving for, something we all want an outline for. After all, aren't there countless books and magazine articles and online posts trying to give us some insight? I admit, whenever my Glamour magazine shows up and I see there's an article on relationships it's one of the first things I read. Whenever I'm in a relationship I devour every online article I come across on Facebook hoping to see signs saying the man I'm with is The One. Conclusion? Nobody knows what they're talking about. If they did I'm pretty sure I would not be sitting here at the age of 36 with no boyfriend, having never even come close to marriage or having never even lived with a man, still reeling from a breakup I did not see coming. But if nothing else being single more than taken over the years has allowed me to sit back and really soul search about what I'm looking for in The Future Mr. Summer Sattora. I think it boils down to reality over fantasy.

Who doesn't love fantasy? (I mean more along the rom-com romance novel line. not Fifty Shades. This is not that kind of blog.) What girl doesn't swoon when the cars pull away and Jake Ryan is standing there, leaning against his car, waiting for Samantha? Who hasn't cried at the end of Never Been Kissed? Who hasn't sighed a little when the absolutely smoking hot guy just seems to get and understand the quirky not-so-popular or not-so-attractive girl? You get what I'm saying. We are led to believe that when we find The One our eyes will meet, the world will fade away, and we will instantly know this person on a deeper level that we can't even explain to other people. Our dating life will be a montage ending in a beautiful wedding and laughter and forever. And I call bullshit. Oh, sure, I'm sure for some people this is how they met their partner. I concede that for some people some or all of what I just wrote is true for them. But for a lot of people, based on my observations, that isn't how it happens. I think it's good to have the fantasy and the daydream. Sure, I've spent many a minute on my bus ride to work fantasizing about Ryan Paevey coming to Rochester and being instantly taken with me. But at the end of the day I know it's not real, and that's okay. Having the fantasy helps me, as a hopeless/hopeful romantic, keep the dream alive. It helps me to not give up when everything inside me is telling me I should.

But at the end of the day, as much as Jake Ryan makes me swoon, I want real. I don't want a lightning bolt or an instant connection. (I mean, really, has anyone seen an episode of The Bachelor?) I want to look at a man and say "I can see myself building a future with you. I can see us growing from where we are now and enjoying getting to know each other. I see us laughing and fighting and crying and supporting and loving and being annoyed and everything that you do and feel with a person for the next fifty or sixty years." That is sexier and more romantic to me than any rom-com moment. But then again, maybe that's my version of the fantasy and it doesn't exist. I mean, I actually thought I kind of had that and it turned out I was really wrong and that he was looking for the fantasy not the reality. He wanted all-consuming and I didn't. He wanted can't live can't breathe without you instant love. I wanted let's be our own people and enhance each other with our differences love. I wanted to be pushed out of my comfort zone and he wanted to stay in his. It sucks, but at the end of the day, I guess he was right to end things. If we both have different ideas of "the fantasy" then how are we going to come together in "reality?"

Then again, maybe when you find The One it's a melding of these two. Maybe there's an instant connection but you still feel the room to grow. Maybe you find a way to spend massive amounts of time together and yet still be individual. Maybe he sweeps you off your feet and then the next week he sweeps your apartment. Like I've said, clearly I don't know what goes in to a perfect lasting relationship. I guess it must be that elusive "it factor" that people who are in love can't explain they just know it's there. I just know I want something that will grow in to a marriage, not a wedding. And there's enough fantasy in me to keep the hope of the reality alive for now. So I'll cry my tears, get myself confident in myself and my singleness again, and then give it another shot. One thing being in seminary has taught me is that I need to learn to take chances and I need to be open. It's okay to not know where I'm going and to trust in the journey, even if I struggle with that at times. And I guess ultimately I keep coming back to a lyric from the song  "When The Right One Comes Along" (which is my wedding song. Yes I have my wedding song picked out. Don't judge.) I'll end this blog post with it and put it out to the universe as a reminder that all the lists and must-haves and can't-haves in the world won't matter when I finally get it right:

"You think you know what you're looking for til what you're looking for finds you."

A Little More Conversation

I got passively aggressively dumped yesterday by email. Yes, by email. It started as a conversation the night before when the man I had been seeing said "I don't know how much we have in common." At another point he said "There's just so much we don't know about each other." We had a brief serious conversation, the first one we had really had in our fledgling relationship. I suggested we continue this conversation over the weekend so we could find out what we have in common and we could talk about these things. He agreed. The next morning, after thinking about what he said (because I was blindsided and therefore had had no chance to formulate arguments or opinions about my side of things) I sent him an email briefly saying some of what I was feeling but still emphasizing we would talk in person. He replied, I won't go in to too much detail here because it isn't mine to share, basically that he just wasn't feeling it and that we could try going on some "fact finding dates" but he didn't feel they would lead anywhere and that if I still wanted to talk we could but he wouldn't be around the next couple days but I could call him if I wanted although he felt we would still end up in the same place we were now. See? Passively aggressively dumped.


Now, having a conversation does take two people so I certainly do not hold myself blameless. If you read my previous blog post you know that I have been struggling with fear. For once in a relationship I was letting myself sit back and enjoy the now, not worrying about the future. It was refreshing to just take it one day at a time and not be constantly thinking "But where is this going?!" I knew that we were getting to the point where we were going to have to have that "where are we going" talk but I wasn't quite there yet. So perhaps I am guilty of not voicing my fears earlier or not pushing those deep conversations to see what we had in common at a base level. I was content to have our dates be cuddling in front of Netflix or The Blacklist and keeping conversations more surface. But again, a conversation takes two people and it's not like he brought these things up either.



But if a conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue, how can that happen if one person doesn't even let the other one speak? And that's what is making me angry the day after. The ideas of  "not much in common" and "we don't know that much about each other" may be true, but if the conversation went on in the other person's head and I didn't get to participate, how do we know? How can you throw those statements out there and then not even take the time to find out if that's true? How do you not take the chance that your preconceived notions of how I'm like may be wrong? I admit, I'm not comfortable with these heavy deep emotional conversations. The idea of sitting down and throwing everything out on the table, like I thought we were going to do, is nerve wracking. So I can certainly understand the desire to avoid the conversation altogether or to send the type of email I received. But aren't we adults? Shouldn't we be able to do this? And if one wants to be in a healthy, mature, adult relationship shouldn't one want to have these conversations? How else are you supposed to grow with someone in a relationship if you don't allow them, or yourself to participate? Because as much as I held back, whatever my reasons, he held back as well.


We are all guilty of having conversations with someone in our head. The person we have a crush on, someone we haven't spoken with in a while, the customer at work who pissed us off, etc. We imagine how the conversation would go and we get to put words in the other person's mouth and dictate the direction of the conversation. It can go exactly how we want it to and we will always come out on top. I think that may be the type of conversation that happened before my date the other night that led to all this. While he asked me about school and what I wanted to do when I graduated, I feel (looking back) that he had already had this conversation, at least partially, in his head prior to this. Since I wasn't there I obviously don't know what I said prior to Thursday, I only know what I said at dinner. If apparently something I said triggered a flight response, shouldn't we have talked about that? Instead it was like it was the last straw and was justification for saying "Religion makes me uncomfortable and your not knowing about your future worries me so I need to bail." I'm not sure what my response was for him, but I know what it would've been in a face-to-face conversation: "What about religion makes you uncomfortable? Let's talk about that. Why does being uncertain about the future worry you? Let's talk about that. We can see if there's a way to move past this together." Or something like that. Who knows? I never got the chance. (Side note: I stated right in my dating profile what I was going to school for so it's not like religion being important to me was a surprise.)

I could certainly go on and on, allowing myself to debate the points he had brought up and using this blog to get my specific points across. But as much as I want to, I won't. That's a conversation between he and I, unfortunately one I was never allowed to have. Maybe I will some day, who knows. The world is a funny and odd place and certainly never what you expect. I hope that in his next relationship he is able to have the conversations with her he wouldn't have with me. I hope in my next relationship, if there is one, that I can as well. I hope he is willing to take a chance on someone who makes him a little uncomfortable. I hope I take a chance on anyone (since this is certainly not helping with the whole fear thing, although that's a blog for another time). And I hope, if nothing else, that you out there will realize that conversations and dialogues are important, especially when they're hard. Don't hold back. Don't assume, Allow the other person to participate. Who knows what the truth is otherwise?

Who's A Scary Fear Demon?

I've been thinking a lot lately about fear, my relationship with it, and how much I've let it control my life. How much I'm letting it control my life. It's easy when we reach a comfort zone to just want to wallow there, safe and warm, not moving from our little bean bag chair of life. I guess there's a reason they call it a comfort zone, right? But recently I've been confronted with some of my fears and my default reactions and I am so disgusted with what I see. In many ways I consider myself a strong woman. My mother did not raise her daughters to be weak. Sure, I have my self-confidence issues, who doesn't? But there are certain areas of my life where I feel like I constantly fail and therefore I go in to those situations almost looking for the proverbial other shoe to drop. I have recognized that it's not the current situation making me feel that way but prior situations. Still, I find myself falling in to the same old patterns of reacting the same way I always do. And I shouldn't. It's not fair to me, nor to anyone else involved. I am not the same person I was and they are not the people from before. I've been struggling with being honest and true to myself and I think I've done a fairly good job. But one wrong step and I start living in my head and I am back to being that same scared person. Now, I have been telling myself that this situation is in God's hands and when I can really focus on that it's better. I give myself a pep talk and I feel like I've conquered the fear. But it is a struggle. It's gotten to the point where I get so angry at myself that I want to back out of the situation, just to put myself back in to my comfort zone. But what good will that do me? I won't have overcome my fear and I won't have grown and I'll hate myself even more for letting the fear win. But how do I move past it? It feels like an uphill battle, or that for every step forward I take two back. I know I need to take control back. I know I need to grab the fear with both hands and throw it away from me in to an endless pit so it can never come back. But maybe, in a way, I'm afraid to lose the fear. Because the fear is also my comfort zone. I can put up a wall and not get hurt and not feel like a disappointment. I am comfortable in my fear. But I don't want to be. I want to be uncomfortable in my fearlessness. Every time I step out of that comfort zone, even just a little bit, I find it's not so scary. I need to carry that with me, nurture it inside me until it grows so big and so strong that there is no more room for the fear. Trust me, I've been praying constantly to God about this, asking for help, needing to stop being the way I am. Finally last night I pulled a book off the shelf that I reach for once in a great while when I need to be comforted. I turned to the chapter on Joy and read this: "Joy and worry can't coexist. It's that simple. In fact, a good definition of joy is the 'absence of worry.' And what makes us worry is not knowing the outcome of a situation we're going through." (Blessings From the Other Side, by Sylvia Browne) And reading that something clicked for me. My fear is based in not knowing and my fear is based in assumption, assuming that this will be like every situation before. Not knowing how it will turn out. I like to be in control. I like having an idea, even if it's vague, of where my life is going. I hate not knowing. Not knowing causes me to start living in my head and overthinking. Overthinking causes me to live in fear. Fear makes me overdramatic and a pain in my own ass. It's time for me to break the cycle. It's time for me to make a new comfort zone. I know it won't be easy but I'm determined to do it. Every time I find myself slipping in to old patterns and reactions I need to stop myself, breathe, and then mentally slap or shake myself. I don't imagine the fear will ever permanently go away, but as long as I can overcome it and as long as I have the ability to look back and say, "Not today, fear, not today" I think I'll be alright.