spider web.
relationally, this has got to be one of the most spread out times of life. literally everyone is in a different place. i scroll through my facebook home page and see photos of brand new babies, of boyfriends and bouquets, weddings, unflattering moments from parties (and weddings), new apartments and houses and announcements about getting engaged, getting through school or getting the job promotion, moving on and starting over. and let’s not forget those posts about political and religious opinions, which either rally people together or start a rousing debate.
i’m fairly sure our twenties are meant for this, but is it just a phase? will i always feel assigned to a place in between my single and married friends starting families? what about the rest of life? i picture us all hanging on to some part of a vast, stretching spider web. will we all eventually make our way toward the center ? what would we find there? or will we always find ourselves placed sporadically on the map?
in truth, these disparities enrich us. we’re in a position where we can offer wisdom to some and accept it from others, because surely there are things we have learned along the way that someone hasn’t, and to think we can’t learn something from any one person we run into on a typical day is just not true. i could afford to learn a thing or two about marriage and parenthood and discovering my passions, but on the flipside i can share what it’s like to be a part of the corporate working world. i can attest to the importance of walking away from a relationship that has lost its course and cause. it’s all valuable, and even moreso when we experience it in our own due time, and then share it to draw together and broaden perspectives.
i think i’ll be here for awhile, hanging out on a strand of this big spider web, maybe close to you, and maybe not. it takes time to figure out life and steer in that final, solid, gut-worthy direction, but i’ll find that center, and i hope i find you there too.
voices.
last week the papé household walked through what felt like a battlefield. but these hardships that have flared up allowed for life-giving conversations with close friends, the kinds of friends you just want to celebrate for being so good to you! maybe with champagne and a really yummy cheeseboard complete with fig spread and marcona almonds.
on monday afternoon bryan called me with some news that sent my mind spinning. right then we didn’t have time to delve into details. instead i went ahead with my after work routine and met my girlfriend at the gym. [side note: let me attest to her awesomeness. she recently received her personal training certification on a friday and was hired by a local gym that tuesday.] i found her stretching by the ellipticals and flopped onto the floor by her side in a heap. i was a total mess. i was also barely understandable. while i blubbered she calmly listened, speaking few words and saying all the right ones when she did. she looked me in the eyes and i met her there. it was a powerful moment for me. i felt more than just her and me as our souls connected. without any trace of judgment melinda graciously provided me with comfort and peace and later, as usual a refreshing, liberating workout.
with no real resolution on the horizon, the next day was a fusing of the original ‘bad news’ and a particularly bad day at work, fueled by a poor night’s sleep [and let's not forget the subsequent caffeine overdose]. the same thing happened: i left work frustrated, walking with another good girlfriend and coworker of mine, squeezing tears out of my eyes as i admitted my irrational thinking but unleashed my feelings anyway. danielle also listened, and because her understanding was so great and her situation similar, she responded with what equipped me for action: the truth. she said things like, ‘if you do _______, what you want to happen may not actually happen’ and, ‘yeah, that sucks, but you just have to work through it.’ it wasn’t easy to hear or say, but it was the inevitable reality i needed to hear in order to face and process.
i got home and soon after was alone, thinking about and comparing these two voices in my life that are so different, yet both so necessary. i needed both – empathy and honesty – and in that order. the empathy reminded me of my community of support and brought me back to standing. the honesty forced me to face what’s next and identify what I can and cannot control. but i couldn’t have done that with my face on the ground.
and i have all kinds of real and true voices around me. with this overflow of support, and the incredible promise that the Lord goes ahead of me to first face what i too will face, i can take on any news, any day, with hope.
the Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. – deuteronomy 31:8
new.
trying something new is rarely easy, and isn’t necessarily rewarding either. i once tried snowboarding … never again.
i grew up uninvolved in school sports. instead my parents committed to driving me back and forth over the narrows bridge for dance lessons throughout the week – ballet, jazz, tap, pointe, company rehearsals – and while it was good for rhythm, bodily awareness and expression (now handy for bachelorette parties and weddings), it didn’t develop within me a competitive desire nor an understanding of the functioning of a team. but i always liked the idea of many ‘body parts’ making up one complete ‘body’, and sharing a common goal that required the hard work of teamwork to get there.
i played indoor soccer for the first time in my life two weeks ago. i mention this because activities similar to this one have made my ‘in ten years, i will …’ list. in other words, it’s a big deal. a triumph. i do not take trying new things lightly, because i know it will feel funny, and i probably won’t be good at it and others will be able to tell, and i don’t have the gear or the skill set or the confidence.
but it wasn’t so bad! i was no world cup champion, but i was challenged in a new way and got some good exercise. no one yelled at or trampled me. no one booed me off the field. i didn’t cry or suffer any injuries. i left feeling good about being that one body part, having branched out, far from my comfort zone.
what new thing will you try next? for me: skydiving.
time.
every year around this time i struggle to face the reality of the changing season and the cold and wet that comes with it. to describe it as ‘abrupt’ is an understatement. this past summer was a short one and it was good, but more like a hot spell, not prolonged, but pronounced and demanding.
in august i turned 25 and in many ways this new age already feels similar to our brief hot months. time now seems to be running out. it’s not an hourglass you can flip and start over. maybe it’s the biological clock or the busy calendar. maybe it’s that we’ve been married for three years and have lived in the same place as long. maybe it’s the current sermon series that is challenging us to be intentional with our time, all the time. our days are numbered, says moses (psalm 90:12) and within our own context we can’t make a meaningful life worth anything.
unless we invite God to organize our days by priorities that fit into His context or timeline, our lives are nothing more than one beat of a heart or a raindrop smacking the pavement. though we get older and lose opportunities a day at a time, still we wander without a strong purpose, with no urgency to seek it. this truth solidifies for me now. childhood was an eternity, but adulthood, i am coming to understand, is one single flash of such brief lightning, you’ll miss it if you blink.
of course i read some good books this summer to supplement my free time and came across a chapter called ‘twenty-five’ in shauna niequist’s new book, ‘bittersweet.’ 25 is a pivotal age. all our twenties, really, are pivotal. because it’s not too late to change, but may still be too late to go back. because you’ve probably made some big mistakes by now, but can still redeem them moving forward. because your life may be one-third over, but you still have two-thirds to live. and you get to choose how. here’s an excerpt:
this is the thing: when you start to hit twenty-eight or thirty, everything starts to divide, and you can see very clearly two kinds of people: on one side, people who have used their twenties to learn and grow, to find God and themselves and their deep dreams, people who know what works and what doesn’t, who have pushed through to become real live adults.
and then there’s the other kind, who are hanging on to college, or high school even, with all their might. they’ve stayed in jobs they hate because they’re too scared to get another one. they’ve stayed with men or women who are good but not great because they don’t want to be lonely. they mean to find a church, they mean to develop honest, intimate friendships, they mean to stop drinking like life is one big frat party. but they don’t do those things, so they live in kind of an extended adolescence, no closer to adulthood than they were when they graduated college.
don’t be like that. don’t get stuck. move, travel, take a class, take a risk. walk away, try something new. there is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. this season is about becoming.
i’ve said i want this year to be more meaningful than the last, and you know where i begin? in my chair, wrapped in a blanket at 5:30 in the morning with a Bible in my hands and prayers in my mouth. there is no better place to start. but after i go from that place, i still need to make those choices that put me in God’s context: what conversations to have, who to invest in, where to volunteer, what groups to be a part of, knowing when to say no and yes. when the sun sets on my life, when my countdown is out, i want it to add up to something much more than just me. and i’m so glad that it can be.
light.
“our christian habit is to bewail the world’s deteriorating standards with an air of rather self-righteous dismay. we criticize its violence, dishonesty, immorality, disregard for human life, and materialistic greed. ‘the world is going down the drain,’ we say with a shrug. but whose fault is it? who is to blame? let me put it like this. if the house is dark when nightfall comes, there is no sense in blaming the house; that is what happens when the sun goes down. the question to ask is, ‘where is the light?’ similarly, if the meat goes bad and becomes inedible, there is no sense in blaming the meat; that is what happens when bacteria are left alone to breed. the question to ask is, ‘where is the salt?’ just so, if society deteriorates and its standards decline until it becomes like a dark night or a stinking fish, there is no sense in blaming society; that is what happens when fallen men and women are left to themselves, and human selfishness is unchecked. the question to ask is, ‘where is the church? why are the salt and light of Jesus Christ not permeating and changing our society?’ it is sheer hypocrisy on our part to raise our eyebrows, shrug our shoulders, or wring our hands. the Lord Jesus told us to be the world’s salt and light. if therefore darkness and rottenness abound, it is largely our fault and we must accept the blame.” – human rights and human wrongs, john stott
our deepest fear.
our deepest fear
is not that we are inadequate.
our deepest fear
is that we are powerful
beyond measure.
it is our light, not our darkness,
that most frightens us.
we ask ourselves,
“who am i to be brilliant,
gorgeous, talented and fabulous?”
who are you not to be?
you are a child of the universe.
your playing small
does not serve the world.
there is nothing enlightened
about shrinking
so that other people won’t feel
insecure around you.
we were born to make manifest
the Glory of the universe
that is within us.
it’s not just in some of us;
it is in everyone.
as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.
as we are liberated
from our own fear,
our presence automatically
liberates others.
- nelson mandela, 1994 inaugural speech
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