Part of the Plunge

Friendship in unexpected places is one of the most beautiful things in this life.

Coming home after a long year at school is always a scary adjustment. I feel like in some ways I lose a huge support system of friends, professors, bosses, and mentors who have spent months and months pouring into me. In college, change happens fast. I feel like growth is explosive... happening quickly, painfully, and exponentially. Coming home slows everything down. I must adjust to a new support system, the new pace, and the slower growth. I must realize that most people at home don't know who I'm becoming... or how I've been changing.

In the past, I felt like it was too long of a story. Too long to bother sharing where I am, where I've been, where I'm going. Home was merely temporary. A gap between another year of school, chaos, friends, busyness, and growth. Home was simply a place to nap, catch up, and get ready to dive in again.

But this summer has been different.  I decided to see Home as part of the dive. A place of further plunging. A place where I need to let others in, to allow others to begin seeing me as an adult and not a child. To take initiative. To dive deep. To be present.

Part of that is making new friends. And not just friends my age.

I am especially enjoying friendships that span generations... friendships filled with smile wrinkles, misunderstandings due to diminishing hearing, and requests for glasses when we play Scrabble. Gray-haired souls who understand so much, see so much, yet still struggle with the hard things in life and wrestle with some of the same questions that tear at my brain too.

I love impromptu meals, where pizza and a messy house are totally acceptable. Where I don't have to look my best, and where laughing abounds. Where we talk about the silly stuff, the hard stuff, and all the stuff in between.

I love being the youngest of a group, with no peers around. No one to fall back on. But simply to live and love and laugh with people who are generations apart. And to realize that the people I always thought of as my parents' friends are suddenly now my own. For the respect they give me, for the fact that they listen, and are willing to treat me like an adult.

I also love not being in high school anymore. I love being in a place where social divisions and cliques no longer matter. I'm peeling off my high school label, learning to just be with people regardless of how different we are, our athletic capabilities, or our nerdiness. To simply love people and make efforts to connect without the prejudice or the assumption that we have nothing in common.

I love that as I head into my last year of college, I'm beginning to see myself more as an adult than as a child. That I'm realizing that I am my own person. While I am still reeling from these realizations, I am so blessed to have friends who stand alongside of me... both here and at school. To steady me when things get serious, to love me when I feel alone, and to lift me up daily in prayer.

Allegories and Metaphors

I love allegories and metaphors. I love the power of word pictures that go so far beyond the physical descriptions of emotions, of thoughts, of everything tangible.

Tonight I was doing some writing... just reflecting. I don't usually share my "fake" writing on here since this is mostly for my musings on real life. By "fake" writing I mean my make-believe, feeling creative and inspired writing... the writing inspired by real life but not necessarily me.

However. Today I will. Don't read into it too much... just some musings through a little more abstract lens.

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Hard work, beautiful lessons

Less than a month till I head back to Grace. I don't feel ready. This summer has flown, and I have enjoyed the freedom of each day being different... routines no longer exist. Each day is filled with new surprises, new interactions, fun phone calls/skypes, more novel ways of spending time with my parents, and learning the benefit of being thrifty. I am feeling stretched in ways that are long overdue... and I am rejoicing in growth. Always.

One of my seven odd jobs this summer includes working as "in home help" for an older couple I know from church. When I was first asked to do the job, I was feeling very apprehensive. Cooking, cleaning, and household-y type things are not "up my alley" shall we say...

But in going with my goal this summer, I chose to say yes. I trusted that if they thought I was capable of these tasks, then surely I could handle what they asked. I prefaced my "yes" with a disclaimer that I am not the most capable house help they could hire. They graciously listened, then said they wanted me anyway. Humbling.

Five hours a week I find myself at this loving couple's disposal. My hours are theirs and I do what they ask willingly and quickly to the best of my ability. I must trust that the tasks they give to me are tasks that I am actually capable of doing... frequently I am "first-timing" different tasks, like canning applesauce or taking care of a particular part of the garden, or doing laundry their way.

When I sheepishly admit to never having done a certain task, they never even roll their eyes. They patiently show me... just enough for me to understand. Then I do what they have showed me, and they celebrate my progress. Sometimes I wonder who really is getting help here...

I love when we wrestle through a task together... sploshing applesauce over the stove, tending spiny rosebushes, or hanging shirts up to dry. Each day is different. But all I am required to do is show up and do my work well.

During a particularly difficult or frustrating task, I will often chant to myself, "Excellence. Excellence in all things. Excellence." I revel in doing a task to the best of my ability. To leave the house knowing that I have worked my hardest.

The past few times I have been overwhelmed with how much this couple has represented Christ to me. Not just in our beautiful, joyful conversations, but in the way they mirror Him to me. All He asks is obedience. Excellence in the work I do. Trust that He knows best... and all I need to do is follow joyfully.

There is joy in hard work. There is joy in obedience.

Laughing at the days to come

The moments that paralyze me in laughter are simply the best. A chorus of laughter... each with different voices that blends into itself... to produce more laughter. The moments when laughter itself leads to more laughter. The silent shaking, the loud guffaw, the chortle, the giggle, the snort, the squeak, the neigh. Laughing is my favorite. Laughing with others is even better.

For years now, I have tried to find humor in everything. Even when things around me hurt, when I hurt, and when this world seems nothing more than a decaying, dying place... I laugh. Sometimes it is bitter, derisive laughter. But usually the irony gets to me... and when there is nothing else left to do... I find the humor. I laugh. And it feels better.

Perhaps it started the day I fell through the chair at the doctor's office... pain mixed with the hilarity of skinned legs high in the air when the doctor walked in. Or maybe slowly watching someone who I loved waste away.... daily mourning was just too exhausting. It was easier to laugh. To celebrate each day we had.

I realize this behavior of mine may come off as offensive. People see laughter, associate it with happiness, then become frustrated with my insensitivity. But frankly, laughter for me is a coping mechanism. It's what I do when I'm thrilled, excited, sad, nervous, lonely, elated, or even heartbroken. For me, the most serious conversations must be peppered with humor, otherwise I am guaranteed to break down and cry... The salt of tears mixed with a quiet laugh are not uncommon.

I am learning joy... not just the appearance of joy. But true joy that starts somewhere deep in my gut and bubbles through me. It starts with putting my Lord first. Others second. Myself last. And even though difficulties come, the laughter is genuine... not forced... less of a coping mechanism. Tears may stream, but joy still warms within.

So many unknowns have been plaguing my mind... and I tend to get caught up in it all. I want to plan everything. I want to know what this next year looks like; I want to have my future all sorted out. These thoughts often sap my joy from within. I forget laughter. These problems seem too big. The unknowns loom too dark.

And then I read "She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come." (Prov 31:25)

I ponder that. Long and hard. How can I possibly laugh at the days to come? 

If I learn to celebrate the here and now. If I learn to trust the One who sees it all. Then I can celebrate the future because I know it is in good hands.

Laugh with me! 

Patriotism

What are you doing for the 4th of July?

This question danced around me most of the week. My first thought was... the usual. Then I realized that I didn't know what that meant.

For most of my life, we have spent the 4th of July in Hungary visiting family. The day passed like any other day, except for the fireworks in the evening that were set off from the American embassy. If we climbed up the winding staircase and peered out the bathroom window we could just see the colorful explosion above the city. We would ooh and aah, have a late night snack, and then go to bed.

Growing up as a "Third Culture Kid" is ... interesting, to say the least. I am both Hungarian and American. I see things differently from most Americans. And most Hungarians. I struggle with the phrase "I'm proud to be American." Because being proud is usually caused by something you have done to earn something. But I have done nothing. I wasn't even born in this country... It has simply been a gift. Don't get me wrong... I am incredibly grateful for the service and the sacrifice of those who fought for the freedoms we have today. I will always honor them... I do not take their sacrifice lightly.

Sometimes my lack of patriotism offends... but I definitely don't mean it to. There are times I love being American, there are times when it's rough. But that goes for any nationality.

I am learning the beauty of being a Third Culture Kid... learning to see everything from multiple perspectives. Even though I've lived in the U.S. for the past fifteen years of my life, I still don't feel completely American. I always feel just slightly odd.... slightly different... slightly European. But in Europe I don't fit either. My perspectives are different from most people, too... since I don't find myself gravitating toward one country or another. I feel like a misfit at times... especially on days like today.

I rejoice with those who rejoice. I will always celebrate with those around me. But I don't know how much it affects me personally.

But I do always relish celebrating historical moments. The 4th of July for me is a celebration of a historical moment. So I will celebrate in the way I know how: