Hello from my new house.

I moved this week to a cute, 1950s-era, petite 2-bedroom house where I took up residence with my friend Eva. So far I am enjoying my own space + a roommate, and I feel like this is precisely the situation God has for me to grow in during this life season. I’m happy and excited, and still a little stressed, because having my life change – even if the changes are good, and long-desired – has a disordering effect on me for a period of time. Soon enough, I will settle, and I expect to be very content.

There are many other events taking place in my life; thus, I have not blogged lately even though my thoughts have not been scarce. Soon, I hope to be back in the habit of sharing some of them here. Don’t go away yet.

Autumn is gorgeous. Absolutely. Today I am traveling the hour-long distance to my grandparents’ mountain cabin for a retreat. Around fifteen young adults from my church will be there, and I’m sure we’ll have a fun time.

Last night, I had a vivid dream that I cannot adequately describe. My roomie asked me about it while we were walking this morning and I could only answer that it seemed a dream with deep meaning. I am still processing it, but now, as I listen to Brooke Fraser’s “C.S. Lewis Song,” I think my dream was a direct reflection of Lewis’s thoughts, which Fraser puts to song.

If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy,
I can only conclude that I was not made for here
If the flesh that I fight is at best only light and momentary,
Then of course I’ll feel nude when to where I’m destined I’m compared

[CHORUS]
Speak to me in the light of the dawn
Mercy comes with the morning
I will sigh and with all creation groan as I wait for hope to come for me

Am I lost or just less found? On the straight or on the roundabout of the wrong way?
Is this a soul that stirs in me, is it breaking free, wanting to come alive?
‘Cause my comfort would prefer for me to be numb
And avoid the impending birth of who I was born to become

[BRIDGE]
For we, we are not long here
Our time is but a breath, so we better breathe it
And I, I was made to live, I was made to love, I was made to know you
Hope is coming for me
Hope, He’s coming

Until later, I will keep thinking, living, and waiting. God is present.

Here I am. Sick again.

It seems only a few weeks ago that I was sick. Oh, yes. It was only a few weeks ago. Alas, yesterday I came down quite suddenly with something nasty. I felt fine all day at work, and then as soon as I arrived home and found a traffic ticket awaiting me in the mail (thanks to the new-fangled traffic cameras; I just love them), my throat began to swell. By evening I had a low fever and was shivering like it was January in the Black Forest.

So I called in sick to work and spent today leisurely at home. I wrote some e-mails, read, drank many cups of orange spice tea, worked on a few writing projects, and took intermittent naps to drive away the virus. Right now I’m feeling much better. It is amazing how a fever, even a small one, can exhaust me. I mean, I’ve been inactive for the past 24 hours, never changing out of pajamas, and yet I feel like I’ve run a few miles. Perhaps fighting a virus burns calories? I can hope.

On an unrelated note, I miss pumpkin soup. It is perfect food on a sick day – or any day. I need to make some soon.

On a second unrelated note, I googled my name (what people do when they’re sick in bed with a laptop, right?) and found this article. Blast from the past. I love how the other students sound like party animals, and I sound like a straight-laced, nerdy English major. This makes me laugh because it was (is?) so true.

I’ve returned from a short weekend trip to Indiana, where I watched another friend tie the knot. Weddings are almost surreal events, I’ve noticed, even when I am present for all the lead-up to them. I watch the bridesmaids do hair and make-up, don their dresses, and help the bride adjust her veil. Food is prepared and I help to decorate the venue for a festive occasion. This time, and several other times, I even watch the rehearsal walk-through and see beforehand exactly how the event will unfold. Then, finally, I am present at the wedding ceremony and watch as my beautiful friend walks the aisle on the arm of her father, who gives her away to the smiling man worthy of her choice. Mothers and sisters cry, vows are exchanged, and the groom kisses the bride. It is lovely and real…but somehow it never seems quite real. In those few moments, with friends and family members dressed to the hilt and standing on either side, two lives change forever? It is real, and it is true, and it happens before my eyes. Still, it seems unreal. Surreal. Like a play unfolding, not real life.

Perhaps a wedding really is like a play, and real life catches up later. That does not make the event any less real, or any less beautiful. It is just, I think, that my mind cannot fathom what is occurring so quickly; I need time to readjust my paradigm. Another friend is married. Yes, it is true. It is real. I just need time to get used to the idea.

I’ve been writing articles for Ungrind Webzine for a while, and was recently asked to begin contributing to their blog, Fresh Brew. Check out the site to read my first post there. Hope you like.

(Oh, and no worries. I’m not abandoning this blog by any means. The web cannot get rid of me that easily!)

Like the seasons, our lives change. Sometimes a storm blows in, changing our circumstances in an instant. Most of the time, the changes are more gradual. One season slowly melts into the next. In the past few weeks, I’ve felt the last vestiges of summer fade into the distance while the coolness of autumn crept closer. Now autumn hovers over me, and memories of the summer, both of its weather and its plans and thoughts, are growing dim. The pages of my book are turning. Old chapters are ending and new ones are beginning.

As always, I’m excited and nostalgic at the same time. Eager to move forward but clutching at the familiar. The possible changes staring me in the face are monumental, and are both desires I have worked toward for some time. The first is moving into my own place (shared with a roommate), and the second is beginning graduate school. The first possible change became a decision yesterday, and the second is still only a possibility. Nevertheless, I am excited. Eager. A little overwhelmed. I know new seasons bring new challenges, but I am ready to learn new things. I’ve decided to embrace the changes; though I am a little reluctant to put my flip-flops in the closet, I am happy I get to wear my scarf and beret.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a 20th century theologian and Christian writer, was a huge fan of community. He wrote a book about it called Life Together in which he exposes its challenges and rewards. Bonhoeffer would be the first to insist that consistent interaction with others is essential to the life of the believer, yet he writes:

Whoever cannot be alone should beware of community. Such people will only do harm to themselves and to the community. Alone you stood before God when God called you. Alone you had to obey God’s voice. Alone you had to take up your cross, struggle, and pray, and alone you will die and give an account to God. You cannot avoid yourself, for it is precisely God who has singled you out. If you do not want to be alone, you are rejecting Christ’s call to you, and you can have no part in the community of those who are called.

Community and solitude, according to Bonhoeffer, should be held in a balance. If I’m afraid to be alone, I have a problem. If I’m afraid to be with people, I have a problem. It seems that there is an order, though. Before I can live successfully in community, I need to sit alone in God’s presence. I need to soak up wisdom from Him so I can deal with others, and I need to receive the assurance of my validity from Him so that I won’t try to find it in the affirmation of other people.

These are simple ideas. I need to be alone, and I need to be with people. I am so grateful for the community of friendships I have in my life, and today, I am grateful for the time I could spend alone in God’s presence. I need both pieces for the puzzle to be complete.

I dislike continuing the trend of video posting instead of actually writing something, but it’s the middle of a busy week and this just gave me a delightful laugh. I love this girl. Ha!

I’m a fan of Brooke Fraser. She is originally from New Zealand, and not only does she have a beautiful accent, she writes lyrics that are like poetry. Here’s one of my favorites, “Deciphering Me.” I love it…and not only because it gives me flashbacks of Wittlingen.

Friend, it’s getting late
We should be going
We’ve been sat here beneath these flickering neons for hours
While I am cracking their code, you are deciphering me
For I am a mystery; I am a locked room in a tall tower

Oh, can you feel the gravity falling, calling us home?
Oh, did you see the stars colliding, shining just to show we belong?

Your telescope eyes see everything clearly
My vision is blurred but I know what I heard echoing all around
While I am tuning you in, you are deciphering me
Not such a mystery, not such a faint and far away sound

Oh, can you feel the gravity falling, calling us home?
Oh, did you see the stars colliding, shining just to show we belong?

It’s love, it’s love that holds us
We will be all right
It’s truth, it’s truth that shows us
If we’ll walk in its light

The weather is turning colder. I can feel the nip in the air, even at mid-day when the sun is shining brightly. More, I can feel the chill wind in the morning when I leave for work. Today I pulled out beloved SmartWool socks and wore covered-toe shoes for the first time since the spring.

Quite honestly, I dislike most aspects of cold weather. My feet seem to lose all circulation during the winter months. I go through tubes of chap stick like they are lollipops and I am a kid with an unlimited supply. (That metaphor breaks down, though, because I don’t lick chap stick.) My skin gets dry, my tan fades, I have to wear heavy clothes, my Chacos get shoved in the closet for months on end, my nose is always cold…yeah, many things about winter make me sad.

However, there are positives. To combat my internal blip of sadness about the cold weather, I decided to make a list of elements I do appreciate about it. Here we go, in no particular order.

1. Steaming mugs of apple cider.
2. Cute sweaters.
3. The brilliant blue sky of autumn.
4. Cozy, crackling bonfires, campfires, and wood-burning stoves. Oh, and s’mores.
5. Pumpkin anything. Pumpkin carving, pumpkin muffins with cream cheese icing, pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin pies, pumpkin-chocolate-chip cookies, pumpkin spice candles, and the list could continue.
6. Well-worn, favorite pairs of jeans.
7. Fuzzy blankets.
8. Flannel sheets.
9. Soft scarves.
10. Fall foods like apple pie, ginger snaps, and anything else that sends fragrant, spicy aromas out from the oven.

Yes, autumn is here. I will bid summer a reluctant farewell and embrace the new season…even if it means having cold feet and a cold nose.

I don’t like putting myself – or other people – in boxes.

Yet I have a strange fascination for personality tests.

I’m not sure how to reconcile these two quirks. Perhaps the best way is to admit that while personality definitions are enlightening, they can never fully describe a person since we are all different and, I think, all a combination of every personality “type.” That said, I recently took this Myers-Briggs test and was told I’m a Counselor, or INFJ. The definition of INFJ is:

Idealist Portrait of the Counselor (INFJ)

Counselors have an exceptionally strong desire to contribute to the welfare of others, and find great personal fulfillment interacting with people, nurturing their personal development, guiding them to realize their human potential. Although they are happy working at jobs (such as writing) that require solitude and close attention, Counselors do quite well with individuals or groups of people, provided that the personal interactions are not superficial, and that they find some quiet, private time every now and then to recharge their batteries. Counselors are both kind and positive in their handling of others; they are great listeners and seem naturally interested in helping people with their personal problems. Not usually visible leaders, Counselors prefer to work intensely with those close to them, especially on a one-to-one basis, quietly exerting their influence behind the scenes.

Counselors are scarce, little more than one percent of the population, and can be hard to get to know, since they tend not to share their innermost thoughts or their powerful emotional reactions except with their loved ones. They are highly private people, with an unusually rich, complicated inner life. Friends or colleagues who have known them for years may find sides emerging which come as a surprise. Not that Counselors are flighty or scattered; they value their integrity a great deal, but they have mysterious, intricately woven personalities which sometimes puzzle even them.

Counselors tend to work effectively in organizations. They value staff harmony and make every effort to help an organization run smoothly and pleasantly. They understand and use human systems creatively, and are good at consulting and cooperating with others. As employees or employers, Counselors are concerned with people’s feelings and are able to act as a barometer of the feelings within the organization.

Blessed with vivid imaginations, Counselors are often seen as the most poetical of all the types, and in fact they use a lot of poetic imagery in their everyday language. Their great talent for language-both written and spoken-is usually directed toward communicating with people in a personalized way. Counselors are highly intuitive and can recognize another’s emotions or intentions – good or evil – even before that person is aware of them. Counselors themselves can seldom tell how they came to read others’ feelings so keenly. This extreme sensitivity to others could very well be the basis of the Counselor’s remarkable ability to experience a whole array of psychic phenomena.

Mohandas Gandhi, Sidney Poitier, Eleanor Roosevelt, Jane Goodall, Emily Bronte, Sir Alec Guiness, Carl Jung, Mary Baker Eddy, Queen Noor are examples of the Counselor Idealist (INFJ).

Interesting. I’m not sure if I agree with all of it, but it does seem at least mostly accurate. As I get to know people, they tend to be surprised by the sides of my personality that emerge. Somehow, I tend to get stereotyped as “quiet and sweet,” and then meet amazement when it becomes apparent I’m not always those two things.

I struggled to answer the introversion/extroversion questions in the test because I love people, I love being around people, and I spend a fair amount of my free time with people. However, the type of interaction that energizes me is more likely to be having coffee and conversation with just one or a few friends, rather than hanging out with enormous groups (although at times I enjoy them, too). I also crave solitude as a time to recharge. So, I suppose I am an introvert, but I defy being boxed by the term.

The results say that INTJs do well with people, “provided the personal interactions are not superficial” – which is absolutely true of me. The conversations that energize me are the deeper ones. I love to be silly, too, though. (See? I don’t fit in the box. Especially not after all the food I ate today.)

Another interesting set of personality types are the ones named after four animals: the lion, the otter, the golden retriever, and the beaver. I’m almost all golden retriever, with a pinch of beaver. And probably some of the others, too, since we never fit in these boxes.