Not into back-ups

It's a curious thing, growing up in the South. My parents never encouraged this insane way of looking at the future, but in the culture at large there is an expectation to have certain things done in a certain amount of time, for your life to look a particular way. I always assumed that at twenty-six I would be celebrating my fourth wedding anniversary, have a well-paying but easy-to-leave job (because babies), and be fully engrossed in redecorating different rooms of my palatial home provided by my cookie-cutter, croakie-wearing WASPy husband. That is what I assumed my life would be like when I was sixteen looking forward. Praise the sweet Lord we don't stay sixteen. Because, gag me.

Despite the future I imagined for myself in the confines of my teenage brain, that life was never the plan. And the life I'm now living is not the back-up plan. It is the adventure I couldn't imagine for myself. It is the future that is so different and so much sweeter. That other life would've been easier at some points along the way. And it would be killing me (softly) slowly from the inside out.

Let me take this opportunity, before I begin typing up a few spirited thoughts about my own life and the lives of singles, to say that I have women very close to me who married soon after college. And they totally, completely knocked it out of the park. They picked the good ones, and they got them early on. They are strong, adventurous, rowdy women who have never once made me feel like an outsider, like I don't fit in their lives now because they're married. Their lives also don't look the way they always imagined them. Their lives are different and better than we thought they would be, and they are different and better because the women in my life are rock stars. They are my people, and I'm their people, and they will be the first ones to high five me when I write this. Because they're awesome. So please don't think I'm knocking married people, here. I'm knocking myself for thinking I knew better at sixteen. I'm ranting at myself, rebelling against what I thought would make me happy. You have to get mad before you can forgive, and this is a way of getting mad at myself and forgiving myself and encouraging my next steps all at once. It is the support I need to give myself and the women like me. This is how I will choose to look at my life.

This is not my back-up plan. I'm not spending my days doing things to pass time because other things haven't come along yet (i.e. a career, a man, a house). I'm living my life. It isn't validated by the number of dates I've been asked on or the size of my paycheck (thank God). It isn't what some people would have chosen. It is what I have chosen, though I wasn't always aware I was making the choice. I have spoken with other women who feel their life isn't complete, or worthy, or something because they aren't sharing it with someone. Ladies. We're sharing it with so many someones. You just shared it with me. We're all in this right now, all trying to figure out the next step and be happy along the way. And for some women that next step is marriage and a settled down life, in a wonderful way. I understand that, and in this frustration I currently feel about how we choose to view our lives, I am sure there is some grace I'm failing to extend. But the thought that your life, the life that I get to be a part of because you're my friend, isn't enough because you don't have a man is offensive to me. It belittles our relationship. There isn't a magical man wand you wave over a relationship that makes it matter. It exists, it is honest, it is good. That is what matters. Friendship still matters.

My current life as a single twenty-six year old student with at least three years of school left to go is not one of the possibilities I have entertained over the years. It's not something I spent time daydreaming about. But I don't want to plan and I don't want to daydream, I just want to be present here. My parents have said simple comments lately that have left me feeling so proud and thankful for the life I'm leading, so proud of the person they have raised me to be. They remind me that it isn't supposed to look a certain way. It's just supposed to be real and mine.

I'm scared of a lot of things. I'm mostly scared of the unknown and right now almost everything is unknown. But I'm trying with everything in me to make sure I don't live a life ruled by fear. I'm pressing into it, into the good kind of fear. The kind that takes you to foreign countries on your own. The kind that screams at the thought of settling. The kind that makes you stand a little taller and shine a little brighter.

There is so much life to be lived. And I want everything, I want all the things. I'm trying so hard not to care about the order of those things, and at this moment I've found myself in that content, excited place. Because this isn't my back-up. I won't discredit my time or my life. My parents never once said something when I was growing up that led to a mindset of "get married and settle down." They are wise people who raised a daughter they intended to be curious, independent, and kind. I've finally started to realize I've always been those things. All of a sudden I look back and realize I'm living one of those lives I like to hear about. I'm becoming one of those people I like to be around. And it's Jesus. At the end of the day, it's always Jesus. The direction, the decisions, the admirable things and the hard things and the grace things. Jesus.

 

Saving Up

I've been writing blogs in a journal lately. Some are the words I've been too scared to write for a few months now, but others are good words. These are some of those good words. I've had and will have more time this spring for writing and reading than most other periods of my life. I hope I'm using it well. I wrote these words a few weeks ago on a particularly good day. I'm not having one of those good days today. It's been a harder month for some reason. But I found these and was reminded of the good work being done. I love when I find words I've saved up, written down because I'm just bursting, and they bring my encouragement down the road. What a cool thing. Here are the words I wrote:

 

Today, I want the best things for myself. It is so easy for me to fall into comparison. I look at what other people have or will have, or what I used to have or think I should have. It is easy for me to stick my feet in and demand what I always thought I was going to get. But do I really want those things? I'll tell you what I want, and it isn't the idea of what I thought my life should look like and it definitely isn't what my life used to look like.

If I claim to want God's will, it doesn't make sense anymore for me to mourn what I thought may have been. There is a place for mourning and being sad, please hear me. Those things are vital to a healthy life. But I've done my time in sadness and disappointment. I'm called to joy. I want God's will, truly.

I want everything. I want the massive dreams that are too big to fit in my heart yet. They're little seedlings that I'm so stoked about. I want the stories and the laughter and I want my king to say "Well done." And He will, because He is gracious. But I want to know when He says it that I did everything I could to walk the best way. I want to take the best paths and love the best ways. I want to laugh at everything along the way. He is light, life, and joy. I want those things.

Ideas I've had about what I thought would be such fun and so good are nothing compared to His plan. His best plan. If I'm not getting something I've thought I wanted, in the way I want, it must not be God's will. Not right now and maybe not ever. And if it isn't God's will I don't want it. So I'm done with sadness and longing and disappointment. I've been given joy, my hope is for heaven, and I want to love well in each moment until then.

Jesus changed the world with His love, and He changed me with His love. Who am I to try to change the world any other way?

Ch-ch-changes

What an interesting little phase in which I've currently found myself. I haven't written in quite a while. Writing takes time. Sometimes it only takes the time to jot down a recipe and a story. Others it takes the time to do a lot of introspection and understanding and settling. Goo.

Change scares me. I love going to new places without a plan. I love days that are unscheduled and full of opportunities. I hate when patterns of life shift. Those are not spontaneous adventures, they are scary situations to me. I don't like them but they are growing me. Ugh, the growth.

I've been hearing a lot over the past few weeks and months about simplifying, slowing down, making room. I wanted to take this year before school to read the books I've been meaning to for years and hike cool places on weeknights and have dinner parties. I wanted to slow down and spend time. I didn't know the process would be exhausting.

I have had a pretty packed schedule for the past seven years. Truly. It gives me energy and makes me feel vibrant and needed. It feeds an appetite to feel important by being busy. But I'm learning and hearing over and over again that being busy does not equal being important. And my not being busy is terrifying. It has ripped away a comfort blanket that has kept me warm and cozy for a very long time. It is transforming an identity and a source of value I had previously been unaware of and more recently been unwilling to deal with.

The void that appointments and obligations and classes used to fill can feel gaping and raw. Invitations that I used to (and sometimes loved to) turn down because I was already busy are no longer a problem. I have friends, I do things, I am realizing now more than ever that I have been given more true friends and loving family than any one person could ever deserve, but the process of learning how not to let those relationships and patterns define my life is just that, a process. I'm not there. And the getting there part really sucks. It is confusing. People are changing, I'm changing, situations are changing, and the changes don't all line up. What I want right now and what I've been praying for over the last year are two completely different things. I want to be independent, to be content spending my time in ways I find valuable, to love and flourish in a life that looks completely different from anyone else's, to find purpose and direction and worth in something more than cheap thrills and empty relationships, and that is what I'm getting. But I want to be busy because everyone ever wants to be my friend, to spend my time doing glamorous things that everyone is jealous of, and to be invited by everyone to everything and be bombarded by snap chats and texts and emojis that express everyone's agony if I'm unable to grace them with my presence (don't act like you haven't wanted that). That's not what I'm getting. And it's good. And it's tough.

That is how I feel at my most awful, when I'm exhausted by searching and asking and learning and I just want to be comfy. And I have plenty of comfy people. I have, and I'm sorry if you disagree, but I really do have the best support system. Ever. In the world. I am loved and cared for and so overly protected it's humorous. So why do I feel like I need more? That's the place where I'm growing. And that's a painful place to grow. But God is a good, good god.

All the Tasty Summer Foods

Guys I love food a lot. So much so, in fact, that I'm going to blog about what I made for myself this week because it was (and will be for the next 3 days) so good. And real healthy. And pretty filling. And I'm procrastinating. SO THERE. 

Char always eats home grown tomatoes and cottage cheese for lunch in the summer, which I love. She calls it college cheese. But that doesn't keep me full so I add other stuff. Don't tell me about how you don't like cukes, I needed something else fresh to put on there. You don't have to eat cukes if you don't like them.

Light Lunch/Dinner (light means I snack on other stuff too, like apps):

sliced grape tomatoes (or really good big ones from the market)

chopped cukes

sliced avocado

cottage cheese

canned albacore tuna (white)

I sprinkle lime juice, a little salt, and a lot of pepper all over and it's real good. If I have char's pimento cheese handy I'll have that on a couple crackers too. This week I'll prob have some blue chips with it. Manager's Special for like $1 babyyyy.

Not as light Lunch/Dinner:

citrus slow cooker pulled chicken (link below) I didn't do it in the oven after to make it crispy, I just like it tender right out of the pot

mexican wild rice (just cooked some wild rice, added green onions, cilantro, lime juice, a little cumin, s&p)

lime cabbage slaw (tasted kinda weird bc I used greek yog but it's fresh)

Extra side:

Fresh green cabbage and kale salad with bacon and feta (link below and props to Milli) it's usually made with raw brussels and pecorino, but green cabbage is WAY cheaper and less tedious to cut, as well as kind of a milder just crunchy lettuce taste. Pecorino smells and feta was on sale, so there ya go.

Sometimes I'll mix and match stuff on a big salad and make up a quick dressing. I didn't feel like using the immersion blender last night so I added 2 parts oil and 1 part white balsamic vinegar in a mason jar and just shook it up with some fresh oregano, basil, honey, s&p. Pretty dang good. It'll keep on the counter for a little while.

And strawberries and chocolate every night of course :)

I LOVE THE SUMMER

http://www.closetcooking.com/2014/04/slow-cooker-chicken-carnitas-tacos.html

http://jenniferpiercehealth.com/guest-post-kale-and-brussels-sprouts-salad-w-bacon-and-pecorino/

Happy eating! Or food day dreaming! I know I am

Thanks and Stuff

I have the afternoon off from work today, the first afternoon in ages I've had just by myself at my apartment. All the lights are off but a little lamp and the sun is peeking through the window and the World Cup is playing in the background. I'm not quite sure what's going on in the game but I'm convinced I could listen to British men dribble nonsense while I read a book for the rest of my adult life and be perfectly content. It helps that I am reading Shauna.

Almost a year ago a sweet friend of mine had something horrible and unfair happen in her life and I'm still not sure any of us knew what to do. You aren't supposed to know what to do. So we decided to read a book that meant a lot to her, a book written by Shauna Niequist. It's called Cold Tangerines, it's real good. We started this little year long journey of going through Shauna's books and talking and laughing and just doing life together. Shauna writes in a way that makes you feel like you're most definitely on the crazy bus but all your best friends are there with you. She articulates feelings you've always had but never wanted to identify or, heaven forbid, verbalize because they are terrifying and hilarious and insane.

Shauna has brought me so much freedom in owning the embarassing parts of myself, though they shouldn't be embarassing and are in fact the things I sometimes like best about myself. For instance, I will always be one of the people who wake up thinking about what I'll make for dinner that night. I've become close friends with under-butt and get just the tiniest twitch of glee when I see someone else who knows it well. I could give so many more examples of thoughts she has verbalized for me, but I'll stop now because it's a little bit mortifying and besides the point. Today, for the first time, I read something Shauna had written and was delighted that I shared the same quality, but it wasn't something embarassing or funny. It was something wonderful. She wrote about a friend who jumped right in when things started to get complicated. She was celebrating someone who cared deeply for relationship and I had one of those rare moments in which you are delighted to find you can celebrate yourself.

Now, don't misunderstand me, I'm not suffering from any kind of confidence issues, whether too much or too little. I know where my good qualities come from and I know many of my flaws. I get to celebrate myself because God is good and He made me and we should be celebrated! For His glory and for encouragement and because there is not enough celebration in this world. It's broken and difficult and full of discouragement. Well, enough of that. What a wonderful God who lets us be a little bit of His love to the people around us. I'm so thankful he made me care deeply for the people in my life. I'm thankful I get to encourage people and give smiles that I can see immediately change someone's mood. I'm thankful that even though I have to fight for it every day I get to be a little joy ball. It's the best thing. Have Your glory, Jesus. You're the man.

Ya know, sorta.

Spring Settling

 

I love the springtime. I love flowers and walks and reading on the porch. I love fresh, healthy food and disc golf and farmers markets. I love Easter and Easter candy. I just do. It doesn't get better than the peanut butter to chocolate ratio in a Reese's egg. But what I really love about spring is settling.

Settling is a concept I just came up with about six minutes ago. This isn't the kind of settling where you go to Taco Bell because Taqueria del Sol is too crowded. This is the kind of settling that happens when your belly is full and there's a tiny breeze and Total Wine's free wine tasting is calling your name from a 15 minute walk away. You're just settled.

I've read a couple books today that have me feeling both inspired and raw. I want to get settled this spring. I want to really do life well. My friend Rach lent me her copy of Love Does a few (eight) months ago and I finally started it today. I've only read the first few chapters, but Bob already has me so ready to love actively. I was reading about being present and alive and fun, and all I could think was "Man, I was made to do this!" I was made to love well and with abandon. And then I started my homework for small group just a few minutes ago. We picked things that make us live well, things that light our hearts up, and for me that's reading on the porch with a beer. Challenge accepted. And as I read Shauna talking about her home team, I realized that another part of settling in this spring is going to be narrowing my focus.

The past few days have been hard. I always come off a high when friends leave town, have a tiny crisis, and then rally. But rallying has been hard this time. There are things I want to be doing that I just can't do right now. I'll have one part of the puzzle but not the rest, and it's getting increasingly frustrating. So part of this season (literal and metaphorical) is going to be focusing my field of vision on right now. How can I love well right now? Who is my home team and how do I love them well? How do I get past the fear of doing the important things poorly? Because being great at things that don't matter is far worse than failing at something great. Bob taught me that. And trying to give my time to people who don't need it, instead of devoting myself to the people I can call in the middle of the night, is worse still. Shauna says I should "try to think about the things only I can do, and only do those." It's about settling and ordering and being extravagant with the love I already have. And yes, it's about expanding and exploring and serving in new places with new people. But those should be chosen wisely.

So, if you're on the home team get ready. And chances are, you are. We're going big this season.

 

Quarter-Life Crisis

My typical method for blogging is a bit haphazard. Every week or two I'll have a thought I realize could be good for a new post. I type it into a note on my phone and in a couple weeks I may or may not get to writing it. This one happened a little differently. Not in a good way. A million thoughts came tumbling out of me at once. At first they were panicked and crazy, but eventually they righted themselves and turned thankful and healthy. Eventually.

One of the main culprits in this assault is the weather. Though I can be happy in any weather, or so I tell myself, I get a fair amount of satisfaction and groundedness from being outdoors. I can be perfectly happy hiking on a cloudy day, the sun really isn't the biggest factor, but bitter cold puts a damper on my eagerness to be in nature. So, naturally, I was one happy lady when I learned that the high was right around 70 degrees on Sunday. I had some homework I desperately needed to finish but left the house that morning in a pretty good mood on my way to church. On the way home, my roommate helped me start my car so I could swing by the auto parts store and pop in a new battery (ha), mine being long past its golden years. I settled into my seat with a smug grin, gloating over my ability to jump my battery in under three minutes. Not a goal you want to have.

The trouble started at the auto store. Once I realized that "popping in a new battery" would take longer than ten minutes, I started to cry. In the store. In front of an angel named Hazel to whom I was moderately rude. Which made me feel horrible and cry more. The thing is, I don't cry. Not in real life. NOT in public. I cry during movies and when I read good books and when I watch couples reunite at the airport. I inherited my father's mortifying inability to control my laugh/cry/shoulder shake at triumphant moments in sports movies and the sweeping crescendo in a symphony. Those weren't this cry. This cry came from the four year old living inside me who just wanted to be outside playing while some adult dealt with the money and the car and the sinking feeling that I really don't know what I'm talking about and Hazel could easily be ripping me off. But I'm not four, I'm twenty four, and twenty four year olds don't cry in O'Reilly's because it's sunny outside and they're inside and have work they left at home. And yet there I stood, with big, pitiful, shameful tears running down my face while Hazel asked if I was up to leaving my car for an hour. An hour, Prentice, not a week. Get it together. I couldn't.

Fast forward through an hour of panic mode, realizing that I was not on a competitive sports team, or hiking consistently, or doing anything outside consistently, or able to complete my work like an adult, or good at anything (I told you it wasn't pretty, it's called a crisis for a reason), all the while that same roommate is taking me to the grocery store and sweetly pretending like my freak out is normal when it is most certainly not. And I'm back at the auto store, sitting on the curb eating my kale salad from Trader Joe's (I mean some part of me had to feel like I was an adult that day) when these thoughts just start to pour out onto my notepad. Thoughts that slowly changed to thankfulness at finally getting to enjoy the outdoors, regardless of all the weird looks I was getting. And about my roommate who took another couple hours of her relaxing day to chauffeur my crazy brain around. And good friends and great family and an incredible God.

I felt needy this week. Not "Oh, I'm being vulnerable and letting people in" needy. Ugly, over-snapchatting, clingy, CRYING IN A CAR PARTS STORE needy. I panicked when I thought about friends far away and how our relationships would never be like they were when we all lived in the same place and didn't have to worry about checking in or making time. I felt suffocated and unlike myself, missing the freedom of times past. And I haven't figured it out yet, although I have prayed and pressed in and asked hard questions and reminded myself that different isn't worse, it's different. Still beautiful, but different.

The times they are a-changin'. Babies are being born and plans being made and a million wonderful things are happening. I'm becoming more myself each day, but that doesn't mean it isn't tough. I like gaining the wisdom. I like learning and growing and healing. It's fun and it leaves room for dreams that thrill and terrify me. But it's different, and different is change, and change is scary. And it's good. Praise The Lord for faith and prayer journals, or y'all would see the crazy all the time. But for now it's just an hour long quarter-life crisis in the car place. Nothing a kale salad in the sun can't fix.

Side note: I'm not on the kale bandwagon, it just had the tastiest dressing in its box. Don't worry friends, I'll never grow up that much.