Oscar Sunday

One of my teammates recommended watching Roma. I didn’t know what the film was about, so he explained it to me. I immediately thought of Carmen.

While watching the film, the plot was so much slower than I was expecting. I kept wondering what the point was. Where is this going?

Now that I’ve watched it, I have thought about it every day. Although the film was based on life in Mexico in 1970, it still speaks to life today. Most of the scenes were similar to what I experienced in Bolivia. 

Carmen, setting the table for breakfast. Carmen, cleaning the floors while everyone was at school or work. Carmen, cleaning up after the dog. Carmen, cooking lunch. Carmen, hanging the laundry.

Carmen, tending to me while I was ill. Carmen, making hot tea in the afternoon. Carmen, smiling and resting her hand on my shoulder while I sat at the table.

Carmen, carrying bags of fresh produce through the market. Carmen, instructing me to stay and wait. Carmen, stopping to chat with the store owners, getting the best prices on eggs.

Carmen, taking us to the ice cream shop for a treat on the way home. Carmen, arranging the roses in a vase by the front door. Carmen, opening the gate to let the car into the driveway in the evening.

Day after day.

Yes, the Casita kids touched my heart and I still carry them in my thoughts. Yes, the people at the church befriended me and let me into their world by sharing meals, time, and good company.

But Carmen changed my life. Watching her, day after day, carrying the family in her heart. She cared deeply about making sure everything was in order, just as Mario and Iris had asked. Strong and steady. Resilient and ready. Dependable beyond measure.

Carmen, bendecida por Dios.

Future Dreams

My career saga continues onward, and it’s headed in a good direction. I have peace about the future; I don’t know what it’s going to look like, but I feel superb about the steps I am taking to get there.

     I am finishing up my massage therapy license requirements in ND. I have under 100 hours to complete.

     To finish some of my practice hours, I’ve reached out to the Ronald McDonald House and the Sanford Eating Disorder Unit to see if I can bring my massage chair in to give free chair massages to staff, patients, and guests over the next six months. Both organizations are near and dear to my heart, and I want to give back in whatever way I can.

     Never one to be in a hurry, this process has been about 15 years in the making. 😊 If I had gone the traditional route, the classes and licensing exam would have taken me about one and a half years. But why do it in under two years if I can do it in 15?

·       A few months ago, I signed up to be a recovery mentor through ANAD. I have been in touch with my mentee for almost a month, and I am enjoying taking this step outside my comfort zone. We text a couple times a week.

Initially, I was scared I might say or do something that would set her back or cause further problems.

However, I know from experience that even though it may not seem like much, having someone there to encourage and speak hope can have long-lasting positive impacts. I still look back at past emails or notes from people who have believed in me over the years when I was ready to give up.

·       Wellness! Lol. I don’t know what that word means anymore. I got out of a fitness routine after BIO Girls completed last summer. Although winter shoveling has kept me active, lean, and ripped (why yes, I do flex in the mirror), I need to commit to a schedule of physical health for the sake of my mental health. I’ve been walking the seven flights of stairs at work a couple times a week to regain cardio strength. I ventured out to the free gym a couple times last weekend to lift (and just to get some alone time). 

     The highlight of late has been going to a local open gym to shoot hoops. I was surrounded by middle-schoolers, and absolutely loved it! I am going to make it a point to go at least once a week. Best part? My company sponsors us on wellness activities and equipment, so I got some sweet new basketball shoes for free, courtesy of the greatest place to work. Yes!

https://unsplash.com/photos/Lk4ELF16vs0

To all the cultivators out there- thank you!

If I were being graded on composition, this paper might get a C+.

Thankfully, I’ve escaped that system!

Over the past few years, I’ve learned to measure intimidation with a renewed perspective.

Intimidation can be a positive means to a successful goal, much like competition. (Don’t worry, I won’t go into my tirade on the impressive shortfalls of limiting competition to sports.) Intimidation and competition, when based on an eternal perspective rooted in love, can be both good and necessary. When they are used to control, manipulate, discourage, do harm, etc., that is out of the scope of this post. I’ll leave that for another day. Or perhaps I’ll never get to it. 😉

Often, when I meet someone I find intimidating, it is because they have paid a price to overcome a battle that I am still fighting. Something deep inside me responds to this truth, and essentially says, “Oh, crap.” As in, ‘oh, crap, I’ve been caught staying up past my bedtime.’ Or, ‘oh, crap, I broke a glass in the kitchen.’ Or, ‘Ah! I replied all!!!’

The intimidation I feel from those who have gone before me and paid the price brings godly conviction that prompts me to learn and grow. It also motivates me to find words to describe what’s going on inside.

It’s a spiritual response in me to the strength I recognize in them. It spurns curiosity and brings me to an (almost) unhealthy obsession with finding out what makes them tick. Typically, I find out that these “intimidators” have a relationship with Jesus. This is how I’ve concluded that my response is spiritual, not emotional, and it has eternal motives.

The dictionary tells me the root of intimidation is fear. I know there is good fear and bad fear. The fear of God is the best fear, because He is perfect love, and perfect love casts out fear. So the more I fear Him, the more I love Him and others, and the less afraid I am. And when I meet someone who frightens me (again, not in an abusive or hurtful way) and I just can’t shake it, it means I’ve got some work to do.

Perhaps a better word than intimidation is cultivation.

Inside, I feel like a plot of land, and the cultivating individuals who come across my path see soil with potential. Yes, tilling hurts, but it allows seeds to be planted. I see the “intimidating” individuals there with shovels and trowels, perfectly placed in their hands to reap the greatest benefit.

And what I have slowly learned is to embrace the cultivation. I embrace it like a fluffy puppy.

https://unsplash.com/@amjay_7

Este libro

The book I want to write isn't quite ready to be written. 

It's sitting inside me, causing discomfort from time to time. But it won't speak up just yet. 

My newest coworker published his own memoir last year. 

Yes, it's possible. Now I even know someone who can give me insider tips. 

The part that is daunting is sitting down long enough to write. Taking the time to organize the words, decide which genre to pursue- those are the impediments. 

Then I begin to think, is a book the best format? 

Sometimes I feel that my best writing has been sent out to the world in fragments via personal letters and cards. I reread some of my emails because my love for the person who received them is tangible in the words. 

That may be the path I need to follow. Continuing on with letters, cards, emails, notes, texts, poems...it may not bring in much money, but it certainly brightens my day. 

https://unsplash.com/@nina_eyes

The morning commute

Before I begin, I’d like to remind my West-Coast reader(s) that we have snow on the ground here for about five months each year, and when the weather is warm, there are usually winds blowing at 12 mph against you (even if you switch directions).

Now that I’ve justified my pansy attitude, let’s begin!

I had a beautiful commute to work yesterday! The sun was shining, wind was low, and the timing was right. It was the perfect day to bike to work. After taking a test-ride about a month ago, I knew I needed to account for 30 minutes of bike riding. The one thing I failed to account for in my test-ride was having a 30-lb backpack on my back. Oopsies.

I didn’t weigh it, but here were the contents:

•          Work laptop
•         Purse
•        Change of clothes
•         Bottle of juice
•          Pyrex container with lunch inside
•          Orange
•          Planner
•         Phone
•         Two sets of keys

Safe to say, it was about 30 pounds. I don’t recommend gaining 30 lbs in one night. As you can imagine, the quads are resistant to this type of change.

However, I made it, I enjoyed it, and I think I’ll do it again before the summer is over.

The only downside is that there aren’t many bike racks around, and I don’t trust the ones that do exist. The one by my building is made to hold only one wheel, so I either need two locks, or I need to use the rack improperly to feel like my bike is safe. I also need to remember that people around here don’t steal bikes…but I can’t seem to retrain my brain on that topic.

https://unsplash.com/@thethinblackframe

To everyone who helped me find my mouth

A-Taste-of-Rainbow  

I found this book today and it may be meant for children
But sometimes it's good to remember that we were all childrens at one point
And there are certain people God puts in each of our lives 
To help us find our mouth (voice, purpose, life) again
Even when other people tell us our mouths are bad
Or wrong or dirty
Or that you shouldn't be here

The people who help me find my mouth
Do what alcohol does for most others
All of the sudden
I find my voice when I am around them
And I don't stop talking
Because what I say 
Is the most beautiful thing I have heard
Up to that point

And when they listen, it is like a warm hug
For my soul
And my spirit 
At the same time

I know I am loved.

https://unsplash.com/@rainierridao

Fri 3/23/2018 4:16 PM; writing for next week

Preparing for the worst

and getting God’s best.

I’ve had some downtime at work lately, and I’ve been scrolling through my inbox in a repeated fashion that is both unproductive and unnecessary. I also found the first two lines to a blog entry that I have been ignoring for a month.

The date in the title was a day that left me with a lot of unasked questions. (Truly, I wasn’t even able to form the questions, let alone ask them.)

When last year’s news was announced regarding “your jobs are disappearing,” everyone involved went through a grieving process to a certain extent. I found repeated peace in something that I know Holy Spirit whispered to me at that time: My job was to “walk by faith and have a good attitude while doing so.” I still have those words written on a sticky note to the left of my computer so I won’t forget my purpose. However, the farther we go on this journey, the harder it gets. It didn’t hit me last year that those who leave early on only have to say goodbye once. They get a clean breakaway. The rest of us say goodbye over and over. It’s messy.

The week of March 19 – 23, I learned that I had a new team. I also learned I’d be moving to a different building than my old team. Leaving my old team was harder than I anticipated. Even though we are all still employed at the same company, we don’t get to see each other, swap stories about new restaurants, or have giggle fests. Just like that, face to face communication was cut off.

Although I know that my job is not to socialize with my teammates, I also know that I work way better when I do. Relationships take time, and we had worked solidly for two years to build trust. As a result, we were blunt, open, and honest with each other. We also understood the work we did and had a solid understanding of how our team interconnected with other teams.

Now, I am trying to get my bearings.

My first day at the new building felt like the first day of 5^th grade. It felt uncomfortable, but also like it shouldn’t be uncomfortable. I’ve done this since kindergarten, so first days should be old hat by now. I should know where the bathrooms are. I should know where the lunchroom and classrooms are. Put in my present terms, I should know where the meeting rooms are.

But I don’t.

And I don’t know my new teammates well enough to know their sense of humor. Are we on the same page? Is sarcasm okay on this team, or are others easily offended? More importantly, is anyone on my team planning on leaving soon? Anyone being forced to leave even though they want to stay?

There are many unknowns in this relationship equation.

I know this is all part of life. Goodbyes happen all the time. People change jobs all the time. Change is overall, a good thing (if the God of the universe is guiding the change and the timing is in step with His plans and purposes). Change for the sake of change, change for the sake of sounding hip, trendy, (and therefore annoying) can be part of making the worst possible decision.

I think I’ve entered the angry stage of grief. I want my next job to be a small business, just me, myself, and I. However, I don’t want to react out of anger to this situation and make the same mistake I’ve seen others make.

I’m still trying to hear the Lord’s voice in all of this, and the sense I am getting is that I need to wait. This transition time is uncomfortable, to say the least. I want to sleep for the next month and just let the dust settle. That is not an option.

What I did (realistic option) was write notes and get a small gift for each of my old teammates. I will miss them more than I thought possible. I can also cheer them on as they find their next job – one that hopefully challenges them to grow and keep learning.