Sting

and the Police are playing in concert on our television.

Scrapple gurgles around in my stomach after having felt the uncomfortable gaze of a group of girls whom I value and appreciate. They told me how much they'd love to get together for overnights, retreats, hanging out here and in the woods... and then explained that they never are free to do so.

Sting says "yo" a lot in his lyrics.

Of course, I'm re-reading Donald Miller's Through Painted Deserts and am really wishing it was summer immediately. December has been so stinkin' mild, it feels like spring should come bursting through the trees at any moment. The idea of two and a half months of ice and dry air discourages me and makes me feel as though I should really appreciate this season more anyway.

The working world sort of compells me to wish for a career as a farmer or cattle herder or something else more natural and basic and necessary. My current job is to convince upper middle class ladies that they need spend more money on frivolous items for their homes. Something more necessary and helpful to people might be more satisfying as a vocation. Especially if it were something that involved spending hours outdoors. I miss that aspect of my summer job. I wonder what I'll do this summer. National Park work sounds more and more delicious every day I think about it.

Well now I'm going to get in the car, spend money on gas, spend free money on coffee, and drive down unknown winding state routes to West Chester and my love.

December

I'm really glad that Phil is taking the opportunity to travel before he gets tied down to a job. He leant me his copy of Through Painted Deserts. I've had time to read the prologue.

December is kind of a negative month. It's filled with stressful adults and children who feel authentic entitlement to greed. I had to figure out a way to switch shifts at work for Christmas eve so I could leave by 4 instead of 6 for West Chester (so I can leave there by 8 or 8:30 to come back here for our big choir gig). That involved finding another person to pick up one of two afternoon shifts. After asking half of the employees at work, St. Amanda agreed to switch from morning to afternoon, so I get to work all day on Friday.

At this point, I'm finishing up with my obligatory late-December gifts. This season makes me wish we were more like hobbits, happy to give voluntary presents to everyone. Hobbits give presents away to the guests at their birthday parties.

Not even at a crossroads

Hello friends of the internet,

Now that NaNoWriMo is over (as well as No-Shave November, which I haven't personally concluded) I can do other things with the time I don't spend at work or with people. I ended at 50,062-something words, although my novel isn't near finished. I had kind of mapped out a plot in my mind, and would skip ahead to write different parts, bouncing back and forth so I wouldn't tire of a particular part of the story. Maybe I'll complete the story during next November.

Recently I read the first half of The Secret Life of Bees, recommended to me by Christine Barlow two summers back. Last night I began reading The Lord of the Rings, because this weekend a TV channel aired all three movies of the "trilogy" and I felt my brain could use some stimulation from Tolkien's adventures in language. (Writing my own wimpy book, I could see how awfully limited my own vocabulary is right now - which I attribute to only having been required to write about art during the past four years of my life)

Right now, I'm trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing. It's much more difficult to discern the call of God when I don't spend time listening. I read Brennan Manning's The Signature of Jesus, in which he described how to do a "centering prayer". It's meditative, and you do it for about twenty minutes at a time, before breakfast or dinner so your soul can connect with the hunger of your body. My problem is that I need a clean, peaceful space to do it, and my room is not in that condition at the moment. I miss the Christopher House in a time like this, because it had the chapel - small, intimate, quiet. Lined with a few chairs, stocked with diverse musical instruments for worship, and with candles always lit, it really felt like a sacred space where we as individuals or the whole fellowship could come for quiet (or loud!) time with the Lord, because that space was created specifically to meet with Him there.

Soon I'll be starting a youth ministry internship at my church, which I'm pretty ecstatic about. It makes me very glad that God doesn't call the qualified, but qualifies the called. I'll make curriculums for pre-school through senior high, teach, lead events, work on communications (don't I wish I took some graphic design courses?), and learn how to administrate. My pastor and the elder in charge of youth will be mentoring me through the process, so I'm going to ask that they also keep me accountable for my own spiritual growth, challenging me through this season (ooo, Christian vocab word).

Unpaid internships usually need to be paired with part-time jobs, so that's the thing I worry about. Working at Pier 1 has been a lot of fun, I actually enjoy it a lot, but I'm unure how long employment lasts after the buy-stuff-in-December season ends. (don't you hate having to associate Jesus' birthday with giving gifts to everyone but Him?) The career-building/resume-sending/connect-with-employers websites are okay. Without a degree in nursing or engineering, there aren't many jobs available. There are a few positions as postal workers or typists for the state, so perhaps something like that will hold me over. I feel like I just need a short-term job where I can earn some money to save up for a car; and once I have that, I'll have mobility and I'll be independent and I'll have peace about that.

Saturday was a really cool day because I got to hang out with a bunch of people I graduated high school with, whom I hadn't seen in maybe two or three years. It was hard not to feel discouraged, though, because they're all doing real things, having graduated with real majors that led to real jobs. More (?) importantly, they've all got their own places and aren't living with their parents. Of course, some of them received cars from their parents; something I don't have the luxury of, and also something that keeps me immobilized, tied down.

I know I need this transition period, this internship, because I didn't go to school for what I'm called to do - stupid - so I am hoping to put a lot of energy and effort into mentoring and loving on the kids in my church, and learning as much as I can from this experience so I can go do it, serve where I'm called to serve on my own. I'm still on the road toward the point of decision making, and that intersection seems so far off right now.

Fighting a battle against time is stupid. However, I seem to subconciously enjoy doing that. I feel tied down, like I want to start the great adventure of my life, but I have to save up some money before doing that. I have so many friends who are serving in different ministries around the country, around the world, because they had opportunities to jump out into the unknown in faith, following God with reckless abandon. I want that. I'm crushed under the waiting for it. Hopefully I can bear this all for as long as it takes...