Memoirs of a Pack Rat

I have always been a pack rat. Judging by the 10 year old received Christmas cards in my parents house, it might be a genetic trait.

But people put time and energy into those cards and letters. They don't write themselves, you know. Besides, don't you want to remember what your third cousin Sally was doing in 2001? It might come in handy later.

For me, the journey towards minimalism is shaping up to be a long one. Honestly, it already has been. I decided while living in a college dorm room that the more belongings you have, the more you have to clean and organize and maintain. Frankly, I have better things to do with my time than rearrange meaningless junk.

But all the cards from my high school and college graduations aren't meaningless, are they? What if someone who gave me one dies, and it's the last piece of paper I ever receive from them?

How about those countless souvenirs from the far-flung places my friends and I have been blessed to visit? How does one survive without half a dozen Chinese fans?

What about that soccer uniform? Maybe without it I will forget I ever played soccer.

Those doubles of almost every picture I own could be important, because what if I lose the first set? Going with that logic, I should also keep a backup set of all journals, academic records, and financial information- just in case.

And that candy from halloween? You know it is perfectly fine.

I listen to my internal dialogue with horror and humor, sadness and hope. Until you really take stock of what you have, both in comparison to what you need and in comparison to the rest of the world, you don't realize how much of your identity is tied into your belongings. Think of how we describe people- the boy in the blue shirt, the woman who drives the black SUV, the girl with the purple bookbag, the man who lives in the big green house on the corner- and you will realize how much we associate people with the material items around them.

I don't doubt this journey toward a simple life will turn out to be more far more psychological than physical, more emotional than logical.

Front Porch Sale

My house (okay, actually the house we are renting right now) is a disaster. Seriously. It's not unusual for it to looked "lived in," but this is a little extreme. As in pick-a-path extreme.

But not for long. This weekend, we are having a front porch sale, which is a like a garage sale but on our large front porch. For more information, you can check out the event Facebook page here.
This is sort of an emotional event for me. We have been talking about simplifying since before we left for Africa, but the conviction became even stronger there. Even I saw that one coming. This sale is the first in a long line of steps we need to take to simplify our lives physically, materially, socially, financially, and in every other way that we can think of.

As much as I love my country and am proud of my culture, it is making a decision to turn my back on what has become accepted as the American way of life-

Excess.
More money.
More power.
More status.
More possessions.
More activities.
More competition.

Josh and I have decided we just don't want that life. We want to be as free as possible from the things that may distract us from God. We want to be able to have room in our daily lives for the Holy Spirit to direct us.

Therefore, we are starting down this alternative path. I told a good friend the other night that Josh and I are like [Christian] hippies minus the politics [and drugs]. Maybe not exactly, but it kind of sums up something complicated in one phrase : ) It'll do for now.

We Will Praise You In This Storm, cont'd

Continued from another post- read the first part here.

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I laid down on the bathroom floor, staring toward the ceiling in the dark, numb. I felt as if I should cry... but no tears came.

My mom's text: Their house is gone.
I can't even wrap my mind around it. Memories, safety, security- the flew away with the building.

What if we lose them? Are they safe? Injured? I can't stand the thought. I push it out of my mind.

I pray.

I plead.

I struggle.

I want to praise God in this storm. It is a reminder of His mighty power, His strength, and His complete control. We are so obviously utterly helpless, which oddly feels more comfortable than when we are helpless but refuse to admit it.

But words seem so shallow and meaningless at this point. I often hear people talking about praising God through a storm, but what does that look like? I think that, more than pretty words, He wants our sincere trust and resignation to His will. I don't think anyone is grateful to find out they have cancer, or is thrilled to lose their job or, God forbid, a child. If God knows our hearts- and I believe He does- language that reflects the attitude we want to have about a situation is not what He wants to hear.

As I laid there praying, I remembered that this is part of the Holy Spirit's job, according to one of my favorite passages:

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we
ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that
words can not express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of
the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with
God's will." - Romans 8:26-27

You know what? I love this passage. It gives me so much peace to know that I just can't fail at praying. The Holy Spirit guides us, and stands in the gap for us. The only way to fail is to not pray at all. As for praising God in difficult times, I think He wants our sincere love and trust, our awe of His might, our surrender to His will, more than He wants us to pretend we like everything that's happening. After all, He already knows my heart; I can't pretend with God.

We Will Praise You In This Storm

I am literally in the middle of a storm (on Thursday night). I'm not talking about a metaphorical, blog-type storm, but rather a storm system full of tornadoes. We have been sitting in the basement bathroom of the house we rent, just hanging out. The lights have flickered, but the internet has stayed on the whole time, which is one of those curious modern-day situations I can't quite understand.

This storm has been...well, intense. Usually it seems as if the National Weather Service issues a tornado warning, we all seek shelter, and nothing happens.

But this time is different.

I am not sure of all the facts right now. What I do know is that the radio keeps throwing around phrases like "half-mile wide tornado," and "people trapped in their house," and "warning has been extended."

The house of our dear family friends just flew away- with them underneath it. It's so strange for me to even imagine. All I can think of is the "Wizard of Oz." I was literally at the beach with them this morning. Until I heard that they were safely at my parent's house, all I could wonder was if that was the last time I would see them. There are literally holes in their yard from where trees were just picked up out of the ground. They are rounding up cattle because all of their outbuildings are gone, too.

I think we here death and destruction and disaster sensationalized so much on the news nowadays (I cannot believe I just used that word), that we forget the layers present in ever story, in every number. Each number is a life, full of hopes and dreams and responsibilities and potential. Each life connects to hundreds of other lives. God loves each life each number represents. When tragedy hits home- literally- it challenges you to actually think, to feel, to have compassion for others. In some ways, desensitization may be healthy- imagine if we were overcome with grief every time we heard about something horrible happening. We would hardly be able to function in daily life (as someone who is strongly mercy-oriented, I say this from experience). However, being desensitized to the point of not feeling is pathological.

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The National Weather Service tornado warning for our area finally expired. Now it's time for dinner (at 9pm), so this will have to be continued... : )

Is It Just Me?

For some reason, I am a creature of habit. No, really. Like more than is normal. Sure I love to travel and have periodic reprieves from my patterns, but more often than not trying new things is like running anything more than a mile- every. step. takes my full attention. I blame it on my dad; he is the same way- perfectly content to be home, to be surrounded by what he knows. We like the familiar.

But some habits are best broken sooner rather than later. While preparing for our time in Africa, and while later living there, I had no trouble contributing to this blog regularly. It felt necessary. I could pre-empt other activities with no guilt, no feelings of selfishness; despite the fact I enjoyed putting my thoughts into words, I could convince myself that it wasn't for me- it was for a greater purpose.

Now, writing gets pushed to the end of my to-do list, the same list that is never finished. The tasks remaining at the end of the day are transferred to the next day's list, but there is never enough time to complete them. I can't put my finger on it, but there is just something about that fact that seems wrong to me... I just don't think this was what God intended. Our lives are always... unfinished. We forget we are totally complete in Him before we cross a single item off the list.

I have learned so much in these last few months that I want to share. Even if no one ever reads this blog again, I want them written down, even if only so that I don't forget them. But some of these truths are so mammoth and so life-changing and so challenging that I know my limited skill just can't do them justice. I admit I am intimidated, but I need this. I need to conquer this fear of failure and selfishness and insignificance before they take long-term root. This is me, breaking a habit.

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An Update:

I am a terrible person...well, at least I am a terrible blogger. I have hardly written anything since we got home going on 2 months ago. To be sure, we have been SUPER busy and had a ton to adjust to. I remember hearing someone complain about how stressful a [minor] situation was in her life and thinking, i am moving for the second time this month, helping my husband search for a job, interviewing at my new graduate school, launching a business, and adjusting to culture shock to my own culture- and that's all just this week!!! Part of me wanted to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to get a grip. Thankfully, the more rational side of me won out, and I was reminded that everyone is in a different place, and we are called to meet people where they are at. It has been a common challenge.

I am not done with blogging simply because we are back in the U.S. I have dozens, if not hundreds, more stories and pictures to share with you- of ministry, spiritual epiphanies, travel adventures, struggles, and new endeavors. Our life has continued to be eventful. There are fleeting moments when I wish for less stress, but then I realize I wouldn't be able to handle the boredom that inevitably accompanies a stress-free life. I am grateful for what God has given us.

I have missed writing and sharing with you, if for no other reason than it has given me a concrete way to process my experiences, emotions, and ideas. I have missed putting what's inside of me into words, and freeing myself from the duty of keeping it hidden. I will do more of that, but not for a short while. In the first few weeks, it took all of my energy just to adjust to jet lag, see loved ones, and answer the all-to-common question "How was Africa?" It took and takes all of my willpower not to respond with, "Well, how was your last year in a few appropriately brief phrases?" I know people mean well, but it is not exactly a well-thought-out question. But I digress...after the first few weeks, I continued to feel exhausted and under the weather, which I attributed to allergies. After all, we are around allergens we haven't been exposed to in almost 2 years (having left at the end of winter and all).

But as I found out Sunday, it turns out that I have mono. When I think about it, it makes so much sense. It's just that I didn't think of it. The fact that I have an autoimmune disorder that presents almost exactly like mono doesn't help either, but I am happy to know it is something that will eventually go away, and that I am not just incapacitatingly allergic to my beloved Minnesota. With all this in mind, it may be a week or two before you hear from me again, but hear from me you will. We have a lot of catching up to do.