One year and 2 days ago, our young college graduate brought forth in this city a new state of being, conceived in confusion and dedicated to proving everyone wrong...

When life throws a curve ball... get out of the way. Just kidding. I don't even know what you're supposed to do with a curve ball. I'm a French teacher and a Mary Kay Independent Beauty consultant. I can answer a lot of questions, but not that one. As my life continues to march to the beat of a very fast drum (maybe the drummer is a hummmingbird...), I had time to stop and look at a few things from two years ago. You see, back then, I was still in college and mad that my fellow college seniors stayed up until midnight and I was falling asleep at 8pm while grading papers and watching some TV show... probably Glee. If past-me could see what I'm doing now, past-me would be overwhelmed. Don't get me wrong... I'm busy... But I'm living the dream. People talk about the American dream-- work your butt off and earn as much money as you can so you can spend it on whatever you want. That's not my dream. It hasn't been. Ever. Little Bridget... and we're talking little. Like 5'0" Bridget (4th grade or so)... She wanted to be a teacher. She loved office supplies and grading papers and teaching people things, even though she didn't really know how to teach or that the scrap papers she stapled together were essentially impossible to grade. The dream in her heart was to teach. People. I'm living my dream and I'm only 23. Yesterday, I was sitting in my classroom with the empty desks, recently vacated by hormone-saturated 8th graders, typing an email to a concerned parent when I stopped, overcome with the realization that I have my dream. It's come to fruition, if you will. I had to stop and breathe. My senses were saturated with unspeakable joy. Everything in my life has led up to this moment. Correction: these moments, for there are many. And this isn't it. I'm continuing my arsenal of experience for the next big thing. Yet, I can't help but wonder... If I am living my dream right now, what's next? Is my scope of my life so small that I consider my goal complete? Okay. I understand that you keep getting better. Believe me. I know. I feel like I'm a first year teacher again. No one wants that. Except first year teachers who don't know any better. The Bridget of 2 years ago was selling herself short. She was selling herself short because she could only fathom her goal on her terms. In the grand scheme of things... in the perspective of someone who can see years down the road, this is still the beginning. Isn't that crazy? I'm living in the climax of my dream but my life's story is just getting started! I am awed by how far I've come, what I've learned and how I've flourished. God is good and I am not alone. I am pursuing my continuing dream because I want to do my God justice... and the way I can do that is to dream the type of things that make me shake in my shoes. I think I've got that covered right now. ;) Thanks, God, for never letting me be stagnant. The last thing in the world I want is complacency. Here's to the next adventure, the next goal, the next dream. I hope to God you are pursuing yours.

Autumn is the average of summer and winter

This time last year, I wrote a blog about autumn. This year, I will also write something about autumn. Not with descriptions of dying leaves but with the combination of winter and summer... What happens when you're caught in the middle...

Departing the college world is like sledding down a great hill with a jump at the end. When you reach the jump, you feel weightless, as if you could keep flying in jubilation for surviving the ride...and then you land. Landing is not nearly as fun as you thought. All the air is compressed from your lungs, leaving all vital organs wondering where the oxygen went and when it would be back. Gasping for air, and looking like an idiot, you stay exactly how you landed. At first it's for preservation of your life and then you decide you never want to move again. Eventually, you regain your senses and you look around wondering what happened and how long did you lay there looking like a deformed snow angel.

If I could describe how I feel in this moment, it would be the very last part. Looking around, I'm wondering how long I've been trying to survive, barely moving so that nothing would be uncomfortable. College is over. Pouring my heart out to some poor soul until the wee hours of the morning is no longer an option. Life revolves around making decisions and spending/earning money and balancing family and friends. It was so much easier to pretend that I could hold onto the dazed and confused Bridget who looked like a deformed snow angel. If I'm honest with myself, I don't want to stay like that. On the other hand, I don't want to feel any more discomfort. That landing was hard enough, thanks.

That isn't a choice I get to make, though. If I stay there at the bottom of the figurative hill, I'm going to get run over by somebody... and who would want that? Movement is ever-present in the world, especially in this society. Embracing it right about now would probably be a good idea. Embrace the changes, adjust, and choose to thrive. Living with my parents is just a part of the process. Getting into auto accidents happens. Feeling like a failure as a teacher is normal. I feel like I should create my own line of pop/techno music to sell to such people as myself to help pump us up, to keep moving, refuse stagnancy.

If I was supposed to thrive on my own, I think success would be easier to obtain. Instead, it requires a different perspective. My efforts are pathetic. I've been failing miserably in communicating with people, written or verbal, lately. What do I do with that? Those are basic functions of everyday life. I can't just admit silly things like that though. It takes outside help... which means more of an inside help. I have the "tools" to achieve progress. I have to use them, though... because acknowledging my possessions does nothing. That's like saying you have an iPad 2 over there, on the kitchen table, yet you sit on the sofa.

All of this to say, I'm attempting to pep-talk myself into getting off the sofa, up from the ground, and out of my defunked snow angel pose. This is life. This is what I should deal with and conquer. Summer graduation is over and the sled ride is over. I'm left in autumn, surrounded by change. Awesome. Thanks for the reminder, God.

It's not what it seems

For the past few days, I have had my parents' house to myself. This being said, I felt the need to pour ridiculous amounts of media (aka movies, film, Hollywood...) into my life. The idea that we need to live vicariously through these scripted lies is dangerous. I would hope to God that every girl sitting and watching a rom-com knows that it's never like that and never will be... and that whoever watches explosions and slayings recognizes that it doesn't really happen like that.
I admit. It's my own fault for trying to suffocate myself with the asinine entertainment industry. At the end of the media marathon, I have realized, yet again, that nothings is as it seems.
There's a hurt, deep down that only resurfaces when I've denied its existence for an extended period of time. It's a world-shattering darkness that overturns the preconceived ideas that children dream. It's become so dark that I cannot see some of them anymore. In their absence, I have even forgotten what was so attractive about them in the first place; therefore, I do not want them anymore. My childhood world is full of shadows. I suppose this happens to everyone as they grow, mature, and move on with life. There is nothing particularly unique to any one story but the stories are painfully unique to any one person. Sob stories. Some are for attention, others for resolvement. Cadence. I find the latter more bearable than the former.
Back to the shadows because I have spent enough time justifying them. This time last summer was bittersweet. Looking back, I am glad that the circumstances are different this summer yet I mourn the loss of the goodwill and innocence I had. It's almost been a year of on-and-off festering. When I say festering, I mean that constant stirring of unpleasant emotions because you just want to make yourself feel miserable. Usually, I try to put off the temptation to dwell on pain, as most healthy human beings do, but sometimes I just can't help myself... like when I watch movies. The pity party begins when the movie ends and the boy gets the girl or vis-versa. Let the festering begin. Tears fall because I remember the gravity of the pain I felt. The memory of pain causes pain. Then, they turn into tears of anger because it all feels so stupid and I want to yell that I have lost all faith in the world. Back to reality, I am not in a movie where that would seem completely normal and not at all over-the-top. I realize that I am young and I have only seen a very small fraction of the evil/darkness/pain/etc that resides in the world. Let me say again that I know that my story is not unique to the world... it is unique to me and it is proportionally difficult for me, right now.
There has to be a healthier way of dealing with pain. Can't there be some quick cure? Does it really have to be one long stretch of time where you have allotted yourself to "get over it"?

Provision with a side of patience

Sticky notes and scraps of paper are littering my room, among the leftover college packing that has yet to take place. I kept telling myself that I would take care of the lists and the debris when I knew what was happening in the fall, such as if I was going to move or stay in my parents' house... Such dilemmas froze all motivation for cleanliness.
Unfortunately for the piles that have found residence for the past month, the time has come to cleanse.
Yes.
Looking back at the past 6 months, there are a few emotions that were always on the surface: anxiety, frustration, anticipation, and resignation. Rarely found clumped together in a sentence, I'm sure that I am not the only college grad who understands the relationship between them. I resigned myself to not finding a job. Slipping back into the job I held for 6 years, I lamented the backsliding motion of settling into my high school self/motions. My mother's encouragement prompted me to keep applying, but I convinced myself that there was no way I was going to find a teaching job in this market. The half-hearted attempts became full-hearted when I heard back from a middle school. An interview and a week later, I was in my car, shaking as I called the principal back and found that I had a job. Not only was my conundrum ordered into retreat but I could also, finally, tell people what I am doing with my degree!
A prime metaphor for this situation is this: I recently "inherited" quite a few household items, ones that I had not possessed before. Things like sturdy pots, pans, a blender, a mixer, a juicer, cutting boards, etc, now join the post-college clutter in my parents' house as well as my brother's. Obviously my parents don't need those things... they've been functioning in their kitchen without my help for quite some time. Possessing practical household items is as exciting for me as it is frustrating. I have no place nor opportunity to use said things. I have to wait. I have to wait to use the bittersweet blessing that God provided when I did not even ask. To a planner, this is immensely frustrating. This entire experience has, and will continue to be, a huge learning opportunity for me, myself, and I. Let's hope that it doesn't drag out for too long... otherwise I might start a household wares sales business as my other part-time job...

The girl who wore tights

Today, my sock drawer betrayed me. I was 100% sure that my dresser and I were on good terms... I don't open it to put things away unless absolutely necessary, I never allow clothes to get in the way of the drawers... You can see why I feel betrayed. I was running out the door this morning when I grabbed a dark mass from my drawer, shoved it in my purse, and drove off to have breakfast with an old friend. Already rockin' my "quick-service" restaurant uniform, I did not see the need to complete the outfit with the shoes-for-crews yet. Flip-flops were the choice and off I went. After savoring my Panera bagel and coffee, I ushered myself out of the door and into my car where I would look through my purse to find my socks... You know, just in case I was stuck at a stoplight and I had a chance to put them on...
So, I grab the dark mass and I realize that there is more fabric than I expected... My heart sinks... No... No... Nuh-uh... Sure enough, my "socks" fused together and I realized that I had three choices: 1. Work the entire day sockless 2. Call my brother and have him bring a pair of socks, while praying that I would actually have a chance to change from my tights to my socks and 3. Wear the tights for the entire day. Right. 3. Awesome.
It's moments like this where I realize that there are so many instances where people say "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Today, I would like to propose that chewing on the lemons and contorting your face in response is better than adding sugar and water. I mean, what if I had made "lemonade" with my tights? What would that have been? Not wearing my pants and buying a tutu? Yeah, the health inspector and my general manager would have loved that!
Maybe trying to cover the annoying situation robs us of our ability to laugh at the inconveniences of life... Sometimes you have to take it at face-value and embrace it, however uncomfortable.
If you approached me and asked me to translate this into my real life, it would include more than wearing tights under a pair of pants for 11 hours while working in a kitchen. I'm not happy that I reached into the drawer that is post-college graduation and came up with a handful of things that I am not excited about putting on. I have to put them on, though... at least until something else comes along. Waiting is the name of the game and I am a notorious loser of this game. Maybe the reminder that sharp twangs do not need to be watered-down or sugared-up. Maybe the things in our lives are there because we were supposed to look at each facet and learn. It's easier to say that when thinking about tights...not so easy when I think about employment or living arrangements...

Henna hope

Sunshine that stretches from the blue sky and reaches your skin... it's just what we all needed. The spring in Indiana has taken a while to arrive and it is still skittish but I'm thankful it showed up today. I felt like I was shrinking inside (and I realize that this seems dramatic) and the sun reminded me that I am not dying at all. I am very much alive and in love with life and the Redeemer.

In catching up with people, what with Spring Break and other events, I realized that the two weeks since returning to Indiana from Colorado have not been my finest. In fact, when I was with a friend, she commented on how she was sorry we didn't get to talk more about what was going on in my life and I said, "Oh. That's fine! I haven't really liked myself lately, so we'll post-pone the summary until later!"

For instance, I was telling someone about a banquet I attended and I commented about how pointless and shallow events like that are... The girl looked at me and said, "Wow, you are so jaded."

I think it's funny that I was able to recognize the fact that I didn't like myself. What in the world happened? How did the small things overtake the bigger picture? I think we all know the answer to that question. The beautiful thing that pops out at me, though, is the little notes of love and encouragement that God provided through friends and situations. I definitely did not deserve to be encouraged or patted on the back for anything that happened in the past two weeks (because, let's remind ourselves, I wasn't a likable person).

I had the great reminder that He provides hope through the mire. I realize that my life is not the muggiest mire, but I also realize that problems are problems and it's important to take things in perspective. These past few days, the word "hope" has repeatedly come into conversations or readings or even academic themes. Weird. You would think that God was trying to get through to me. In my cynicism and sarcasm, you would think that "hope" would be the last thing that would get my attention, but it has. I was doing henna tattoos with my roommate and I decided to write "hope" on the inside of my wrist. The results were incredible. (Please tell me you read that with the voice of a salesperson on those infomercials.) Joking aside for a moment, the word on my wrist has caught my attention and convicted me several times. Amazing how that happens.

Today in church, we read Genesis 16 and the pastor contrasted the promises of God with the things he calls us to do. Now, this was specifically for Abram and Sarai, but it was interesting to note how the promise of God gives us hope and we have to hold onto that hope throughout the waiting, and while doing the things he has called us to do. Abram and Sarai waited for so long to see the manifestation of God's promise... I haven't had to wait nearly half that amount of time yet for things that I believe God has "promised" so I need to hold onto that hope, continuing to live in the calling He has given.

So, until the henna fades from my wrist, I will be visually reminded of the hope He gives to us... and hopefully I can remember it when the word is gone from my wrist. It's amazing how easily it is forgotten in a jaded world.

Shaking walls and bricks

It's an ominous feeling that starts in the base of your neck. Some say that their hair stands on end. For me, it was like rubbing Bengay on that part of my head and feeling the numbness sweep through my spine towards my legs.

Sometimes that numbness is interrupted by phrases or memories that jolt me out of the supposed acceptance of "this is how life is." Like someone is karate-chopping my shoulder blades, forcing my upper body to lurch forward in some strange jerking motion. My mom spoke some words to me today that I had not heard in a long time. They almost brought me to tears. Sometimes, all it takes is one person to acknowledge that you've been through pain and that pain isn't over...and that is acceptable. Cradled in my mother's arms on the couch, as only a college student can, my trance was broken when she said something along the lines of "...really hurt you..."

That line, the full line, has been running in my head all day. Hurt does funny things. It causes us to build walls and become frightened at the sight of our own shadow. I have been creating a fortress. As I walk through the streets, everything is the same color, ever aspect is the same. The long process of deconstructing a wall is causing me discomfort. I am being jolted and prodded but I don't want to move. Moving necessitates acceptance and release. The fortified city is littered with tattered bricks. I cannot ignore them. I should pick up some of them, see what caused that aspect/brick to become a part of my wall and then give it up so that God can use it otherwise. Even as I feel like the bricks are falling on my head, I guess I should continue in the painstaking work of cleaning the streets, giving the debris to the One who actually knows what to do with pain.

I know that beauty comes from pain and suffering. This is a promise I can hold onto when I cannot see the point in life events. That sounds really dramatic and I'm not saying that my life is horrible. I am exploring the idea that the burdens I bear at this moment in time seem to have more purpose than helping me realize my fallibility. It is through this weakness that Christ is proven mighty and powerful. This paradox always shakes my core, which isn't hard to do. I hold onto the Anchor that will never be moved and I trust in the Keeper and Provider.