Communion

I was raised nominally Catholic for the first 11 years of my life.  I remember next to nothing about that history, except for the box of notecards from CCD (just the box, not the cards) and the Super Importance of Doing Communion Right--to the point where I fretted over if my left or my right hand was on top when I cupped them to receive the elements.

When I became a Christian two years later, I became decidedly Protestant, and learned a new way of doing communion that allayed all my fears about doing it right: pick up a tiny chiclet thing of a gluten product and a plastic shotglass of juice from the golden plates passed around.  (Well, all except dropping the dang thing!) No person directly in front of you, judging your hands and/or the response you gave.

In the intervening time, I have been exposed to a lot of theology and a lot of different methods of taking communion.  I have my beliefs about the theology of it (akin to consubstantiation), and a few opinions on the ways in which it should and should not be practiced (it should be done in community, with words spoken over it for us, and it should be given by another).  I have been taking communion for close to twenty years.  Yet, despite all this, communion remains a place of uncertainty for me.  And it is precisely through that uncertainty that Jesus has been able to meet me in it over the years.

A few weeks ago, I attended the ordination of a woman I knew from college.  I was so happy to participate in communion with her.  I was intent on honoring her in my receiving communion--a fair number of times, the power of communion to me has come from my recognition that the person serving me communion recognizes me.  I was intent on giving that experience to her, participating in the first communion she serves, and having her give it to people she recognizes.  I was so focused on giving that experience to her.  And still, the Holy Spirit gave to me.

I walked up to her, acknowledged her and smiled, and I reached out to tear off a piece of the bread from the loaf and...the bread just kept coming with my fingers!  It was massive.  And I felt appalled at its size, embarrassed.  But I was reminded that that bread was and is for me.  He calls me to take deeply of him, not shyly nibbling at the edges, but to eat of his body fully and to drink of his blood deeply.  There is enough.

First week of Advent

The first week of Advent is nearly over. This week of WAPIVCF 's five minutes of peace has been wonderful. It's *hard* to wait! But also, even after only a few days, I find myself yearning for those five minutes. 'When can I take them?' 'What am I going to do to make space for God?'

I missed yesterday's five minutes of peace. But according to the rules, that's okay! I'm grateful that's in the rules. I think I need that laid out for me, in writing.  I struggle a lot with perfectionism, and even if I know it's okay if my practice isn't perfect, I think it has been really freeing to have been given an open-ended practice to try... with community...and with a community to whom the same rule has been given.

Even if I didn't manage to set aside five whole intentional minutes, there were still single moments of True Peace, where my awareness shifted just a little, where I briefly peeked around the veil between worlds, it seemed.

Such a tiny practice, but I certainly feel like it's been an important one for me, given where my soul is currently. 

#Ilooklikeaprofessor

Some hashtags are fun to participate just because they are subversive and/or reactionary, for example: #distractinglysexy.  That was a hashtag that arose out of a distinguished leader in sciences commented on the distractions of having women in the lab.  So, us lady scientists took to Twitter and posted images of our female-ness in the lab captioned with snarky comments about crying in lab or whathaveyou.  Now that was fun to participate in, even if it was still rooted in defying stereotypes and misconceptions about women in science, which is something I'm growing aware of.

Relevant sidebar before we move on:  I never questioned if it was okay for me to be a scientist.  I think I owe that to the scads of adults in my life who never made me think or feel for even the tiniest moment that I couldn't.  They always believed in me and supported me in whatever I set my mind to.  I never felt treated any differently in my science classes at school, never felt any inkling of hesitation asking my male teachers to write me college rec letters for me to go study chemistry, or even when I asked my male professors to write me graduate school rec letters for me to go study physical inorganic chemistry at some of the nation's top research schools.  But when I stepped foot into the halls of my graduate school, suddenly no one looked like me.  There were no professors I could relate to.  With the exception of two women who roamed the basement and whom everyone seemed to forget about and the students were all afraid of, the department of over 40 people was entirely middle-aged white males.  When I left, I got a lab job where I was the only female in the company (granted, the company was like 24 people, but still).  So when I looked for a new place to study a few years later after I set my goals in order, I made it a point to look for a department where there were people I felt I could approach and relate to.  I fortunately found a fabulous department where literally half of the department was female.  And in that, there was a diversity of women that I could learn from.  I applied for and received a fellowship in graduate school designed for students from underrepresented groups in higher education seeking employment in post-secondary education.  I never would have consider myself that way, but the truth is, as a woman, in the physical sciences, in higher education faculty pools, I am.  The more I become aware of this fact, the more I realize what a role I have in making sure that even though my story was relatively simple, other young girls' and my students' stories may  not be, so I do what I can to support them and embrace my differences (because that's what I do. ;) )

But this #Ilooklikeaprofessor one, while rooted in similar reactionary earth, is much more important to me and empowering to me than #distractinglysexy.  It is still challenging what images we have of people in various positions, but this one feels much more important to me.  Because this precisely is part of how I feel as I step into the classroom: I feel I have to actively compensate for something about me.  Internally, in addition to all of the insecurities I'm feeling as a new professor (I just finished my first year!), I feel my mistakes are magnified because I am a young woman--and a tiny one at that.  When I walk into the lecture hall for the first time, I am very aware that I am not who my students expect.  I feel like I walk in, and they see a student who walked in the wrong door, OR they see the professor's teaching assistant who is filling in for the professor in his or her absence.  Wherever I go in a professor's capacity (ie, stepping into the lecture hall for the first time, showing up at the IT desk to use the scantron scanner, participating in my college's social gatherings, etc.), I am excessively conscious of what I'm wearing, and how I walk, and how I talk, and I make sure I am wearing my nametag.  Doing everything I can to prove that I am worthy of the space or resources I am using.  Students with complaints about their experiences in the course have gone directly to the department with them instead of speaking to me about them, and I have to wonder if I were an older male professor if they would be doing the same thing.  So despite the fact that I am a part of a department with an unusually high percentage of female faculty, I still actively feel that I am an anomaly in higher education.  I still actively feel like I have something to prove when I step into the classroom that I am not sure my male colleagues have to.

I am grateful for the #Ilooklikeaprofessor campaign, because it reminds me that I am not alone in feeling this way, and because it is actively reminding me that the professoriate is truly and in reality more diverse than what google shows us when we search for "professor".

Easter

The two days in the Easter holiday week that seem to speak to me the most are Holy Saturday and Easter Monday.

Holy Saturday is this time of tension...a reminder that there was an entire day (and change) while Jesus was entombed.  An invitation to enter into the pain and confusion that the disciples felt after the crucifixion of the one in whom they had placed their lives, hope, and love.  A reminder that these are real and valid feelings, particular resonant perhaps when we feel God has betrayed us or abandoned us.

I love Easter Monday.  A day with a name that reminds us that Easter was not a one-time deal.  He rose from the dead on Sunday...and is *still risen.*  That just because Sunday was this huge, big, bright celebration, and Monday comes and it's back to school or work...that doesn't mean the celebration doesn't end, it doesn't mean that what Jesus did didn't last.  His hope is *eternal.*

The Lord our God Is

The Lord our God is ever faithful
Never changing through the ages
From this darkness
You will lead us
And forever we will say
You're the Lord our God

Promise maker, promise keeper
You finish what You begin
Our provision through the desert
You see it through ‘til the end
You see it through ‘til the end
I believe
In the silence, in the waiting
Still we can know You are good
All Your plans are for Your glory
Yes, we can know You are good
Yes, we can know You are good

We won't move without You
We won't move without You
You're the light of all
And all that we need

--Kristian Stanfill

Spiritual Health

I'm currently feeling tired, cranky, emotionally unstable, and...worn out.

Yes, I could probably use some better sleep, and yes, I probably need to go exercise.  But those address my physical health, and what I'm feeling feels deeper than that.

I'm pondering the metaphors and language that my faith circles tend to use that use language of thirst and hunger for things in our spritiual lives...I know there a handful of examples floating around in my notes somewhere but right now allt hat comes to mind is the Beatitude "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness..." (Matthew 5ish).  And I'm wondering if those are not just flowery words, born out of trying to make a connection to something more concrete that we experience.  If maybe, like physical hunger, spiritual hunger is indicative of a lack of a substance, and just as in physical hunger, it serves as a reminder of a need to be met.  You wouldn't be hungry for something that's just an extra perk to living, would you?  You feel hungry when something that is necessary is missing.

Hexaflexagons: Lesson 1

Another deviation from my norm here of contemplating life and faith:  math.

I have, courtesy of Facebook and YouTube, discovered hexaflexagons. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIVIegSt81k) I am reasonably intrigued by these...things.  I've watched two hexaflexagon videos a few times over, and have spent about 15 minutes so far playing with them myself.  So far, I have learned:

1. They seem to be like this weird multi-messed up Mobius strip...
2. The folds need to be very precise--specifically, all of your vertices of your fold points need to be exact for ease of flipping.

I think that is enough for tonight.  I look forward to sitting down with more paper, a pair of scissors, and a good work surface to explore these orgigam-atical mathematical things of mystery...

Seriously, Mark?

"If you stop to think about your work, what it’s accomplishing, and why you should keep working, you will likely end up very discouraged, start wearing black, and listening to bands fronted by people whose dad did not hug them enough."  --Mark Driscoll

I stop and think about my work, and I am grateful.  I have joy.  It is hard, and I know that inspiring and instructing young minds will never be "done."  But I have joy because each student is one that I can, for the limited time that we interact, encourage and shape.  There's a lot about teaching I love: being creative with my communication and expression, connecting the mundane to the world of chemistry, talking a bout chemistry, being a dork, watching students' lightbulb moments, their questions forcing me to take a closer or different look at "my" subject, encouraging students who are struggling, reminding students that who they are is not wrapped up in a grade, reminding students that there is more to life than grades and major choices, and that God will take them on a fabulous journey, regardless of any of it.  

Is it stressful?  Sure.  Are there days when I feel like teaching sucks? Definitely.  Do I get frustrated with my work?  Yep.  But that's to be expected; nothing in life is ever going to be perfect.  I have *hope* because of who I work for--Jesus.  I have hope because this is where he has called me.  I do not work because that's what I'm supposed to do.  I work because of Jesus.

And, for the record, I love wearing black, I love the bands to which Mark is likely referring to.  I used to do a lot more of it, but those things represent something that is still part of who I am.  It's still a part of my story, my history, and who I am.  And I love my daddy's hugs.

Mark's attitude towards women is disgusting (other blogs around the web have discussed this; no point in rehashing it here, and I'm frankly *repulsed* by it, so I'm not going to touch it anymore), and the snark you have towards those different from you is equally disconcerting, for the above quote was posted just a week apart from this one: "I had to take the dreaded school bus with total strangers. This included the hard edge kids who liked to wear all black, listen to depressing music, and smoke cigarettes because sadly their daddy never hugged them, thereby making them arty."  It reeks of immaturity and snark and nothing of the Spirit.

/ vent

...and now, back to our regularly shceduled programming

"Alister McGrath’s faith biography shows us that the 21st century need not be the story of triumphant atheism or milquetoast do-it-yourself spirituality, but that instead the Spirit is still making disciples out of the least likely persons. " -- Drew McIntyre, here: http://www.ministrymatters.com/all/entry/6551/stones-crying-out-listening-to-former-atheists

A wonderful feminist perspective on bras--that ISN'T "Burn all the bras!"

http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/05/wearing-bras-personal-choice/

This article is pretty awesome.  I feel like this is what feminism is about--empowering women to make the choices she wants to make, not making women feel guilty about choices she makes just because they happen to also align with "The Patriarchy."

It's also awesome for the simple fact that it does what lots of internet things have a hard time with these days: It's *balanced*.  She writes about her viewpoint...but leaves space and hell, even welcomes the fact that her readers may feel differently!

As far as the content is concerned, I really appreciate what she had to say.  That wearing bras should be a personal choice.  That if you want to wear one, fine.  If you don't, that's also fine!  Now, as a small-chested woman...

(warning, I will be talking about boobs from here on out, so if this is a no-go subject for you, here's your "Emergency Exit is this way!" cue)

...as a small-chested woman, bras are just difficult for me.  I imagine they probably are for most of us boob-havers, but I will just speak from my experience.  I always get from other women in  my life that I'm "lucky to have small boobs, because I don't need a bra."  Well, that's not entirely true.  I don't need a bra to avoid the pain of drooping boobs.  But without a bra, things just look...angular.  (Other small-chested people, can I get a "Mhmm!"?)  And underwire just never made sense...if you are an A-cup, why the hell do you need underwire?  But most basic bras have underwires, regardless of size.  The wires rarely were placed right on my chest--they would come up too high around the side--not comfortable.

For probably the past three years, I've been investigating those "alternative bra options" she mentions about half-way through, not so much because of a feminist philosophy about bras, but because of the sheer difficulty in finding a bra to fit me well.  Until recently, I thought I was a 34A or perhaps even a little bit smaller...and that was the smallest size you could find in a standard department store's lingerie section.  Maybe 1 out of 20 bras in that size would fit me.  And I was getting tired of trying to find that one bra--especially if once I found it, it then went out of production by the time I needed to buy a new one.  I even tried looking in the little girls section for 32As!!  No such luck.  I've found a lot of these alternative bra options to be helpful and just what I need (and I have a new idea or two, too!).  I'm still trying to refine some of those options and methods, but I've got a solid start on it and that feels good.

For when I do want to "conform to society's expectations" (eg., in professional contexts), I have discovered a miraculous thing: I am not an A cup.  I am actually a B cup!  The problem was the band size: I'm a 32B, not a 34A.  They are sister sizes (so, same breast tissue volume, just distributed a little differently), but the difference is clear: the cup fills appropriately and the placement of any wires now make sense on my body.

I enjoy this freedom to choose how I utilize garments to make myself feel comfortable in my body.  I'm glad someone else recognizes that.  I'm glad that I'm not some "fake half-feminist" for choosing to sometimes choose alternative options, sometimes choose a "normal" bra, and only sometimes choose no bra.  I'd love to try what that Buzzfeed writer did sometime--I've only ever done 1 day out in public (that I can really remember) braless.  I'd be interested in trying an extended experiment, and make those same kinds of notes--how do I feel throughout the day at different situations in different outfits.

Loving this journey of learning how to "do me"--including how I choose to present my body.

Teaching

“Teachers must take on a large agenda: to help students abandon the safety of rote learning; to instruct them in framing and testing hypotheses; and to build a climate of tolerance for others’ ideas, and curiosity about unusual answers, among other things. Teachers who take this path must work harder, concentrate more, and embrace larger pedagogical responsibilities than if they only assigned text chapters and seatwork. They also must have unusual knowledge and skills. They require,for instance, a deep understanding of the material and modes of discourse about it. They must be able to comprehend students’ thinking, their interpretations of problems, their mistakes, and their puzzles. And, when students cannot comprehend, teachers must have the capacity to probe thoughtfully and tactfully. These and other capacities would not be needed if teachers relied on texts and worksheets. In addition, teachers who seek to make instruction more adventurous must take unusual risks, even if none of their students resist. For if they offer academic subjects as fields of inquiry, they must support their actions and decisions as intellectuals, not merely as functionaries or voices for a text.” – University of Michigan Professor David K. Cohen in this paper, “Teaching Practice: Plus Ça Change…”

I'm a Mutt

Speaking of history, I'm a denominational mutt.

Let's see:
I was raised Catholic until I was 11.
Become a Christian when I was 13 at a youth camp run by the Presbyterian Church.
Went to a large, non-denominational contemporary Protestant church in high school that was said to be most closely aligned with the Church of Christ.
Went to a Reformed college (RCA) where I
-participated in the weekly chapel services
-took a class for my Religion 100 requirement called Many Faces of Christianity where we had to attend 4-5 different churches and write a report about them.  I think the professor was Pentecostal.
-took a class for my Religion 200 requirement from a feminist Reformed professor from Canada? Britain? who wore a bow tire and said "she'dule".  (both courses were great, btw)
-attended a contemporary non-denominational church that met in the lunchroom of the middle school because it was an early church plant from a Weslyan church
-participated in a broadly non-denominational evangelical student ministry
Spent a summer at an Assemblies of God church
Spent a year at a contemporary Protestant church that met in a downtown city storefront
Spent three years at a Lutheran Church--Missouri Synod that does contemporary liturgy like I've never seen before (David Crowder next to/ within a self-written liturgy based on Bonhoeffer.  Like a boss.)
Spent a few months at different Luthern Church--ELCA
Spent maybe 10 months at a contemporary Protestant non-denominational church.  Maybe Weslyan with a bit of Vineyard-y flair?

Good gravy.

So I'm looking for a church here.  Next on my list is a Presbyterian church.  Perhaps I'll try searching for a Weslyan or an Episcopalian church. *shrug*

New Old Things

I had a lovely chat with a ministry partner and friend this morning.  He reminded me of helpful things that I had once known and have forgotten.  Little things, like setting a timer for daily prayer times, and having A Spot for them.

And it occured to me that I have a wealth of knowledge from my history with the Lord.

I have been seeking and following Jesus for nearly 15 years.  Fifteen years.  In human terms, that means that I'd be getting my learner's permit to drive.  That I'd be begining to come into my own.

I pondered and prayed about other things, but somehow, I wanted to blog about the simple fact that it has been 15 years.  My, how much that encompasses.  And it's an interesting thing to consider this spiritual age, if you will, in the light of the place I was at when I actually was 15.  When I was actually 15, I was in quite a place as a young high school sophomore, and only two years since God grabbed hold of my heart and life.  How much did God see me through then, and how much he has seen me through since then, no matter the rough patch we're in now.

I belong.

/vague blog update

Next Thursday

I said an odd thing this morning: "My defense is next Thursday."

Up until this point, I had always mentioned the date of my defense as a date--July 2nd.  July 2nd.  This nebulous thing that I was at once excited for and terrified of.  But this morning, I used words which put it in a concrete frame of time.

I am close enough to the date of my defense now that I can say things like "next week."  I am close enough now that I realized last night with a skip of my heart that I needed to figure out what to wear so I can make sure what I want to wear is clean!  (Good thing too, as I decided to wear a skirt which requires dry cleaning.)

It's hard to describe, but I feel like this will be a very important day for me, one that means so much.  I started graduate school 5.5 years ago.  When I left after a year, I felt utterly lost.  I felt like a failure.  Everyone else continued on to do what they had set out to do: write and defend their work.  Me?  I got a part-time job mixing blue goo in a pole barn and sticking it into a spectrometer.  How lame.

But then I did other things.  Important and valuable things.  To me.  Important and valuable things to me.  I volunteered with college students, and guided them and watched them as they followed Jesus, and then I went abroad and taught English to some teenagers and left a little piece of my heart in Russia.  And then I came back and did this absurd thing:  I started teaching college students chemistry.  What.

And then I did another scary thing:  I went back to graduate school.  I voluntarily stuck my foot back into the world of academia, the world where I felt I had failed SO spectacularly.

And now...I'm here.  My defense date is at hand.  I have NOT failed.  Instead, I have grown and thrived, and fallen in love with what I'm doing.  I am happy.

And my defense is next Thursday.

Live Loved

On Tenth Avenue North's facebook page today:

"But we keep pressing on, with our redemption song,
no one can undo what you've done."

What strikes me as the strangest difference between following Jesus and following any other religious leader in history, is at the heart of Christianity, we are called to celebrate and glory in what has God has done for us, not in what we can do for God..

Now, are we live to our lives in grateful response to Him?
Sure.
Are we called to give our lives as a living sacrifice?
Absolutely.
But the key to understanding our obedience is understanding
the word "Therefore," In Romans 12.
"THEREFORE, IN VIEW OF GOD"S MERCY!"
In other words, we don't obey to be accepted, we obey out of the awe we already are.

At the heart of the gospel is I John 4.10
"In this is love, not that we love God, but that He loved us and gave His son as a propitiation for our sins."
Followed up by verse 19, "we love because He first loved us."

Now, I've said this elsewhere before, so forgive me for being redundant, but I fully believe all Jesus really calls us to ever do is live loved. Let me repeat that.
LIVE LOVED.

Every sinister act we ever commit is a result of living unloved.
At the heart of sin, is a skepticism in the Lord's goodness.
It is the terrible lie spoken into the heart of Adam,
and it is the lie we must let the cross put to death in ours.

Hallelujah!
"God proves His love in this, that while we were still sinners,
He died for us."
-Romans 5.8

Where is your focus fixed?
Are you obsessing over what you'll accomplish for God?
Are you stressing over how much or how little you've done to earn acceptance from Him?
My friend, cease your striving.
We are only to be a people of reactionary deeds.
Let us respond to the grace of God.
And when you feel your love for Him is waning,
don't try harder.
Don't beat your chest and say, "I'm gonna love you better God!"
No.
If we love Him because He loved us first,
then whenever we find a deficiency in our love for Him,
there is a good chance it's being caused by a lack of belief
in His love for us.

In other words, let's just focus on His incredible unflappable love for us and let that love spur us on toward loving Him back.
Or to say it this way,
Why should we love God?
Because He started it.

-Mike

The Promise of the Sun

"Saying “I am in love” has never and will never make my depression vanish. But it grounds me in a deeper truth: that I am worth more than my brain, my body, and my brokenness. It reminds me that there are perspectives that are more accurate than mine. It promises that the sunlight will stay a little longer and that new memories await us." --Chad Moses

http://twloha.com/blog/truths-deeper-day

New Things

Last winter, I took a walk.  I had been reading some blogs that said some really fresh things, or maybe old things in fresh ways, and I got off the couch to walk and process.  It also happened to be one of the coldest nights of the season--we had a wind chill warning in effect that night but I wasn't aware of it until I came back home half an hour later.  I processed and prayed about many things that night, but one of the things I came home with was sense of the purpose of this season in my life.  And that was "Little Adventures."  Going places, trying new things and discovering this abundant LIFE that God has given me.

Sometimes I've been consciously aware of choosing these little adventures and sometime not.  Included in these adventures has been taking myself on a real vacation for the first time.  I drove out to Manistee, MI and spend two nights in a hotel that ended up being the perfect cozy little room, with the goal for those few days being spending time at the beach, reading, taking photos, walking, exploring.  Just being.  It was awesome.  I also took an archery class last month.  It was a lot of fun!  It's also meant going to the gym.  And it's also meant trying new driving routes places, and it's also meant going to new stores.  For instance, I am slowly shifting my grocery shopping to Kroger instead of Meijer, just because the environment is calmer to me.  I also tried to go to the liquor store when I wanted to buy some wine instead of going to Meijer (small shops like that can make me uncomfortable if I feel like the owner is watching me all the time, especially when I probably look like an 18-year-old in a liquor store when I'm not), but the place ended up being kind of sketchy, so I didn't.  It's been fun. :)

There are a lot of things that have brought me to this place where this next season is one for little adventures.  I think two of the big things is finally getting a good grasp on the importance of taking care of myself, as a person, and the other being a realization that God has led me through some interesting times over the past 4-5 years that have all led me here, to a place where I am happy.  That God is with me, and for me.

This is an important season as I look ahead to the next one: I'm almost done with my master's.  Oh my gosh, I'm almost done with my master's.  Which means: I have three months to write a thesis and defend it.  Oh. my. gosh.  I am applying for jobs.  Like, real ones.  It's kind of terrifying.  And there are times when it is really overwhelming.  But I know that when I step back from that, I know that it will all be okay.  I know it will.  Because God knows best what is for me, and he will lead me.  I know that it may not look like I expect, but even still, God is good, and has good things for me.

Moments

It's a wonderful thing when certain truths that come to you in your prayer time are affirmed by someone else.

"God looks at all of us as his beloved sons and daughters, and as any good father, He is filled with pleasure when we respond to his love."

"'We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures; we are the sum of the Father's love for us and our real capacity to become the image of his Son.' (St. Pope John Paul II)"

--from a snippet from the Catholic parish on campus

Poetry

"USED (twice used) and
a certain blue book
hold promise for the next day when 
the new old self taps
her foot carefully
into the joyous echos 
of discovery."

I wrote this eight(?!) years ago.  It was originally part of poem that hadn't taken off like I'd hoped, but I really liked this stanza, and I guess it does sort of stand on its own.  Anyway.  Every so often, the part of this poem resurfaces in my brain.  This morning was one of those days.  And I thought, you know, I think it's time this poem sees the light of the internet beyond my f-listed livejournal. :)

Thanksgiving

In the midst of all the random "I'm thankful for..." posts that have been smattered all over my facebook newsfeed this month, one person shared a quote about how being grateful was useless unless it was expressed.

Somehow, I find "giving thanks" weird.  I feel grateful and awed, surely.  But somehow, stating it cheapens it, to me, at least.  Because I feel it.  But maybe I need to take the time to write it out.  To stop, and consider.  To be grateful when it is hard to *feel* grateful, particularly around the holidays, when travel sucks, and family hackles rise.

1. I'm grateful for heat.  And no shortage of blankets with which to aid the furnace in keeping me warm when I choose to keep the thermostat turned a little low to keep my my bill manageable.  So I'm grateful to have the choice of heat.  Of knowing that when I come home, after my brief stint in the chill air, I can turn a knob and be warmer 20 minutes later.  Of knowing that even when I turn the thermostat way down when I leave the house, having a house kept at 45 degrees is immeasurably better than a house as cold as it is outside, considerably colder.

2. I'm grateful for the ability to travel.  More specifically, the ability to travel on my own terms, and not have to rely on public transit.  A place to travel to, also.  I could be in another country, on another continent, or on the other side of the country for Thanksgiving.  But, I am within a 5 hour drive from my family, that makes the possibility of traveling for the holiday a possibility.  Oh, and the weather forecasting that let's me plan my travel so I don't drive straight into a snowstorm. ;)

3.  I'm grateful for my work, and I'm grateful for the doors that are opening for my next steps--What's next? Back to West Michigan?  A new place in Illinois? I'm grateful to have found this work and this path.

4. I'm grateful for the friends I have who know the real me.  I am grateful to the people in my life who have helped me see the real me and have helped me to love her.

5. I'm grateful for a 13 year journey with Jesus.  All of those seasons.  All of those moments.  And the pleasure of knowing that I have many more seasons and moments with him to experience.  And knowing that all of those seasons and moments are invited by him. <3 p="">