Transitions
About three years ago this time I began thinking seriously about going to seminary. The admissions people definitely loved me, because I started school 2 months later.
But I thought about not doing that. I had a full time job with a promotional possibility. And Kansas is a cheap place to live. I could have stayed at home. Made money. Paid off my loans. Stayed comfortable.
But I didn’t.
Instead I moved out to California with one suitcase, one carry-on, a backpack, and a dream. Not really, that just seemed appropriate.
I moved with no job and no car. But I did have a place to live. And I was going to go to get a masters degree learning about Jesus. What could go wrong!? And I was (am) young and single anyway, so why not do something a little crazy?
And then it took 6 weeks to get a job. And I lived on $5 a week. And I would ride my bicycle (once I got past the need to walk it down hills… cuz I’m from Kansas, and I don’t really do hills) to the park a few times a week and sit on a bench by the bay and ball my eyes out angrily asking God what on earth I was doing there. I’m sure I was a sight to see.
But then I got a job on campus… a miracle when you live on top of a huge hill and you don’t have a car. I found a church. I had friends. Things worked out.
And now I find myself in a new time of transition. I have had to say goodbye to the people who played a huge part in making the Bay Area home for me. They welcomed me into their homes and their lives, even though I totally weirded them out the first time I met them because I came alone and I talked about hating trees. Nevertheless, they accepted me. They took me camping and watched zombie movies with me. They studied the Bible with me. They gave good hugs. Not a side hug. Not an “I’m trying to touch you as little as possible” hug. Not an obligatory hug. But a real embrace. And sometimes a girl just needs a good hug. Especially when your dad is hundreds of miles away. These people are living on the other side of the world now, thousands of miles away.
And last week I said goodbye to stability. Again. I quit my consistent job and I moved out of my dorm. And I am now homeless and jobless. I think I like to increase in intensity in my transitions. Three years ago I was just poor and jobless. Now I’m jobless, homeless, and poor.
Also, I’m attempting to find a job in one of the most competitive places in the U.S., and I’m trying to live in the most expensive city in America. And I’m doing this so that I can keep volunteering in a ministry. Yep. I’m aware. It sounds crazy. But, really, to the last ten people who have pointed these things out to me, thank you. I needed that clarification.
No. The odds aren’t really for me. But they never really are. Life is full of risks. Every time we get in a car, on a plane, talk to a stranger, speak in public, wear a new outfit we are taking risks.
Yes. I am freaking out. And I can admit that. Some people feel the need to pretend not to be worried. But not me. Have coffee with me sometime, and I’ll tell you about all of my problems. Sounds appealing doesn’t it? And I’ll definitely be needing you to pay for that coffee.
About 2 weeks ago I just sat panicking and crying… while my friend watched four feet away. Because, really, what do you do when somebody won’t stop crying? Watch. And try to think of nice things to say.
And then last week, I sat and cried alone uncontrollably for about an hour. Because I feel crazy. Really, this transition is a little insane. Why would I voluntarily move forward into instability?
But then the next day, I suddenly felt better. I’ve heard that some emotions can only be released through tears and sweat. And well, I’ve been too tired to sweat lately (and in S.F. it takes effort to sweat), so I guess I just needed to cry. Because as I cried, I could feel the Lord pointing out the reasons why this is going to work, slowly assuring me that I am not crazy. So I guess I just needed God to sit and watch me cry and say nice things to me too.
When I moved to California, a dear friend of mine gave me a book entitled, The Crime of Living Cautiously. And now I keep thinking of that phrase. Being cautious may not be a crime, but if I live in fear, then I will never accomplish anything. I will just sit in my room, watch Netflix, and eat cookies until I’m too huge to get out of the door. And then they’ll make a TLC special about me.
So I have to transition. I have to move forward into the uncertain. And I have to deal with significant instability. And I have to try and remember that life is never truly stable anyway.
Capriciousness 