...and that's because i feel like very very very little has changed in the last six weeks. but that's just not true. snow has come and gone and come again. two lovely holidays have served as gentle reminders that anticipation often bursts into celebration; and who has more reason to rejoice than i these days? a savior born and a new year. i lift my hands and reach for hope. and? i can see just the warmest little light at the end of the long tunnel that this season has stretched out into; i'm moving! that's right, the little broken body has healed and now it's time to spread the wings again. don't worry, for the time being, i'm not flying very far at all. i'll be moving into the logan square neighborhood in the next week or so, living in a community of beautiful young spirits who craft, dance, think, laugh, and live. i can't wait. i think it's time to put this little heart of mine to work, loving deeply and perhaps growing some roots.
this weekend i went for a little visit up to grand rapids. it is incredible how much a place (or at least your perception of a place) can change in one year. last january, i couldn't imagine less than a week's time to be capable of squeezing in all the coffee dates and dance parties in the ole mitten state. now, though, a single weekend is sufficient to feel like i've actually spent quality time with those i love. in some ways, it's nice to know that so many significant people from this unique space of my life have moved into exciting "next phases" of their own lives.
anyway, the big thought with which i walked away from my visit is the "v" word. vocation. what is my vocation? with nothing but hours and hours to wonder about everything and anything, i find my thoughts like to gravitate towards existentialism. what does it all mean? why am i here? what great purpose does God have in store for me? having not met many other people who have gone through near-death experiences, i can only say that i've assumed that said experiences are supposed to make you re-evaluate the decisions you've made and the desires you've staked out for the future. because i assume this is what you're supposed to do, i've done quite a lot of it. and what have i come up with? very little. after all the patting on the back i did for my waiting last year and this summer, i have certainly outdone myself these last five months. i continue to wait. i continue to feel little peace about where i am supposed to be and what i am supposed to be doing. on the one hand, i am excited about living in chicago, remaining close to family, and embracing a bustling new world. i see great potential for adding my hands to the service, creativity, and activity in this fine city. i see opportunities to grow, be the change, and make a difference. this excites me. but at the same time, there is that pulling. i miss mountains and deserts and starry skies and indian paintbrush. i miss the lightness, freedom, confidence, and joy that the outdoors has offered my life. it's not even the adventure of it all...it's really the stillness and the quiet that i've tasted that now pulls at my heartstrings. can i be a happy office ant, pushing papers and perhaps contributing more immediately to social justice? or is there anyway to quell this guilt i feel when i'm closer to nature but further from destroying global poverty and curing diseases?
thommy says that my "evoked set" seems to be saying that my calling probably lies in the outdoors. jeff says so too. he reminds me that in the body of christ, each part is necessary and important; each part has a place of honor, even if it's not ending world hunger. i need to think about that. i need to understand that. i know it up there in my brain, but why do i continue to feel all that guilt in my tummy? vocation is so tricky. it is not just a career. it doesn't promise job security or medical benefits. it doesn't even guarantee happiness. and yet it's the one thing that i'm chasing after. i want to hear what God has to say about my vocation. i am eager to listen and obey. when can i know? when can i stop feeling restless? when can i sink my heart into one place? of course, i know the answer to all those questions is that there is no answer; i may (and probably will) continue to wonder, feel anxious, and move about for years and years. how do we teach ourselves to be content in every situation, as paul suggests in philippians? shoot! it's hard! and i am not a patient person; contentment is no strength of mine.
but certainly there are joys to be found in this waiting. as advent teaches us, we do not wait in vain. in this waiting i have had the privilege to imagine myself in all sorts of exciting jobs, cities, and communities. and i've had the chance to try (unsuccessfully at times) to make the most of each day. i can go for walks in the forest preserve, call all sorts of new and old friends, make mixes, knit hats, learn new songs on the banjo, enjoy meals with my parents, snuggle with my best friend, and help fantasize about my sister's wedding. i cannot let go of the importance of these details. in fact, i wish i did a better job of fully appreciating them in the moment.
i suppose i'll have to wait and learn how to do that. and i suppose i'm always content with learning. so that's nice
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