catch-up.

I need to write like someone who's pulled an all-nighter needs a nap. Unfortunately, for both of those situations, more often than not, healthy reprieves are postponed and put-off until you simply can't do anything but submit to what you ought to have been doing all along: sleeping. Writing.

Too many times I think of something during the day that I intend to journal about and meditate on later, but I end up forgetting what it was or I sit down with my laptop and spend the next half hour or so doing anything but writing. It's too bad. I actually sort of had things to say worth saying.

It's tempting to begin a long (but shallow) ramble about the mediocre that I've been up to (I already did this with my last post) and besides noting that I put together a new bookshelf (less than $40 at Meijer for 5 shelves! It's really nice...) and that I've been intending to read more than I have been, as well as writing more letters to a particular person I love in Minnesota, there's not much to say when I'm working all the time.

I can say that this summer with my family has been really healthy and wholesome for me. Not to mention refreshing. My mom and I have been able to share some good quality mommy-daughter time and she's been spoiling me! ;) Last night we went to the evening service at Central Wesleyan and it was superb. I loved the kids songs near the end, too. That and things with Jessey are so much better than I expected. I am actually excited to give Jessey a Father's Day card this year, and I know he deserves it. He's not my "dad" but for a step-dad, he's pretty great. :) I even got a chance to sit on the beach with Zach for a while and talk with him. He and Jane are hosting a "cousin's game night" this Friday so that'll be a lot of fun. Yeah. Life at home is pretty wonderful.

Lately, though, I've been questioning who it is I am and where my future is headed. The problem for me is that I am aware of way too many options, and in ways I wish I could pursue them all.

When I sing in church or any worship service and I truly enter into it with my heart, my mind is not in this building or even in this state. My mind goes to other places where I have had the most pure forms of worship: Yellowstone National Park, Glasgow, Scotland, or Calvin's chapel the day I found out my dad died. Or it wanders to places I haven't been: Brazil. Eastern Europe or Russia. China. Ghana. I dream of the churches there and my heart longs to be with them and be intimate with a church that has never known a budget that allows for big screened TVs and thousand dollar sound systems. I would love to host a church, but to do so much more for the community in ways like teaching or through medicine. Honestly, I entertain the idea of simply packing up and going. I keep an "opportunities" folder in my room, and I'm always collecting handouts and ideas and positions available just in case I ever need them. It's also interesting to go back and see what things interested me before, and how those interests have strengthened or waned.

And then there's this life I've chosen now. I'm returned from Glasgow, and even though I miss it dearly and long to return to the city I think of as "home," I'm doing my best to be patient. I would love to go to seminary, because those religion classes fascinate me at Calvin (and I do pretty well in them) but even that's going to have to wait a while. My life is, in a strange way, more of a sacrifice and more of a lesson right now than it has been before or could be anywhere else. I'm learning to give to other people without needing to edify myself. I doubt that makes sense. Put it this way: I love someone, and he's worth it to me to stick around for. So I'm patient. And we'll see how things go.

And yet I still continually look to the past. I'm struggling with how to make my experiences relevant to my life, my personhood, and my future ministry as Barnabas (and others) without talking too much or being too forward or getting carried away... But I so desire to make my dad's death part of my life, and all that I've learned from the places I've been. I want to be true to myself. I don't want to forget where I've come from-- Where God has brought me from. Just like the Israelites believed that the deeper into the desert you went, the closer you were to God, being there isn't an experience you're likely to forget or want to move on from quickly. It keeps you grateful.

Last summer, I was entering into a time of preparation. Hindsight allows me to see and appreciate how all of it-- Yellowstone, Scotland, the uncertainty in between-- was bringing me back home to serve as Barnabas. I almost laugh a little thinking about the expectations and ideas I had back then (and the cluelessness!) and the knowledge I have now. Of course, there still is so much uncertainty. Heck, I'm a Barnabas next year and I barely have an idea of what I'm in for. It's intimidating when I give it much thought, and if I didn't have this whole last year behind me, I'd be having some serious doubts about whether this was really what I should be doing.

Thomas Merton and his thoughts on vocation come to mind when I write that. Oh, Merton. I think that, as time goes by, I can say that his book No Man is an Island is really my favorite book ever. It's so full of wisdom and I am inspired by its simplicity and depth. I have so many favorites, but Merton has been with me through it all.

I think it's about time to call it a night. I have to go to bed before 11pm these days or I never survive work the next morning. Meh. It's not exactly the most intense or interesting job, but it pays well (and I can get away with buying $81 of stuff from Khols!) and it's only temporary. So yeah. Gotta love the daily grind.

More later. Hopefully.

Love!
Betsy joy