While planning to leave my home in California for this beautiful state called Georgia I had big dreams for school. It pretty much revolved around the scene of Legally Blonde where Elle arrives at Harvard in a convertible car toting a mini dog named Bruiser. I had visions of sitting behind dark wood desks in classes with seasoned professors wearing bow ties and tweed jackets. They would daily give the most interesting and engaging lectures and after I would spend hours in a huge old library studying and doing homework to my hearts content. To my school fantasy I also added hours and hours of debates with fellow students about Christianity, politics, religion and ministries.
Fast forward to reality. Instead I am surrounded by mostly juvenile 18 year old children, more concerned about Mrs. degrees and hiding their pot habits from coaches than about homework, let alone what's happening to children in sex trafficing. I have yet to have a real conversation about God, love, missions, etc. Everyone here seems keen to impress and flaunt their "Christian accomplishments" and hard pressed to do anything that really drives them. How easy it is to get lost in a world full of Christians sitting on their hands. I daily forget why I am here in the first place. I desire to know my God. To know what I'm standing for and believing in, but at what cost? Is it worth staying here for 4 long years to get a piece of paper saying I know enough about ministry in the church? I took this step as a way of striking out on my own path with Christ. Following Him and his lead in my life...into the unknown, I said. Except now I don't see the path. All I see is darkness. I'm frozen in fear. Have I strayed from the path I so emphatically set upon?
I need you, you are all I'm living for, Jesus.
I feel stuck. This isn't what I ordered. This isn't what I signed up for? Is this really what you wanted for me? Was your path really for me to leave my friends, church and family who have taught me to accept, love and see past wounds and brokenness, to live vibrantly for You and plop me down into the midst of a bunch of do-gooders? I am so exasperated by the inactive religion around me. How do I change it? How do I keep going when I just want to scream at them all? Where is the line of acceptance and intolerance? Lord, I need your grace in my life and your fire in my soul. To do Your will, not mine.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Big City Wimp
It seems strange to speak ill of my beloved home land but the longer I live in the South the more I realize what a California wimp I really am. I still can't imagine loving another place on earth as much as I love that dysfunctional golden coast. Everyone dreams of "heading west" to beautiful sunny and warm California. There are epic songs about our beaches, sunsets and surf spots. California has its issues like any other state but generally speaking here, it's where people want to go. It's a romanticized state. (Ever see the commercial the Schwarzenegger's did on visiting CA?)
Last night I was home alone, laying on the floor in the living room when I notice something out of the corner of my eye move quickly. In a matter of seconds I am up off the floor, shoe in hand (I wasn't wearing shoes and I'm not entirely sure where said shoe even came from) and down the hall to my room. My domain of protection. I apparently believe my room has a bug force field or why else would I go there first? It took me 10 minutes and several attempts of sneaking around corners before the unknown creature was flattened with my Adidas running shoe. I still have no idea what it was, which is not uncommon in my apartment, sadly. It seems here in Georgia bugs are as friendly as the little old church lady handing out programs. One smile in her general direction and suddenly you're in her living room for lunch and a game of bridge. Bah! Curse you and your friendliness! California has taught a lot of things. If the earth were to ever quake I think I'd be the only Georgian not to assume the world was ending. I can weave in and out of traffic better than any of those NASCAR drivers, I know enough car games to survive "Carmageddon" (that's an LA term - you'll have to google it.), I can walk miles in heels, fight the lines on Black Friday, I have the Starbucks menu memorized and I have at least 10 different kinds of sunscreen and tanning lotion and 3 kinds of after sun, or sun burn lotion. But what do I do with millipedes and crickets in the hallway? And what shoes, in my vast shoe collection, can I wear when everyone wants to go for hike at midnight? No freaking clue. Hi, I'm Amy, and I'm a California pansy.
I've heard a vast amount of country songs singing about the strength of a Southern woman. She grew up riding rusty trackers and played in the mud, she loves a man in wrangler jeans, she can change a tire on that '65 Ford and pluck a chicken for dinner, she loves "corn bread and fried chicken" and can gulp sweet tea like it's going out of style (I seriously wish it would...*gag*.) And I want to be her. I do! Ok, no I don't. I still prefer my black Steve Madden pumps to work boots (Actually the thought of wearing work boots gives me hives.) and I would rather watch paint dry than go for a hike in the woods at midnight (Katie loves when I say, "AH! Nature...it's touching me!)
but I can now appreciate the difference. This is me, growing. Who knew?
God continues to surprise me in this place. I feel that every day here I touch on at least 20 different emotions for elated happiness to extreme sadness. Which may seem cause for concern to some but really it's just me sorting things out. I hate waiting. More than most people. "I have an app for that" was created for people like me! In fact the other night, while I was waiting for an app on my phone to load I was playing a solitaire app game on my iTouch. How is that for extreme inpatients?! It's a problem, and I should join a support group but I'm to impatient to wait for someone to join me in one. I am running out of options here in Georgia. I can't afford to stay but I can't afford to leave. I can't afford to pay my bills or at this point, buy groceries and yet God quietly whispers, "Sit still daughter." "Nooo!" I scream as I pace back and forth. I must do something! Go somewhere. Buy something. Sell something. Invent something. Anything but sit still! I need a job, I need a miracle, I need...I don't even know what I need anymore. I keep trying to distract myself. I'm really good at that. I even went for a run the other day just to get out of my quiet apartment. Me! Running?! This is a serious problem. I keep trying to fix it. Then I give up. I realize nothing I come up with will save me from drowning in time. No life raft is appearing and I'm running out of energy to swim. "Sit still daughter." He whispers again. I throw up my hands in defeat and grumble a grudging, "FINE." But the moment I sit I look to God. "Hello! I'm sitting still! Now where's my life raft?!" Then I'm up again, pacing back and forth.
Lamentations 3:26
it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.
It is good to wait quietly. Hmmm...another thing life in metro California taught me. Never sit still. There's so much to do! And we must cram it all into our short little lives. ALL of it!!! Go! Hurry! So here in the South, where it seems life is done much slower, I must learn to wait, quietly, for my LORD. Quietly. Waiting...in the quiet. This might take some time.
(Please note: my assumptions of CA and GA as a whole are MY own assumptions are in no way meant to be derogatory or rude.)
Last night I was home alone, laying on the floor in the living room when I notice something out of the corner of my eye move quickly. In a matter of seconds I am up off the floor, shoe in hand (I wasn't wearing shoes and I'm not entirely sure where said shoe even came from) and down the hall to my room. My domain of protection. I apparently believe my room has a bug force field or why else would I go there first? It took me 10 minutes and several attempts of sneaking around corners before the unknown creature was flattened with my Adidas running shoe. I still have no idea what it was, which is not uncommon in my apartment, sadly. It seems here in Georgia bugs are as friendly as the little old church lady handing out programs. One smile in her general direction and suddenly you're in her living room for lunch and a game of bridge. Bah! Curse you and your friendliness! California has taught a lot of things. If the earth were to ever quake I think I'd be the only Georgian not to assume the world was ending. I can weave in and out of traffic better than any of those NASCAR drivers, I know enough car games to survive "Carmageddon" (that's an LA term - you'll have to google it.), I can walk miles in heels, fight the lines on Black Friday, I have the Starbucks menu memorized and I have at least 10 different kinds of sunscreen and tanning lotion and 3 kinds of after sun, or sun burn lotion. But what do I do with millipedes and crickets in the hallway? And what shoes, in my vast shoe collection, can I wear when everyone wants to go for hike at midnight? No freaking clue. Hi, I'm Amy, and I'm a California pansy.
I've heard a vast amount of country songs singing about the strength of a Southern woman. She grew up riding rusty trackers and played in the mud, she loves a man in wrangler jeans, she can change a tire on that '65 Ford and pluck a chicken for dinner, she loves "corn bread and fried chicken" and can gulp sweet tea like it's going out of style (I seriously wish it would...*gag*.) And I want to be her. I do! Ok, no I don't. I still prefer my black Steve Madden pumps to work boots (Actually the thought of wearing work boots gives me hives.) and I would rather watch paint dry than go for a hike in the woods at midnight (Katie loves when I say, "AH! Nature...it's touching me!)
but I can now appreciate the difference. This is me, growing. Who knew?
God continues to surprise me in this place. I feel that every day here I touch on at least 20 different emotions for elated happiness to extreme sadness. Which may seem cause for concern to some but really it's just me sorting things out. I hate waiting. More than most people. "I have an app for that" was created for people like me! In fact the other night, while I was waiting for an app on my phone to load I was playing a solitaire app game on my iTouch. How is that for extreme inpatients?! It's a problem, and I should join a support group but I'm to impatient to wait for someone to join me in one. I am running out of options here in Georgia. I can't afford to stay but I can't afford to leave. I can't afford to pay my bills or at this point, buy groceries and yet God quietly whispers, "Sit still daughter." "Nooo!" I scream as I pace back and forth. I must do something! Go somewhere. Buy something. Sell something. Invent something. Anything but sit still! I need a job, I need a miracle, I need...I don't even know what I need anymore. I keep trying to distract myself. I'm really good at that. I even went for a run the other day just to get out of my quiet apartment. Me! Running?! This is a serious problem. I keep trying to fix it. Then I give up. I realize nothing I come up with will save me from drowning in time. No life raft is appearing and I'm running out of energy to swim. "Sit still daughter." He whispers again. I throw up my hands in defeat and grumble a grudging, "FINE." But the moment I sit I look to God. "Hello! I'm sitting still! Now where's my life raft?!" Then I'm up again, pacing back and forth.
Lamentations 3:26
it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.
It is good to wait quietly. Hmmm...another thing life in metro California taught me. Never sit still. There's so much to do! And we must cram it all into our short little lives. ALL of it!!! Go! Hurry! So here in the South, where it seems life is done much slower, I must learn to wait, quietly, for my LORD. Quietly. Waiting...in the quiet. This might take some time.
(Please note: my assumptions of CA and GA as a whole are MY own assumptions are in no way meant to be derogatory or rude.)
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