The One With Pictures

Before: Looking into the kitchen from the dining room, towards the back of the house.

Before: At the back door, looking into the dining room.

During: What I came home to after the first (and only) day of demo.

During: This isn’t even half of the boxes with all the cabinets. They FILLED the dining room and most of the living room. Please notice that the boxes are sitting on one of the layers of vinyl from the kitchen. The non-asbestos laden vinyl flooring.

During: Hardwood floors get sanded and re-stained.

During: Cabinets start to go in. Thanks to the guys for putting down a protective layer on the newly refinished hardwood floors!

During: Cabinets, and appliances are in! Counters arrive soon.

During: Counters! Who knew they could be so exciting?!? No water or gas for the stove yet, but the refrigerator works so I am a happy camper.

During: Gas stove. The only way to go. At least, I think so…

Small buffet / bar area. Soon to have my aunt’s pictures.

Almost there!

Single bowl sink! For all those times you want to wash a big pot or lasagna dish. How often? You’d be surprised.

AFTER!!! You guys. It’s done and much cooking has already taken place. Cooking at home = saving money.

The Kitchen Remodel Project: Part 4

Where has the time gone? No idea, I tell you. But here we are, back with an installment… only four and a half months later.

So where were we? Oh yes, Father had just made a surprise weekend visit. He left the following morning (May 19^th) and later that day the electrician continued the work he started. He had somewhat of a deadline because the newly discovered hardwood floors were getting refinished. After eight days without electricity, part of it finally got turned back on mid week right in time. Hardwood dudes came and did their thing – there was sanding, staining, and polyurethane-ing. The last coat of polyurethane would go on the floors on Thursday. My amazing friends offered to let me stay at their house for a couple more nights, until the smell faded. When that was offered to me I think I cried. I was overwhelmed by their generosity. With adding days to my stay this brought the total number of nights at their house to – are you ready? – 12. That’s almost two weeks people. I was overjoyed. But I was even happier to start living in my house again. When I moved back to my house on Friday, the thermostat read a balmy 82 degrees. (Thanks electrician for not remembering to flip the HVAC breaker!) As soon as cool air was flowing into the house rooms were put back together with the help of a friend and dinner was eaten. The Saturday my dad was here, the friends I was staying with made pancakes, but with him in town I wasn’t able to join them. So what did they do? They made pancakes for me (and themselves, of course). Because they are awesome and love me so well, with food. The long Memorial Day Weekend was full of rest and gearing up for the week when the kitchen would (finally) start to come together.

The (short) week was a relatively quiet one; a nice break at what the previous few weeks had been. I think it helped that I was living at my house again. The quietness didn’t mean there wasn’t still work going on, but the level of it seemed to be doing a slow decline and the stress involved took a bit of a backseat. The cabinets got installed so the shape of the kitchen was starting to get it’s shape back. The following week brought a plaster guy to make one of the walls a wall again, the sink guy to install the SINGLE bowl sink, and the plumber swung by to hook up the faucet. Running water was an amazing thing when it hadn’t happened for a month. And then a few weeks (almost a month) happened and hardly anything seemed to happen. Progress was very slow. But on the bright side, I had a working refrigerator. So although I couldn’t cook anything, I could have coffee with creamer, milk, etc.

And finally the day came – July 12^th! It was about nine weeks after starting the whole project that the kitchen was complete. Leading up to this date the gas line was installed, the counters were installed, the backsplash was put in place, and the electrician came back and put outlets in the kitchen as well as lights in the ceiling. It was a weird feeling. All this legwork, time, energy, coordinating and I thought there would be this explosion of feelings. And it didn’t come. And that’s okay. Because those happy feelings came when I started cooking again, when friends started making appearances, and when I sit at my dining room table in the morning with a cup of hot coffee and scrambled eggs or a batch of granola I baked in my oven.

Redoing my kitchen was a huge learning experience, to say the least. There are still projects in the house I want to tackle, but they will have to wait. The semi-harsh reality is that I now have a kitchen payment. This has forced me to get in my kitchen and make food. Big pots of soup to take to work. A batch of granola to have with fruit for breakfast. I didn’t think I went out a lot pre-kitchen renovation, and I think my friends would agree. But a couple months into paying the loan back and I took a huge step back as to what I need to pay for and want to pay for, so to speak. I want to go to the movies and out to dinner, but is that wise? I’m currently enrolled in How to Be An Adult, Appreciate What You Have, and Pay Your Bills 101 and some weeks I feel like I am passing and on the dean’s list and other weeks I wish there was somehow I could get extra credit.

It’s not my intention to end on this melancholy, pessimistic note. I am an optimist and I love to see the bright side. There are times this past late-Spring, Summer, and (now) Fall that have been hard and adult-like. Bigger questions have come up. Is it always going to be this challenging? I know and trust that there will be glimmers of light, beauty, and positivity. I just have to look for them and remember them in the midst of the hard stuff.

I recently read a passage from Ecclesiastes and it was immensely helpful. I think I’ll end with the Scripture…

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.” –Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The Kitchen Remodel Project: Part 3

After Crazy Day Wednesday, Thursday (May 15^th, for those of you tracking) was quiet and I don’t think I received a phone call the entire day. All I knew was the electric was getting rewired and no news was good news. Another thought provoking conversation happened that night at the Blochers and I felt my respect and admiration for them growing. They are amazing.

Friday started off much the same as the other mornings – quiet with anticipation of something happening. At 8:48am I received a phone call from my Dad. Upon answering, he said he had a surprise for me. A few things floated around my head as I asked, “What’s the surprise?” He replied with, “I’m on my way to your house right now!” Images of him buying a plane ticket, deplaning, and renting a car began to swirl. “Oh my gosh! Are you flying or driving?” He answered, “I’m driving and I’ll see you in eight hours.”  We talked for a few more minutes about where he would stay and a few things we would do, but I was shocked and excited about his arrival. During a couple breaks in the day, I checked in with him to see how the drive was going and also to update him as to how obtaining a hotel reservation was going. Friday was also Appliance Delivery Day. The window Home Depot gave me was sometime between 4:00 and 8:00pm. Gotta love the four hour window. I think they took a note from Comcast. At 4:10 the driver called to say he was 30 minutes out and confirmed I would be at the house. Shortly thereafter I headed home and met the very nice delivery guys. After getting a small lecture about locking up my appliances they were off to drop off their next delivery and my dad was pulling into the driveway. Even though I had eight hours to prepare for his arrival, I couldn’t believe he was standing in my driveway. I gave him a quick tour of the chaos and then we went off to go to one of his favorite restaurants in Nashville – PM, near Belmont. We had a delicious meal of edamame, calamari, and sushi. We ran a couple errands after dinner, but after my week and his drive I dropped him off at my house (where he insisted on staying even though he knew there was no electricity) and I called it a night, but not without talking about the day’s activities with the Blocher’s.

I picked up my Dad the next morning at 8:00am (since he was on Pennsylvania time and starving by that time) and I introduced him to Fido and the coffee therein. After steak and eggs (for him) and oatmeal (for me) and lots of coffee we were off for the day. We ran random errands in the morning, then met a friend for lunch in Edgehill, and headed downtown after that so we could tour The Ryman Auditorium. If you haven’t been on a tour of that venue, you should totally go. It’s so cool! We had a little while until a gathering that night so we went to Whole Foods to pick out our respective dinners. When we arrived at my friend’s house and saw no one was there, I realized that the party was not that night. It was the next night. I felt like such a dufus. Like, huge.  On the way back home we didn’t feel like the food that we had picked up a few hours earlier (which had also been sitting in my backseat for a while) so we went to the Yellow Porch for some drinks and a couple appetizers. It was perfect and lovely. After doing so much running around, we called it a night and got ready for my Dad’s last day in Nashville.

Sunday started at almost the same time, just a tad later, and upon picking him up we went to The Perch in Green Hills for some high quality and delicious crepes, and some okay coffee. We decided over breakfast that after eating  I would drop him off at home and I would go to church, then I’d pick him up to conquer another Nashville eating establishment. We met my friend Elizabeth at Bread and Co. in Green Hills and had a lovely lunch full of brainstorming which I think is one of my Dad’s favorite things to do – bounce ideas off someone. It’s fun to watch. After lunch we went home to change quickly and then headed to Edwin Warner Park to go on a hike. The longest trail they have is 2 ½ miles… so we hiked it twice. It was a gorgeous day and we were so fortunate to be outside for most of it. After that it was back home to change again and head back over to my friend’s house. I was sure the party was that evening so I was overjoyed when I saw cars parked along the side of their street. What ensued was a magical evening of songwriters singing their songs to a truly captive audience. That night (and a few times the previous day) I was so happy to have my Dad meet some great friends that I have in Nashville. He got to peek in and see what my life is like and who I get to hang out with. He got to see the love and truth that is spoken to me and sung over me after an easy or hard day. What a privilege it was to sit on a porch in the middle of East Nashville and hear music borne out of death, relationships, and life experiences. We rode back to my house in a pretty quiet car; I think we were processing what we just witnessed as well as the weekend. We said a quick goodbye, as I wouldn’t see him the next morning because he would leave bright and early, and I headed to my friend’s house. There I talked with her of the happenings of the previous two days and we talked into the evening. Bedtime came too early at the awesome time of 11:00pm.

The Kitchen Remodel Project: Part 2

The weekend following demolition was good and uneventful. Sunday afternoon was spend moving furniture to the center of all the rooms to allow for the electrician to be able to get to all the perimeter walls and run new wiring. He was supposed to come Monday, but was being delayed a day and would start Tuesday. Besides, it would only take four days and that meant I would only need to stay at a friend’s house for that amount of time. In hindsight, it was good that the electric didn’t start on Monday because  I met with the hardwood guy at 7:30 that morning. Then the plumber at 8:00 (thanks pipes for becoming galvanized!), the drywall guy at 8:30, and then (since I wasn’t still fully convinced) the vinyl lady at 9:30. What must my neighbors have thought? I made the decision to refinish the hardwood floors… which meant that installation of the new kitchen would be pushed back a full week. But (I was told) it would be worth it!

The day of rewiring arrived (Tuesday) and I found myself walking around each room with Mark, talking with him about switches and plates. He estimated that it would take about four days and that I would be able to move back into my house that weekend. Great news! I ran to work, got some things done and then came home during lunch to meet the two guys to whom I was donating my stove and fridge. Thanks Chad, Jordan, and Midtown Fellowship for taking those appliances off my hands!

The next day might be a day I would like to never live over. And since I don’t live in the movie Groundhog Day, I don’t see that happening. Ever. Mark (the electrician) arrived right on time and the plumber arrived shortly thereafter. The plumber was going to be replacing some galvanized pipes where the sink went and was going to go, upon the kitchen being completed. It was a very humid and muggy day in Nashville and much of Mark’s work in the morning had been in the (hot and humid) attic. He descended the attic stairs, dripping in sweat. Unbeknownst to the two of us, the plumber had turned the water off in preparation for replacing pipes, thus prohibiting Mark from using water to rinse off his hands and face. Not good. He muttered to himself and it was clear he wasn’t happy. Both the plumber and I apologized… even though we didn’t really need to. Another bonus was that the gas line for the stove was going to be hooked up that day. Or, at least I thought it was. I thought a gas line could be hooked up prior to the appliance actually being in the house. There is a gas line currently going into the house for the hot water heater, so that’s why I thought it could be hooked up. No dice. So, the gas guys leave and I leave shortly after to let the electrician and plumber do their work without me in the way. As soon as I pull up to my office I get a call. It’s Mark apologizing for being a little testy. We talk for a few minutes about some rooms and the switches and plates that are going in them and then he pauses, mid-sentence. He tells me there is a guy walking up the house. It’s a city gas inspector. City Gas Inspector Man is asking if any gas work had been done. Mark tells him no (which was true) and he leaves. However Mark and me (and Steve, the other electrician) are spooked. We all decide that it would be good for me, for purely precautionary measures, to go downtown to the Codes Building and get a permit. They would then get an electric permit from my permit and we would be fine. The whole process takes about an hour and we all feel better now that all the work is being done under a permit.

Trying to convey how stressful each of these conversations and scenarios were is almost impossible. I was freaking out and it was not fun. All morning and into the afternoon my stomach was in total knots.

I finally get back to the office and I was able to get an afternoon of uninterrupted work completed without calls from the electrician, plumber, or anyone else. At the end of the day I am exhausted, but in need of lunch food for the rest of the week so I venture to the vortex – the Whole Foods in Green Hills. By this point it’s raining, there’s traffic, I’m questioning if getting a permit was the right decision, and I just want to go to the house where I am staying and get something to eat.

I arrive to the house where I am staying and I’m immediately met with a cool, air conditioned home, full of children, and am pulled out of the attitude that I was stuck in. It’s amazing what a little food will do a tired and hungry person. What was even better was that I was “babysitting” that night. The husband and wife were going out for the evening, but were going to put the younger twins to bed. I helped put the older twins to bed by getting their teeth brushed and stories read. Once that was done, I had an evening to myself which involved immediately changing into pajamas and reading. It was glorious. A few hours later, the parents came home and we processed our days. And got ready for the next one.

Was that Wednesday the the most stressful day of the whole remodel? Did anything else go wrong and/or get delayed? Stay tuned…

Not discussed in the post – I also got my cabinets delivered when at the same time all the other things were happening. I snapped this as I was waiting for them to finish. There were a total of 32 boxes and this wasn’t nearly half of them. For those who have been to my house, this is looking into the dining room from the living room. Wishing I had taken a few more photos right about now…

The Kitchen Remodel Project: Part 1

A few months ago, when my dad was visiting I mentioned to him that I was looking to redo my kitchen “in a few years.” My defense for waiting so long was that I wanted to save up some money and be (more) mentally ready for all the decisions that would need be made. To indulge him, we took a trip to the local Home Depot and spoke with a Kitchen Designer. After talking with Richard for over two hours, we got some great information on some truly amazing deals and promotions they were running at the time, and a few that were coming up that I could (and would most certainly) take advantage of.  After waxing and waning, I decided to just go for it. Why wait an undetermined number of years? Why not do it now and enjoy the kitchen for a longer amount of time? What was holding me back? I signed on a few dotted lines, opened up a Home Depot line of credit, and the timeline of things started to come into view. To make things a little more complicated, I would take the advice of a handyman and have all the electric wiring redone at the same time. I would also heed his advice and find a place to live for four days. The kitchen would be demo’d so it was the perfect time. Right? I met with Home Depot’s contractors, all of whom were very nice, and decided that Thursday, May 8^th would be Day 1 of demolition. Depending on any complications, it would take a day or day and a half to complete. James and William arrived at 6:53 that morning and when they asked if certain things were going or not, William got excited and exclaimed, “Yes! I get to use my sledgehammer!” So, that made my day! I didn’t hear anything from either one, save for one quick phone call, for the rest of the day so I assumed things went well. In the middle of the day, I remembered that I had never nailed down what my new floor was going to be. I made a few hurried phone calls and set up an appointment for a woman to come with samples of black and white checkerboard sheet vinyl. When I got off work, I was anxious to see what the kitchen (or what was left of it) looked like so I grabbed some delicious dinner from Burger King and headed to the house. It looked much like a demo’d kitchen should – everything gone and the refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher were in the dining room. However, there was a surprise – I suddenly had hardwood floors. This was a mystery and a bit of a shock. The last time I had seen the kitchen and talked with James, there was a layer of vinyl on top and then a layer beneath it that was asbestos vinyl. Everyone agreed (Home Depot, the contractors, parents, friends, etc.) that there was no way the bottom later would come up. Mesothelioma = bad! To mitigate a step from the kitchen into the other parts of the house, they would take up the top layer of vinyl, but leave the asbestos vinyl. So again, I was surprised. And I was also slightly concerned of the health of the two guys that actually demolished the kitchen. Because I tend to need some convincing, I still thought I was going to go with a new layer of vinyl to “complete the look of my kitchen.” But after speaking with trusted friends and family I became convinced that I needed to refinish the floors. The following day, more phone calls were made and an appointment was made for a gentleman to come out and see what could be done about sanding and staining the floors. I told myself that I was still unsure about refinishing the floors versus getting sheet vinyl, but I was pretty sure what I was going to do… This is just the beginning of the project. Stick around and there are more stories…

Although this was taken a year ago, this is pretty much what my kitchen looked like a few days before demolition. In the days leading up to it, everything was packed up and food was either eaten, packed for later creations, or given away.

And this is what I came home to after Day 1 of demo.

A DC Life Lived

With Nashville not having a metro, I have the pleasure of driving everywhere. This is not to come off as a complaint of any kind. Although there are times I miss the ease of getting on the metro, then I think of how many times a train I was on was off-loaded at Foggy Bottom station (of all places) or the distinct smell of metal burning. And the ding of the metro doors closing. I think there are times I hear a similar sound and look down to see if I’m standing on yellow/orange carpet and whether or not there is a waft of B.O. in the air.

Come mid-May, I will have lived in Nashville for three years. THREE YEARS. It doesn’t seem like that long at all. But then I talk to people and hear what life looks like for them these days. And then I flip through pictures of friends and I realize, that yes, that much time has passed. People have met significant others, gotten married, and started families. People themselves have moved away from the beloved District. Some have gone away to school and come back. So many stories and so many friends that used to be a part of my normal, day-to-day life, and now they’re not.

This afternoon as I was driving home, I was struck that I was driving on an interstate in Nashville, Tennessee. An interstate. In Nashville. Does that ever happen to anyone else? Instead of being on Route 29 in Arlington or I-66 driving from Vienna to Haymarket or on Route 7 heading to Tysons, I was on I-65 South headed to my house in Nashville. And that feeling of being where I actually was didn’t stop there. Later, I was eating some dinner and had the realization all over again of where I was. Friends and family I dearly love were in another state.

For so long I envisioned a life in Arlington and thought that I would live there until something pulled me away – a job, my husband’s job, or something else. I would never have left under my own volition. Why would I? In DC, even though I was in a job that wasn’t really going somewhere, I was going to wait it out and find something else. All my friends were either doing the same thing or had found something they enjoyed doing (for the most part). Then one day the idea came to move, and a year and a half later I found myself pulling up to an apartment in Nashville with my dad, getting out of the car and hearing millions of cicadas singing or chirping, or whatever they do when they emerge from the ground. I wasn’t in Virginia anymore. And then I started a life here. A job came a few months later. A house came a year after that. Friends came into my life (both in Nashville and a couple that moved from DC). And more years passed.

In the years since that 10-hour drive, I wonder, I think, if I matter. If driving around Nashville, Arlington, or anywhere else matters. Did the life I led in DC and the people I knew (and still know) matter? Was it a layover? Am I now in a different terminal but still in a layover? There are times I’ll be in a store and overhear a conversation where a name is mentioned or hear a coworker mention a friend of theirs that shares a name with someone I know and suddenly memories flood my mind of a life I led in a different lifetime. And then I wonder if anyone else experiences that if they’ve moved away from home or not. I reach for my phone, but then quickly remember it’s the middle of the workday and that I will call or text when I get off work. Or email. I’ll definitely email. And then I don’t. Because I think too much time has passed. And then I think it’s all so silly that I don’t just say hello. Do they still think about me? Do they care about me? Fear gets the better part of me and I let another day pass, and then another week and another month.

I think and talk about my life in DC often and although there were some good and not-so-good jobs, the relationships are what I am most thankful for, even though some have seemed to have gone by the wayside. I’ve experienced and learned that just because two people don’t see each other a lot (or really at all) it doesn’t mean there was or is strife or animosity. I remember laughing until tears fell from my eyes and my cheeks hurt. I remember road trips to weddings. I remember movies and concerts. I remember walks home still probably smelling like someone I stood next to on the metro. And I am thankful. Thankful for all of it. Even the hard stuff because it was all a gift. And God only gives us good gifts. 

Anniversaries & Reflections

One could say I have ignored this small corner for a little while. I would like to think I have taken a big deep breath. And, at times, I feel like I have been too busy or distracted for my own good. The other day I thought, “it’s time. I want to sit down and write.” Maybe it’s the seasons changing and cooler temperatures ushering into Nashville. Or visits to and from family and friends. I’d like to think both, and then some.

This time of year also gets me thinking because I have an anniversary. But let’s cover some background first. This past May I celebrated living in Nashville for two years. And what a two years it’s been. What was once a (seriously) crazy idea of living outside of the single place I have ever known, is now a complete reality. Not a week goes by that do not I think of conversations had, prayers prayed, and books read that helped me to answer questions I had regarding moving. It rained the day I drove away from the Sycamore House in Arlington and it rained today. There was a deep sadness as I drove away from a house of memories and friends. Sometimes when it rains I am brought back to that day and think of what the last two and a half years has brought. In the beginning I wondered if I had made the right decision. Little by little the doubt subsided and I saw that it was going to be okay. That did not mean that those times of doubt disappeared all together, but I was stronger at defeating it.

A year ago August, I bought my house. This was a long time dream, as it is with many others. I remember looking for a condominium in Reston years ago and it not feeling right. Never once did one condo say to me, “BUY ME! BUY ME!” It felt like I was walking around someone else’s space, not one that was currently someone else’s that I could make my own. When I walked into my house there was something about it that was inviting and intriguing. There was a feeling that I could make something of it. Little by little I am. The list of things I want to do keeps growing, but that’s normal right?

And now we come to October 3^rd. Two years ago I started the greatest job in the world. It is challenging, fun, frustrating, and I look forward to going to work every day. I first heard about it by accidentally responding to a recruiter on a huge job listing site. Then I reluctantly went to the recruiter’s office and sat with him while he evaluated my skills. When he called about an “Administrative Assistant position in a medical office” I thought to myself, “what have I got to lose?” Looking back, I see the hand that was guiding me along the.entire.way. I was brought to a point that I did not understand so I would be able to walk down paths I did not know existed. I don’t know how long I’ll be at my job, but I hope it’s a very long time.

I am thankful that anniversaries, the good, the bad, and the in between, allow me to reflect.

One of my favorite movies is Cast Away. Even though it features Tom Hanks on an island alone for most of the movie I feel like it’s really about relationships. And it’s about, I think, being receptive and open to what happens in life. It does not mean we take those things willingly or that we fight them off. One of my favorite quotes of all time is from that movie,

“And I know what I have to do now. I gotta to keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring.”

Happy anniversary to you! If it’s a day, month, semester, whatever. Celebrate it! You’ve made it this far. You are not alone in anything, especially the fight. Take a deep breath, open your hands, and take in the tide.

Behold the Lamb of God

Earlier this year, in the month of March to be exact, I decided to go on a fast. But not just any fast.

Over the years, friends of mine had given up various things at varying lengths of time at different times in their lives. And so had I. They ranged from soft drinks to music to television; basically, a lot of vices. These things in our lives that so easily distract us. Books have been written come to mind as well. The first one, that remains on my “to-read” list is “The Celebration of Discipline” by Richard Foster. In it, he divides

“…the Disciplines into three movements of the Spirit, Foster shows how each of these areas contribute to a balanced spiritual life. The inward Disciplines of meditation, prayer, fasting, and study, offer avenues of personal examination and change. The outward Disciplines of simplicity, solitude, submission, and service, help prepare us to make the world a better place. The corporate Disciplines of confession, worship, guidance, and celebration, bring us nearer to one another and to God.”

After giving it some thought, I decided to fast from concerts. Just as I was telling someone today, they gave me a look of “really?” I replied, “I know, I know. It’s so Nashville of me,” but it really was grounded in something real. At the beginning of 2012 I attended a concert a month for the first four months. It was also around this time that I was thinking and praying about what my living situation would look like in the coming months and years in my new city. Shortly after concert #3, I needed to tell my apartment complex if I would be staying another year or if I wanted to pursue another living option. I chose the latter. Thus commenced my search for a house.

Because I had been to more than my fair share of shows in the first year of living in Nashville, I decided that I was going to give those up. I would take the time, energy, and money I would otherwise spend on a concert ticket and apply that to looking for a house. I took this very seriously, spending time in prayer and looking for just the right house. There was, however, a stipulation I applied. I would go to any concert for which I already had a ticket; lucky for me and my fast, it was only one. Then, no matter if found a house or not, the fast would end by going to Andrew Peterson’s “Behold The Lamb of God” at the Ryman Auditorium.

Tonight is that show.

It’s been a great eight months. I learned a lot in buying my first house and abstaining from something that I really, really enjoy. During this season of the year with it’s reminders of living in a broken world, I hope that can see beyond that to the ultimate gift that was given to all mankind.

Photo source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Behold_the_Lamb_of_God

My New Year

It’s more common for reflections on the past year to come sometime in December; for New Year’s resolutions to commence in January. But as a friend told me in high school, every second is another day, another week, another month and so on. People celebrate wedding anniversaries not on January 1^st, but on any day of the year. And people celebrate sobriety similarly – on a random Thursday in February.

This past January, I had such a renewal.

But first, some history.

Last year was what some call challenging. And growing. Definitely growing.

Just over a year ago I was laid off from a job. In the week or two that followed the lay-off, I was completely and utterly devastated. It was as if a part of me was injured, the part of me that wanted to do well in a job and be wanted. I remember feeling totally incompetent and like a failure. Remembering how I felt feels like forever ago, but I said that with a straight face to my counselor and my housemates. I felt like part of my life was over and I didn’t know what I was going to do. And even more so because it was already in my plan in 2011 to move to Nashville. With getting laid off, the skeleton of plans I had was turned upside down.

After losing my job, the next four months involved packing, meeting with friends, doing (and completing) P90X, applying and interviewing for jobs in Nashville, and trying to figure out what the future held. In mid-May I drove from Arlington, VA to Williamsburg, VA to Nashville, TN and had no idea what the next bend in the road would bring. From May to October I unpacked and settled, applied and interviewed for jobs, volunteered at one of my favorite organizations, looked for a church, drank coffee, and met new friends. There were some really dark times during those five months, but a friend was never more than a phone call away and I had my fair share of conversations. In the middle of that time I accepted a job working out of a guy’s house. The idea of having a job and actually getting a paycheck was almost overwhelming and I didn’t really stop to ask myself if it was the right fit. From the first day I felt like I was treading water and could barely keep my head above water. I was trying and trying, and just as I was gasping for air I was let go. My “services would no longer be required” and “it just wasn’t a good fit” was all he said, and he didn’t need to say more. As I drove home, I could barely see through the tears and swore that I would only tell people I loved and trusted because I was so ashamed. For a few days I felt like I was incompetent and a failure all over again.

I has completely lost sight of my purpose. Like Peter, I had taken my eyes off my Savior and fallen in the water. It was only through trust in Him and with my eyes fixed on Him that I was able to regain a small sense of balance. As I reflected on getting fired for the first time in my life, I realized an important lesson – I was absolutely desperate for a job, but Jesus wanted me desperate for Him. I wanted to prove my worth through a job by showing people what I could do, but He has chosen me to work through and with the Lord it’s already laid out.

I went back to the job search, but with a different attitude and outlook. In late-September something came through. A small medical office was hiring someone to do administrative tasks. Woo. This sounded real exciting. But with the new attitude and outlook, I decided to pursue it. That interview led to the most fulfilling job I have ever had. Ever. It is fun, challenging, growing, stretching, frustrating, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. In a week or so I will have been there four months, which I realize is nothing, but it is something when I think back to six months ago, and then a year ago.

With the past year being what it was, there was no time to take off. I was already off of a job. But just because you’re not working doesn’t mean it’s a vacation or that you can do what you please. There were times during my job search I would take the “day off” and go for a walk or sleep in. But there was no time to take a vacation. As in a few days in a row to sightsee or relax on a beach.

Before moving a dear friend was entertaining the idea (or maybe it was set) of going to the UK for a while. As it turned out, she got a job for six months. When I expressed interesting in wanting to visit her, it was decided… sort of. If I had the means and the time off, I would go.  So as to not bombard my boss and office manager on my first day with this news, I waited a few weeks and then asked if it would be okay. They gave approval and then it was a flurry of Skype dates, emails back and forth, and finally, tickets being bought. Remembering that that was all the way back in October is unbelievable. But the months ticked on and then the trip was right around the corner.

I flew to London and spent one glorious, amazing, restful, active, renewing, refreshing, and eye-opening week with G. It was perfect and will go down as one of, if not the, most amazing and enjoyable vacations I’ve ever had. Now that I’ve been back for a week and a half, I am able to step further back and see the impact of the trip – how it’s good to get out of your city and even your time zone. I needed to get away, but at the end of the trip, I longed for Nashville, my bed, and getting back to work.

The idea that the trip was a renewal came from a dear friend C. As I attempted to put into words what happened in London and what it means to my body, mind, and spirit, she said something brilliant. It was something along the lines of – “it’s like you’re living a new year now. That time was so refreshing, so renewing, it’s as if you’re changed.” I am changed. The trip and every single thing we did was so life giving, it’s hard to put any of it into words. There were long strolls, fast-paced walks, priceless works of art, to-die-for food, treasured conversations, low-ceiling-ed taverns, uniformed men, jaw-dropping flora and fauna, flying buttresses, gracious and time-generous tour guides, quick-witted whippersnappers, smelly tents, European sunsets, century old bathing grounds, and one friend who I got to do and see all of that with.

I will be truly forever grateful for the time off I was given, the time I got to spend with G, and the hours and hours of not-even-reflected yet.

Hiking Without a Guide

Maybe it was the New Year, the idea of a fresh start, a fresh breath of air. During the church service this past weekend I had the idea of going hiking in the afternoon. It was a few weeks earlier in the fall that I went hiking for three weekends in a row; the last one was even during the rain, which made it more awesome. It was quiet on the trail and under tree cover, there was only a slight mist that made it to the ground.

In Edwin Warner Park there is one trail I like in particular. It’s two and a half miles and can be done in under an hour. There are dead-flat parts, places where the trial switches back and forth, and then rocks that double as steep stairs. As of yesterday, I had done this trail three times. I was by no means a pro at this particular hike, but knew it well enough to know what was coming up most of the time.

There I was going along, marveling at overall flora and fauna, people watching at the various families and groups that were also on the trail, and of course paying attention to where I was going. But then it happened. I became unfamiliar with my surroundings. It was this hill. Had I climbed it before? Maybe? I went back to where I had last turned and decided that this was THE trail, I just needed to go further on up the hill and things would look more familiar. No such luck – I arrived at a platform that overlooked a lot of the park. It was gorgeous, but not at all what I neither wanted nor was looking for.

Not wanting to panic, I took the paved road that was directly behind the platform. I knew where the trail was, I just needed to find it. I turned left thinking I had turned off of the trail too early. After five or ten minutes I realized I, in fact, should have gone right to meet back up with the trail. Strong fear didn’t start to set in, but it was chilly out and the sun is setting pretty early in Middle Tennessee these days. Like, by 5:30 (<- total guess, fyi). As I walked and walked for the next 20 or so minutes to meet up with the trail, I couldn’t help but see the irony in what I was doing.

We think that because we’ve done something before that it means we know how to do it again. How quickly I was humbled. We think that by following the “correct” path that it’s the only way to get somewhere. Just because I’ve lived through a January before, does that automatically mean I know what this one, in 2012, will entail? No and thank goodness for that! For more practical things, it helps to know what to do. But each season of life bring it’s challenges, blessings, times of suffering, and new paths that look like old ones or old ones that look brand new.

Even though I never panicked, I was happy when I really knew that I was about to meet up with the trail again. And wouldn’t you know it that when I turned a corner the sun almost blinded me in the best way. It’s yellow-orange glow made me hold up a hand to shield my eyes to be able to take in my surroundings. There were a few people around, milling about on the various paths that were crossing. The sun was setting and it was hanging right at where I needed to pick the trail back up. I chuckled to myself as I got back on the path.

I suppose that’s what God might do – chuckle at us and some of our actions. We are never far from His hand. We might feel like we are completely off the path or maybe we catch a glimpse on where we think were supposed to be, but like a loving parent He always knows where we are in relation to Him and summons us back by His creation – His Son or the sun or something else. I’m thankful for the way my hike went because it wasn’t in my plan, but it was in His all the time.

Looking forward to this year and all the hikes I get to go on, with paths or not.