Lately I keep yo-yo-ing between feeling proud of who I am and then feeling disappointed in myself.
I have been a barista since I graduated college. I am starting to wonder, just like Meg Ryan in "You've Got Mail": do I do it because I love it, or because I haven't been brave?
I know what I am worth, yet my parents say that I settle for a lot less.
It scares me that in one year I will have to go out in search of my own insurance plan. What scares me more than that is that I may need to find a job where I sit all day, chained to a desk and telephone, in order to obtain a good insurance plan.
So what do I do?
Recently I have taken a cake decorating class and I plan to take more. I would like to start sewing. I would love to own my own coffee shop. I may even want to become a teacher. It's just a matter of igniting the motivation and making the decision to stop thinking and start doing.
I know that I have so many talents that are waiting to be unleashed, like a seed beneath soil that no one sees until the right ingredients bring it to sprout. It is in the continual watering of the soil with hopeful expectation that something will sprout where I feel the most stuck. I am like a novice gardener: I become so discouraged when something I've tried has shriveled up, or I keep watering and nothing ever sprouts; I feel like a failure.
Sometimes I even feel lazy, like I am just expecting that things will fall out of the sky for me. I wonder if deep down I'm really just a brat from upper-middle-class suburbia who's never had to work for anything. It sounds silly, but I find that since I've graduated college, I haven't had to work hard for a lot of things.
Have I stayed in the coffee and restaurant world simply because I am afraid of putting forth the work of finding something different? Am I just staying in these types of jobs because I haven't taken the time to research what I may be able to do instead?
I may be suffering from a mild form of Peter Pan disorder because there is, admittedly, a part of me that doesn't want to buckle down and sacrifice in order to invest for my future. That childish part of me expects that I'll "get there eventually," as if it were to fall from the sky or I will "one day" find the motivation to change my circumstances.
But I also want to know where this desire to "find a better job" is coming from. It is true that I am not going to make a career out of being a barista. I would love to be able to do so many different things in life to earn a living. The problem I am facing is to choose something that will at least pay the bills and fulfill my basic needs so that I am able to do all of the things that I want to do, like learning how to decorate cakes and how to sew.
But is this desire simply based on insecurities? Am I just trying to appease my parents? Am I looking to be taken more seriously? Do I even want to be taken seriously?
The real question is, what do I want? I'm not sure I can answer that question confidently, but I do know that I want to "do the thing that makes [me] like no one else," a quote taken from the movie, "P.S. I Love You." In that movie, the character, Holly, has just turned thirty and is unhappy in her career. Her husband urges her to remember the person she was when he first met her: filled with ambition, exploring creative possibilities, and using William Blake's quote "My business is to create" as her life philosophy.
"I must create a system or be enslaved by another mans; I will not reason and compare: my business is to create." -William Blake
I don't want be somebody I am not simply because I am trying to conform to a standard that may in some ways, make my life "easier," like finding a higher-paying job with benefits. But I know that at some point, I do have to face the realities of living expenses. But I do know that whatever I end up doing, I have never been one to conform and I'm not going to start now.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Grey
Grey seems to be the theme of my little life these days.
The weather is unusually cold for this time of year and the sky is always grey. My emotions recently have also been grey. I don't feel angry, like the color red, I don't feel happy like the color yellow. I hardly feel anything. I feel grey.
Events in my life have not been exciting or joyful, but no events have been terrible or traumatizing either. Events, or, lack thereof, have been just grey.
Grey is the color that is stuck in the middle between two colors that are clearly confident in who they are. No identity crises there. Grey chooses to stay in the middle rather than take a stand. It is complacent. It is unmotivated. It is content. It is stagnant. Grey is an undecided color.
That's what I feel is going on in my life right now.
The weather is unusually cold for this time of year and the sky is always grey. My emotions recently have also been grey. I don't feel angry, like the color red, I don't feel happy like the color yellow. I hardly feel anything. I feel grey.
Events in my life have not been exciting or joyful, but no events have been terrible or traumatizing either. Events, or, lack thereof, have been just grey.
Grey is the color that is stuck in the middle between two colors that are clearly confident in who they are. No identity crises there. Grey chooses to stay in the middle rather than take a stand. It is complacent. It is unmotivated. It is content. It is stagnant. Grey is an undecided color.
That's what I feel is going on in my life right now.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
My "Calling"
I read something the other day that stirred me. I read an article that focused on finding one's "calling" and it said that especially among twenty-somethings while on their noble quest end up never staying at a job for more than a year. Well, it sure seems like the article was talking about me.
What I liked about the article was how it persuaded me not to think of my calling as something that I will one day achieve or finally discover, as if it were buried treasure. There is no right answer to this question. My calling is how I choose to live out my life in my relationships, my job, my thoughts, my attitude, and my hobbies. All of the things that make up my life are in fact, all a part of my calling. Every day I am presented with different people, opportunities, situations, triumphs, and failures and my calling is to face each one of those things walking as an obedient child of God.
Food for thought.
What I liked about the article was how it persuaded me not to think of my calling as something that I will one day achieve or finally discover, as if it were buried treasure. There is no right answer to this question. My calling is how I choose to live out my life in my relationships, my job, my thoughts, my attitude, and my hobbies. All of the things that make up my life are in fact, all a part of my calling. Every day I am presented with different people, opportunities, situations, triumphs, and failures and my calling is to face each one of those things walking as an obedient child of God.
Food for thought.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
A New Heart
"Where is our tenderness? Where our love to
Christ, if we seek not His honor in the salvation of men? O that the
Lord would saturate us through and through with an undying zeal for the
souls of men." -Charles H. Spurgeon
As the Christmas season is in full-swing, I have been constantly reflecting on the very reason we celebrate with our family members and friends with food, laughter, music, and gifts every year. Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners--that is, you and me. It's an old story, but it's never tiresome. We need not think of it as dull, mundane, or commonplace. It is a story of how God so loved the entire world that he left his heavenly place--where he didn't have to experience hunger, pain, thirst, or heartbreak--and came to earth to be born and experience all of that, simply to die.
It is a grim tale if you were to look at it from a literary perspective, but the most vital part of this story is that it is a story of eternal hope. This season is about hope, for those who have lost it, for those who are still looking for it, and for those who even don't believe in hope. Hope has come.
What do I do with this story of hope? I know it to be true in my heart, so I walk around with a slightly bit more sense of peace than the average person, but is that good enough? No, I say.
When I encounter people all day--obnoxious people at the grocery store, customers who are a pain in the butt, making ridiculous requests in a whiny, childlike voice, co-workers who are grumpy, family members who like to push buttons and get into arguments--I tend to get very self-absorbed and view their behavior as an attack against me. As a result, I find that many days I have a brick-solid heart, closed off to any sort of compassion or understanding and I carry on with the mission to meet my needs that were so harshly compromised in those little encounters.
This Christmas season, I am asking Christ to give me a new heart.
In Colossians 3:12 Paul tells us, "Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience." This sounds all warm and fuzzy, like something you'd see cross-stitched in someone's guest bathroom, but it is a tough request.
Then he says, "bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive."
Bearing with one another is really translated as "forbearance," which is, by definition, "accepting pains or hardships calmly or without complaint."
This is the very core of the story of Christmas. Jesus Christ came to this earth in an attitude of complete humility, which was the entire removal of himself. I ought to live like this for others. I understand that is a tough moral code to live by, but he helps me, through his mercy, his forgiveness, grace, and guidance through his Holy Spirit. Even though I am a completely self-seeking, hardened person, he softens, he mends, and he gives knowledge and wisdom when I ask for it.
I want to start seeing people the way he sees people. I want to hear people the way he hears people. I realize I not only need a new heart, but also new eyes, new ears, and even a new mouth, for when I encounter people who need hope, that I may be Christ's voice to them.
As the Christmas season is in full-swing, I have been constantly reflecting on the very reason we celebrate with our family members and friends with food, laughter, music, and gifts every year. Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners--that is, you and me. It's an old story, but it's never tiresome. We need not think of it as dull, mundane, or commonplace. It is a story of how God so loved the entire world that he left his heavenly place--where he didn't have to experience hunger, pain, thirst, or heartbreak--and came to earth to be born and experience all of that, simply to die.
It is a grim tale if you were to look at it from a literary perspective, but the most vital part of this story is that it is a story of eternal hope. This season is about hope, for those who have lost it, for those who are still looking for it, and for those who even don't believe in hope. Hope has come.
What do I do with this story of hope? I know it to be true in my heart, so I walk around with a slightly bit more sense of peace than the average person, but is that good enough? No, I say.
When I encounter people all day--obnoxious people at the grocery store, customers who are a pain in the butt, making ridiculous requests in a whiny, childlike voice, co-workers who are grumpy, family members who like to push buttons and get into arguments--I tend to get very self-absorbed and view their behavior as an attack against me. As a result, I find that many days I have a brick-solid heart, closed off to any sort of compassion or understanding and I carry on with the mission to meet my needs that were so harshly compromised in those little encounters.
This Christmas season, I am asking Christ to give me a new heart.
In Colossians 3:12 Paul tells us, "Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience." This sounds all warm and fuzzy, like something you'd see cross-stitched in someone's guest bathroom, but it is a tough request.
Then he says, "bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive."
Bearing with one another is really translated as "forbearance," which is, by definition, "accepting pains or hardships calmly or without complaint."
This is the very core of the story of Christmas. Jesus Christ came to this earth in an attitude of complete humility, which was the entire removal of himself. I ought to live like this for others. I understand that is a tough moral code to live by, but he helps me, through his mercy, his forgiveness, grace, and guidance through his Holy Spirit. Even though I am a completely self-seeking, hardened person, he softens, he mends, and he gives knowledge and wisdom when I ask for it.
I want to start seeing people the way he sees people. I want to hear people the way he hears people. I realize I not only need a new heart, but also new eyes, new ears, and even a new mouth, for when I encounter people who need hope, that I may be Christ's voice to them.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Joy Comes In The Morning
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23
I woke up at 7am this morning and always feel a sense of pride when I can climb out of bed and start my day that early. When I make my coffee and sit down at the kitchen table, I feel as though I have a large, blank canvas of possibilities for my day and I can't wait to start writing down all of the things I want to accomplish.
Mornings make me feel motivated. When the sun tickles the tops of trees as it peeks over rooftops and birds are tweeting in every direction it gives me an overwhelming positive feeling, as if I just got back from a jog (which I probably should be doing right now).
I wake up with this childish, naive sense of enthusiasm but then as my day unfolds, that enthusiasm gets choked and it dwindles down to nothing by evening. I feel like the cares of the world get placed on my shoulders with every hour, one little thing building on top of another: worries of the future, my bank account, my faults, my lack of contentment, etc.
I think the same can be said for my relationship with Christ. He explains our relationship with him as a seed--The Word--that is sown in each person and there are different circumstances that can either nourish the seed into growth or choke it and it dies:
"As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful." Matthew 13:22.
I am reminded this morning that I need to begin each day with the attitude of a child. God says that he has rescued me from death for all eternity, that even though I may screw up, that he is faithful to forgive, and that he loves me so much that he "rejoices" over me. So now I need to just believe it.
"I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." Luke 18:17
This is not to say that I will just put on blinders and pretend that everything is peachy-keen because life, most of the time, is not. But I need to be reminded of how children are so quick to believe without seeing and trust without any skepticism.
"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Hebrews 11:1.
That is where I believe true contentment and joy lies: in faith. By having faith that God will carry out his promises and trusting him with every piece of my life, there I find freedom, rest, and peace because the control has been relinquished to someone else, someone who is all-powerful and all-knowing.
Now how can I possibly go throughout my day today with this knowledge and not be joyful?
Psalm 30:5: "For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning."
I woke up at 7am this morning and always feel a sense of pride when I can climb out of bed and start my day that early. When I make my coffee and sit down at the kitchen table, I feel as though I have a large, blank canvas of possibilities for my day and I can't wait to start writing down all of the things I want to accomplish.
Mornings make me feel motivated. When the sun tickles the tops of trees as it peeks over rooftops and birds are tweeting in every direction it gives me an overwhelming positive feeling, as if I just got back from a jog (which I probably should be doing right now).
I wake up with this childish, naive sense of enthusiasm but then as my day unfolds, that enthusiasm gets choked and it dwindles down to nothing by evening. I feel like the cares of the world get placed on my shoulders with every hour, one little thing building on top of another: worries of the future, my bank account, my faults, my lack of contentment, etc.
I think the same can be said for my relationship with Christ. He explains our relationship with him as a seed--The Word--that is sown in each person and there are different circumstances that can either nourish the seed into growth or choke it and it dies:
"As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful." Matthew 13:22.
I am reminded this morning that I need to begin each day with the attitude of a child. God says that he has rescued me from death for all eternity, that even though I may screw up, that he is faithful to forgive, and that he loves me so much that he "rejoices" over me. So now I need to just believe it.
"I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." Luke 18:17
This is not to say that I will just put on blinders and pretend that everything is peachy-keen because life, most of the time, is not. But I need to be reminded of how children are so quick to believe without seeing and trust without any skepticism.
"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Hebrews 11:1.
That is where I believe true contentment and joy lies: in faith. By having faith that God will carry out his promises and trusting him with every piece of my life, there I find freedom, rest, and peace because the control has been relinquished to someone else, someone who is all-powerful and all-knowing.
Now how can I possibly go throughout my day today with this knowledge and not be joyful?
Psalm 30:5: "For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning."
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Art lesson
Greetings once again. I need to tell you a story about this painting. I just finished it this morning, Tuesday, June 5th, 2012, around 12:30pm.
I started it in 2006.
It was commissioned by my uncle, Richard who took a photo of this fishing village in Nova Scotia. He had paid me up front, in 2006, which of course, "burned a hole in my pocket," as it were, and the his hard-earned money quickly dwindled into nothing due to my childish spending habits. I began the painting with great enthusiasm and pride because I finally felt like a true professional artist because I was being paid to create a work of art.
But years had begun to pass without working on the painting at all, partly because I didn't have time during school and work, but mostly it was because I got frustrated with how certain parts had turned out. (I won't disclose which parts of the painting because they are like deep wounds in my artistic soul that have taken the same amount of years to heal as it took me to finish the painting) I thought the colors were off, some areas were too detailed and others wobbly and fuzzy, and I began to resent the painting. Angrily, I tucked it away in the basement, hoping that everyone would just forget about it.
Well, that didn't happen. My mom continually kept asking me, "When are you going to finish Richard's painting?" (She also reminded me numerous times that I was, indeed, paid to do this, as if I wasn't already aware of it) There were several occasions when my uncle had asked about it, which of course, made me feel completely awful, and I became even more resentful, guilt-ridden, and depressed.
So where did my motivation finally come from this morning, you ask?
It could be that I was sick and tired of feeling guilty, with all of this free time that I have been graciously given and the money that was given to me to do it. It could be that I have been thinking a lot about how my artistic skills have been in hibernation since I left high school and would like to wake them from their slumber. It could also be that I have grown more aware of how I tend to start things with great passion, enthusiasm, and direction, but then I lose focus, become discouraged, and eventually give up and never finish anything.
Whichever the reason, I am happy that I have finally finished it. Now here comes the tough part: I must say, it is not at all my best work. It hurts me to say that for multiple reasons: First, I hate the fact that I have created a piece of art that is now in existence of which I am not truly proud. Second, I hate that I am actually allowing it to be viewed by anyone other than myself because I am so embarrassed and disgusted by it, and lastly, I am hurt because I am giving it to someone who has paid me--someone who trusts in my talent and expertise--to paint a beautiful work of art and I feel as though I have failed him.
Right now as I am typing this post, I keep glancing over at it, going over all of the parts that I hate, saying to myself, "Ugh, that part sucks" and I am constantly thinking about other artists' work that I've seen and wishing that I could be just as good. I keep asking questions like "Why can't my water look as good as that artist's?"
But here is what I have gained from this experience, and it is a great lesson:
I have realized that I need to view this painting as though I were viewing myself: as a beautiful work of art.
Now, of course I could say that this painting is not technically painted well--with accurate proportions, consistent brush techniques, and all of that "mumbo-jumbo"--and I'm sure there are many other great works of art out there that do contain these elements of advanced painting skills.
But as I compare this painting to myself, we have a lot in common.
For years I have admired and looked up to many different people--godly people--in my life. I have witnessed their wisdom, maturity, and boldness and have always wished that I could "be just like them" someday. But instead of being inspired by their lives, I could only focus on those qualities which I didn't possess. I could only see my flaws and the areas in which I always stumbled and never seemed to improve. And I became stuck.
But I have learned that it takes quite a bit of boldness and faith to be able to not view myself so negatively. Sometimes when we are looking so closely at ourselves, only seeing flaws and imperfections, always comparing ourselves to others and the ideal of what we "ought to be," we become discouraged, depressed, and lose focus of what truly matters.
God sees us--and he wants us to see ourselves--as beautiful works of art, because that is truly what we are. We are His handiwork. Not only do we need to embrace that truth, but we also need to recognize when we have become locked in this state of self-mutilation and despair and then know how to conquer it.
Just how I need to continually accept the fact that my painting is flawed and there are so many things about it that I would like to change, we need to be aware that we may have parts about us that we don't like or would like to change, but we need to recognize that our loving Father, the painter, sees us as beautiful, no matter what stage of the "painting" we are in. And take comfort in this, beloved:
"I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Mr. Rochester Complex
Last week I watched a very impressive film adaptation of Charlotte Brontë's "Jane Eyre."
After getting over the absurdity of Rochester's character--mainly how unconventionally emotional and moody he is for a grown man--I had actually started to feel as though I possess a certain likeness to Rochester. I am not referring to his somber demeanor or ill-temperedness, but rather how he inadvertently disappears from the world for days or weeks at a time without warning and without consequence. Oh how sometimes I long for that freedom to jump on a horse and ride off into the unknown, not knowing when I will return, and not feeling obligated to alert someone when I will leave again. I am envious of the way Rochester can disappear like that because it is so freeing to be able to just stop doing the ordinary and play hooky for a while.
Some people in my life can attest that I go through periods of time when I remove myself from activities and social gatherings and I become very aloof. I confess that I get a thrill out of this mild form of rebellion because I do not like being caged in by routine and the feeling of duty. I like to do the unexpected and avoid doing the predicted.
What I have discovered, however, is that Rochester is a deeply wounded individual. He is alone, with no one to ask him where he is going or when he will return.
I, on the other hand, have plenty of people who will ask me, "Where were you?" or "Are you coming?" There have been so many instances where I become irritated with this sort of attention. I think, "Can't you all just leave me alone?" But really, I don't believe deep in my heart that is what I truly want.
I know that each of us, no matter how confident we seem to be, are constantly asking ourselves, "Am I loved? Do people really like me?" The answer may be found differently for each person. For some it is how many text messages you have received in a day. It could be found in how many facebook friends you have. Or for a lot of us, I am sure that it can be answered in how often we get invited to weekend events. It is on those Friday and Saturday nights when we are sitting alone in our houses with our cell phone in hand when we begin to question how much we are loved--or if we are loved at all.
What I don't realize when I start to become annoyed with multiple text messages from my mom or only receiving phone calls from the same two people all of the time--is that each of these little attempts at communicating with me are coming from people who love me dearly. These are the people who lovingly await my return and desire my company. I need to recognize that with each text message, every phone call, and every other little commonplace conversation I have with them, each time they are sprinkling me with love. I am thankful that if I do choose to ride off into the sunset, I will have someone waiting for me when I return.
After getting over the absurdity of Rochester's character--mainly how unconventionally emotional and moody he is for a grown man--I had actually started to feel as though I possess a certain likeness to Rochester. I am not referring to his somber demeanor or ill-temperedness, but rather how he inadvertently disappears from the world for days or weeks at a time without warning and without consequence. Oh how sometimes I long for that freedom to jump on a horse and ride off into the unknown, not knowing when I will return, and not feeling obligated to alert someone when I will leave again. I am envious of the way Rochester can disappear like that because it is so freeing to be able to just stop doing the ordinary and play hooky for a while.
Some people in my life can attest that I go through periods of time when I remove myself from activities and social gatherings and I become very aloof. I confess that I get a thrill out of this mild form of rebellion because I do not like being caged in by routine and the feeling of duty. I like to do the unexpected and avoid doing the predicted.
What I have discovered, however, is that Rochester is a deeply wounded individual. He is alone, with no one to ask him where he is going or when he will return.
I, on the other hand, have plenty of people who will ask me, "Where were you?" or "Are you coming?" There have been so many instances where I become irritated with this sort of attention. I think, "Can't you all just leave me alone?" But really, I don't believe deep in my heart that is what I truly want.
I know that each of us, no matter how confident we seem to be, are constantly asking ourselves, "Am I loved? Do people really like me?" The answer may be found differently for each person. For some it is how many text messages you have received in a day. It could be found in how many facebook friends you have. Or for a lot of us, I am sure that it can be answered in how often we get invited to weekend events. It is on those Friday and Saturday nights when we are sitting alone in our houses with our cell phone in hand when we begin to question how much we are loved--or if we are loved at all.
What I don't realize when I start to become annoyed with multiple text messages from my mom or only receiving phone calls from the same two people all of the time--is that each of these little attempts at communicating with me are coming from people who love me dearly. These are the people who lovingly await my return and desire my company. I need to recognize that with each text message, every phone call, and every other little commonplace conversation I have with them, each time they are sprinkling me with love. I am thankful that if I do choose to ride off into the sunset, I will have someone waiting for me when I return.
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