Sand castles and tsunamis

There's a voice inside of me, quiet but insistent, telling me that if I could only get things right, nothing would need to change. No wonder I experience every change as a personal failure, a preventable loss. I didn't get it right. My best was not enough. I... was not enough. It's so destructive. It's so alluring. Rooted firmly in pride and control (two of my closest companions), and thank God it will never work. If it even looked true long enough, it would do violence to my soul.

It's a longing for heaven, right? I think that's what I'm supposed to say. Part of this protracted transition has been about losing touch - on purpose - with phrases that have become empty of their content to me. Overused and too easily cross-stitched, the words can become veils over meaning. Instead of leading the way to truth, they can be barriers. I need space and time to breathe life back into those phrases because I need them now.

Where was I? Yes, longing for heaven. Which is to say wishing aggressively that I could have right now the peace and stability and unchanging experience of loving and being loved, all in the context of being certain that my life has meaning and purpose. If it isn't possible to attain here and now, then I really should stop fighting for it, but I suck at not fighting. Well, I suck at picking my battles. There are plenty of things I need to fight. Fight to stop building sand castles in the paths of tsunamis. Fight to stop digging my heels in when I see change coming. Fight to stop being surprised at disappointment and, for the love of all that is holy, to stop taking it all so personally. It's time to tune out the voices that build up insecurity and false hope, and to listen to the only One that is leading me home.

The view from behind the counter

Oh my life. Things have changed so much so fast in this past two months – I think I may actually have some sort of existential motion sickness. But don’t let that dramatic description fool you into thinking I’m on the struggle bus. I am doing surprisingly well accommodating the waves of adjustments and “new normals” that are part of my daily experience. In July, I left my job of over 12 years (a career, really. How am I old enough to have had a career already??). It was an organization I loved working for and still love being a part of, but over the past several years, I felt a growing sense that it was time to leave. So for the past few months, I’ve had the surreal opportunity to feel like a college senior all over again: full of bundles of excitement and anxiety that are bouncing back and forth between the dual certainties that I am going to change the world and that I am going to ruin my life.

I am currently pursuing a long-time dream of becoming a counselor, and in order to fund that dream, I have begun working at a coffee shop. Being a barista is also a long-time dream: I love coffee and I love coffee shops. So here I am, in this strange season of time, brewing coffee and slinging lattes for just over minimum wage. And I love it. It’s been really refreshing in unexpected ways and it’s also had its unexpected challenges.

Like everyone, and possibly more than many people, I like being good at things. And the learning curve for being a barista is quite steep: there is so much to learn and even after two months, I still have days where I’m barely bumbling along. It’s been an interesting adjustment to have supervisors who are almost half my age (again, how is it possible that I’m this old? I recently discovered that I am only one year younger than the MOTHER of one of my coworkers. I’m making her call me mommy. Obviously). But it’s been humbling in all the right ways. I would seriously recommend to anyone (especially those of us in vocational ministry) to work in a coffee shop or some other place where no one has any expectations of you and no one is impressed with you. It’s been good for my soul. It’s revealing that my performance issues had become camouflaged over time, hiding comfortably under the assumption that I had outgrown them. But now, I find them alive and well and it’s giving God new avenues to challenge and address them.

And that’s just one of the life lessons I’ve been learning. I will be trying to write more consistently. There is just too much material in my life to let it pass by! Stay tuned…