My heart hurts.
As I scroll through my Facebook and Twitter feeds, I see too many headlines filled with hatred, prejudice, and opinions based on fear. I consider the success of Donald Trump's campaign thus far and can only pray that his statements will open up a better conversation about refugees, freedom, diversity. I pray for a better option. I pray for Donald Trump. And I wait for next summer when the conventions present us with our options for November. Indiana isn't given the option of choosing a candidate, so I have to trust the states who have that power.
I work with Muslim immigrants. I volunteer with an organization in Fort Wayne, IN called International House. We offer ESL tutoring, sewing classes, assistance in finding jobs, support for refugee and immigrant families, fellowship, homework help, and whatever else we can do to make the transition easier and to provide a safe place to struggle. Most of the people who come to us are African Muslims. Many of them waited in refugee camps for months or years. They come from Somalia, Sudan, Kenya. They have seen horrific things. They have had their humanity compromised. They have suffered.
We're a Christian organization, but we don't put pressure on the people who come to us to accept Jesus. We know that showing them love and support is more important and more effective. Of course we want them to come to know Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. We want that for everyone. We know what our faith has given us: hope, comfort, joy, a belief that God is good in all circumstances. But we don't get to scream at these people. We choose to be their friends. We choose to live out our faith in front of them and we give them opportunities to talk to us. More than anything, we want them to know that they are loved and that they are welcome.
I do not often take to the Internet regarding controversial issues. I hate being lost in the cacophony of debate. I write so moderately, and I think there are people who want that, but I'm only one person with a quiet little blog, trying to share my thoughts.
I stand opposed to Donald Trump's statements regarding a ban on Muslims entering the United States. I don't deny the existence of terrorism. I don't pretend that radial Islam is a small or fleeting threat. I don't claim that Islam is a religion of peace, but I reject the proposition that all of its adherents are on their way to violent radicalism. Acts of terrorism are not exclusively performed in the name of Allah, by immigrants, or even rooted in religious conflict.
For weeks I wanted to believe that Trump was kept in the conversation and campaign because people wanted to be entertained and to mock his bigotry. I figured he'd eventually say something so ridiculous that he'd be laughed/shouted/pushed off the stage and the GOP would move on to the next option.
I'm still waiting.
I stand opposed to Jerry Falwell, Jr. and Liberty University's decision to allow, and even to encourage, students to bring guns into the dorms.
I stand opposed to the man who killed three people at a Planned Parenthood clinic. While I value life and I oppose abortion, I know that I can't force my values and my morality on anyone. This man does not represent the Pro-Life movement. His actions and his lack of regret or shame are reprehensible.
I stand opposed to hatred, bigotry, fear-mongering, radical Christianity.
I am tired of my religion being identified with those who have the loudest voices and the largest audiences. It's not my job to scream at non-believers. I can only do so much to change the minds of the people around me. I'm not going to shout rhetoric at you. I'm going to demonstrate love as well as I can. I will condemn acts of hatred. I will love and serve the students I spend time with each week, showing them that I value who they are as people.
We can't repeat the acts of the mid-twentieth century. We can't let the acts of a few determine how we treat the whole. We must be wise, discerning, careful. We must learn from our past and create a better future. It's not enough to believe that things will get better. Prayer can change our hearts, leading us to perform acts of love that can change our communities, our country, and our world. Make small changes in your own life. Listen to people's stories. Be open to change. Be gracious with those who do not agree with you.
My heart hurts.
Friday, December 11, 2015
Monday, October 5, 2015
What I Do At Work
I'm writing this from my work laptop.
I think that might mean that the company owns the text of this post.
But I have a work laptop. I have a cubicle and an email address and an extension that people can call.
People keep asking me what I do at work. I figured it was time for me to answer everyone at once.
Title: Food Services Assistant/Temporary Administrative Support/Kitchen Girl
Department: IT: Office Services
Desk Location: Somewhere between the mailroom and Policy Issue
I work Monday-Friday, 8-4:30. I was hired on a temporary basis while they work to approve a more permanent position. There's some shuffling going on, and an assistant was needed right away. I'll probably be here until the end of the year.
I spend most of my day on my feet. I sit down and check my email and The Hub (the company intranet) when I get to the office in the morning. I drop my big bag containing my glasses, Bible, journal, and various pens and pads of sticky notes. My small purse comes with me to the kitchen area.
At 8:00, or a little after, I head down to my actual work space. I unlock the pantry if I'm the first one there. I set down my purse in my little cubby hole, plug in my headphones, find a podcast I want to listen to (TED talks, TED Radio Hour, StoryCorps, and Here's The Thing are the current subscriptions), and start the day.
My first task is usually making sure the breads are stocked. We have six different kinds of bagels, four kinds of sliced bread, plus English muffins, buns, and SandwichThins. I also stock the butter, peanut butter, and cream cheese.
I then move to the packaged breakfast items (donuts, muffins, oatmeal).
Then come the shelves of snacks. We have granola bars, candy bars, Little Debbie snacks, a rolling rack of bagged chips, and individually wrapped Dove bites. Among other items.
We have canned fruits and vegetables, frozen meals, drinks, cereal, cheese, stuff to make sandwiches (breakfast, burgers, and deli). If your diet is "typical American," we have something for you. If you're looking for something a little more exotic, I apologize. We stock what gets eaten.
We spend the first hour making sure everything is stocked.
Then we start getting everything ready for the salad bar. A few things need to be chopped. We take the items out of Ziploc containers and put them into black food service containers.
We set up, keep it stocked, eat lunch, break it down, and spend the afternoon stocking and doing dishes and cleaning.
I drink coffee and water through the day. I sit down when I can. I take breaks sometimes.
At 4:30, I'm officially done and head back to my desk to check email and The Hub and Facebook and my personal email before heading home.
I'm sitting at my desk at the end of the first day of Agent School week. Agents come from all over the country to watch presentations, take classes, and make sure they're up-to-date on various issues relating to insurance.
I helped today by cutting veggies for their break and helping set up lunch. I'll spend my week doing whatever I can to make it easier for those who are in charge of organizing the week.
I also helped decorate the top of the salad bar for the season.
I've put leftover wedding flowers in vases to put on the tables in the eating area.
I'm helping to plan the Thanksgiving luncheon.
I'm accommodating employees' needs as well as I can and with as much cheer and joy and grace as is possible. It's not difficult.
This is behind-the-scenes work. I'm not and obvious part of the operations of the business. We stay in the kitchen area and make sure we do good work. It's rarely boring, even if it can be mundane. My feet often start hurting around 2:00. My hands will dry out as the weather changes. I rarely wear my glasses to work, because I have blasts of steam in my face about fifty times a day. My hair responds to those blasts of steam, so I try to keep it managed.
I stick to a business casual to business professional dress code, as well as I can to be comfortable. My shoes have memory foam insoles, but they're cute flats. My nail polish doesn't survive very long.
I read Blue Like Jazz during my lunch break sometimes. I listen to scientists and entertainers and writers talk about their passions.
I'm a food service employee, a florist, a decorator, an event planner, and a stock boy.
I like my job. It might not be what I thought I'd be doing or what I want to be doing for the rest of my working life. But that could change. It's where I am. I work at an excellent company with incredible people. I will make the most of this time.
That's what I do at work.
I think that might mean that the company owns the text of this post.
But I have a work laptop. I have a cubicle and an email address and an extension that people can call.
People keep asking me what I do at work. I figured it was time for me to answer everyone at once.
Title: Food Services Assistant/Temporary Administrative Support/Kitchen Girl
Department: IT: Office Services
Desk Location: Somewhere between the mailroom and Policy Issue
I work Monday-Friday, 8-4:30. I was hired on a temporary basis while they work to approve a more permanent position. There's some shuffling going on, and an assistant was needed right away. I'll probably be here until the end of the year.
I spend most of my day on my feet. I sit down and check my email and The Hub (the company intranet) when I get to the office in the morning. I drop my big bag containing my glasses, Bible, journal, and various pens and pads of sticky notes. My small purse comes with me to the kitchen area.
At 8:00, or a little after, I head down to my actual work space. I unlock the pantry if I'm the first one there. I set down my purse in my little cubby hole, plug in my headphones, find a podcast I want to listen to (TED talks, TED Radio Hour, StoryCorps, and Here's The Thing are the current subscriptions), and start the day.
My first task is usually making sure the breads are stocked. We have six different kinds of bagels, four kinds of sliced bread, plus English muffins, buns, and SandwichThins. I also stock the butter, peanut butter, and cream cheese.
I then move to the packaged breakfast items (donuts, muffins, oatmeal).
Then come the shelves of snacks. We have granola bars, candy bars, Little Debbie snacks, a rolling rack of bagged chips, and individually wrapped Dove bites. Among other items.
We have canned fruits and vegetables, frozen meals, drinks, cereal, cheese, stuff to make sandwiches (breakfast, burgers, and deli). If your diet is "typical American," we have something for you. If you're looking for something a little more exotic, I apologize. We stock what gets eaten.
We spend the first hour making sure everything is stocked.
Then we start getting everything ready for the salad bar. A few things need to be chopped. We take the items out of Ziploc containers and put them into black food service containers.
We set up, keep it stocked, eat lunch, break it down, and spend the afternoon stocking and doing dishes and cleaning.
I drink coffee and water through the day. I sit down when I can. I take breaks sometimes.
At 4:30, I'm officially done and head back to my desk to check email and The Hub and Facebook and my personal email before heading home.
I'm sitting at my desk at the end of the first day of Agent School week. Agents come from all over the country to watch presentations, take classes, and make sure they're up-to-date on various issues relating to insurance.
I helped today by cutting veggies for their break and helping set up lunch. I'll spend my week doing whatever I can to make it easier for those who are in charge of organizing the week.
I also helped decorate the top of the salad bar for the season.
I've put leftover wedding flowers in vases to put on the tables in the eating area.
I'm helping to plan the Thanksgiving luncheon.
I'm accommodating employees' needs as well as I can and with as much cheer and joy and grace as is possible. It's not difficult.
This is behind-the-scenes work. I'm not and obvious part of the operations of the business. We stay in the kitchen area and make sure we do good work. It's rarely boring, even if it can be mundane. My feet often start hurting around 2:00. My hands will dry out as the weather changes. I rarely wear my glasses to work, because I have blasts of steam in my face about fifty times a day. My hair responds to those blasts of steam, so I try to keep it managed.
I stick to a business casual to business professional dress code, as well as I can to be comfortable. My shoes have memory foam insoles, but they're cute flats. My nail polish doesn't survive very long.
I read Blue Like Jazz during my lunch break sometimes. I listen to scientists and entertainers and writers talk about their passions.
I'm a food service employee, a florist, a decorator, an event planner, and a stock boy.
I like my job. It might not be what I thought I'd be doing or what I want to be doing for the rest of my working life. But that could change. It's where I am. I work at an excellent company with incredible people. I will make the most of this time.
That's what I do at work.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
The New Mrs. Smith
I'd call myself "The Newest Mrs. Smith," but I'm quite sure that's not true.
For a long time, I thought I'd stay a Swanson, then I thought I'd hyphenate. A few weeks ago, I had to make the decision.
Dan wanted me to become a Smith. He wanted to have a name that I'd be proud to take. Over the past 16 months he has proven to me that it's true. I love being Mrs. Smith, because I am proud to be Dan's wife.
I am Hope Elizabeth Swanson Smith. Two middle names, just like my husband. The second one won't be used much, but it's nice to know it's there. I'm still a Swanson.
Our wedding day was almost perfect.
I woke up early and drove myself to Starbucks. I needed a few minutes alone, unmarried, before jumping into a long day of hugs, dancing, crying, and being surrounded by people. I'm an introvert. We need things like that.
Horror of horrors, it was raining when I woke up. By the time I got home with my Coconut Mocha, the rain had stopped.
My bridesmaids stayed at my house the night before the wedding, so we packed up, loaded the cars, and drove to the church. The sunrise was beautiful after a night of rain. I could tell it was going to be a beautiful day.
We got everything put together, the hair stylists showed up (a gift from one of my maids of honor), and I got to sit down for an hour while Bre made my hair look better than it ever has or ever will again.
I put on my makeup, the photographers arrived, we all got ready. My mom zipped and unzipped my dress a dozen times, which made for some laughs and good pictures. My maids of honor put on my shoes, which was generally hilarious. I'm too independent for such things, but we did it anyway.
Then I got to see my husband and get the first dirt on my dress. It speaks to the excitement of the day that I just didn't care. I was standing in front of the man I was about to marry.
Then I changed back out of my dress, into another white dress to go greet our guests for brunch. I can't wait to wear that dress again. It is an incredible dress. I'll probably make my husband take me out to a nice dinner (huzzah for wedding money).
After about twenty minutes, I went and got back into my dress and we went and took pictures.
And then it was time to walk down the aisle. (Yes, a-i-s-l-e. Please.)
Original lyrics written for us to the tune of a James Taylor song.
A prayer read by our friend Andrew.
A short wedding sermon.
Personal vows.
Wedding rings.
Unity PB&J ceremony.
Selfie.
Mr. and Mrs. Dan and Hope Smith.
Kiss.
"You're My Best Friend"
Walk out.
Bubbles.
Then we got back and took some more pictures.
Then my mom got stuck in an elevator. (Her first chance to be alone and take a break.)
She told us to go ahead and go to the park for the Apps'n Serts Reception. (This was a smaller gathering for family and closer friends.)
So we went. It was mostly a typical reception with toasts, eating, dancing, pictures, not talking to everybody because we didn't walk around to each table.
The biggest exception was the Father-Daughter Dance.
My dad doesn't dance. So we had a car ride. It's something we came up with a while ago, but he modified it and surprised me a bit. It started as the two of us in chairs, Dad with a Wii steering wheel.
He told me what was going to happen.
My brother grabbed another two chairs and brought my mom over.
Then he grabbed two more chairs for himself and his wife.
Then my dad found my new husband, handed over the steering wheel, and sat down behind us, next to my mom.
The song? "The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything."
More dancing, pictures, food, hugs, sweat.
And then we went home. To OUR home. Where I sit, right now.
Being married is great. It's difficult and strange and new and fun.
Dan going back to work after a week off together has been less fun. but I'll admit that it hasn't been all bad. I get to spend time working on putting stuff away, which we've been neglecting too much for the past month. Seriously, we've been moving in for a month.
I've officially been Mrs. Smith (pending receiving my new Social Security card) for less than a day, but it's been eleven days since our wedding, and it has been a wonderful new adventure. I'm glad I don't have to wait for it anymore. I like being married.
And now I need to go empty a box of stuff and find places to put it.
For a long time, I thought I'd stay a Swanson, then I thought I'd hyphenate. A few weeks ago, I had to make the decision.
Dan wanted me to become a Smith. He wanted to have a name that I'd be proud to take. Over the past 16 months he has proven to me that it's true. I love being Mrs. Smith, because I am proud to be Dan's wife.
I am Hope Elizabeth Swanson Smith. Two middle names, just like my husband. The second one won't be used much, but it's nice to know it's there. I'm still a Swanson.
Our wedding day was almost perfect.
I woke up early and drove myself to Starbucks. I needed a few minutes alone, unmarried, before jumping into a long day of hugs, dancing, crying, and being surrounded by people. I'm an introvert. We need things like that.
Horror of horrors, it was raining when I woke up. By the time I got home with my Coconut Mocha, the rain had stopped.
My bridesmaids stayed at my house the night before the wedding, so we packed up, loaded the cars, and drove to the church. The sunrise was beautiful after a night of rain. I could tell it was going to be a beautiful day.
We got everything put together, the hair stylists showed up (a gift from one of my maids of honor), and I got to sit down for an hour while Bre made my hair look better than it ever has or ever will again.
I put on my makeup, the photographers arrived, we all got ready. My mom zipped and unzipped my dress a dozen times, which made for some laughs and good pictures. My maids of honor put on my shoes, which was generally hilarious. I'm too independent for such things, but we did it anyway.
Then I got to see my husband and get the first dirt on my dress. It speaks to the excitement of the day that I just didn't care. I was standing in front of the man I was about to marry.
Then I changed back out of my dress, into another white dress to go greet our guests for brunch. I can't wait to wear that dress again. It is an incredible dress. I'll probably make my husband take me out to a nice dinner (huzzah for wedding money).
After about twenty minutes, I went and got back into my dress and we went and took pictures.
And then it was time to walk down the aisle. (Yes, a-i-s-l-e. Please.)
Original lyrics written for us to the tune of a James Taylor song.
A prayer read by our friend Andrew.
A short wedding sermon.
Personal vows.
Wedding rings.
Unity PB&J ceremony.
Selfie.
Mr. and Mrs. Dan and Hope Smith.
Kiss.
"You're My Best Friend"
Walk out.
Bubbles.
Then we got back and took some more pictures.
Then my mom got stuck in an elevator. (Her first chance to be alone and take a break.)
She told us to go ahead and go to the park for the Apps'n Serts Reception. (This was a smaller gathering for family and closer friends.)
So we went. It was mostly a typical reception with toasts, eating, dancing, pictures, not talking to everybody because we didn't walk around to each table.
The biggest exception was the Father-Daughter Dance.
My dad doesn't dance. So we had a car ride. It's something we came up with a while ago, but he modified it and surprised me a bit. It started as the two of us in chairs, Dad with a Wii steering wheel.
He told me what was going to happen.
My brother grabbed another two chairs and brought my mom over.
Then he grabbed two more chairs for himself and his wife.
Then my dad found my new husband, handed over the steering wheel, and sat down behind us, next to my mom.
The song? "The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything."
More dancing, pictures, food, hugs, sweat.
And then we went home. To OUR home. Where I sit, right now.
Being married is great. It's difficult and strange and new and fun.
Dan going back to work after a week off together has been less fun. but I'll admit that it hasn't been all bad. I get to spend time working on putting stuff away, which we've been neglecting too much for the past month. Seriously, we've been moving in for a month.
I've officially been Mrs. Smith (pending receiving my new Social Security card) for less than a day, but it's been eleven days since our wedding, and it has been a wonderful new adventure. I'm glad I don't have to wait for it anymore. I like being married.
And now I need to go empty a box of stuff and find places to put it.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Thoughts on the last days of Miss Swanson
I think I should first respond to those who take issue with the title.
I know that Miss Swanson isn't really disappearing. I know that I am not becoming a whole new person. I know that I don't stop being an individual when I become a wife.
But I am changing my name and becoming part of a new thing. Dan and I are creating a new entity. We're going to be The Smiths (without the vegetarianism, conflict, and break-up).
Anyway. We're getting married in less than three weeks. So, here are some answers to common questions, along with some other thoughts. I'm getting to the point of being sick of talking about wedding stuff, so I might be stepping on some toes with a little bit of this. But I'm the bride and we're less than three weeks away from the wedding. That's how I'm supposed to be acting, right?
Yes, I'm excited. Of course I'm excited. I'm marrying a guy whom I love and who loves me. A guy who loves Jesus more than he loves me. A guy who has worked incredibly hard to make sure we're going to be okay. A guy who cares about people and who loves that I care about people. A guy who has supported me and prayed for me and encouraged me. A guy who is proud of me and makes me proud. Why do you think you need to ask whether I'm excited?
Yes, I'm freaking out. My whole life is going to change. Everything will somehow be different. I don't get to make a lot of decisions without considering how they will affect Dan. Sometimes I wonder what the heck I'm doing and why I ever thought it was a good idea to decide to spend the rest of my life with someone and limit my freedom give up my space. And then I remember all of the things that I listed above. There have been days when the only good thing in my life is Dan and that makes up for all the terrible things in the rest of the day. He pushes me to be better. He makes me love harder. He believes in me when I don't believe in myself.
I'll start looking for a job when we get married. I don't know what I want to do, but I'm trusting that God will provide a place for me to be exactly where I need to be in order for Him to use me.
Money is tight. That's scary. God is good.
We have an apartment in Dupont Lakes. Moving in and setting things up is driving us crazy. We have so many things to do in the next two weeks. But we're slowly figuring it out and getting things put together.
We're still deciding what to do about church. We want to be where God wants us. We both have a list of things we're looking for, and we'll probably be visiting churches for a while. We appreciate your prayers as we do this.
Don't ask us about kids. It's none of your business. Seriously. You don't need to know. If it happens, you'll find out. But don't tell us we should have them right away or that we should wait. Don't tell us that we'll be great parents. Don't ask us about our sex life or birth control. And don't give us meaningful looks that mean any of that. This decision is between me, Dan, and God. We'll ask for advice when we want it.
The wedding is planned. There's still some prep work that needs to happen, but it'll happen. And I know "the little details don't matter. [I'll] be the only one who notices if something goes wrong, and at the end of the day, what really matters is [we'll] be married." I know. I've heard it. Stop talking about it.
We're really ready to be done with this wedding planning process and to just be married. We're ready to not have to leave at the end of the day. We're ready to be living in the same place, working through the little things that we do differently, waking up next to each other every day, drinking coffee on our patio.
If you want to know about our marriage planning process, we're more likely to respond positively. We've been doing that for much longer and it's much less frustrating. The conflict in marriage planning matters. The things that we work out as we prepare for our marriage are things that will actually make a real difference for our future and the lives around us.
Because we aren't just doing this for us. We're getting married in order to become better together. We become better in order to be more effective servants in the Kingdom of God. We can't be selfish with our growth. We can't be selfish with our love. We want to serve those around us and take care of people. We want to live out our marriage in a way that makes people believe in marriage. We want to show people that it's okay if it's difficult sometimes and it's okay to not pretend that it's always easy or that you always like each other, because we love each other through it all, and we trust that God will use everything for His own honor and glory. That's what we want. (Well, that's what I want, and I don't think Dan would disagree.)
We're super ready for our wedding. We're ready for the week after our wedding when we get to just be together all the time and we don't have to leave and we get to start our marriage.
We appreciate your support and your interest, but let's cool it with the questions. Especially if you don't actually know us and you're not invited to the wedding. You'll see pictures on Facebook.
kthanksbai.
I know that Miss Swanson isn't really disappearing. I know that I am not becoming a whole new person. I know that I don't stop being an individual when I become a wife.
But I am changing my name and becoming part of a new thing. Dan and I are creating a new entity. We're going to be The Smiths (without the vegetarianism, conflict, and break-up).
Anyway. We're getting married in less than three weeks. So, here are some answers to common questions, along with some other thoughts. I'm getting to the point of being sick of talking about wedding stuff, so I might be stepping on some toes with a little bit of this. But I'm the bride and we're less than three weeks away from the wedding. That's how I'm supposed to be acting, right?
Yes, I'm excited. Of course I'm excited. I'm marrying a guy whom I love and who loves me. A guy who loves Jesus more than he loves me. A guy who has worked incredibly hard to make sure we're going to be okay. A guy who cares about people and who loves that I care about people. A guy who has supported me and prayed for me and encouraged me. A guy who is proud of me and makes me proud. Why do you think you need to ask whether I'm excited?
Yes, I'm freaking out. My whole life is going to change. Everything will somehow be different. I don't get to make a lot of decisions without considering how they will affect Dan. Sometimes I wonder what the heck I'm doing and why I ever thought it was a good idea to decide to spend the rest of my life with someone and limit my freedom give up my space. And then I remember all of the things that I listed above. There have been days when the only good thing in my life is Dan and that makes up for all the terrible things in the rest of the day. He pushes me to be better. He makes me love harder. He believes in me when I don't believe in myself.
I'll start looking for a job when we get married. I don't know what I want to do, but I'm trusting that God will provide a place for me to be exactly where I need to be in order for Him to use me.
Money is tight. That's scary. God is good.
We have an apartment in Dupont Lakes. Moving in and setting things up is driving us crazy. We have so many things to do in the next two weeks. But we're slowly figuring it out and getting things put together.
We're still deciding what to do about church. We want to be where God wants us. We both have a list of things we're looking for, and we'll probably be visiting churches for a while. We appreciate your prayers as we do this.
Don't ask us about kids. It's none of your business. Seriously. You don't need to know. If it happens, you'll find out. But don't tell us we should have them right away or that we should wait. Don't tell us that we'll be great parents. Don't ask us about our sex life or birth control. And don't give us meaningful looks that mean any of that. This decision is between me, Dan, and God. We'll ask for advice when we want it.
The wedding is planned. There's still some prep work that needs to happen, but it'll happen. And I know "the little details don't matter. [I'll] be the only one who notices if something goes wrong, and at the end of the day, what really matters is [we'll] be married." I know. I've heard it. Stop talking about it.
We're really ready to be done with this wedding planning process and to just be married. We're ready to not have to leave at the end of the day. We're ready to be living in the same place, working through the little things that we do differently, waking up next to each other every day, drinking coffee on our patio.
If you want to know about our marriage planning process, we're more likely to respond positively. We've been doing that for much longer and it's much less frustrating. The conflict in marriage planning matters. The things that we work out as we prepare for our marriage are things that will actually make a real difference for our future and the lives around us.
Because we aren't just doing this for us. We're getting married in order to become better together. We become better in order to be more effective servants in the Kingdom of God. We can't be selfish with our growth. We can't be selfish with our love. We want to serve those around us and take care of people. We want to live out our marriage in a way that makes people believe in marriage. We want to show people that it's okay if it's difficult sometimes and it's okay to not pretend that it's always easy or that you always like each other, because we love each other through it all, and we trust that God will use everything for His own honor and glory. That's what we want. (Well, that's what I want, and I don't think Dan would disagree.)
We're super ready for our wedding. We're ready for the week after our wedding when we get to just be together all the time and we don't have to leave and we get to start our marriage.
We appreciate your support and your interest, but let's cool it with the questions. Especially if you don't actually know us and you're not invited to the wedding. You'll see pictures on Facebook.
kthanksbai.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Better for the next generation.
I spent Sunday and today judging CDYC's Got Talent at the "church camp" for my region of the Missionary Church. That will mean something to some of you, that might annoy some of you, and some of you might have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm processing through writing.
I listened to 12-18-year-olds sing, play, and preach. I watched a kid do a card trick. I had a great time working with some very talented people to provide feedback to these students in a way that would challenge and affirm and encourage them. When I was one of those students, seven years ago, things were completely different.
Today's teenagers are technically in my generation, but I feel so different from them. They have iPads as part of their education. They don't know a world without cell phones. They don't know what Y2K was. They have unlearned how to have a real, face-to-face conversation without constantly looking at their phones. (I admit that I have struggled to avoid falling entirely into that same pattern.) The ways that we have reached students for the past 10-20 years must evolve and adapt, while challenging them to be mature and disciplined and focused. But that's not really the point here.
When I was a student, I participated in Talent Quest at CDYC. The judging structure was loosely based on ISSMA criteria, the rooms were separated by category, and there were sports going on the whole time. I was judged by people who had known me for years, had taught me music, and who hurt me more than they ever intended or knew.
There was a point system, we competed against ourselves, and everyone got a medal. I never got a gold medal for any of my performances. Six years. At least eight entries. Almost all good performances. No golds. Others from my churches received gold medals. Other performers, whose skill levels were close to mine, received gold medals. I couldn't help but feel as though I was being singled out, judged more critically, kept from affirmation.
I rarely received positive feedback on my forms. I didn't get to read about the things I had done well. I was hurt. I didn't take it as "constructive criticism." I took it personally. Because I was 13-18 and knew I had talent and didn't feel like people saw that in me.
Last year, everything changed.
Instead of the rooms being divided by category, they were divided by church. Sunday and Thursday afternoons were set aside for CDYC's Got Talent. Each church had a time slot. No other mandatory events were scheduled during that time. The judging teams were made up of people with a variety of talents and backgrounds who would be able to critique everything from magic to violin solos. I was asked to be part of that group. It has been such an honor to work with these people.
After so many years of wondering what I had done wrong, wondering what had happened, wishing I could watch myself perform, I get to encourage. I get to tell students that they have potential, and that they should keep singing. I get to thank them for sharing their gifts with us. I get to offer advice on how to improve their performances. I get to smile at them and make eye contact and assure them that they are doing well.
I get to make "compliment sandwiches." I get to practice being gentle and honest. I get to tell the girl in whom I see myself as a freshman that she did a great job. As I talk to her, I tell my younger self that excellent performances take time and effort.
I understand that I might accidentally be crushing these kids, but I have tried to be sensitive to their body language in order to remain positive when it would be easy to criticize. I understand that my judges were doing what they thought was best for me. They were trying to tell me how to take my performances to the next level.
But when no one is interpreting that for a 14-year-old, it stings. For ten years. And it inspired me to be better for the next generation.
I love CDYC. I love that I've gotten to be part of it for so many years. I'm so thankful to have had the opportunity to encourage young performers to keep using their talents and worshiping the God who has given them.
I listened to 12-18-year-olds sing, play, and preach. I watched a kid do a card trick. I had a great time working with some very talented people to provide feedback to these students in a way that would challenge and affirm and encourage them. When I was one of those students, seven years ago, things were completely different.
Today's teenagers are technically in my generation, but I feel so different from them. They have iPads as part of their education. They don't know a world without cell phones. They don't know what Y2K was. They have unlearned how to have a real, face-to-face conversation without constantly looking at their phones. (I admit that I have struggled to avoid falling entirely into that same pattern.) The ways that we have reached students for the past 10-20 years must evolve and adapt, while challenging them to be mature and disciplined and focused. But that's not really the point here.
When I was a student, I participated in Talent Quest at CDYC. The judging structure was loosely based on ISSMA criteria, the rooms were separated by category, and there were sports going on the whole time. I was judged by people who had known me for years, had taught me music, and who hurt me more than they ever intended or knew.
There was a point system, we competed against ourselves, and everyone got a medal. I never got a gold medal for any of my performances. Six years. At least eight entries. Almost all good performances. No golds. Others from my churches received gold medals. Other performers, whose skill levels were close to mine, received gold medals. I couldn't help but feel as though I was being singled out, judged more critically, kept from affirmation.
I rarely received positive feedback on my forms. I didn't get to read about the things I had done well. I was hurt. I didn't take it as "constructive criticism." I took it personally. Because I was 13-18 and knew I had talent and didn't feel like people saw that in me.
Last year, everything changed.
Instead of the rooms being divided by category, they were divided by church. Sunday and Thursday afternoons were set aside for CDYC's Got Talent. Each church had a time slot. No other mandatory events were scheduled during that time. The judging teams were made up of people with a variety of talents and backgrounds who would be able to critique everything from magic to violin solos. I was asked to be part of that group. It has been such an honor to work with these people.
After so many years of wondering what I had done wrong, wondering what had happened, wishing I could watch myself perform, I get to encourage. I get to tell students that they have potential, and that they should keep singing. I get to thank them for sharing their gifts with us. I get to offer advice on how to improve their performances. I get to smile at them and make eye contact and assure them that they are doing well.
I get to make "compliment sandwiches." I get to practice being gentle and honest. I get to tell the girl in whom I see myself as a freshman that she did a great job. As I talk to her, I tell my younger self that excellent performances take time and effort.
I understand that I might accidentally be crushing these kids, but I have tried to be sensitive to their body language in order to remain positive when it would be easy to criticize. I understand that my judges were doing what they thought was best for me. They were trying to tell me how to take my performances to the next level.
But when no one is interpreting that for a 14-year-old, it stings. For ten years. And it inspired me to be better for the next generation.
I love CDYC. I love that I've gotten to be part of it for so many years. I'm so thankful to have had the opportunity to encourage young performers to keep using their talents and worshiping the God who has given them.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
A month of unemployment.
My last day at the pizza place was Saturday, April 4, 2015. I left in tears, carrying my last free meal. Nachos, with chicken instead of taco beef. I started that day thinking I'd have another day. Around noon, the schedule for the next week arrived and my name wasn't on it. I started to tear up. I had another seven hours and then I was done. Twenty months of answering phones, making pizzas, serving customers, slicing vegetables, making dough, counting money, and cleaning any surface available came to an end.
I am unemployed. I suppose, technically, I'm self-employed. I've started offering my cupcake-making services, but it's taking some time to get that started. I charge less than minimum wage, and I'm okay with that. I love to bake and be creative with decorations.
I need a job.
Dan and I looked at apartments today. His roommate/landlord is getting married in August, and we're hoping to get married shortly thereafter. We found places we like, and he'll be able to afford them on his own for a while. But weddings cost money, food costs money, cars and college loans and clothes and Netflix and almost everything else cost money. I need an income in order for us to get married and live together and be comfortable.
I have enjoyed not having a job that I grew to dislike.
I enjoyed the work. I am thankful to have had the flexibility to request time off for church camp, vacations, visiting friends, and personal retreats. In twenty months, I learned how to lead. I learned how to meet the needs of customers while protecting the needs of the company. I became more disciplined, more detail-oriented, more deadline-driven. I became better at multitasking and hiding my frustration and solving problems creatively. I learned to count money quickly and delegate tasks and be firm with those I was managing. I became a better teacher.
I also yelled and cried and threatened to quit and made customers angry and let people down and forgot things. I was not a perfect employee. I didn't always do my best. I didn't always hide my frustration. I was lazy sometimes.
I learned lessons in those twenty months that I'm not sure I would have learned in an entry-level office job. I learned how to deal with the public and to be humble. I learned how to have compassion on fast-food employees (who work harder than most people think) and servers (who deserve bigger tips than they usually receive). I learned how not to be a jerk at restaurants, because restaurant employees don't make nearly enough money to deal with entitled snobs all the time. They deserve a break.
But now I'm ready to move on to somewhere new and learn new lessons. I jumped in obedience, not knowing when the net would appear.
The net hasn't appeared yet. I'm applying to anything that sounds like I could do something with the job. I've applied to a variety of positions at the local hospitals. I've applied all over the place. I'm trying to enjoy this process.
I've appreciated the time off. Dan and I went to North Carolina to visit a friend of his. We've had days together to have good and important conversations. I've been able to take on more responsibilities at home. The freedom has been nice.
It's time for it to end.
It's time to get a job.
I am unemployed. I suppose, technically, I'm self-employed. I've started offering my cupcake-making services, but it's taking some time to get that started. I charge less than minimum wage, and I'm okay with that. I love to bake and be creative with decorations.
I need a job.
Dan and I looked at apartments today. His roommate/landlord is getting married in August, and we're hoping to get married shortly thereafter. We found places we like, and he'll be able to afford them on his own for a while. But weddings cost money, food costs money, cars and college loans and clothes and Netflix and almost everything else cost money. I need an income in order for us to get married and live together and be comfortable.
I have enjoyed not having a job that I grew to dislike.
I enjoyed the work. I am thankful to have had the flexibility to request time off for church camp, vacations, visiting friends, and personal retreats. In twenty months, I learned how to lead. I learned how to meet the needs of customers while protecting the needs of the company. I became more disciplined, more detail-oriented, more deadline-driven. I became better at multitasking and hiding my frustration and solving problems creatively. I learned to count money quickly and delegate tasks and be firm with those I was managing. I became a better teacher.
I also yelled and cried and threatened to quit and made customers angry and let people down and forgot things. I was not a perfect employee. I didn't always do my best. I didn't always hide my frustration. I was lazy sometimes.
I learned lessons in those twenty months that I'm not sure I would have learned in an entry-level office job. I learned how to deal with the public and to be humble. I learned how to have compassion on fast-food employees (who work harder than most people think) and servers (who deserve bigger tips than they usually receive). I learned how not to be a jerk at restaurants, because restaurant employees don't make nearly enough money to deal with entitled snobs all the time. They deserve a break.
But now I'm ready to move on to somewhere new and learn new lessons. I jumped in obedience, not knowing when the net would appear.
The net hasn't appeared yet. I'm applying to anything that sounds like I could do something with the job. I've applied to a variety of positions at the local hospitals. I've applied all over the place. I'm trying to enjoy this process.
I've appreciated the time off. Dan and I went to North Carolina to visit a friend of his. We've had days together to have good and important conversations. I've been able to take on more responsibilities at home. The freedom has been nice.
It's time for it to end.
It's time to get a job.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Valentine's Day.
On my old blog I wrote about Valentine's Day twice. I wrote about how I hated it but didn't hate it. I wrote about how to be my Valentine. I wrote about how Jesus is not and should not be anyone's "Valentine." I wrote about the unrealistic stories that chick flicks present. I got pretty real and sounded silly in the process.
I liked Valentine's Day because there would be cheap chocolate the next day. It was fun to pretend that there might be a guy out there who would reveal his feelings for me in some big romantic way. I'd always build it up in my head, imagining roses and music and this amazing movie moment.
It never happened, and I would always end the day a little disappointed. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has gone through this. But the only reason I didn't like Valentine's Day is because I allowed myself to have expectations and because I allowed myself to be jealous of everyone's fun. If you're the type who will feel this way, stop reading now. There's nothing profound or worthwhile in this post. It's simply a public journal of my Valentine's Day experiences.
This is the first year since I was 13 that I have looked forward to Valentine's Day. In seventh grade I had a boyfriend named Andy. We were in Fort Wayne Children's Choir together and on Valentine's day that year we had a performance of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat." He gave me a box covered in duct tape with inside jokes written on it. The box was filled with chocolates from Christmas. He also made me a card that I still have somewhere. I gave him nothing. Andy was pretty much the best boyfriend a seventh grader could have. I broke up with him a few months later in an email. I'm the worst. We're Facebook friends now.
The next year, I convinced a guy I was friends with to be my Valentine. He gave me two bags of Russel Stover chocolate hearts. I gave him nothing. I didn't know how to be a Valentine.
Since then Valentine's Day hasn't been very significant. My friends and I bought carnations for each other in high school. I once sorted out all of the orange conversation hearts and gave them to a friend who hated orange. He gave me a carnation. I don't know whether he got it specifically for me or if someone had sent it to him and he decided to give it to me.
But this year I have a boyfriend. That changes things.
We celebrated on Thursday, partially because today was going to be a busy day for both of our places of employment and working tonight would mean that we made decent money and partially because it was the 12th, which is our Dope-iversary. We went to lunch (Queen of Sheba, pretty tasty), we saw "The Imitation Game" (excellent), we watched "The Legend of Korra." Because it was a double celebration, I may have gone a little overboard with gifts. They were mostly boring things like pillowcases, but still. I gave him like, six things. And I got homemade brownies from my boyfriend who doesn't like to bake. He also got me roses and wine. I felt and feel very loved.
I know that we shouldn't need a special day to demonstrate our love for each other. And we don't. We express our love for each other often and in various ways. But it's fun and cute and silly to spend a day going the extra mile. I like being able to tell the story of what happened on Valentine's Day, rather than writing some pseudo-profound post about how it shouldn't matter.
It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. It's a day. But I'm going to enjoy the fact that I have a boyfriend and he's awesome and I love him.
More importantly:
I'll notify her next of...uh...fruit cup.
I liked Valentine's Day because there would be cheap chocolate the next day. It was fun to pretend that there might be a guy out there who would reveal his feelings for me in some big romantic way. I'd always build it up in my head, imagining roses and music and this amazing movie moment.
It never happened, and I would always end the day a little disappointed. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has gone through this. But the only reason I didn't like Valentine's Day is because I allowed myself to have expectations and because I allowed myself to be jealous of everyone's fun. If you're the type who will feel this way, stop reading now. There's nothing profound or worthwhile in this post. It's simply a public journal of my Valentine's Day experiences.
This is the first year since I was 13 that I have looked forward to Valentine's Day. In seventh grade I had a boyfriend named Andy. We were in Fort Wayne Children's Choir together and on Valentine's day that year we had a performance of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat." He gave me a box covered in duct tape with inside jokes written on it. The box was filled with chocolates from Christmas. He also made me a card that I still have somewhere. I gave him nothing. Andy was pretty much the best boyfriend a seventh grader could have. I broke up with him a few months later in an email. I'm the worst. We're Facebook friends now.
The next year, I convinced a guy I was friends with to be my Valentine. He gave me two bags of Russel Stover chocolate hearts. I gave him nothing. I didn't know how to be a Valentine.
Since then Valentine's Day hasn't been very significant. My friends and I bought carnations for each other in high school. I once sorted out all of the orange conversation hearts and gave them to a friend who hated orange. He gave me a carnation. I don't know whether he got it specifically for me or if someone had sent it to him and he decided to give it to me.
But this year I have a boyfriend. That changes things.
We celebrated on Thursday, partially because today was going to be a busy day for both of our places of employment and working tonight would mean that we made decent money and partially because it was the 12th, which is our Dope-iversary. We went to lunch (Queen of Sheba, pretty tasty), we saw "The Imitation Game" (excellent), we watched "The Legend of Korra." Because it was a double celebration, I may have gone a little overboard with gifts. They were mostly boring things like pillowcases, but still. I gave him like, six things. And I got homemade brownies from my boyfriend who doesn't like to bake. He also got me roses and wine. I felt and feel very loved.
I know that we shouldn't need a special day to demonstrate our love for each other. And we don't. We express our love for each other often and in various ways. But it's fun and cute and silly to spend a day going the extra mile. I like being able to tell the story of what happened on Valentine's Day, rather than writing some pseudo-profound post about how it shouldn't matter.
It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. It's a day. But I'm going to enjoy the fact that I have a boyfriend and he's awesome and I love him.
More importantly:
I'll notify her next of...uh...fruit cup.
Friday, January 9, 2015
The Government Isn't Terrible (A Lesson In Perspective)
Okay, in some ways, the government might be terrible.
Washington DC, state capitals, and every city and town with a local government is filled with humans who make decisions. Some decisions are selfish, some are selfless, some are misguided, some are just plain stupid. It happens. Not everyone will be happy all the time. And that's how life goes.
Calm down about it. Just chill, okay? If you have a problem, find a peaceful, rational, loving way to deal with it. Argue logically. Don't be controlled by your emotions. Don't yell at people who are just trying to do their jobs the best way they know how. (This relates to the service industry, too. Please, stop yelling at your servers/fast food workers/cashiers. They're trying and they might be having a rough day, too. Please. Try for some empathy.)
But this post isn't supposed to be about that. This is a post about me putting my foot in my mouth today.
I filed my 2013 taxes online at the end of March. I opted for a direct deposit into my checking account, hoping that the money might show up while I was in New York that week.
I didn't notice an increase in my account, so I checked the history and didn't see any deposits. I checked a few times over the next several weeks and never saw the money. I figured we'd deal with it eventually. It was going to be a loan payment anyway, so I didn't really care when it showed up.
I got my 2014 W2 this week and celebrated only having one of them this year. (I had three for 2013: Bethel, GMC, and EoC.) I realized that I could file my taxes any time in the next three months. I could do it right now. But I'm writing this post, so I'll wait.
It has bugged me for months that I never got my return. It was $350 between state and federal, and I wanted my money! I've complained to a few people about it. I checked my email today for a confirmation from the filing service we used. It was right there. It had been filed, the IRS had accepted it, and I could be seeing my money within three weeks.
Where the heck is my money?!?
Dad and I just spent half an hour trying to access my account. We wrote down all the information somewhere, I know we did. But we couldn't find it.
Finally, he checked on a website for the state return and found that they said they'd deposited my $25 on April 9. I looked in my account history and there it was.
Then, to my chagrin (I love that word and almost never use it.), I looked down a few more lines. A deposit had been made by the IRS for my 2013 return. My $336 had been put in my account in early April.
I was so ready to be angry with the filing service, the IRS, and the internet in general for failing me. I was annoyed with the customer service rep who offered no help since we couldn't remember the answer to my security question. It was deeply frustrating.
Instead, I sit here telling you, my dear readers, that I didn't look closely enough at my account history all those months ago. Nine months. It was NINE MONTHS AGO!
I wanted to be the victim of some sort of government scam, so I didn't see what was right in front of me.
My money was in my account. I'll be able to make a bigger loan payment this month, which is awesome. And I'll be able to do it again when I get my 2014 return.
Friends, strangers, people who stumbled across this post, are you looking at the whole situation? I'm going to get a little preachy here. Hang on.
When someone is annoying you or not treating you "fairly" or not accommodating your every need, do you become indignant? Do you view yourself as a victim?
Could it be true that you are simply being told "no" because that's the store policy? Or because they're really out of the dress in your size? Or because the girl just doesn't want to talk to you/go out with you/sleep with you, so walk away. She's allowed to say that she doesn't want to talk to you without having a reason. If you'd like to be allowed to say "no" without having a reason, allow others to do the same.
"No" is a complete sentence.
Sometimes you just have to deal with not getting your way. Sometimes you have to acknowledge that you won't like every decision that people make. Sometimes you are the one at fault because you are behaving like a spoiled child. (Dear parents, say "no" to your children. It will make them better adults.)
Look at the whole situation. You might be the victim. If you really are, I'm sorry. Whatever happened to you never should have happened.
If you're not the victim of something horrible, you might be overlooking important facts because you don't want to see them.
Step back. Try a different perspective. Care about your fellow humans, even if you don't like them. Take a breath before you make a judgment. Don't complain until you've done your research.
You just might find that your $361 had been in your account the whole time.
Washington DC, state capitals, and every city and town with a local government is filled with humans who make decisions. Some decisions are selfish, some are selfless, some are misguided, some are just plain stupid. It happens. Not everyone will be happy all the time. And that's how life goes.
Calm down about it. Just chill, okay? If you have a problem, find a peaceful, rational, loving way to deal with it. Argue logically. Don't be controlled by your emotions. Don't yell at people who are just trying to do their jobs the best way they know how. (This relates to the service industry, too. Please, stop yelling at your servers/fast food workers/cashiers. They're trying and they might be having a rough day, too. Please. Try for some empathy.)
But this post isn't supposed to be about that. This is a post about me putting my foot in my mouth today.
I filed my 2013 taxes online at the end of March. I opted for a direct deposit into my checking account, hoping that the money might show up while I was in New York that week.
I didn't notice an increase in my account, so I checked the history and didn't see any deposits. I checked a few times over the next several weeks and never saw the money. I figured we'd deal with it eventually. It was going to be a loan payment anyway, so I didn't really care when it showed up.
I got my 2014 W2 this week and celebrated only having one of them this year. (I had three for 2013: Bethel, GMC, and EoC.) I realized that I could file my taxes any time in the next three months. I could do it right now. But I'm writing this post, so I'll wait.
It has bugged me for months that I never got my return. It was $350 between state and federal, and I wanted my money! I've complained to a few people about it. I checked my email today for a confirmation from the filing service we used. It was right there. It had been filed, the IRS had accepted it, and I could be seeing my money within three weeks.
Where the heck is my money?!?
Dad and I just spent half an hour trying to access my account. We wrote down all the information somewhere, I know we did. But we couldn't find it.
Finally, he checked on a website for the state return and found that they said they'd deposited my $25 on April 9. I looked in my account history and there it was.
Then, to my chagrin (I love that word and almost never use it.), I looked down a few more lines. A deposit had been made by the IRS for my 2013 return. My $336 had been put in my account in early April.
I was so ready to be angry with the filing service, the IRS, and the internet in general for failing me. I was annoyed with the customer service rep who offered no help since we couldn't remember the answer to my security question. It was deeply frustrating.
Instead, I sit here telling you, my dear readers, that I didn't look closely enough at my account history all those months ago. Nine months. It was NINE MONTHS AGO!
I wanted to be the victim of some sort of government scam, so I didn't see what was right in front of me.
My money was in my account. I'll be able to make a bigger loan payment this month, which is awesome. And I'll be able to do it again when I get my 2014 return.
Friends, strangers, people who stumbled across this post, are you looking at the whole situation? I'm going to get a little preachy here. Hang on.
When someone is annoying you or not treating you "fairly" or not accommodating your every need, do you become indignant? Do you view yourself as a victim?
Could it be true that you are simply being told "no" because that's the store policy? Or because they're really out of the dress in your size? Or because the girl just doesn't want to talk to you/go out with you/sleep with you, so walk away. She's allowed to say that she doesn't want to talk to you without having a reason. If you'd like to be allowed to say "no" without having a reason, allow others to do the same.
"No" is a complete sentence.
Sometimes you just have to deal with not getting your way. Sometimes you have to acknowledge that you won't like every decision that people make. Sometimes you are the one at fault because you are behaving like a spoiled child. (Dear parents, say "no" to your children. It will make them better adults.)
Look at the whole situation. You might be the victim. If you really are, I'm sorry. Whatever happened to you never should have happened.
If you're not the victim of something horrible, you might be overlooking important facts because you don't want to see them.
Step back. Try a different perspective. Care about your fellow humans, even if you don't like them. Take a breath before you make a judgment. Don't complain until you've done your research.
You just might find that your $361 had been in your account the whole time.
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