Confessions of an Update Addict

I proclaimed to the world all of the benefits of being a natural multitasker, an efficient researcher, a connected friend through the wonderful means of this thing called the internet. Have you followed the local news channel on Twitter? You can get all the headlines first! Did you see the update from So-and-So? Can you believe it? Have you seen the viral video about goats on a steel ribbon?! Oh, hang on a sec, I just got an email...a Facebook message...a text... Sure I can shop for camping gear while writing my dissertation. Why not shop on Etsy while talking on the phone? Woot just posted a new sale! 

I didn't realize, or maybe refused to acknowledge, what was happening to me. And as I ignored it, it got worse. The addiction grew and grew until I was blinded to the fact that I had a problem at all. But I do have a problem. I'm an update addict. 

Facebook scrolls numerous feeds of mostly useless things my "friends" (anyone I've ever met, basically) are doing. Twitter feeds me news headlines, professional conversations, and Instagram photos. Google provides me with an endless supply of material to peruse on literally any topic I can think of. Shopping sites tease me with sales that last for minutes. I have five different email accounts, all of which fill with junk, promotions, and the occasional message from someone I know. And all of this happens all day, everyday, non-stop. 

And there I sit, at my desk at work, with the phone laying face-up in plain site so that I am ensured to never miss an indicator light, buzz, or reminder. And on my screen at any given time, you can find seven or eight or maybe a dozen different web browser tabs open, some with work items, but most with other feed-based, update style stuff. Day after day, I wonder as 5:00 nears, what did I really get done today? Some days the checklist gets knocked down significantly. Some days, not a single task gets finished completely. I come home, crack open my laptop, phone beside me of course, and eat my dinner with the TV on. I chip away at tiny fragments of my dissertation, but the kitchen stays a mess, the laundry doesn't get done, and I usually go to bed far too late. 

The pervasiveness of the internet has invaded every element of my life, and frankly, it has changed almost every element of my life. It changes my behaviors, my productivity, my focus, the very way that I think. My entire life has become a series of distractions caused by a series of endless updates. And I probably would have gone on believing that this distracted life was both normal and beneficial, had it not been for my enjoyment of the frequent UD faculty/staff book clubs. 

The past few weeks we have been diving into a book called The Shallows: What the Internet is doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr, and today chapter seven stopped me in my tracks. First of all, know that I recognized after the first few chapters that I was a poster child for whom this book was probably written. Being on the younger end of the book club participants, there were many things that I resonated with and even unabashedly proclaimed as advantages in my life over the other viewpoints presented. I was tech savvy, could research quickly using software and search tools, I could multitask and not get overwhelmed, I didn't need to carry a pile of books because reading on screen is normal.... 

But then there was chapter seven. In this chapter, Carr goes from merely stating the facts about what the internet provides and how users interface with it to digging into studies about what all of this updatedness is really doing to our brains. Study after study noted that the more distracted a person was, be it with links, related searches, scrolling text updates, the less they really took in and retained. In fact, just the style of the internet with its myriad of updates and look-over-here's in and of itself causes the brain to constantly try to shift gears when darting from one thing to the next. And that little place between your short and long term memory, known as working memory, only typically has so many gears that it can deal with. The constant distraction of a distraction-based medium has actually rewired our brains to think differently in order to deal with all of the constant inputs. The result? Diminished recall and retention of information and lost time and efficiency in deep thinking and concentration to name a few.  And making matters worse, this brain behavior is often rewarded, driven by the fear of missing out on something important or the excitement that comes with finding information on nearly anything when you need it.

And suddenly, things are starting to make sense. My lack of productivity at work, especially this semester, my slower than desired dissertation pace, all the email accounts and blinky cell phone notifications and tabs on my web browsers, and... I have rewired my brain. And not for the better. I have given in to the temptation of the update at the expense of my memory, my concentration, my focus. I have opted for distractions as the focus, and those distractions have thrown me in a landfill of other distractions, each vying for my eyes, my brain, my time. 

Luckily, the brain is not developmentally unidirectional. If things can be learned, they can be unlearned. If the internet has rewired my brain, then control of the internet can rewire it again. This will not be an easy task. It will mean conquering an addiction so pervasive in my life, I was ignorant to its existence. But it is time. It's time to shake free of the distraction world, at least in part, and regain the world of focus. 

Here's what I believe I can reasonably accomplish and commit to attempting indefinitely:

• I will not leave my Facebook and Twitter feeds open all day long. And I will not check them on my phone throughout the day. These feeds can be checked before work, right after work, and if need be, at lunch time. Right now they are continuously open and cause perpetual distractions as I'm working. 
• I will use one browser tab at a time at work and while dissertating. Bookmarks and web addresses can be retyped if I want to get back to something. I can only think of a few rare situations that using more than one tab was actually useful (viewing two spreadsheets or copying and pasting text from one source to another, perhaps). 
• I will not check my other email accounts throughout the day at work, in church, while out and about (say, shopping), or during face-to-face conversations with people. My phone vibrates right now every time I get an email on any of my five accounts. Thus, I check the emails each time one comes in. That could reasonably be 30-40 times a day or more. 
• During meetings and meals, I will leave my phone away. No one needs to get a hold of my that badly, and no update is as important as the meeting I'm already in or the sustenance I put in my body. 
• The TV doesn't really play nice with any other productive thing, so it will be left off unless I decide want to do nothing but watch TV.

I'm not really sure you can possibly know what a huge commitment this will be for me to even try to make. In my distracted life, all of these things are the everyday norm. They are how I have selected to function. And then have altered how I think and behave and work and live. And not for the better as I once was so sure. You don't have to join me. I wouldn't expect anyone to. But I do ask that you support me, encourage me as I attend to the practice of regaining focus and efficiency and the undistracted life that I really long for.

(To give you an idea of just how tough this commitment will be, during the typing of this post, which took just over a half an hour, I have checked or posted on Facebook at least six times, turned on my phone screen twice, looked at Twitter twice, checked for new emails once, and have eight tabs open in Firefox. Tough doesn't even begin to describe what I'm about to face.)

Becoming a Better Teacher

I will confess that I often struggle in my role at the university. As an anomaly caught between two worlds, I find myself identifying with faculty as well as with my co-middle managers in the administration. The beginning of this term has me reflecting on my teaching abilities as a faculty member. 

After a month or so of procrastinating the task, last week I finally started unsealing the envelopes that held the student evaluations for the course that I coordinated for the first time this fall. Perhaps I knew to some extent what they might say, and perhaps I already knew that I wouldn't want to see the feedback. 

As a fairly new professor with only a few classes under my belt, I was tasked with developing an entirely new course, one in which 36 other instructors were strung along at my bidding, trying to implement the curriculum that I placed before them. At the time of the tasking, due to the rushed timeline mainly, I didn't really stop to think how daunting something like this might actually be. I didn't consider that the instructors wouldn't like some of it or that the students wouldn't dig into the content. I just frantically pulled together lectures and discussions, readings and writing prompts, mostly as we went along, hoping that it would be met with some level of success. 

And then I opened that first envelope. 

Students were asked what their favorite part of the course was, what they felt they learned the most about, how they identified with the materials and lectures, and what they would change if they could. And boy did students respond. After about the 400th evaluation, I could read no more. I was heart broken and defeated. And I was pretty sure that I never wanted to go in front of a group of students again. I had failed them, and they were disappointed. I showed my true colors of an unprepared, inexperienced novice of an instructor that no amount of bluffing or exuded confidence could mask.

After some time with this crushing blow, and a few meetings with supervisors that offered a much more experienced perspective, I started reading through the evaluations a second time. This time, I took me out of the equation. I filtered the bratty, snide remarks aimed directly at me, and really read what the students were saying. And what I read the second time started to amaze rather than burden me. 

Most students could identify something that they liked about the course. It may have been the comfy chairs in the auditorium, but it was still something. Many students could identify a specific topic or lecture that they enjoyed because of how it spoke to them or how they interacted with the material. Nearly everyone could identify something that they actually learned something about. And almost everyone felt invited into a community of peers and instructors, noting discussions, informality, openness as key traits to that community. A few students indicated that they wanted to dig deeper, to learn more, to discuss more about certain topics. 

Let's be honest, most of the evaluations were definitely negative. But as that inexperienced novice of an instructor, I can choose to view these one of two ways: 1) They hated me and and I'm a bad teacher that isn't worthy to stand in front of students ever, or 2) There are lots of ways that I can improve this course and my teaching to further reach and impact students' lives. Frankly, I prefer the latter. As it turns out, teaching experienced can only beget teaching experience. I was blessed with certain traits, gifts, and abilities that allowed me to gravitate to the field I am in, but it is only with hard earned years of training, critical evaluations, and intentional improvements that I can really become a better teacher. 

I didn't leave the university after all of those bad evaluations which means that I will once again be given the opportunity to develop a curriculum, work with other faculty, and attempt to reach into students' lives with information and knowledge that the university believes to have value. Bad course evaluations are not a weapon. They're a tool. The ability to tell the difference and use them appropriately is what will make me into a better teacher. 

Now, where's my textbook?

On Weddings

First of all, let me promise you here, before you roll your eyes, that the next six months will not be filled with wedding planning updates and bridezilla-style rants (oh, did I mention I got engaged on the 23rd?). But I feel that I do need to establish a firm stance on what I've observed and witnessed in my first week of betrothed life. 
 
To modern American culture, I give a big Screw You! A lovely close friend of mine sent me a engagement care package with a few bridal magazines in them, and I also received "the wedding box" from Derrick's aunt, and inside that box was a wedding planning book. I quickly became disgusted by both the magazines and the book and now understand more than ever why divorce is so prevalent in our society. Midway through the wedding planning book, full of great tips on invitation wording, time lines, sticking to budgets...smack in the middle was a whole chapter on losing weight before the big day. Um, what? Why? What does this have to do with wedding planning at all? The fact that this one day, eight hours or less really, is so flippin' important that we must calorie count and schedule extra workouts to get the perfect bod for all your family and friends and new hubby to see, is completely insane! How about we do those things irrespective of a wedding date because we want to be healthy! Not because we want to slim down for a day. Ugh. Not only that, but the bridal magazines and google image searches make it utterly impossible to have the "perfect" wedding day for normal oafs like me. The women in those magazines are so airbrushed its a wonder they still look human, and every page is filled with fantasy images of romantic gazebos strung with yards of whimsy fabrics and delicate lights followed by honeymoon ideas that would drag most new couples directly to bankruptcy. How did we get here? What happened to the church basement reception? The celebration amongst friends? More importantly, what happened to the marriage?

In conversations about wedding planning so far, my most common response to just about any question has been, Oh, I don't really care. The reason? Because I hate that this is what weddings have become. I hate our culture for forcing us to try to live out impossible dreams spending every penny we have on one day with little attention paid to what happens on day two or week two or year two of being wed. Now don't get me wrong, all of this firey wrath toward our culture's misdirection of matrimonial magic will not somehow lead to a schlumpy, jeans-and-t-shirts wedding. We will throw a nice party. We will bring together all of our family and friends, and we will eat, drink, dance, laugh, hug, cry, and party epically. But we do it because the life that follows the day is worth the celebration not because the celebration somehow defines the life that follows.

We will have good food and drink to share but not because I want to flaunt the fact that we can afford it but rather because with that much celebrating, people will get hungry and need to eat. We will have good but somewhat unusual music because it represents who we are and the things that we love and share. We will have close friends and relatives stand with us not to show off how cool we are and how many friends we have (have you seen that trend recently with the 12+ attendants - silly) but because they are dear to us and we want them close by when we seal one of the most significantly life altering decisions of our lives. The rest? Well, the rest I really just truly don't care that much about. I'm sure there will be decorations and lights and details and personal touches that will have to be added in, but they won't define the day, and they certainly won't define our lives together. 

So screw you society requiring weddings to be just so to be "right". And screw perfection and pomp and tying tiny little bows on hundreds of invitations and giveaways and programs. And screw matching fonts and pantone color numbers and identical shoes and dresses and suits. My attention is focused on the fact that Derrick and I will be married rather that just get married.

Stress Isn't Sexy

Let me just preface this post by saying stress happens. Trust me, I'm one of the first people who can, from first-hand experience, justify this being said. There are just times when freakouts, tears, meltdowns, and all out wig-outs are perfectly warranted. However, as a general rule, I have come to learn that this should not be, well, the general rule. Here's my probably skewed, far-too-closely-removed, just-been-there-just-done-that perspective on stress from both the internal and external view.

To those suffering from acute amounts of stress and the mismanagement thereof (and I speak as a recently recovering stress-addict myself), stress is not a badge of honor. Now, I know what you're about to say (because I've said it). I don't 'honor' stress! I know you don't. I didn't think I did either. But whether or not you actually consciously think/say it or not, here's the logic.

Stress is hard.
I'm stressed because I have so much to do.
I have so much to do because someone has entrusted me with all of it.
I must be pretty good at things to be entrusted with so much.
I will do all of the things because I know I can.
I am stressed because I do all the things.
Stress is hard.

Do you see what I did there? There is no fatal flaw in this logic necessarily. In fact, perhaps all of those things are true. But somewhere in there, sometimes, maybe even just a little, there's a hint of pride that slips in there. Something like, the stress is good because it results from me being good at things and people trusting me, therefore I should be stressed. And that, friend, is honoring your stress which may result in you wearing it with a little pride.

Stress has more to teach us than this, though. Stress does not control you. And your response is naturally (again, because it has come out of my own mouth), But I can't change my situation. Or, My job is doing this to me. Or, If I don't do this, it will fail. The objects of your stressful life are merely that. Objects. Or maybe people or time or a situation. And if they are only that, then they are, indeed changeable, avoidable, or fixable. Now before you launch into an all out less-than-logical-because-it's-emotional argument with me, I get it. I understand how you feel and I know why you're thinking what you are. But I am not the Pollyanna, puppies-and-rainbows, be joyful in all things girl you're thinking I am. In fact, more often than not, I describe myself as an ambitious worst-case-scenarioist at best. But here's the deal. If you're ever going to find a way to live a lower stress life, you're going to have to change the way you think about stress and who you consider to actually be in control here. 

A very valuable word should enter into your vocabulary: no. You may have a lot to do. People see this and ask you to do more because you're pretty good at doing stuff. You think you can so you say yes. And then you're more stressed than you were before. Sometimes things just have to give. For me, blogging primarily fell by the wayside as I floundered away in my stress. Some relationships took a hit. Some of the quality of my work began to get shaky. Because I could not, in fact, do it all. Enter the glory of the word no. By saying no to coordinating the office gift exchange, I have freed up an hour or so to, say, write this blog entry. By saying no to staying late at work one night a week, I can workout instead. By saying no to an exciting offer to work on the next big visionary project at work, I get to spend an extra night with Derrick. By saying no to obsessing over timelines, I allow for the flexibility that is required sometimes when working with others. Each time I say no, I find something that I can say yes to. Priorities begin to shift, productivity and quality in many cases goes up, and I am free of the weight that comes with being the woman who can do all of the things. This is control, folks.

One more lesson from stress for the road: Stress isn't sexy. That's right. I said it. When you're stressed, people honesty don't know what to do for you. They don't know how to help you. And in most cases, there isn't any actual way that they can. But they try. They let you rant on the phone, hug you when you cry, wait patiently to get to see you on your mega-stressed terms. It's no fun. It makes them feel bad. It makes them consider keeping their distance. It makes them walk on eggshells to try not to make it worse. Your stress has the potential to harm and change others. For some of you, this news is more stress inducing than reducing in this moment. Now again, there are times that you just need someone to lean on, and there will be times that people you know will need you. But when you always choose to live in high-stress mode, you're not sexy. 

It's time we take a good look at our lives, and realize that stress is not honorable, uncontrollable, or good. It harms you, it harms others, and it can serve as an awful ugly addiction that we refuse to believe can be managed. But it can, and it must be. I have started by making small choices here and there to take back control. Some of them were easy. Some of them have challenged me to rethink everything. But I'm starting to feel sexy again, as if I can be someone that acts more like a people magnet than repellent. And I feel like I know who's in control here, and it's not my job, my dissertation, or my travel schedule. And I know that stress cannot be linked to pride. Doing all of the things does not make me a superhero. It just makes me cranky. 

So here's to a low-stress, high-choice, sexy December that I intend to enjoy to the fullest.

The Forgotten Post

I started this post over a month ago, when I apparently had a few spare moments to reflect on life. But then I promptly forgot I had started it. I literally just posted my traditional birthday-ish post when I found this. I didn't want to just leave it behind., so I present to you, the forgotten birthday post. 
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It's usually around this time of year that I get a little reflective of the year gone by. What have I done with the 365 days since the celebration of my birth last year? What has this year done to me? And what is in store for next year? But first, let's look back.

If you'll recall, last year on my 29th birthday, I christened the year as the "Year of Go!" I wasn't sure why I had to dedicate it as such. It just felt appropriate. We can take a quick look back at the "Year of Go!'s" origins here.

Now that the "Year of Go" is drawing to a close, I've started to think back over all of the things that the year brought my way...the lessons learned, the accomplishments accomplished, the joys and challenges...

A few things have happened:

I fell in love with this guy... Our first few months, we mainly just fought, but during the "Year of Go", we learned a lot about each others' hearts, how we communicate, where our passions lie, how we express ourselves. We calmed the heck down, learned to really talk, and grew closer together. Now we're pretty much inseparable...except for the 95 or so miles between us.

I gained a second family. Something funny happens when you fall in love with a person. You get his whole family, too. Adventures with the Ward family are never in short supply. And we continue to navigate the waters of work and personal lives intersecting, but I think of them as family. And depending on the situation, occasionally get introduced collectively with "the kids" which always makes me smile.

I got a new job. I was given the title Director of the First-Year Experience at UD. This would have been a far greater gift in the beginning had it been a stand alone position. I don't think anyone around ever really realized how difficult it would be to keep two full-time student activities positions and a new position all moving forward at the same time.

I finished coursework at Edgewood. I am now ABD and am working crazily to finish drafting my dissertation proposal. It seems crazy that another year has gone by, but it seems really crazy that a nearly three-year journey is hopefully soon to be ending. 

I've learned a few things:

There are seasons. This season of going is not and cannot be a permanent state of being. There are many other seasons to come. Embrace each one to the extent that you can while you're in it. Strangely, there are always things you'll miss about the season before as you settle into a new one.

The condition of one's home is inversely related to the amount of one's responsibilities. Three jobs, a dissertation, a garden, a boyfriend, a few loyal friends...one messy house. Though I still find myself apologetic about the crumbs on the kitchen floor or the loose hairs everywhere in the bathroom, I am a little less cautious about allowing people in to discover it. Stacks and piles prove that someone is living a life in there. Pillows on the floor show that someone actually uses the couch for something sometimes. Shoes by the door display movement and activity. This is real life. And I've got real life all over my house right now.

Natural is okay. You don't have to be made up to go to Target. Stores accept you in flip flops and workout shorts. No one notices (or at least no one mentions) when you stop styling your hair everyday. In fact, let the record show that I recall blow drying my hair about twice this year. In the last year! Prior to that, there were about as many days in any given year that I would not have done my hair.
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I feel that this post is a little lacking. I'm sure at the time I originally wrote it, I had far more lessons that I felt I had learned. But tonight, I'm content to just be, lessons or not. If I come up with more lessons from the year, perhaps I'll share them at another time. Until then, celebrate on, friends.  

The Year of Go Up and Went

Faithful followers (the few of you there may still be after a more than six month hiatus), there are a lot of things that are hard for me to believe. 

It's hard to believe that another year has gone by, as marked by my recent milestone birthday. 

It's hard to believe that I abandoned all personal writing to make room for writing of a more academic type. 

It's hard to believe how very blessed my life is in every way. 

This past weekend was such an amazing reminder of so much. I spent time looking into the eyes of the man that is shaping my dreams and future. I ate amazingly delicious foods. I ran and ran hard. I enjoyed the beauty of the great outdoors. I enjoyed not one, but two wonderful families. I sipped coffee and wine. I laughed. I cooked. I slept in. It. Was. Wonderful. 

Year 29 was deemed the Year of Go. And boy did it ever. I blinked and it was gone. It came with a fair amount of good and bad. I was stressed. I was happy. I procrastinated. I rushed. I traveled. I wrote. I didn't hesitate. I didn't overthink. (At least I tried not to overthink.) Overall, it was a pretty good year. But it is gone. Fitting for the Year of Go, I think. 

Year 30's name is Celebration. It's time to change gears. The Year of Go was about as fast I could have imagined it to be. Celebration will be different. It's not about going, pushing limits, or accomplishing lots of things. Celebration is about, well, celebrating. Stopping to intentionally cheer on life in all situations. It's about throwing a party for receiving advisor approval to send in some required paperwork for your dissertation. It's about an extra latte on the days that meetings go better than intended. Throwing up your hands in praise when you get a phone call from a loved one. Laughing at a bad joke. Encouraging others. Drawing loved ones in close. Hugs. 

There may be bad days in Celebration. Even in bad days though, certainly there is something worth celebrating. Each day. But there will be many good days. And those will be fully celebrated, on purpose.

So, let's celebrate together, shall we? Let's encourage each other. Let's bring light to each others' lives. Let's love and cheer and laugh and hug and enjoy every single moment. That's the year of Celebration. Time to celebrate.

A Little Less

I've spent much of the last few years asking for more. More money. More responsibility. More dwelling space. More garden. More education. And I know beyond a doubt that there are seasons for more. And in the past five or so years, I've learned a lot about living with more. In fact, I feel like as I asked for more, God blessed me more. That is not to say that I asked for more money and He handed me excesses of cash, but rather if I wanted more responsibility, more work, more education, the avenues presented themselves clearly in order to receive more. 

But humans have physical limitations. Oh, do we. And this spring semester, perhaps for the first time in a long time of asking for more, I have reached my limits. I work like crazy with a job filled with important responsibilities. I participate faithfully in the discipline of church and leadership there. I am nearly finished with my doctoral degree but have a dissertation to get writing. And I have a loving boyfriend who I adore. But, truth be told, I'm tired. With five weeks to go in the semester, I wonder how it's all going to fit, even for five more weeks. And in reality, it probably doesn't all fit. 

So, my heart cries out with a different prayer, this time not for more of all of the things I've prayed so fervently for, but maybe a little less. For the first time I've really felt called to serve in ways that look like less even if they're really not. And for the first time, I think I'm starting to understand why. In my quest for more, I have actually had to experience less of many things along the way. Less relationships, less time for people I love, less community involvement, less personal reading, less physical activity, less reflection and prayer. These things are things God calls us to in life, taking care of our bodies, our hearts, and our beloved. And in my muchness, I have allowed these things to wither. Which has my whole person withering.

In order to experience more, perhaps for a while I need to ask for less. It's a concept that I hope I can move toward even in a busy season of life filled with muchness that can't be avoided for a short time. God blesses our hearts even beyond what we can know how to ask. And even through the stress and busy and muchness, He has blessed me with perhaps a bit of wisdom to feel the permission to ask for less. And hopefully I will soon learn that less really is more.

"Suck it up."

Today, I was being whiny. Well, actually the last few weeks I've been sort of whiny. I struggle some days with the routine that I've created for myself. Wake up early, work really hard, study really hard, go to bed late. Lather, rinse, repeat. Lately, as I've struggled to maintain such a routine, I've found myself getting increasingly down. Just tired. Just wanting a change of pace. 

Sometimes when we get this way, we maybe need to be this way for a while. It's our person's way of notifying the brain and the heart that something isn't quite right, that a change is necessary. And after getting it all out, or making a real change, we feel better. Life gets brighter. We break routine and move on. 

Sometimes when we get this way, God chooses to give us the "suck it up" talk. Well, maybe He doesn't actually use the words "suck it up." I don't remember seeing that exact phrase in the Bible anywhere recently. I feel like today I received a clear "suck it up, Lindsey," moment. Do I have a lot on my plate right now? Yes. Is the routine generally not a lot of fun? Maybe so. Did I ask for this life and the career and the school and the relationships that are all happening at once? Yes. Did I ask for even more than this? Yes! And why did I ask for more than this? Why did I ask for a crazy, tight, ridiculous, busy life filled with love and learning and working and helping? Because my heart knew it was me. Tonight, I received one more thing, one more thing that I specifically asked for, that I took specific action to receive, that I moved toward not away from. And it's my time to decide. Do I really want more? Or am I going to be a whiny baby that wants less? Less than what I'm capable of, less than what my heart craves? 

This is exactly what the Year of Go is all about. Not about pushing myself to the limits of human ability and sanity (though there's certainly enough of that, too). It's about being grateful for what I've been given. About pursuing opportunities then not running away from them when they actually present themselves.It's about not over-thinking, not over-whining, not fearing, not questioning... Just going. Sucking it up. And going.

I've made my choice. I'm not a little girl. I'm not an incapable, inexperienced, inconsistent wild flailer, freaking out at every little thing. I'm a professional. I'm good at what I do. I can handle more than I am handling now. And I invite it. Deep breath, it's go time.

I'm glad I didn't know you then.

As we sit around the living room at Derrick's parents' house, the conversation turns to work. It usually does with three of us working at the same institution. Talk casually turns to history, great bosses, and personal experiences throughout our short history at UD. A flood of memories come rushing through my brain as we talk, and in my usual far-too-candid way, I recount memories of a different time, a different me when I was younger, louder, bolder, and I was sure "right-er". Memories of me yelling at coworkers, of slammed doors and planned escape routes, of plots of hostile takeovers. These stories came forth as if I was reading a fiction novel aloud. 

"I think I'm glad I didn't know you then," she says. Annalee always has a way with honest words. Then, with a little more reflection she added, "It's sort of amazing that you didn't get fired." 

It is sort of amazing. The department was in turmoil, relationships were frayed, we were all overworked, under-appreciated, and dealing with more stress that any one year should throw at you. And in the middle of it all, there I was. Yelling, throwing fits, slamming doors, sneaking around, deliberately disobeying. I played the newbie card a lot ("I didn't know. I'm new still."). I played the arrogance card a lot ("I'm right, you're wrong. Deal with it."). Looking back, I wonder who that person was. Where did she come from? How did she get that way? 

Times have changed. People have come and gone. And somehow, five years later, I'm still here. And somehow, I've changed. In the growing up and the growing old, I have not completely lost my fire, and the propensity for the occasional tantrum still lives in my belly. I have not completely grown wise, as the shoulder angel and demon still whisper arguments of proper behavior and decisions in my ears. I have not completely figured it all out yet. In fact, perhaps the opposite has happened - the older I get, the less sure I am about how I right I might be. 

I look back on many a chicken scratch tucked away in old notebooks, unpublished blog entries still in draft form hidden from view, and the memories of what seems now like a former existence altogether. And one theme sticks out. Grace. Oh the grace of patient coworkers, of caring bosses, of family and friends around me. I could have been beaten into submission, snuffed out of power and privilege, left to learn lessons on my own in the cold corners of the harsh world. But I wasn't. Somehow, I was nurtured. I was cared for. I was encouraged. I was given second (and third and fourth) chances. 

Part of me wants to erase the ugly bit of personal history. Part of me wants to sweep it under a rug or hide it in a dark closet. I wish it wouldn't have happened that way. "I'm glad I didn't know you then," cuts to a person's innermost parts because I can't separate the Lindsey of then with the Lindsey of now. But God's grace is lavishly evident in my life, shown through the people all around me, through the second chances, through the growing, and forgiveness, and relationships, and joy. Without the past as it was, I can't exist as I am. And with that knowledge, I can humbly own my history, even though it wasn't pretty or pleasant, because without it God might not have started growing me. And grow me He has, and is, and will. I bear His image, though imperfectly, and mostly through the lens of grace, and through the growth that only a good and loving God can provide.

Embracing Adulthood: Sharing Lessons I Learned the Hard Way

Today, I had a heart-to-heart with a few students, and as I was talking to them, I found myself pausing, thinking, "Am I talking to a younger me right now?" 

I started listening to myself, really listening to what I was telling these young women in my office. And after they left, I sort of chuckled. The very things I was telling them were the very things that others had told me only a few years before. I envisioned myself in similar situations as these young women faced and realized that I would have probably handled things how they had just a few short years ago. But now, there's the whole new perspective that I view the world with, a new attitude, maybe even a thin layer of wisdom that keeps me from repeating (most of) the mistakes of my youth. 

A year or two ago, I found myself in this place that I didn't really want to be. Not quite young but not quiet grown up. Not quite wise but not really a fool. Not quite mature but not completely immature either. I watched the real grown-ups around me making even-keeled decisions as I flipped out, remaining calm when I wanted to shout. As I made mistakes, stumbled and staggered through the not-quite-adulthood I had found myself in, I grew more and more frustrated just wanting to be "there", arriving at full, mastered adulthood.

Today, I'm still certainly not the sage, calm, even-keeled adult that I dream of one day becoming, but my how I've grown. And continue to grow. Today was just such a clear reminder of that, that it's time to embrace the wisdom-seeking adult that I'm becoming. I guess sometimes it takes a little-you in front of you to show you how not-so-little you are.

Finding the who-I-am in the what-I-do

I have entered an interesting season in this Year of Go, a season of discipline. This semester is gearing up to be one of the most challenging of my life, but I look ahead with confidence that what needs to be done can get done. 

Am I going to be working a lot of hours? Undeniably. Am I actually going to be working two, maybe three peoples' jobs at some point? Certainly. Am I going to still be a full-time doctoral student working on both a content course and the beginnings of a dissertation? Hopefully. Will I move a few professionals from multiple office spaces to a new office home? Sure thing. All the while making students, faculty, and staff members believe that my job and life is easy? *Breaking a sweat now* but sure. And making sure to continue to pay attention to the few shreds of relationships I have left? I will, yes.

My coping mechanism for this monster ahead of me? Discipline. I think there are probably many ways to handle such a year. Some people would drop commitments right and left. Some people would may run away. Or curl up in the fetal position in a dark corner somewhere. I am trying to be proactive. A new schedule is emerging that will define my life pretty distinctly in the next six months or more. 

6am-alarm
7am-homework
8:30am-work
12pm-lunch
12:30pm-homework
evening-run, homework, personal reading
10:30pm-get ready for bed
11pm-sleep

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. 

I've also given up watching television. Let's face it, I'm generally not all that entertained anyway when it's on. It's expensive. And it's a HUGE time suck. Gone. And, for some reason, I've added a few additional disciplines: personal reading and a running class. 

I was asked yesterday, "What are you learning through all of this new-found discipline?" and at the time, I didn't really have a good answer. But today, on the drive home, I think I realized what I was learning: who I am and what I'm made to do. This may sound a bit lofty and somewhat ridiculous. What could I possibly learn about who I am through a crazy season of overcommitment and military-like precision? Our lives are defined by the what-we-do of everyday. The what-we-do forms us into who we are. When we consume our time with junk TV and violent video games, those things become a part of who we are. When we fill our time with volunteer work, hobbies, work, beautiful music, the great outdoors...the what-we-do forms the who-we-are. This season, intentionally or not, is shaping who I am becoming.  I don't know how exactly to articulate the who-I-am just yet in relation to the what-I-do, but at the very least, I know that this is fueled by an unquenchable passion to love God and love people. And the what-I-do of everyday, the constant alarms and meeting reminders, the book clubs, the homework, the time put into it all, is creating a better me for God's glory. 

Bring on the discipline, the structure, and the fullness. I rejoice in the opportunity to learn who God has created me to be and what He's created me to do through this journey. And now, my alarm says its time to get ready for bed. 6am comes around pretty quickly. 

Embracing Adulthood: Coloring within the Lines

Recently I asked for some honest feedback on a project I was working on. And I got it. The feedback was, sometimes you just need to color within the lines. For those that know me well, you know that I'm not your usual perfectly colored picture in a neat and tidy coloring book. I'm more liked ripped out pages plastered all over the wall after being doused with color going every which way. Well, maybe parts of me are like that. 

Lately, I've been observing those that don't necessarily color within the lines. And I've realized something. Generally speaking, this coloring outside of the lines is not so positive. In fact, most of the time, the color that falls outside the lines is viewed as inappropriate, maybe a little crazy, a little out of line. Generally, even though not positive, I think it pretty harmless most of the time. But the thoughts that people think of those that frequent beyond the borders with their crayons are not the thoughts I want people thinking of me. 

What I've learned over the last few weeks is that there is a time and a place for everything. And knowing the difference makes one at least appear wise. Failing to know the difference creates the appearance of a fool.

In my personal life, I think it sometimes okay to act or look a slight fool. I don't love to make that a guiding principle, per se, but I think it's okay there. To giggle at something that only I think is funny. To stop dead in my path just to watch a bird go by. To be spontaneous or slightly unpredictable. All of these things are perfectly fine and perfectly outside the lines. But to blurt out thoughts in a meeting. To write an inappropriate or strange letter (in anger or even-keeled). To be the true lose cannon making unpredictable decisions. These are the professional colorings that end up outside the lines that I want desperately to avoid. My professional coloring book needs to be neat, tidy, appealing, perhaps even predictable in order to be truly wise. 

This week, I have some very important professional writing to do, and though I want to stand out, to be unique, I do not want to be foolish. So, I will create something within the lines. Not to be cookie cutter, bland, or completely usual, but to be, or at least appear to be, what I hope people see in me as a professional: wise.

The "Year of Go" is...Going.

I'm just about three months into the "Year of Go", and I just need to take a few minutes to ponder the following question: Is this year real? 

I just got home from 11 days in Key West, Florida, in the middle of an Iowa cold snap in January. I spent those 11 days traveling, teaching, and experiencing life with students in a subtropical location crammed full of every possible type of adventure thinkable. And although the trip wasn't perfect, it was sort of surreal. I mean, think about it. The university now only allowed me to go on an all expenses paid trip to Key West, they actually PAID me to do it! Sure, there were plenty of responsibilities. I had to teach history lessons, go running daily with the students, encourage participation and fitness, watch presentations, and help make travel arrangements, but come on. It just doesn't seem right. And though technically I agreed to go before the Year of Go began, it definitely fits into the Go theme just fine...especially because I have spring orientation day tomorrow at work followed by a drive to Madison, class on Saturday, and the rest of the weekend with Derrick. Meh, that's what the Year of Go is for, right? 

Continuing on the Go theme, this weekend you may find me cross country skiing if it snows a little more; next week begins a new semester at UD filled, undoubtedly, with surprises, long hours, and many new opportunities; and in early March you'll find me representing UD at a conference discussing vocation on college campuses around the nation. Later on in the year, I'll be juggling a few new and some old extra job responsibilities while discovering my dissertation topic, and perhaps just for some added excitement, inquiring about a new professional opportunity. Oh, and I'm planning on trying my first (and hopefully second and third) triathlon race, maybe doing another half marathon, and taking a running class.

Overwhelmed? Nah. Who needs to be overwhelmed? This Year of Go is turning out to be quite incredible. As long as I cut out stuff that wastes my time (TV is the first thing to go), keep up with adequate sleep (it's almost bedtime already!), and continue to count my blessings everyday, then there's nothing to fear, no need to panic. In this Year of Go, all I need to do is...Go!

Embracing Adulthood: The Proper Reaction

Since I was able to articulate the fact that somewhere in 2012, I was able to find my adult self, I figured 2013 would be a good time to write about it. 

Today, back at work after a long holiday, I had the opportunity for an adult moment, and I seized it! I received an email about midday from my favorite professor at Edgewood who was scheduled to teach my next course. She explained that she would no longer be teaching the course, and that an adjunct had been selected to replace her. 

Lindsey's usual reaction: (In an unnecessarily loud voice) "What?! What the heck?! I've already started working ahead! I've read textbook chapters! I HATE adjuncts! This will ruin everything! This whole course is worthless!" This would have gone on for a few minutes, maybe a half an hour. Ranting and raving is sort of my specialty.

Lindsey's reaction today: (Quietly, to myself) "Well, this isn't ideal, and I am disappointed that I won't have my favorite professor this semester. But hey, now I can take a few more days to enjoy not having to study. And hopefully she has our best interest in mind with this adjunct." Then I moved on to other things. 

Truth be told, the reaction sort of surprised even me. Usually my flair for the dramatic leaves me kicking and screaming, even if just for a moment, over every little thing. This should have been one of those things. But it wasn't. I was controlled, somewhat even-keeled, and I didn't dwell. Now, I'm not assuming that this will be my regular reaction to all circumstances. (Some circumstances just need a good fit pitched every now and again.) But I do think that taking a moment to pause and reflect the significance of this tiny moment helps me to realize that maybe this transition into adulthood isn't all just talk. Maybe I actually am a grownup.

2012: A Year in Review

Today, as I sit in my house, snowed in by Draco, I thought it was the perfect time to do a little reflecting on what 2012 has brought me.

Simply put, I live an awesome life.

I mean really. I just don't know how life can get any better.

I'm still enrolled at Edgewood College, at the halfway point of becoming a doctor. That thought is sort of surreal to me, a first generation college student who thought she was going to be a ballerina, a teacher, a marine biologist, an engineer...I'm well on my way to a blossoming career in higher education with so much of my career yet in front of me.

I am still in love with UD, though I am keeping my options open. Now calm down. I'm not going anywhere just yet. I love my job and my students and the many opportunities that I've been given, and I fully intend to keep on living out my calling in this wonderful place until I know for sure that it's time to go. And that time is not today. This past year, I was not in the classroom at all, which I am finding that I miss, but the additional "free time" has been great to dedicate to other things like Edgewood. But I've found myself on some great committees and teams that both improve my own professional skills and improve UD. I can't wait to see what 2013 has in store for me at UD.

I have a great home. The longer I live here, the more I love my little house with its little yard, wonderful neighbors, and cozy spaces. Earlier this fall, someone tried to break in to the house while I was away for my birthday. I, understandably, freaked out when I walked in to find the back door open a crack late one night, but after getting everything put back into place and a few good nights' sleep, I realized that I have nothing to fear. Little house did exactly what it was supposed to do. Doors stayed closed, windows stayed locked, and personal belongings were safe. I'm blessed to be able to live in such a great place, warm and safe, and surrounded by friends and family.

Derrick and I have been together for six months now, and what a crazy unexpected six months it has been. I went from hearing of this mystery man, this son-of-my-friend guy, that I was quite sure I would never meet, to having our lives thrust together through a set of not-so-accidental circumstances. Our relationship has not been perfect (is anyone's?) but it sure has been a wonderful ride. It's been a journey of building friendship, love, trust, and understanding that we are only just beginning. I am just hanging on, enjoying this wild adventure of trusting God with our futures, whatever is to come for 2013 and beyond.

Dad and I continue on our adventures each summer, trekking out to Colorado for the thrill of 14,000 feet. This year was by far our hardest year with some treacherous trails that we faced with all the confidence (or ignorance) of expert climbers. My improved fitness this year gave me an advantage I hadn't had before: endurance. Though I still struggle to wake my body up in the wee morning hours of trailhead arrival, I blazed through the days with a new sort of strength and confidence that running has given me. Running continues to be an obsession in my life, too, giving me the space and quiet that I need to get through long weeks at work surrounded by the noise and hustle-bustle of college campus life. I'm excited to get to my first half marathon coming up in a few short weeks in Key West, Florida. As for Mom and I, well, we continue to make birthdays a big deal with days full of shopping, eating, and girl-talking. I love birthday weekends with her. So special.

You know, I sort of feel like I'm just now starting to come into my own as an adult. I know that probably sounds kind of funny from this 29-year-old, seemingly independent go-getter, but I've never really felt like a grown up, not at work, not at home, not anywhere really. But this year, I feel like I just started to get a grip on what adult life was like. It's a balancing act that doesn't necessarily look all that much like balance. It's getting everything done, fulfilling promises, cooking dinner and eating well. Enjoying red wine with friends or alone, paying bills on time, working, studying, playing, laughing. It's mentoring, praying, caring for others. Making hard decisions. Making easy decisions. It's mowing the lawn and growing a garden. It's success and failure and the grace to accept both. It's confidence even if you have to fake it a little every now and again.

Maybe what 2012 gave me throughout all of the blessings and wonder, maybe the very best thing that 2012 taught me was that I really did, at some point, grow up. And do you know what? Being an adult isn't so bad. Actually it's sort of wonderful. Sort of awesome.

So there you have it. 2012: an awesome year. Filled with friends, family, adventure, blessings, and many wonderfully unknown things to come in 2013 I'm sure. Some years, I make predictions about what might be to come for the next year, but this year, I am truly content to just allow 2013 to be what it will be while I thoroughly enjoy the last half of my 29th year (the Year of Go!) and the first half of my 30th year (with absolutely no trepidations about becoming 30, really!).

Where was God?

This post is not a political statement. At least I don't think it will be. It is not a flagrant display of Christian privilege. It is not any sort of prideful lash against non-Christians. 

The combination of Christmastime and the national tragedy in Connecticut have spurred quite the conversation in numerous online forums and networks. Friends and acquaintances from all places on the pendulum have posted comments, thoughts and feelings for and against God, Christmas, beliefs, values...all in an attempt to define, perhaps even just for themselves, what it is that they believe when faced with opposing views in society. Questions arise in hearts and minds that make it difficult to make sense of what we personally believe and what we see in society. And frankly, events of evil, pain, and suffering do not make defining what we believe to be true any easier. 

I don't think I can adequately define, even for myself what I truly believe about politics, good and evil, Christians and non-Christians. But I must try to make sense in a senseless world because I don't have the option of removing myself from it and miraculously altering it for the better. 

I have come to believe that there is indeed right and wrong. Throughout various cultures, be they Christian or not, values and morals show up. Nowhere in the world is killing right. Nowhere in the world is hatred good. These values had to come from somewhere. They were instilled in our very hearts. Only a Creator could do such a thing. Individuals' beliefs and values cannot and will not make any sense at all if we push culture away from beliefs and values of any kind, which is what seems to be happening in the world. In attempt to offend no one, we devoid everyone of the possibility of carrying and acting upon the beliefs and values that we know to be true. We cannot be individuals with values living in a valueless society. 

I'm not trying to indoctrinate anyone with my own beliefs. I am merely trying to love. I acknowledge that not everyone is Christian and not all non-Christians are bad; rather, most are good. Our Creator has given us hearts that understand good and bad, right and wrong. These values must act as a foundation not only in our personal lives, but also in our collective lives because we cannot separate the two. They are intertwined. They are the elements of one coherent life that we all are trying to live. And we've tried so hard to separate them that we've become confused and forgotten the most important foundational value of all: love. 

A society that won't stand for anything will certainly fall for anything. And today it seems that we've fallen for the lie that we're better off without values, beliefs, and love, when nothing is more true than the very opposite of that. 

The Year of "Go!"

Today I was thinking to myself, I wonder what I usually write about on my blog around birthday time. And that right there reminded that I am indeed getting older. 

My 29th birthday is tomorrow, and I've been celebrating hard for a week now. Last Thursday night I took off for the folks' place for some mama-daughter shop and eat retreat time, something that has become something of an annual tradition. This year, it was Williamsburg and Iowa City shopping followed by the Lincoln Cafe for dinner. Then Derrick came down and my parents came up for a play day including Sunday brunch, apple orchards, and the perfect weather for some romping and picnicking in the Mines of Spain. It was such a great weekend to kick off birthday week. 

But unfortunately, the calendar didn't know it was my birthday, and the week at work hit me hard. Projects stacked up, deadlines loomed, and I even had a mini meltdown last night. Poor Derrick was the recipient of that episode. 

But now that I've made it nearly through the week, just one short work day left in front of me, I can look back and remember that even though the week wasn't perfect, it still was sure good. I am blessed to have a career to pour myself into that I love, a man who loves me even when I make life miserable, family that I can enjoy and spend time with, and enough projects to keep me moving my whole life. This is good stuff, people. This is blessing. 

It always seems that we're just waiting, right? Just waiting until we've got life all together. Just waiting to be an adult, or waiting for that big promotion, or waiting for Mr. Right to come along. Some things we must wait on, and they can be worth the wait. And some things depend on God's timing rather than our own. But I think that far too often, we find ourselves waiting on the wrong things because frankly we won't ever have it all together or be perfectly financially stable or win the lottery... But life can be so good without those things. So let's blow past all those things we're waiting on but won't ever necessarily come true. Let's live into the blessings we've been given despite all those things we're waiting for. 

In that spirit, I deem tomorrow the first day of the year of "Go!" It is not the year of "Wait" or the year of "Caution" or the year of "Get it all Together". Messy, wild, crazy, filled with ups and downs, bold, emotional, adventurous, brimming with blessings, not always perfect. That's my 29th year. The year of "Go!"

Life on the Edge: Lessons from 14,000 Feet

Below is more or less the chapel talk I gave today. It came packaged with lots of pictures of views and scenes from our mountaintop adventures, but I guess you'll just have to thumb through my facebook photos for the full effect. Enjoy!

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Five years ago or so, my dad and I had a crazy idea. We wanted to take a vacation, just he and I to do a little hiking. But we decided that it couldn't be just any hiking. No, we decided that we would climb 14,000-foot peaks in Colorado. With 58 14ers in the state of Colorado, we had quite a goal in front of us to climb as many of them as we could in our lifetime. And now, each summer, we load up the truck and take a road trip to hike for a week or so together. As of this past July, we've conquered a few of them...okay, 21 summits together. With those 21 summits, we've hiked 149.5 total miles while gaining 63,750 total feet in elevation (or 127,500 feet of total elevation change), all in a matter of 16 total days of hiking. To give you some perspective of what climbing 14ers is like, usually the hikes we attempt are between six and eighteen miles long round trip and gain anywhere from 2,000 to 6,000 feet from trailhead to summit. Usually there are trails to follow, but not always. And we usually plan between six and twelve hours to complete one peak. So this is not ropes and helmets and ice picks climbing, but it's no walk in the woods either.

It's been an incredible and indescribable journey so far, and along the way, I've learned a thing or two about technical hiking and scrambling as well as the proper equipment and fitness required for such a hobby, but I've learned so much more about God, life, my dad, and myself in the process. There's just something about the wilderness...there's a silence out there, without all of the buzzing and noise of normal life, and it just seems like conversations have freedom to roam where they otherwise might not, and the thoughts and prayers in my head and heart seem almost crystal clear, and there's just something about the experience that creates countless opportunities to grow.

Now please keep in mind as we get started here that I'm no preacher, so this is not really a sermon as much as just a few reflections and lessons learned from an adventure loving girl learning about life while living on the edge.

The first lesson I'm going to share today is one of the most recent and freshest, most vivid memories I have from this past summer. And that is, sometimes, friends, it can be dark!

Summer afternoons in the Colorado mountains are, if nothing else, predictably unpredictable. You can count on most afternoons to be wrought with thunderstorms, perhaps with sleet and hail, and probably lots of lightning. In order to avoid being the only lightning rod for miles up there above the treeline, hikers need to plan to be heading down off of a summit by about noon each day. Now I will confess to having left more than one comfy warm hotel room bed at the very uncomfortable hour of 2:45 am or so to drive some nasty mountain pass to a trailhead and get ready to hike by 4:00 or 5:00 am. And in case you aren't all that familiar with that time of day, it is dark!

On one particular morning this past summer, we were at the trailhead, ready to climb by about 4:15 am, knowing we had a very long and difficult hike in front of us. After fumbling around the frigid parking lot for a few minutes trying to stuff last minute gear into our packs, which is by the way my least favorite part of each hike, we took off up the trail with flashlights in hand. Now, I'm not afraid of the dark per se, but there have been very few circumstances in my life in which I have experienced such total and utter darkness as this particular morning.We had to hike for nearly an hour and a half like this before the sun gave any indication that it wanted to rise. My eyes were constantly trying to strain just beyond the flashlight edges, looking for anything beyond the tiny bit of light I had with me. I could hear flowing water on one side of me, but I didn't know if it was a stream right near the trail or if it was a hundred foot cliff to the water below. And I can't tell you how many rocks and roots I tripped and stumbled over as we went. Every step became a challenge because I honestly began to doubt that the ground would continue to be underneath my next step.

To me, this was actually strangely familiar because it represented how I sometimes felt in life. In times of trials or struggles, I find myself beginning to beg God to show me more than I can see. I strain to try to understand what is beyond what I can comprehend. I honestly begin to question if there will be something to stand on in the next step I choose. Maybe you know this feeling too? What happens when we get there, to that very dark time in life? I suppose I could just plop down on the trail and wait for sunrise. "No thank you! I'll just wait for things to get better." But we can't ever move ahead that way, can't accomplish what we set out to do, can we. Instead, when we get scared of the darkness of life, we can cling tightly to God knowing that He is the one that puts our paths in front of us and that the sun will indeed rise at some point. We can have confidence that we will not be left in the dark forever. But it is in the darkness that our faith and ability and the necessity to trust in a good and loving God can grow.

And when our faith grows, so can we. Which leads us to lesson number two: I'm stronger than I thought I was. And I'm stronger this time than last time.

Our first year out, we didn't know too much about climbing mountains. Sure we had done a few leisurely strolls through the likes of Yellowstone National Park and the Mines of Spain, but we were not mountain climbers. We weren't aware of proper equipment needed, the right clothing, good food for the journey, or proper physical conditioning. We just, well, we just went. And for whatever reason, that first year out, we decided to try something that you can only find in exactly one place in Colorado: a four peak combination hike. What that means is you hike up the side of one mountain, then you hike down a saddle a few hundred feet, then back up to the next peak, then down another saddle, up another peak, down another saddle, up another peak, then down the mountain side of a forth peak. And we just went. Looking back, I'm not really sure what we were thinking. There were times on that journey that my lungs burned so bad that I thought they might actually explode. My legs cried out for mercy, and I found myself wondering, "Um, why are we here again? Is this still fun? Can we go home now, please?" It was cold and windy and steep and that ten miles or so that made up the trail from end to end seemed like it would never end. I remember looking up along the trail in front of me and picking out one of the closest pile of rocks I could find and telling myself to just make it to that rock, then I could take another break. My dad was usually a few hundred feet in front of me, yelling to me to keep up. There were moments that I wasn't sure I could. But do you know what? I could, and I did. Together we made it through all four peaks and managed to do two other summits that same week. If I wouldn't have been tested with some really tough climbing that day, I would have never known how strong I really was.

Four years later, we're doing peaks that are far harder, believe it or not, than that four peak combo. We're doing steeper, longer journeys that require more knowledge and care and equipment. And over the years, we've acquired those things that we have needed to keep us safe and successful. Each year provides us with opportunities to gain strength and confidence through being pushed to what we think our limits are and surprising ourselves when we surpass them. And that, friends, is known as growth. When we're just walking on flat ground, our abilities, the true potential of our strength isn't really made known to us. All we know is that we can walk. But when we're called to do something tougher, like climbing a mountain or serving others or making the right choice in a difficult situation, only then can we find out what capabilities we've been given. And over time, when faced with numerous "mountains", whatever they may be in life, we grow. We get stronger. Some days, let's be honest, growth is no fun. Some days, it's like being on peak two of a four peak combo with thirty mile-per-hour winds whipping you in the face and going back or going forward are both the same torturous distance away. Some days growth is hard. But strangely, even though it's hard, I think few of us can argue that it is not also good. Gaining in wisdom and knowledge and strength and abilities are all good things and allow us to be God's presence in the world in whatever we're doing, but we only can really know the strength that has been given to us when we are pushed to the edge of what we even thought possible.

Last lesson for the day: the risk is worth the reward.

Lest we lose perspective here, I want to take this moment to let you know that climbing to 14,000-feet is hard! It's hard! The air is thin. I mean like suckin' wind every ten steps thin. It's high. Most people that are affected by altitude sickness begin to experience symptoms between 12,000 and 13,000 feet. That's where many people might find themselves with a headache or a bloody nose or worse. Yep, it's that high. The terrain is steep. It's rocky. It's sometimes unpredictable and dangerous. Add into that a few pounds of food and water and layers of clothing on your back, the potential for storms and wind and rain and snow, and of course the occasional wild animal encounter...it's no easy task, these hikes. So why do them? Why work so hard, train so long, risk life and limb just to hike up a big pile of rocks and then back down again? Well...this (these views) (pictures) might have something to do with it. I wish these photos did any justice at all to the beauty of this special place. But there is also just some sort of  personal satisfaction that comes with the accomplishment of gaining the strength to be able to climb like this, of growing physically, mentally, spiritually. You see, I feel like I've been given this gift in life, this deep desire to climb these mountains, to get to the top, to experience the wild of it all, and to experience God in it all. And to me, the reward is worth the risk every time.

We have been given a great gift, too, you and I, far greater than a few mountain views. We've been given the great gift of salvation by a loving God. But when we accept it, life doesn't suddenly look all smooth and even just because we said yes to the gift. When we accept in our hearts the gift that God offers us, we are not guaranteed that the risks of life disappear. Life is still hard. Trails are still steep, and sometimes they're dark, but we can have confidence in the reward that awaits us in the end. So it becomes worth every trial, every struggle, to live into the life that God has gifted us.

I want to share with you a brief word out of Hebrews, chapter 10, verses 35 and 36 that goes like this: "Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised." Now, I'm no Bible scholar, and I'm not sure I can do this, but hey, I already made clearly known that I'm no preacher, and I think that maybe that gives me some liberties here. You see, to me, this verse sounds a little bit more like this: Friends, do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. Even when you have to walk in the dark, have confidence that God puts ground beneath your feet. Keep pushing ahead. For you have need of endurance, and you will gain that endurance with every step you take, every challenge you overcome, every mountain that you climb, you will grow so that you can do the will of God and you may receive what is promised. And trust me, the risks that you'll encounter along the way, each of them will be worth the promises you will receive in the end.

All Stirred Up

And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near. (Hebrews 10:24-25)

I came across the verse on accident yesterday. A verse-of-the-day that pops up on my phone led me to Hebrews 10, but not this verse. As it turns out, there are a lot of great verses in Hebrews 10. I'll need to spend more time here in the near future. So, I sort of happenstansically fell into this verse (though I doubt that much with God is ever true happenstance), and it's been on my heart since I found it. 

Tonight, as I sat in a Greek Council meeting with representatives from most of the fraternities and sororities on campus, the conversation turned to an upcoming event that has been an (albeit less than stellar) historic tradition on campus. For the last few years, I've watched them come together, formulate some sort of lack luster plan, and then haphazardly attempt to execute it during Homecoming Week. This year, the leadership took a different approach. They came to the meeting pumped for the event, with a few crazy ideas that they'd love to see. And a funny thing happened. The room came alive. Students were talking over each other, laughing, coming up with crazy ideas, asking how far they could push the limits of possibility... They had become stirred up. They began encouraging one another, pushing each other to produce a better event. And they ended up more excited than I had seen any of them yet this year. 

The other day, I started talking with my boss about long term plans and the new building being built on campus and my place in it all. I later apologized for getting so tied up in possibilities or limitations, but my boss thanked me. In my strange combination of frustration and excitement for the future, he noted that he had felt a renewed sense of urgency and passion for projects that he had maybe not been pushing hard enough on yet this year. His heart was stirred up, encouraged to action, by my passion. 

This weekend, Derrick and I got in a stupid tiff about nothing, but in it's own way, it stirred us both up and got us communicating in a way that we really needed to. 

When things get stirred up, they aren't left the same. They can't be left the same. The trajectory is changed. The storyline is altered. There are lots of ways that people get stirred up. Stirred up to anger, to passion, to excitement, to action. Attitudes are contagious, for good and bad. Hebrews 10:24-25 reminds us that we need to stir each other up every now and again, stir each other toward love and good works. We are to encourage each other. We're not supposed to just let the story lie there on its own. No, we're supposed to change the trajectory, jolt people back to life through passion and gifts and action, stirring them up. This week has been a great reminder of all of the ways we get stirred up and all of the ways that I want to intentionally stir up the people around me. And I look forward to being stirred up all the more by those around me, encouraging me toward good and love. 

Time to get stirring, people! 

Faith to Move Mountains

"For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you." Matthew 17:20

Some days, I feel like I'm standing at the base of the proverbial mountain discussed in the book of Matthew, shouting at the top of my lungs, "Mountain! Move! Get out of the way." And to God, "God, I believe you can move this mountain. But it's not even trembling. It's not moving, God. Why?" 

Oh, He could move that mountain. He without a doubt could pick it on up, turn it on it's tiny little peak-side, and set it down in perfect balance somewhere else as proof of His ability to do the most impossible of things. Or He could smash it into a million pieces in front of me as a testimony to His great strength and power. He could make that mountain do a jig or roll it out flat like a red carpet or part it down the middle like the Red Sea. 

Not only could God do any of these things, sometimes He indeed does. And oh, how we praise Him for the miracle He produces in front of us. And then we walk on over or around that mountain and go on with our lives. I move on in life, impressed and thankful, but perhaps otherwise unchanged. Yep, sometimes God moves mountains. But what about the times when I'm standing there shouting at that stupid mountain in legitimate faith that God can move it and He doesn't? Is He ignoring my cries? No, He knows me too well. He knows that I need to learn and grow lest I miss the miracle. So instead of just moving the mountain, He is holding out His hand and asking me to move it with Him. One stone at a time. 

So I pick up one stone. It feels heavy in my hands. But God stays beside me. I walk it off the mountain and place it on the ground. Then I go back for another. And another. And He stays by me. When I get tired and sit down for a rest, He's still there. When I get frustrated by the assignment, He doesn't give up on me. And one by one, the stones begin to come down, and with each stone, I gain strength, maybe a little more understanding. I learn to move stones and listen to God at the same time because He's stayed by my side. I keep trusting, keep learning, keep growing. And then one day, I look up and the path is clear, the mountain is gone. 

But that's not where I am today. I know that day will come. But today, I'm at the base of that big old mountain, the one I've shouted at for so long, with one cold heavy rock in my arms, knowing that this will not be easy, but God is still good. And this mountain will move.