changes of sort

I thought I hated change, but I don’t. In fact, I thrive on it. I love new foods, new friends. I like to change my clothes when I get home from something, even if they are not dirty or uncomfortable. I like trading old things for new-to-me things. I like new experiences. I like resetting my ipod and filling with a new set of music. Change is great. What I hate? Goodbyes.

I hate goodbyes. I think I always have. Although I have matured slightly and don’t throw temper tantrums when leaving my friend Katie Hurley’s house anymore…I still hate them in a profoundly pervasive manner. I get sad when TV shows end. I don’t like reading the last chapters of books because I don’t want them to be over. I love when far away friends visit, but get really mad when they have to go home. When my best friend went to Israel for the semester, I pouted like a small child for a couple months and made a paper “count down to Stephanie” chain and would make my friends “make a trumpeting noise” when I ripped a link off each day.  And the bigger the goodbye, the harder it seems to be.

This past weekend we found ourselves at one of my dearest friend’s going away party- one last official get together before we send her off into her two year service in the Peace Corps. I say “found ourselves” there, because that’s really what it felt like. One minute we all lived together, and were talking, praying, crying, over rushed cups of coffee and 50 page senior thesis papers, about what our plans would be, what post-graduation life would hold. I feel like I blinked, and all out of no where I have graduated, am living in the Bev, and working as a mental health counselor- where as last I checked I was just RA ing at Gordon and writing papers about counseling. Last I checked my friend and I were running out the door with our travel mugs of coffee talking about how she thinks she might apply for the Peace Corps. And while I witnessed many of the steps of her process, I forgot it meant she was actually doing this, that she is leaving for somewhere, for a significant amount of time.

And so last night, after many “remember that time when…” funny stories, last second signing of cards, and a final game of apples to apples- we had to leave, and realized it was something resembling goodbye. I did not know how sad I was until all of a sudden I am crying like none other – a state of being that continued well into my drive home (which is awkward when going through toll booths, mind you).

Among a million other life lessons that I am learning- I am struck with one thing. I get so sad when I say goodbye, and hate missing people more than most other feelings- and I am a person, whose love is infinitely smaller than our God’s. He has a jealous  love for us, and wants us to run to Him, He wants us close.

Now if I get pouty when TV shows end or cry like a seriously injured child when my friends go on long trips, how much more does God, in His love, passionately seek us when we are walking away? Luke15 tells us that when one is missing, God seeks after them until He finds them, and then He celebrates. How crazy is that?? Jesus cares enough about us to come after us, and could not be more excited when we are with Him.

So the moral of the story:

I love change. I hate goodbyes. I love my friends. And I am blown away by the love of the father.

Flies and The ER

Community…it’s this word we through around, something we say we want, and something that we fundamentally need. But what in tarnation is it? Haven’t a clue. BUT- I have been learning a thing or two lately about sharing life to an extent that simple things draw one’s attention to the complex beauty of relationships, of loving one another well, and of this vague concept that we all crave…community.

Things that resemble community, the good, the bad, and the down right ridiculous:

• Naming a dog
• Brining your friends to the ER and following them around like you are their mother, and/or making snarky jokes the whole time
• Joining each other for a  good old fruit fly massacre in the kitchen, followed by being a little more intentional about loading the dishwasher in a timely manner
• Driving to Maine for Birthday celebrations
• Driving to Maine for friend’s concerts
• Car sing alongs
• Driving to New Hampshire for dinner
• Oh heck, most of the time you are driving most places
• Going out for drinks
• Grocery shopping together
• Being there for each other’s post work emotional breakdowns  
• Cramming  25 people into a not huge living room for faithgroup
• Weddings, Bachelorette Parties, and Birthdays well celebrated
• Being storm chasers
• Joint obsessions with lemonade popsicles
• Sykpe dates when half way across the world from each other  
• Giving each other lemonade popsicles when sad or injured
• Walks with lolly pops
• The kind of inside jokes that are always funny
• Church softball games

…and a zillion other things. All this to say that life is messy and confusing…but pretty beautiful. I’m finding that being fully present for each other in seemingly small moments makes all the difference.

Pretty much I am just really blessed by all the fantastic people in my life.

Jumping In

I have never been a wader. What’s a wader, you ask? Waders are the people who put one centimeter of their body in the water at a time until they are finally, and some undetermined and distant point in the future, swimming. I will walk along for a little bit, realize that yes, the water is cold, as I had anticipated. What’s at the bottom? Who knows. But if I am already this far in, forget it. Go big or go home.  And then I jump. Now for those of you who know me really well or have worked at camp with me, you know I don’t actually enjoy swimming very much, but bear with me for the analogy.

I have been part of The Harbor, my fantastic church on the North Shore for the last few years. I never really had a “wading” period, I jumped in pretty quickly. But I am seeing now that there is a next step, and a step after that, and one after that. If I am going to jump all in with Jesus and not just wade cautiously about in the life He has for me, I need to commit my entire being to being like Him, following Him, and loving Him.

Thus, my decision to do the Navigate Training School with The Harbor. Navigate is, in short, a small group on steroids. Essentially, a group of people come together for at least a year to live intentionally together and grow in their walk with Jesus through service, teaching, and community. Will it be hard? Yes. What’s at the bottom of this, what does God have for me though it? Who knows. But I’m this far in, and I think it’s time to just go for it.

I am sitting in my living room as I write this, about to go meet with the rest of the church at the one and only Family Dollar parking lot to see off this year’s Navigate class for their missions trip to India. I am excited to see what God does through them and strangely aware, that if all goes according to plan, this could be me next summer.

So Jesus? Prepare me. Mold me. Make me more like you. I am all in.