Humiliation

My mom jokes with me that maybe I should have picked a different thesis topic because God seems to be giving me more "fieldwork" in the arena of humility than I bargained for.

I really do feel like I have been humiliated over and over again this summer. And I know it is for my good. I know it is breaking through my pride and things I place my identity in other than Christ. But it sure is not fun.

I feel like a star quarterback who got a sweet deal with a good team... only half way through the season, I lost the feeling in my throwing arm. It sort of comes and goes. I can throw, but my consistency, my stamina, my precision, my strength is all just always a bit off--sometimes worse than others. It's discouraging, demoralizing, confusing, sometimes frightening... and I begin to wonder, is this something that is going to go away? Or should I be reconsidering my career options?

So many questions. I am hopeful that God will use this break to strengthen His life in me and to shed light on how He intends to use me--or at least make clear the next step on that path.

I love the country

I just ate a real apple.

I have been house-sitting for one of my professors this summer. They live 30 minutes outside of Richmond back through some windy roads that pass by fields of corn, small white churches, and homemade signs advertising "Hanover Tomatoes."

Their yard backs into the birthplace of Patrick Henry and has a clearing over a crop that is unidentifiable to an ignorant city girl like me. Though I'm not a city girl through and through. And I was reminded of this when I spotted a few apple trees lining the border between the yard and the field of unknown produce. And I thought of the apple trees in the yard where I grew up--back in South Dakota. We had apple trees, cherry trees, a plum tree... And a strawberry patch that my parents tried to move unsuccessfully. (I told them--at my wise age of probably 7 or 8--that you can't move a strawberry patch.) I remember gathering apples, trying to protect the cherries from ravaging birds, and eating one plum on our back porch. My best friend lived next door, and they had rhubarb. I remember dipping it in sugar to soften it's sour taste--or maybe it was just an excuse to eat raw sugar.

I get the feeling I may have written about this before. Would not surprise me because these are fond memories. =)

While out here, I also discovered the television show Jericho. It's set in a small town in Kansas. And the point is that I'm finding I miss "small town" life. Where people know each other; where there's room to play outside and to wander and explore; where people sit out on their porches and watch the sunset; where your vision of God's creation isn't boxed in by tall buildings and cramped quarters.

Most summers, my family drives out to Colorado to visit my dad's side of the family. To get there, you have to drive across the entire state of Kansas. My brother Eric is not too fond of this drive because "there's nothing out there." I love driving across Kansas--because it's all nature out there, I guess. Crops that span out into the distance further than you could ever dream of seeing in many places. The sky looks so huge that the farms and country houses you pass look like miniature models. The open space, the colors, the vastness is just beautiful to me.

Of course I realize that all of these thoughts and memories are idealized by my romantic tendencies. But still I think there is something to be said for a simple, "country" life.


I think Kansas is a good picture of humility... level with the ground, "of earth", common, simple, unpretentious. And yet, oh so fruitful ;-)

Peruse

The word peruse makes me angry.

Sometimes--on rare occasions, of course--I will discover that I have been using a word incorrectly. I might think to use it in a sentence, but then feel compelled to check the dictionary--just in case. And voila, indeed it is not the word I had intended. And a sense of relief and satisfaction comes over me as I am now in a position to find a word better suited for my intentions. And usually it is not long before said word is in hand.

And then there is peruse.

I enjoy using the word peruse. I find it a pleasant, playful sort of word. And yet it does not mean what my mind insists that it means. When I think of perusing, I think of a casual meandering. Well, browsing, really. Only I like the word perusing so much more than browsing that I cannot bring myself to use this "b" word in its stead.

Definition of peruse:
read thoroughly or carefully; examine carefully at length

I read this, and still my mind just will not accept it. For some reason, it is firmly established in my heart of hearts that peruse is a care-free, light-hearted activity. And I become torn between beauty and truth. It is a pleasant word, but it is not the correct word!--even if my mind says otherwise. What is a girl to do! Surely there must be another word that carries this meaning; something at least a bit more palatable than browsing. Sheesh.

So what do I do? I check the Thesaurus. Perhaps an antonym for peruse will work. But what do I find there but a horrible mish-mashing of so-called "synonyms." Both scrutinize and glance through are listed as synonyms for this word peruse. It almost makes me feel like abandoning the whole dictionary/thesaurus system altogether.

Familysick

I talked with my parents, two of my brothers, and my grandfather on the phone this morning. They're all out in Yellowstone National Park as part of the annual summer vacation out west.

Our family visited Yellowstone when I was 6. I seem to have vague memories of walking past bubbling mud stuff--possible even a memory of Old Faithful. So strange how you can have memories that you're not sure are real. Apparently I had a loose tooth on the trip, and I got mad because my dad kept wanting to video me wiggling it.
I had a really good childhood. I miss it. I miss my family and it makes me sad that we're hardly ever all together anymore. Some people say that's just part of growing up and yet it didn't used to be that way. When I talk with peers who live near their family but are not very close to them, it makes me wonder why I'm all the way up here--500 miles from home. I'm blessed to have family that I love to spend time with and so it seems a shame not to take advantage of that, you know?

An Unexpected Phobia

So it turns out I'm scared of news reporters. Went to Byrd Park with Monica this evening to get some exercise and as we're getting out of the car a news reporter and tv camera guy approach us. I apparently had a deer in headlights look on my face. All I know is I avoided eye contact, looked towards Monica for some sort of rescue I guess, and just kept thinking of all those people you see on tv who end up sounding silly and ignorant. Not that everyone on tv sounds silly or ignorant... but as "smart" as I am, I'm not terribly knowledgeable and so more than likely would end up in this category if asked anything about... well, most anything.

Reporter: "What do you think about the condition of our ozone? We're in a 'code orange.' Were you aware of this? Is the ozone something you think about?"
Jen: "Uh, I don't think I have anything to say about that. Please leave me alone. I don't feel good, I don't look good, and I don't want to sound like an idiot on top of it all. Monica?"

Ok, so I didn't really say that. Maybe just the first and last parts. But Monica was brave and submitted to an interview and performed brilliantly in her usual talkative, passionate, sincere manner ;-) So if you happen to read this right after it is posted, you can check channel 12 in Richmond to see if her interview made the cut. Or maybe you'll get to see both of us walking away from the reporter and tv camera guy feeling very awkward.

Tired

Night time is often my productive time. I have fond memories of late nights writing papers, last minute studying, all night reading. Okay, sure, some of these memories are not accurately described as "fond," but nerd that I am, I do recall sincerely enjoying many--if not most--of these late nights.

It's 11 pm. I was ready to go to bed an hour ago.

I think fatigue is a ridiculous symptom. But I guess it's kind of like water torture. A small inescapable nuisance repeated over and over at irregular intervals produces an unexpectedly extreme stress reaction. At some point during the last week of June, I think, this extreme reaction hit.

There is so much more to the situation than this post lets on, but I've had complaints about my lack of blogging ;-) so I thought I'd try writing something.

When I thought of the water torture analogy, I looked it up. Wikipedia informs me that Mythbusters did an episode on water torture to see if it really can drive someone insane:

The Discovery Channel series Mythbusters investigated Chinese water torture and found that dripping water on the forehead, by itself, was not particularly stressful. Immobilizing the subject along with a fixed variable water drop schedule proved the most stressful of the methods they tried, and cold water intensified the effect.

What I have found is that when I allowed myself to believe that I could take a break from everything, the anxiety eased tremendously. The thought of "mobilizing" myself is a relief--that I don't have to continue under the pressure of these responsibilities while the persistent drip of fatigue plagues me. Praise God for that.

But I can tell that the thought alone is only a temporary relief; now I'm praying that the realization of that thought is not too far off.