Step Three: Always pack a rain jacket.

So, I'm teaching a class today-minding my own business-when out of nowhere we start getting pelted with hundreds of little ice chunks. They're bouncing off the pavement like tiny white bouncy balls. Plunking onto the tops of our heads and rolling off our shoulders. It's like a war zone out there. For about a minute. Then, it just stops. No rain for an encore, it just stops. And within about ten minutes the sun returns to its original position and we go about our business identifying plants and eating redwood sorrel. Epic.

After dinner, I was feeling pretty brawny, and decided to tackle our food order. Every two weeks we place some requests to the lovely kitchen staff for staple items to stock the cupboards of Glen Iris. And today was pickup day. So I'm carrying a crate full of milk and balancing on top is a large-ish rectangle box full of cereal, sugar, peanut butter and the like. O yes, and a flat of eggs. Perhaps not the smartest of ideas to carry a flat of eggs on the top of two boxes full of heavy food, but sometimes intelligence is ignored for the sake of efficiency. I made my way down the flight of stairs with the goods only to be met at the bottom by another onslaught. I parked it under the overhang of the dining hall to watch a hail blast for a second time today. Plummeting out of the sky, crashing into the sidewalk, deck, roof and dirt in front of me made for crazy little picture. It was like someone from above shot a bunch of tiny paper wads down to earth. I stopped and smiled. I ventured out, the egg flat getting a little moist, only to have the surprise attack stop short once again. Totally epic.

Everything in the redwoods is exciting. Even the precipitation keeps you on your toes.

Hanging up the dirty laundry.

James 5:16
Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another that you might be healed.

This passage is in the context of sickness, so they're encouraging those who are sick to confess their sins that they may be healed. But could we take it further than that? Could we generalize to sin in general and the sickness of the heart? I'm not sure if this is totally off base...but I liked the idea and it challenged me.

Imagine if we confessed all our sins to someone else. What if I were to speak them aloud for others to hear? How does that sound for accountability?
Freaking scary.
Now, these hearers of my wrongs would not be able to save me or to cleanse my slate, but would I live differently if I practiced this? If I confessed and asked others to pray with me about whatever the issue may be?

I have definitely been given opportunities to ask for forgiveness for careless words and insensitive actions as of late, and I like it...kind of. It's hard but it's good. Good because it causes me to "call myself out", admit my faults, take responsibility for them, and seek reconciliation. Again, this verbalizing offenses doesn't detract from my need of cleansing that can only come from a Savior. But I want to squelch this tendency to offend, and so, perhaps by experiencing that kind of accountability, I can "heal" my poisonous patterns. I'll still be requesting cleansing from the fountain, being washed in the blood of the Lamb. But I'll also be creating vulnerability with those around me, airing out my dirty laundry, that I may be challenged and encouraged in order that God may be glorified.

So if you see some dirty frocks flapping in the breeze, don't be alarmed.
I'm just confessing my sins, that I might be healed.

Ezekiel 36:26-27

And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put with you.
And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.
And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.

amen to that right?

Zealous.

Romans 12
9Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

There's something about newness that brings about excitment. I mean, think about New Year's resolutions. People make all these plans to start fresh. To jump into a new exercise routine or suddenly become super organized. And people usually start out really well. They're all jacked up, excited about the possibilities, and then...

time goes by.

And the longer the minute hand spins, the more the original excitment fades and you find yourself throwing your clothes on your exercise ball because they don't fit in your closet.

Now that I've been here for a few months, the newness has worn off. I don't need as long to prepare for activities. There's a "predictable" ebb and flow to the days, combinations of work and rest. I'm also losing some of my diliegce. My alarm clock somehow keeps getting set for later and later even though I'm still going to bed at roughly the same time. The once riviting routine of morning bible reading has fallen by the wayside and something has taken it's place. I say "something" because I don't know what those extra minutes go to...a few to sleep, some to dilly-dallying, I'm not really sure. But I'm falling into a routine. I can "go through the motions" and still do a fairly decent job.

But I don't want it to be like that. I don't want that determination and dilience to fade with time. I don't want to loose my zeal.

"Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord."

A few of the other passages talking about zeal are actually pretty violent. Isaiah and Ezekiel talk about God's zeal and it always involves annihalation, fire, burning, etc. It's powerful stuff. I want to be dangerously passionate. About life, about truth, about God.

No matter the years I've "been a Christian" or the days I've been at a job, I want to keep my zeal, hold on to my spiritual fervor and dangerously serve the Lord.

INFP

Okay so I've missed a few blogging days. But I haven't actually skipped out on writing everyday. It has just taken place in my moleskin with a pen instead of on my account with a keypad.

For today, a characteristic of a perceiver:

"Instinctively avoid commitments which interfere with flexibility, freedom and variety."

This is take from an online description of the Myers-Briggs Personality Type assessment. I am an INFP. I read another, more lengthy online description of this "personality type". Totally me. So spot on it's kinda scary. The little snippet right there is the cause of most of my angst when it comes to relationships the last couple weeks. I've felt like a flake, but I'll just blame it on my perceiver personality type.

If you haven't taken the Myers-Briggs attempt a knock-off version [the real one is lengthy and expensive]. Just do it it's fun. In fact, here's a link. Just do it right now, and share your results. I love this stuff. Probably because I'm an INFP.

Poems.

I got a letter from a camper today. She wrote this poem on the back:

The day says, "Let's play!"
The world says, "I'm yours!"
Adventures await
In the big, bright outdoors.

Little snippets from the mouth of a fifth grader negate any unenjoyable task or moment.
O, the small joys in life. May they continue to feel big and overwhelm me with gladness.

Step two: Joy beats duty. Always.

A wise friend shared this quote in our morning meeting:

A perfect man does nothing out of duty. -C.S. Lewis

I am most certainly am not perfect, and so I often act because I ought. I perform out of a sense of duty instead of the actions bubbling out of a place of sheer joy. But as Mr. Scott so kindly pointed out while sharing his thoughts, this is refreshing because it reminds me of my imperfection. It reminds me that I need a little help up in here. So, I'm not perfect, meaning I will continue to do some things out of a sense of duty. And honestly, if I did only what I truly desired, I think I'd be a jerk of a person.

I need a bit of duty, but I'd like to move in the direction of perfection, moving from an earnest desire instead of a 'should-place'. My question is how do I cultivate this joy-driven lifestyle? I want to get there, but it seems a bit daunting. So I'm going to keep trying to figure that one out. To start this off 1 Peter 1:22-23 says:

Having purified your souls by your obedience to the truth for a sincere brotherly love, love one another earnestly from a pure heart, since you have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God...

I have been born again. Always a good place to start. My soul has been purified. Because of the obedience to the truth.
-Rewind-
Obedience? This word feels like it's leaning a little bit toward the duty side to me. Dictionary: "compliance with someone's wishes or orders or acknowledgment of their authority". Not quite duty, but it doesn't feel quite like desire either. I want to desire to obey. I want to love earnestly from the heart. I want to be kind to these sixth graders not because I should but because I want to.

Right now I want to go to bed. I'm not thinking about my heading hitting the pillow just because getting rest is the responsible thing to do. I really, from the bottom of my heart, want to go to sleepy town. So I think I will even though there is so much more to say about this topic.

God. Fill me with earnest joy. That I may love deeply, from the heart. May I walk not out of duty or responsibility, but out of pure delight.

Step one: Give yourself a pep-talk.

I'm starting an experiment.
I figure I'm kinda like a scientist these days, and scientists do experiments, therefore I do experiments.

I'm going to write something everyday for the rest of this month. Er...wait. That might be a bit much.
I just checked the calendar and it's only two weeks. I can do this. It's an experiment after all and things usually blow up during testing. Go big or go home right?

Right. So, here begins two weeks of daily happenings and thoughts. Recorded and published. [I still wonder why I do this whole blog thing...?] Hopefully short and sweet, holding some sort of value. [Thus giving purpose to this public sharing of words.]

________

I drove into Sebastapol today in Joy's red subaru, blasting the music, singing loud and ugly. Just what the doctor ordered. I happily butchered Regina Spektor's poetry in On The Radio:

this is how it works
you peer inside yourself
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some--
someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood

It's beautiful. Simple. True. Annoying. Blunt.
I peer inside myself, and the good parts are Jesus. I peer inside myself and there are a lot of parts that aren't Jesus. And those parts aren't so good.

I went to a concert the other night in The City. It was super fun. [sidenote: I fell in love with the fiddle.] It was the first time in awhile I've done something in the "real world" so to speak. And something crept up.

I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be popular. Seeing those thoughts in black and white make them sound really dumb. Because they are. But you peer inside yourself and try to pull out things, the things you like. And then you think if you can get someone else to love those things about you too, then everything will be good. I wanted to take those "not so good parts", and give them to someone else in the hopes that they would put them into there heart and hold onto them.

At one point I just closed my eyes and whispered to myself: "that's really stupid jen. you don't get your identity from outside sources. so stop being such a dork, remember where you do get your identity from, and hold onto that. share that with people." And I felt a lot better. Sometimes you just need to give yourself a little pep-talk.

To reiterate, I love these lyrics she wrote. Because to me, it seems like a comical social commentary that I'm so quick to participate in. The next verse continues like this:

and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again

...unless you give yourself a little pep-talk.

The honeymoon is over.

This past week I felt the first pangs of absolute exhaustion. That tiredness where your bones feel weak and it's incredibly hard work to keep your face from looking like one of those wrinkly, droopy faced dogs. Early mornings, long days. Confusion with schedules, misplaced and much needed items lost in the chaos of our new office [affectionately referred to as "The Natch"], late nights coupled with early mornings, trekking up the mountain and back down again with excited children glued to your sides- it all begins to wear on one's spirit come Thursday.

I started to think about being a summer camp counselor and adding the responsibility of being with the kids twenty-four-seven to this full plate. Surviving that summer was nothing short of a miracle. That's probably why it was such a formative experience in my life, because it was utterly exhausting and absolutely impossible to carry out in my own strength.

And so, the honeymoon is over. This job isn't all chocolate cupcakes and daisies. It's stinking hard some days.

The funny thing is though, I probably had the most fun I've had yet with this group of kids. I felt like I was the most prepared for my classes, and actually had a ton of fun teaching. The kids remembered stuff at the end of class, which is a big deal for a fifth grader when they are out in the woods and there are all kinds of rocks to throw and leaves to kick around. I even got to talk to them about why I wake up in the morning, about church and family and "how old God is" after questions starting coming from the mouths of these little squirts from Napa Valley.

Now, I've never been married. So I don't have actual, real data on this one, but I'm just going to extrapolate. Couples always say "the honeymoon is over" when things aren't all romantic and googely eyed anymore. The honeymoon is bliss, and once that state of euphoria leaves, you receive in its place- a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, the closet door that always gets left open, and spaghetti that tastes nothing like the way you've always made it.

Coming out of this week, the rose-coloured hue of being a Naturalist was taken away while picking up trash in the rain, spilling plaster of paris on the tables, walking around with a scale and clip-board, running to and fro, and wrestling ladders. To my pleasant surprise however, things still looked pretty good even without the pinkish tint. In fact, it was really quite beautiful. So this whole end to the honeymoon thing might not be so bad after all. Sure, it's a bit more difficult and the colors aren't quite as vibrant. But it's real. The real McCoy, the real deal. And sometimes reality can be a little brutal, rugged and fierce, but that just adds to it's beauty.

Rumor has it that next week is going to be another big one. This work week will start without romantic excitement, but it will start with excitement none-the-less. Excitement to get my hands dirty, to dig in my heels, call out for help, and dive in head first. Because this new spaghetti isn't too bad, and leaving the closet door open just saves me a step in the morning, and because perhaps the end of the honeymoon is actually a good thing because you get to start tromping through real life with someone getting muddy right along side you.

Better all the time.

People always look back at the "glory days". The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, that side you were on a few years back. I've heard that, "high school is the best time of your life". Or, "it won't get any better than college".

That's a bunch of crap.

This weekend, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, we loaded up some kayaks and headed to a waterway called Austin Creek. It had just rained the day before, giving us a little more water for a more exciting adventure. [It rains like mad around here by the way.] After dropping off one the vehicles for our return trip, three of us hopped on top of the boats strapped to the bed of the truck. I knew it was going to be a good day when it started off with me, leaning over the cab, arms extended grasping both sides of the red top, the wind whipping me in the face as we headed up a "Winding, One Lane Narrow Road". Thankfully no bugs ended up plastered to the windshield my teeth created.

We put in under a bridge, after muscling our kayaks down a steep bank, and we were on our way. Navigating over, around and through branches, rocks, bubbling water and placid river bends. As we floated and darted past houses nestled on the banks, singing silly camp songs and telling sillier jokes, my mind shot to the future. Looking back on these months, I have a feeling I'm going to see them as one of the best times of my life.

But I felt the same way in high school. And when I got to college, I thought, "this is it, it's the pinnacle, life at its best."

And here is my life, exceeding its own expectations.

I could often times be labeled an idealist, but I'm holding to the notion that life is just going to keep getting better and better. I know there will be hard times, sure. I know it's not always going to be all sunshine and roses, yes. But life is rich. And it continues to become more rich with each passing day. Not because I'm always going to be doing something extraordinary, something worthy of a book or screenplay, but because I'm on a journey. I'm on a journey to know God and the power of his resurrection. I'm seeking; and if I seek, I shall find. I'm knocking; and if I knock, the door shall be opened. How can I become dissatisfied with my present position? How can I look longingly towards the past? If each day parts of my old self are dying and I'm becoming more like Jesus? Why would I ever want to go back when I'm falling more deeply in love? Growing more in wisdom, knowledge and depth of insight? Being transformed by the renewing of my mind? Each morning, each day is loaded with the opportunity to be better than the one before because each day gives me the opportunity to learn a little bit more about the Almighty God.

And so, in the words of Frank Sinatra,
"the best is yet to come. and babe, won't it be fun?"