There and back again, on repeat

It was a sweltering 86 degrees in London while we were there, which was completely unexpected.

It was amazing to be in a city so often mentioned, and written about and so historical and iconic... it's hard to describe, but something happens when you see buildings like "buckingham palace" and "big ben" and "London Eye" and the "tower bridge"... in person instead of just in pictures. It's like reality scrapes out the idyllic expectations stamped in your subconscious of what a place will look like... and things seem bigger or smaller or more colorful or somewhat more dingy and insignificant than the caricatures made them out to be. And some of it's for the better and some of it's slightly more disappointing, and sometimes I wish my great expectations were still in tact, but mostly the reality of a place is far superior to any air-brushed post-card picture. And that's the beauty of traveling: the opportunity of seeing and smelling and taking it all in for your own self, instead of relying on other's eyes to explain what the world looks like for you.

Even so... is it okay that i feel completely exhausted? Not wanting to sound ungrateful or anything - it's all just been A Lot. A lot of motion, a lot of new things and stressful decisions rushing at me; too many sleepless nights in hostels (not in seattle) and a lot of excitement and life-long dreams bursting into reality.. with the looming anticipation of a lot of farewells (for now) and a lot of re-integrating into old friends' lives, and rediscovering my own place back home. It seems like it will take years to fully tell and recount all the funny or dramatic or terrifying or romantic or stretching or embarrassing moments i've lived this past year in Ireland and every where else. It seems exhausting to process it all now, and to help you understand all the lessons i've learned after crossing seas and mountains and desserts and forests, some metaphors and others more literal..

Don't get me wrong, I love everything as best as I know how. I love where I'm at right now, I love the places i've experienced, and the faces I have come to know, as well as the ones I will return to come september first. I'll dream long, vibrant dreams of all the gorgeous scenes i've seen from this world.. And seeing Les Mis. live on stage, and the glorious costumes of the Lion King, and standing amazed at the tower bridge and looking down at the Thames thinking of all the generations of important people who'd reflected in its waters... and all the many adventures I've had in my other recent trip, going from Belgium to Amsterdam, to Prague to Straussburg, to Switzerland (and flying! and rafting! and swimming!) then to Monaco and Nice and Toulon, and lastly, (at long lastly) to Barcelona.... (you see all the movements that makes me feel like the room is still spinning, whirring as if it too were on train tracks)... and then thinking of flying off this Monday to Venice and Rome and sailing around Croatia... How incredibly tired am I! Yet, how incredibly blessed am I! 

 

Here's to all the places left to uncover, and all the footprints our feets have already imprinted. May we be both blessed and a blessing to all the places and faces we have the privilege of understanding.

For the Craic of it

I've discovered that I like my Irish tea-tea strong and white, with two sugars. 

I have acclimated to military time, handling a till with euro currency, J-walking safely, and using the word "lift" instead of "ride" appropriately.

I now know that I can go anywhere in the world and make friends.

My knowledge of Irish Soaps has increased from nothing to ... more than nothing. ;)

And I know what it's like to be a foreigner.

My love for all the people i've met here still surprises and delights me.

And oh, how my eyes have been filled with such beautifully different sights.

I know what it's like to be lonely for something familiar, to be completely lost and trapped.

I know (and I pray I will never forget) that there is no way i could earn God's love.

I have picked up such phrases as, "what's the craic?" "your man over there..." "what's the story?" and "yeah, it was grand." 

I'm filled with so many new thoughts and realizations from this past year, many of which are impossible to form into words. One thing I am most thankful for is how my fear of change has been redeemed, so that I'm no longer held captive to the anxiety of transitions or even farewells, but I can trust God to protect my relationships and my hopes for my present and future. 

I've found Ireland to be different than what I dreamed it to be when I was preparing to arrive a year ago, and rightly so. You know, reality is always better than a dream.

A storyful day

It happened to be a Monday, but more significantly, it was my 5th day of work in a row, which was completely unusual for my part-time working lifestyle. (call me a wimp, but I just haven't been used to a 35 hour work week this past year)

Now, it happens that we have weekly tasks, and after looking at the list, I went, gasping excitedly to Anna, "Can I water the plants?!" Slightly puzzled, she says, "sure."

The thing is, I don't usually work on Mondays, so I'd never seen the plants being watered, and I was kind of like, "how do you stay alive, pretty plants?" because they are quite lovely for coffee shop plants..

Anyway, a part of me was like, "I should know how to water plants - i won't ask for specific instructions."... But after the second potted tree, Anna comes over and asks, "how much water did you put in?" Not sure how to describe the amount, I say, "I guess only a little bit?" She takes the jug and splashes over half onto the plant's roots.

"They only get watered once a week," she explained. Then with a little smile she says, "how would you like to only drink once a week?" To which I laugh at, as I go to get more water.

Now in the shop, we have two leather booths that are back to back and in between them is a line of large, stiff plants that look fairly like they should live under the sea, somehow.

So, I go to water them. And I Wish, Really wish the punch line of this story was that somehow these plants were actually fake or something like that. But no - no, i watered these very real plants with Anna's words replaying in my head, "how would you like to only drink once a week?" Gosh, I wouldn't like it at all! About 2.5 jugs later I was sufficiently satisfied that this line of plants would be thoroughly quenched, and then continued to meet the rest of my lovely, new photosynthesizing friends. 

About 6 minutes after I'd finished my delightful task, the unthinkable happened. Clearing a table near the booth, I notice to my horror that there is a puddle of water oozing out of the side of the wood base of the booth. Shoot.

And you know those moments where problem solving is just far too challenging, because you're so embarrassed at the mistake you've just made? After staring at the puddle for about 4 seconds longer than necessary, I went to get the mop and "caution: wet floor" sign.

Mopping went okay, except that 2 minutes later, the water kept oozing out of the wood.

Okay, so... tactic number 2: use lots of blue rags to clot this awful wound. I watched, with all hope as the water seeped into the dry rags and seem to hold. So, I went back to frothing milk or making change at the till, my eye straying worriedly to the aisle with yellow caution sign, and to my dismay the puddle inching out again and defying my clever rag scheme.

You know those times when you make a mistake, but there's really no way to fix it, besides cleaning up the aftermath mess. Yup. that was me. And so the oozing continued all day long. 

Thankfully, we were rather un-busy all day, and I more hoped than believed that one day, this would make a funny tale to tell.

Little did I know that one of the most amusing moments of my time in Dublin was going to happen a few hours later...

After my oozing water incident, I was honestly quite grumpy. It didn't help that I had to walk much farther that day, because I had to buy another bus pass, which Inconveniently just rose in price that day.

Then waiting for the bus, I was perched on the thin bench when these teens come swooping in from the shopping center. I scoot to the edge to allow them space. And for reasons i'm still unsure of, the red-haired kid next to me began making pretend puking noises.

Um, okay..

So I get up and precede to see if the bus is coming, by any miracle. Noticing that his mute neighbor has fled, the red-head kid jumps up to stand Rather close to me, to the teenage giggles of two of his friends. He says something, but having endured an unusually annoying day, I'm too preoccupied with ignoring them all to remember what it was.

I hate being laughed at, even by teenagers.

And then, the unthinkable happened. With an absolute smirk on my face, I turn to this kid, who was still standing close enough, and I decided in that moment that I would make the most of this situation. I would show them!

"where're you guys headed?" I asked cooly.

He kind of blinked, "Maynooth."

"Oh wow, i am too," which was true.

... and so we preceded to have a conversation. And I even invited him to the next Maynooth Teen Space event that I was leading (where I volunteer with youth). Eventually the bus came though, and I climbed up to the top, rather amused at the turn of events, and excited that I hadn't allowed their mockery to get to me.

And then I heard it from below:

"Yeah, she was from America."

"who? oh that girl who was talkin to ya?"

"Yeah, we actually had a decent enough conversation."

"Wow, Connor, you're so sociable.. I always knew, that's how you're going to find your True Love!" and by this time I am nearly laughing out loud. How old did they think I was??

And then, the girls' voice again:

"Let's go and find your true love!" and then the beat of feet bounding up the stairs.

WOW. True Love. that's intense.

Thankfully, the troop of them passed without recognizing me, but my own conversationalist friend was the last to climb the steps. And, the poor fella- he Actually managed to stumble up the stairs, and unable to suppress my grin, I utter the single syllable, "Hi."

"Hey" he breathes, and marches on.

Then, upon exiting the bus, the group of them sort of clumped together outside the bus, and as I moved to cross the street, I heard one of the friends' voices, "where is she goin?"

But, convinced it was far better to be mysterious than to join their 15-year old babble, I kept on the move, smirking and shaking my head. Oh, to be the topic of conversation for some teenagers on the bus.. :)

Customers, Cappuccinos and Necessary Revisions.

Omar comes in nearly every week day, sometimes twice in the same day, and orders a double espresso, in a small-sized take away cup. He's one of my favorite regulars. There's something absolutely gentle about his demeanor, which makes me so glad to see him every time. When I mentioned I was leaving in a few months, though, he looked at me with such sadness and said, "Oh, Sara, I'm going to miss you."

George always comes in the mornings. His teeth are crooked, and he has a grandpa look about him that's instantly endearing. After he found out I was from America, he would enter the store calling out, "God Bless America" and saluting dramatically, to which the other customers in line would look completely puzzled by, but he would inform them nearly dutifully that I was from America, you know. Meanwhile, I'd be stifling my laughter and half pretending not to notice as I continued to steam milk for a large latte or medium cappuccino. George likes to talk, which is fine, since I enjoy listening to his Irish banter. In the days when I dreaded going into work, especially in the morning, I would remember, oh, but George will be there, and somehow that made it more bearable. :)

Now, we've a nameless customer who comes in multiple times a day. He's Mr. High-Maintenance: vanilla skinny cappuccino small take away (no chocolate powder on top)... I know him by his ever consistent drink... But what would trip me up most is the confusing order of words in which he requested the drink. Right, you mean a Small, Skinny Cappuccino for take away...

For sure, I have learned as many things in this job as I have made large lattes... :) which is a lot, let me assure you. Listening, for instance; I used to have the hardest time remembering the next order and what drinks to make, and all the different parts, but I have learned to keep my ears alert, and gotten accustomed to the rhythm of my coworkers... I used to be rather unfocused too; my mind would be buzzing with so many other things, and I would shrink back every time I made a mistake (which seemed to happen all the time!) and this would only multiply my nervousness... It was difficult to see correction as a way to learn when it only felt like a reprimand. I honestly wanted to quit so many times... but I was realizing today how much I have overcome, and how good it felt to stick it out. And now, even though it's taken so long, I finally (Finally!) can hold my own as a barista. It's not really what I want to do for the rest of my life, but... I can say with some measure of satisfaction that I didn't give up.

After working, living and learning in predominantly Christian contexts, the splash into the "real world" has been considerably icy. For so long, I had been used to the Grace-filled communities, the Encouraging and Sensitivity of teachers and pastors and leaders who earnestly cared. So it was unbelievably difficult to handle harsh and impatient criticism. Being better acquainted with the world was, in so many ways, what I wanted and what I needed though. My self-esteem had to be secure in who I am as God's beloved, and not on what others say or think about me, or even on what I can accomplish or offer. I have learned that criticism is a way to improve, and not to take it personally... but it's still difficult at times.

It's been my most challenging goal that I've given myself to learn how to love my boss, though I considered her an enemy (with her rude and disagreeable nature and ways she made me feel so worthless, etc...) This has perhaps been one of the most profound things I've learned, because I don't often encounter people I feel so absolutely attacked by... but, who knows what God can do in her life?

I have put a huge pressure for everything I do to have some outstanding purpose of furthering God's Kingdom. However, it's occurred to me that my being in Ireland this year and even at Costa Coffee, could serve the purpose of me learning loads about myself and this world and about work and humility and grace, and that is more than grand in itself!

Why'd your hair grow so long...

Time is so slippery. And it never, ever stops.
Today I was telling my coworker that I am leaving Ireland in August, and she was so surprised... and her surprise tugged on me to wish to stay for much, much longer. How has 7 months already gone past so fast?
I've begun to meet some new friends from USIT, and hearing them say they arrived in Ireland a week and a half ago is so strange. I feel so old and experienced in my Irish lifespan... (yearspan:).
So much has happened since coming here, I have this deep desire to gather it all up - all the shades of green, all the sights my eyes have been filled with, all the excess minutes on the bus, all the smells and failed attempts to be brave and all the small victories and tears and bursts of laughter and seal them all away so I can come back to it all whenever I need to. I feel years older, not just months, and I'm wondering how it will be to integrate back into being a Seattlelite, into being a daughter, into having only Christian friends again.
I often (not just in Ireland) have this fear that I'm wasting time, or not being in the place that God wants me to be, or that I'm not able to do enough in my lifetime for Him. But as soon as I declare that, it also occurs to me that God is so much bigger than anything I could screw up (hah!), and that the beauty of Grace is that it can only be undeserved. I am so undeserving.
Some of my best times of thinking is while waiting. Today I waited for 35 minutes for the 66a bus to retrieve me. Life is all about practicing, yeah? So, I have been practicing at welcoming people into my life, and at saying good bye. I'm practicing at being a good employee, and at not allowing others' attitudes or tone of voice to change my performance. I'm practicing patience, especially with myself.

Blessed.

Yesterday, after my one shift at Costa, I bought an umbrella, which was really a big deal for me. It's blue and has birds flying and swooping across it. After living in Seattle my whole life and then moving to Ireland, I had yet to buy or own my own umbrella until yesterday. It was a big day.

Today I worshipped God with my church, and during tea and coffee time, I dreamt with some friends about making a bakery that serves home made pastries and baked goods from Every nation... "it would be like Heaven!" I exclaimed excitedly. "All Nations, feasting together!" I think I was so overcome, I jumped at least thrice. (what comes after thrice? My housemate, Connor asked me today... frice?)

The day before yesterday, I painted AT LAST, Again, and it felt so much like breathing for the first time in a month that I could barely believe it.

Today, I let myself cry for a long time on the couch with my journal and a soft, fluffy duvet and a lovely smelling candle and God's arms cradling me and my music seeping gently into my soul. It was beautiful, muchly needed, and more of a release than anything you should be concerned about.

The day before yesterday, my housemate Amy took me grocery shopping because it was overcast out. I love going anywhere with her, but I especially enjoy grocery shopping because she'll suggest things I could try, and my life is so much more Irish because of my dear housemates. This past month, I have purchased only the absolutely necessary of items; I lived off of bread and eggs (which I got for under 2 euros) for quite some time; or bagels and cream cheese... you might call this: survival mode. But it was so wonderful to pick out food the other day.. a couple weeks' worth for only 30 euros or so! And coming back from the store, she and I were so delighted to feast in our fresh food! 

Many times in my life, I have been overcome with love for the people in my life, and I almost wonder, is it possible to care so deeply for people and appreciate and want the best for them, for so many people? I know I've said it before, but I love my housemates more than I expected I could. God has been so good to know exactly what I needed. And it was so clearly a gift. And I love my dear traveling friends whom I met through USIT - people who have come alongside me, all of us so battered by being far from home, and all of us leaning on each other and standing together (though often it's that we're caught in the rain). How absolutely blessed am I! And then a third community I find myself lathered in love for and by are my church community; I have seen without a doubt the tangible body of Christ in the most beautiful ways through Maynooth Community Church.

While in Paris, Amy Garden my Aussie USIT friend asked me to pick one word to describe how I wanted this coming year to be characterized by. I chose the word Blessed, with the hope of being a blessing to others and to remember how blessed I am just to be in Ireland... This past month I have been undoubtedly covered in a thick layering of God's blessing and love from others (like the tastiest frosting atop a dainty cup cake... not the gross sort of frosting mind you, but the best sort you could even try to imagine!). 

I have also been overwhelmed, to the point of tears, to the point of utter confusion and even to the point of feeling the acidic taste of despair dripping down my throat, deep into the rest of my insides...

How is it possible to be so covered in blessings, and yet completely not deserve them?

I'm not sure what your opinion of me is... And chances are, I have at some point probably worried about it, or strived to have my reputation be that of an innocent, sweet, caring, adorably naive young woman - wanting with all her heart to follow after God. And that IS who I am, but my expectations, and probably your expectations for who I am have been shaken up, as rudely and abruptly and possibly as carelessly as some shake 'n bake chicken procedure.

I have the deepest desires to be wanted and loved and to belong to someone... And in a place and time where my vulnerability was heightened, and my need to be known, to be accepted, to be desired was most felt, I jumped in so, so eagerly, and put everything else aside in a basket, to be sorted through later.  I say these things, and realize that these themselves are not bad or to be despised.. The need to be loved, even to be held and cherished is the sincerest need of us all, I should think. And there's such a sweetness in sharing your heart with someone who you deem worthy of letting in close. 

Yet there's all this shame, all this self-induced hurt now, all crumpled up and gushing out in bursts of muddy water. There has been such a back and forth sweetness mixed in with the salt of getting caught, and being found missing (quite literally!). All resulting in this culminating moment: waving goodbye at a bus stop, on a lonely street in the queasy few hours before dawn... I stood there, so alone, with no one to smile down at me and hold my hand. I stood there, not sure if this was a movie or a dream, or someone else I was viewing from strange binoculars... And then the next culminating moment: sitting at a kitchen table I had been acquainted with for 3 months then, and hearing (as if announced by some safari guide) the fork ahead of me, where the road splits off: stay with Greater Europe Mission and undergo Restoration through counseling, leaving Ireland in 2 weeks' time and not to return in this year, or resign from GEM and stay in Ireland if I so desired.

I was given 24 hours to decide which path to take.

With all the decisions I've had to make, one of the hardest for sure, was to resign from Greater Europe Mission and serve God without the title, without the pressure, without any bubbling pride in me... and without the support of a lot of dear people, emotionally, spiritually and financially. In so many ways the decision didn't seem fair - couldn't there be a third option? Couldn't I still serve where I am and go through counseling here, and seek to be transformed here?... The answer was no. All my efforts all my fears of failing, and here is seems I had indeed done just that. so it seemed, so it seemed, so it seemed, as I cried out, God, "Lord! What have I done?" Yet also as I wondered, was it really that bad, that disgraceful?

And so you can see my pride - it's floating down the river, like Peter Pan's disconnected shadow. I understand perfectly well: There is no way I deserve Grace, No Way I deserve God's love. No way I can do this on my own. And I wondered too, if God would revoke his provision and rip any blessings from me. I felt like surely, his love would lessen because of my imperfection. But, as my pastor kindly asserted: does that mean if you hadn't done made these decisions you Would have deserved God's love, that you had done some good thing to be awarded his grace? Yet didn't you just read about all those thousands of beautiful flowers God's planted in my life? Don't you see them in your life too? Like little bright flashes of color lighting up in your heart every time you think of them - those blessings are so life-giving, and so undeserved. So Undeserved. 

So here I am laid out before your throne, Lord - Here's all of me, all my thoughts and wounds and with memories trying so hard to cling to me. Here're my longings, here're my wishes. Here's who I want to be, here's who I have actually been; here's my feelings of being a failure: I confess that I'm an embarrassed mess. And here's my talents, my desire to bring YOU glory, my need to be cherished, my intense love for people, my love for Ireland, my delight of you.
To you, O God, I lift my soul; in utter worship, I praise you, my soul bowed before the Only one who deserves the glory - O, Lord - how easily we can sell ourselves back into slavery, back into what you have already redeemed us from. But the Giver is worth praising not the gifts.

A week ago, it was.. I felt confirmed that I made the right decision to stay in Ireland. And I feel God using and transforming me here in this house, in this little village of Leixlip, in beautiful Ireland. And knowing that I'm truly choosing to be here, and truly wanting to stay because of the people because of God's calling on my life... I have possibly at last - maybe not certainly forever, but for now anyway - I have felt a renewed sense of belonging here, of feeling at home here.

This is my story. This is my song. Praising my savior, all the day long...

I have seen my faith in God actually at work, you know - when it really mattered, the Holy Spirit was there to twist cords of strength and joy and peace around me. And even in the wilderness of feeling outcasted and afraid for the future, God was there in a pillar of fire, guiding my steps. And scripture has come alive to me - words I've read hundreds of times, became the anchor, absolutely true, and absolutely practical to thriving and setting aside my anxiety in exchange for a peace that passes all understanding.

And in a funny way, I feel that I Have gone through Restoration here in Ireland, through God's redeeming and unconditional and perfect love, through His beautiful Church surrounding and listening and encouraging me, and through being able to still be used by God and be a blessing to those around me... it has happened not through running away or minimizing my faults, but in seeing how in our weakness God is abundantly strong!

I am overwhelmed with how deeply blessed, indeed, I am.

Chapter 3: Starting Over

I’m supposed to be a bridesmaid in my dear Grace and Jordan's, wedding Right Now. Instead, I’m laying on my bed at 10pm, wishing I was in a different time zone and typing this and trying not to cry as I pray for their wedding to be beautiful and their marriage a testament of true love, which I have all certainty it will and is already. =)

There comes a point (I decided some time ago on the bus) when our expectations of the future and reality meet up, and we’re faced with the choice to abandon the dreams we had for a time, a place, a relationship, or an event and ask God to reveal the beauty in the reality that we are currently held in, instead of living in a counterfeit world.

I can see how God has blessed me and is using my time here: He gave me 2 jobs, and the right place to live, and the support of Jon and Stacey, and a whole, wonderful group of friends to get to know with USIT.

For some reason though, most mornings I’ve been waking up with this terribly debilitating weight of despair: missing home, missing everything familiar, and people who know me, feeling like I’ve made so many mistakes at work, and had such a hard time adjusting to being foreign and far away.

I know though, I Know, that God’s grace is enough. And I know that I’m only here for a season, and I Know that there are so many good things in my reality here in Ireland. And I know that there is a very specific purpose for being here. And I know that it is in the very difficult times, the lonely and frustrating and broken times that we grow the most and are shaped and refined, which is beautiful.

This Tuesday will mark my 3-month anniversary in Ireland, which seems fitting because this begins a new chapter in my journey here in Ireland. On Wednesday my friends Jessica, Amy, Kristie, Lauren, Alyssa and I are going on a trip to Paris for 6 days. We’re all so excited! =) It’ll be my first time on The Continent, and I’m really looking forward to the art museums, baguettes, charming walks, and all the other Parisian icons, besides a chance to bond more with my new, dear friends. =)

I also enter this new chapter (once again) unemployed. And that is cause for some distress. It is only temporary, because I have my waitressing job at the Liffey Valley Hotel in March when the wedding season picks up again. But I had quite a discouraging review with my manager from Costa Coffee, which I am embarrassed to report left me with one shift a week there and a very bruised ego. Her negative and harsh words still sting, and make me want to guard and defend myself and deflect the blame and do everything I can so that I look okay in the end. The labels, “Failure” and “Incapable” dig deep into me though, and I have been trying to focus on seeing the truth in her statements in how to improve, and to realize maybe this isn’t what I’m best at, and to grow from it instead of being paralyzed by the pressure to be excellent at everything. I am looking for more work, but we’ll see what will happen.

As a result of this turn of events, I have been forced to seek God’s opinion of me, and to secure myself in His love and grace for imperfect people. My journal is scrawled over and over again with, “Lord, help me, Lord, I need you, Lord… be my everything.” If nothing else I know that the only way I am here in Ireland at all, (and am still in Ireland) is because of God’s provision and kindness and presence here with me.

The Lord Gives and the Lord takes away, and blessed be the Lord, Almighty!