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!

working and working and working some more..

So, I'm here to report that I have a job… Two, actually. It seems the abundant prayers have been answered, abundantly.

I have half way reported about working at Costa Coffee as a barista, but my other job is at the Liffey Valley/Leixlip Hotel. Here's some of the context of how it came about - –

So, I had just started working at Costa Coffee. It had been the first week, or so, and I was at the Covell's house, hanging out with Stacey. I was telling her some of the hard things about working at Costa coffee - how uncomfortable it was for me, and how I had trouble reading and understanding my supervisor, and felt like they were mad at me a lot, just in their demeanor and lack of encouragement. 

Then as I was talking, I got a call from an unfamiliar number. I answered it, and it was Christian from the Leixlip House Hotel (which is the Hotel just down the street from where i live) He was asking about a job interview. I was terribly tongue tied and not sure what to say, since I had gotten a job already, I lamely explained that I had gotten work, and was sorry, awkwardness, etc.

Then hanging up I looked at Stacey in a confused but excited way, explaining what she couldn't hear on the other side of the phone. And then I was like, "why did I just say no?" Then thinking about it - "could I do two jobs? could it work? I should at least try!" we concluded. "now what do I do? do I call back? What do I say??" 

So she calmly and smilefully coached me, "call back and explain what happened and even make a joke of it if you can." so I did that, and it worked beautifully and he didn't seem to mind at all, and I had an interview that evening at 5:30. So, it seemed perfect. The interview seemed to go really well, and he said he'd let me know on Monday, a week from then.

Leixlip house is in connection with another hotel called the Liffey Valley House which only does weddings, and a few days later, Leslie the manager of LV House called me up to set up an interview. I went just before work at Costa, and was slightly more nervous to talk to her, because she seemed very busy and abrupt. I was tongue tied and un-suave, words gushing out of my mouth, and not really explaining my work experiences very confidently. 

At one point (and this is particularly embarrassing, brace yourself) Leslie even managed to say to me, "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but for future interviews you go to, you need to see yourself more; I had to practically pry certain information out of you, you know?" oh dear. She ended by basically saying, "you seem like a delightful girl, and you tick a few of my requirements, but I'm just not sure if you can go in and start without any training, and I need someone who can start as soon as this weekend. I have 3 more interviews today, and I'll make my decision by this evening, so if you don't get a call from me this evening, know that you didn't get it."

I did not get a call that evening.

In the midst of all of this, my dear friend Patti was here for 2 weeks visiting me and enjoying Irish life. I have to admit that hosting for the first time was an adjustment along with learning a new job and figuring out how to live here still. Patti was very gracious, but I still wished I was able to do everything as I would have done it in Seattle.

I’m remembering that I’m not that great at dealing with planning traveling details. Only having a pocket of 2-3 days in my eclectic work schedule, we knew we had to plan something quick.

Somehow the Internet ate up all our plans (It wouldn’t process our information to sign up for trains, buses, or hostels..!), and we ended up just going to sleep, feeling exhausted, with the plan of getting up early and just going into town and buying a ticket there at the station.

So, we went. My friend Amy Garden was going to come with us, and with the help of friendly Gillian our USIT miracle worker, Amy was able to figure out how to rent a car (even though most places only allow 23+ year olds rent, and most cars are manual not automatic) so, then off we went on a bus to the air port to pick up our shiny car (whom I named Gwendolyn).

Amy drove the first leg of the journey, because she was more used to driving on the left side of the road. I only feared my life a few times.

The destination: Killarney in County Kerry and the Ring of Kerry, tourist destination extraordinaire.

We were all Very excited to get out of the city. Our first stop was at Wicklow, which had a gorgeous view of the east coast of Ireland!

Along the way, I got a job interview at Next, a clothing store, which was quite exciting. But Then the next morning, I got a call from the Liffey Valley House offering me a job to come in that Friday (the day we were to return) to work at 5:30. I was stunned and a little nervous. But this was the answer to prayer I was hoping for, ya know. (I ended up not going to the Next interview, because it was at the same time my job started!)

So, that Thursday (Thanksgiving day) we gave thanks for the glorious Ireland sights. The Ring of Kerry was so spectacular. Seeing fields of green (this was a couple days before it started snowing like mad on Saturday.) and Sheep! And then we saw the coast, and I was so happy to see water. =) I got to drive on the left side of the road, which was also thrilling, and it was so nice to have a car and be able to stop whenever and wherever we wanted.

That night, we made some soup and ate biscuits and drank hot chocolate, and it was a marvelous end to a glorious day.

The next day, we drove back – a short but unforgettable visit. It took about 4.5 hours to drive back, and I was feeling a little nervous to be starting a new job that evening.

White button up shirt. Black knee length skirt, “sun-kissed” nylons, and black flat shoes. Hair pulled back in a ponytail. I was ready.

Working at the hotel that evening, I had so much fun! That night I shadowed another girl, and everyone was friendly and gracious about showing me where things were and what to do. They were So Nice! I could hardly believe it. And the hotel itself was gorgeous, all decked out for the wedding banquet. And it was fun to see all the families and people so cheerful and well dressed and happy to celebrate.

PLUS, they gave us a break while the group was toasting, and we got to eat dinner, and eating is always good, especially getting to know new people.

Someone gave me a ride home that evening, and I was probably glowing with thankfulness at their kindness and how well I liked it.

The next morning, I had to get up for the breakfast shift, having to be there at 7am, which was pretty brutal considering I had worked the night before until 11 or so. I was also particularly stressed because I had to work from 7am-12pm at the hotel and then work 1-5pm at Costa coffee, which was just hard, going from one to the other with only the stressful bus as a break.

That was the morning it had begun to snow as well. And working at Costa Coffee was increasingly more stressful, because they were beginning to train me on the coffee machines, and mistakes are more crucial and more frequent while making coffee. There is so much to remember!

I have had a really hard time working at Costa (which is why in comparison, the hotel job has been so dreamy). But at Costa, my supervisors are all very hard to understand (they mostly speak with heavy Polish accents) and are very stern in their manner. I am usually very tense when I work there, because I am so afraid of making mistakes and having them correct me or be discouraging. I feel very bothersome having to ask all the time, “could you repeat that?,” or “what did you say?” but if I didn’t, I’m not sure what they’re saying when they train me or what task they want me to be doing. I have put a lot of my stress of being in a new place into my feelings for this job, but I think it has been difficult besides all of that. 

There's so much more I have to say on the subject, but I should leave it at that for now.

The Bus Reports

The Dublin buses and I have such a love hate relationship.

Since buses are a primary event in my life, I have many bus incidents to report. Multiple times, I've seen the chunky blue and yellow mammoths plowing past, and I have attempted to run to catch it, often with my arms outstretched and reaching while I skid down the street (which I'm sure looks absolutely hilarious if I was just an observer). Many times, I miss it by seconds, because the bus just doesn't stop unless someone puts their hand out to signal it. But other times, there's a line of people, and I just make it (I try not to forget these times as well). Today was brilliant, I just arrived at the stop in Dublin, and maybe one minute later, the bus 66b rolled by; it was like magic! Because you know, it gets very cold waiting for buses... and if you've just missed one, you can expect to wait 20 or so minutes till the next one comes to collect you. (that's the word they use here: collect you. =)

So now, there have been a couple Saturdays where I work both jobs, which adds up to about 10 hours total, an exhausting amount for one day. Coming home from working at Costa, the bus stop I take is at the top of a large incline, but if you go up the even steeper embankment, you can get there faster! So I'm trying not to slide down the snowy slope, and I look up, and there's the bus gliding past so rudely. I try calling out, try stumbling up faster, try waving my hand, reaching desperately. My voice is faint though, and it's too late. It had no reason to stop, so it kept on going. Afterward the word, "Wait! Wait!" kept replaying in my head. If I had just arrived seconds earlier... if I had just yelled louder...

I feel like in some metaphorical way that posture of my arms outstretched in desperation is how I've been living my life lately. "Wait! Don't leave me behind in the cold! Wait, please! I am in such need of a lift of warmth!"

There is also something about crying on a half-empty bus that is miserable and relieving and sort of necessary at times. It's happened on a handful of occasions, either because I am overwhelmed with how I've uprooted my entire life to a new place and foreign place, or because my job makes me tense and feel humiliated, or because of the various hurts in my life that bubble back up to the surface when I'm already stressed and require a few tablespoons of tears.

On Sunday, my housemate and I dropped Patti off at the airport at a terribly early hour (like 8am=) and coming back from it, I kind of just sloshed around my room in a sleepy, mournful manner. Then I was like, Man! I need to look up when I should catch the bus! I looked it up. shoot, one was leaving Right Then! So I rushed out the door. On Sundays there are fewer buses operating, maybe only one per hour, so even if you get to where you need to be like a half hour early, it's the only option besides being 15 minutes late. So I dashed through my neighborhood, though I must say it is terribly frightening to dash anywhere with the entire street and sidewalk being converted into a slippery ice rink. so I more slippered my way along, huffing and sluffling in the cold.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I live on a hill; it's called Captain's Hill (not sure who the captain is, but maybe he lived around here somewhere=). Now, it's a mere incline compared with the Mountain I had to climb every day last year. However for Ireland, it may as well be a mountain the way it's described, especially in this weather. I am embarrassed to describe this, but I must admit that every time I have gone down this hill into the village this week, I sort of shuffle along like a child who has just discovered static electricity on carpet. Granted, I'm also concentrating on not falling, so my face is usually scrunched a little in concentration as well.
It wasn't really possible for me to catch the bus, because it was due to arrive at my stop about 15-20 minutes after the scheduled time said it would leave the first stop from Maynooth (it's a very confusing way of doing things, you must understand - and also involves an amount of math power)... but I was trying anyway, scooting along as I was.
Rounding the corner after the hill, I see the terrible sight I knew would be there: no one was waiting at the bus stop. This is my true measure of whether or not I've missed the bus or not. A healthy row of 4-7 people and grand, I came just in time. A deserted sidewalk and, we've surely left without you.
So, seeing no one there signaled for the wave of panic to sweep my heart off my feet.
What was i to do? I was going to be late, and then they'd fire me, and I'll have failed, and, and, and, and. oh no.
So that's when I tried calling every person I knew who had a car. I think one of the worst feelings is relying on people you don't know all that well and feeling like you have nothing much to give in return. I really don't want to burden people.. so this is when I missed the freedom to drive my little Cora and to not have to depend on others. This is when I felt so alone without my network of people I could depend on, it hurt. This is when I felt so lost and scared and like a nuisance to others.
And after no one I called picked up,
And after I told God all of these things, I remembered:
Wait! what time is it? when do I work? 2, not till 2? and what time is it? 12:20? And - Oh. Oh, I'm okay. There's a bus that leaves Maynooth at 12:40. I have until 12:55 (at least) to be there. I - am going to be okay. Are you kidding me, Sara? Why did you freak out like that? geez.

It all was okay though. It was all okay.

Probably my favorite bus story though happened nearly a month ago now. I was working at the catering job (the first and only shift, so far) at the Irish Modern Art Museum. And I was able to leave at 11pm instead of 1am, which was actually rather marvelous because then I didn't have to pay the 5 euros for a night bus. So, but since I had been on my feet for too many hours (and since I foolishly chose to wear high heeled boots) I kind of stumbled out of the museum, my feet barely giving way underneath me. Excellent. so the next task is to find the nearest bus stop. After asking someone who had no clue (in the darkness of night time) I sort of limp in the direction mus travels. After going a block or so, I am horrified to see a 66 bus coming towards me. The horrifying part is, I am no where near a bus stop, and it will pass me without a thought. But feeling defeated already, I stretch out my arm (and I wish I could show this to you) but my face contorts into an agonized, "NO!!!!" position, and my arm with fingers also extended, as if by some magical power I can make the bus pull in next to me and open its friendly doors and whisk me home... but, so the bus driver sees me, and he ends up stopping at the light, nearly in front of me, except for a lane of traffic separating me. We make eye contact, and I just stand there, not sure what to do - would he let me on? cars are coming in the lane that separated us. Then, like a, "do you want on?" he motions with his head. Then I mouth, "CAN I? REALLY?" He opens the door, and I stumble across the road, my feet wobbly below me still.
Oh my gosh, I must look totally smashed! I get on safely enough, thank him profusely, and he drives off. I begin fumbling around to look for money. my purse isn't obeying, and my fingers feel shaky. (I'd just been pouring gallons of wine and champagne to dressed up important people). I can't seem to get my money out, and my feet decide to give way. Oh my gosh, Sara - you are Sitting on the floor of the bus, right next to the bus driver. Oh my word! Somehow though, that was the only was to find the right change. Totally embarrassed by the entire event, I waddle up the stairs, clutching the railing as the bus chugs on. My feet keep slipping on the stairs though - those silly high heeled boots. Did that just happen? I slump into a seat, and seconds later the bus pulls into a stop (where I should have been waiting). I could hardly believe that just worked, and even more so how totally drunk I must have appeared!
Yes, the bus and I definitely have a love hate relationship.