Honduras-Bound and the Painful Thankful

Guess what guys. I'm going to Honduras.
I have the opportunity to go to La Esperanza, Honduras during spring break as part of a team of doctors and optometrists. Obviously, they didn't want me for my skills with a stethoscope or an eye spoon, but rather for my ability to speak Spanish. As the physicians provide services to the people in the village of La Esperanza, I will be on hand to interpret.

I know I vowed never to travel abroad again, but something feels different about this. Maybe it's because it's only ten days instead of eighteen weeks. If you remember, that was pretty rough. If I don't like it, it's only ten days. I think I can handle that. Maybe it's that I've declined this trip for the last 4 years or so because I didn't feel confident enough in my ability to speak Spanish. Maybe it's that I can't stand snow and I especially can't stand a snowy spring break. I don't care that I won't be spending SB on a beach somewhere. I'll be content with the warmth and the sunshine.

I'm very thankful to all of the people who have contributed financially to this trip already. I'm about halfway there and I'm really relying on these donations because all of my money is going toward school right now. This trip won't be possible without the financial support and, more importantly, the prayer support from all of you. I'm excited about it. I'm nervous too, mostly because I still have to raise the second half of the funds, but I know that it'll happen. God provides. He provided the first half. Why wouldn't He provide the other half?

Since it's Thanksgiving, I'll list a few other things that I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for my parents, who are allowing me to live at home rent-free and loaning me money for tuition.
I'm thankful for my brothers, who fix my technology problems and make me laugh.
I'm thankful for my friends, each of whom adds something special to my life and to me.
I'm thankful for grad school, and the ability to pursue a master's degree. I know that it's not an option for everyone, and I'm glad for the opportunity. I'm not always thankful for the boring classes, but I'm thankful for the people in them.
I'm thankful for books. Oh my heavens, books upon books. I love to read, I love to go to the library, I love my Goodreads account and keeping track of all the books I've read, and I love my Kindle. I don't care what all you staunch opponents of e-readers say. When I can't get my hands on a hard copy of the book I want and the Kindle version is available, I'll take it.
I'm thankful for my job as a nanny. It is a job that I never tire of. I never dread going to work. I wondered at the beginning if that would wear off eventually, but we're three months in, and I still love it. Tyler is my little man and lucky for me, he likes to snuggle. He always has a smile for me. My employers are wonderful too. There's nothing like a job where you know you're appreciated because your employers tell you so. It makes it an easy job to get up in the morning for.

And this may sound odd, but very deep down, I'm thankful for my depression. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense - why would anyone be thankful for depression? I would agree with you there. Some days, the thankfulness is much deeper down than other days. Here's why I'm thankful for depression: without it, I wouldn't have met so many great people, I wouldn't have met my wonderful therapist, I wouldn't have developed such an interest in helping other people with mental illness, and I wouldn't have learned how to understand. Understand people, understand situations, understand lifestyles, understand how you can be sad when so many things in your life are going well, understand how the color seeps out of the world when you're sad, understand how it seems impossible to get out of bed in the morning.

It's a different kind of thankful than the things I'm thankful in the previous paragraph. It's a hard thankful. It's not a warm and fuzzy thankful. It's the thankful that something good has come out of something terrible. The way you're thankful when someone you love is in Heaven and while you know you'll see them again, you hurt so bad that they're not here now. It's a painful thankful. It's the thankful that brings you closer to God and other people.

So whether your thankful is joyful, painful, or something else-ful, I wish you a happy Thanksgiving.

Op-Ed: For Those Who Say that Christians Shouldn't Be Depressed / Para Ellos que Dicen que los Cristianos no Deben Estar Deprimidos

Pastor Cordova's piece is written in Spanish and I have translated it into Spanish; my piece is written in English and translated to Spanish as a courtesy to Spanish-speaking readers. 

Por cuanto la DEPRESION no tiene causa orgánica; es muy poco lo que la medicina (anti-depresivos; y otros medios) pueden hacer. Atacan los síntomas; pero no van a la raíz; que en última instancia es el pecado. Una persona, sea creyente o no; que no asume sus responsabilidades; peca contra Dios. Un patrón no va a excusar a su empleado que le diga:" Hoy no voy a trabajar porque me siento deprimido".

         Culpar a otros por nuestras conductas pecaminosas no es nada nuevo: "La serpiente me engañó, la mujer que me diste…nuestros primeros padres querían evadir su responsabilidad. Dios les dijo: ¿QUE HICISTES? No bebamos las inútiles teorías de muchos "profesionales" en relación a este asunto. El deprimido puede ser ayudado por los recursos del consejo divino. El semblante de Caín decayó (Gen.4:5) cuando mató a Abel. Estaba deprimido por su pecado. Dios no le excusó; en esencia le digo que era lo que tenía que hacer para salir de ese siclo: "Si bien hicieres, ¿no serás enaltecido? v.7. "Asume tu responsabilidad, Cain arrepiéntete y serás restaurado. No pequemos contra Dios pensando que un psicólogo inconverso tiene más recursos que nosotros para ayudar al deprimido. Tenemos el Espíritu de Dios y los recursos de Su Palabra.

                Because depression has no organic cause, there is very little that medicine (antidepressants, y other methods) can do. They attack the symptoms, but they don’t go to the root, which ultimately is sin. A person who, whether a believer or not, doesn't assume his/her responsibilities, sins against God. A boss is not going to excuse his/her employee that says “Today I’m not going to work because I feel depressed.”

Blaming others for our own sinful conduct is nothing new: “The serpent deceived me, the woman gave me…” Our original parents wanted to shirk their responsibility. God told them, “What did you do?” Let’s not drink in the useless theories of many “professionals” in relation to this matter. The depressed person can be helped by the resources of divine counsel. Cain’s demeanor got worse when he killed Abel. He was depressed because of his sin. God did not excuse him; in essence, He told him what he had to do in order to escape that cycle: “If you do what is right, will you not be lifted up?” Assume your responsibility, Cain, repent and you will be restored. Let’s not sin against God thinking that an unbelieving psychologist has more resources than us in order to help the depressed person. We have the Spirit of God and the resources of His word.

Here’s where I’d like to start: how can you say that depression has no organic cause? There is a mountain of research that indicates that depression can be caused by neurotransmitter imbalance in the brain. Sure, some people experience depression because they did something that they feel guilty about, but that’s certainly not true of everyone. Or what about someone who begins to suffer from depression after someone close to them dies? How did that person sin? Surely the loss of a meaningful loving relationship isn’t a sin.

I will agree with Pastor Cordova that pharmaceuticals alleviate the symptoms of depression without fixing the root of it, but that’s not true for everyone. I have met people whose depression has been managed so well with antidepressants to the point that they no longer experience symptoms of depression. I’m sure one could make the argument that those people are simply using drugs to deceive themselves, but that’s not proof that medications can’t eradicate depression.

Now we come to the point with which I have the most contention: Depression is caused by sin? I can see how you would think that, especially if your experience is that depression pulls people away from God, but I wholeheartedly disagree with the assertion that depression is caused by sin. As many of you know, I have suffered from chronic depression since 2008. I take antidepressants each morning, and I go to counseling with a wonderful psychologist (who is also a Christian) three to four times a month. I have a problem with people that say that I am depressed because of my sin. I admit that I am a sinner and that there’s nothing I can do to save myself from that. But what am I supposed to have done that has caused me to feel this way for so long?

The example of an employee who calls in depressed to work shows that Pastor Cordova has little to no understanding of the true nature of depression. As I have written before, depression is not simply feeling sad. It’s a condition that can decimate a person’s will to live. It can put a person flat on his or her back just as effectively as pneumonia can. It may be the common cold of mental illness, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not an intense, painful, and dangerous disease.

I find it somewhat unfortunate that Pastor Cordova needs to refer to doctors and psychologists as “professionals” with the quotation marks. Have those people not gone to school for many years, worked many internships, and earned the right to be considered professionals, no quotation marks? Pastors go to school, obtain graduate degrees, work internships, and must be ordained in order to be pastors. Just because you think their science is faulty does not mean that they do not deserve respect for what they have accomplished.

The example of Abel’s murder at the hands of his brother is particularly revealing of Pastor Cordova’s attitude toward the relationships between what mental health professionals call the ABC: affect, behavior, and cognition (feelings, actions, and thoughts). According to Pastor Cordova’s interpretation of the account in Genesis, Cain experienced depression after killing his brother. This is an example of behavior influencing feelings. But that’s not always the way it goes. Some people experience the feelings first with no sinful behavior. That’s how it was with me. I had graduated from high school, started college three months later, worked after the summer at a job I absolutely loved, and had plans to pursue a career in teaching. I was not mean-spirited, I did not step on other people to get what I want, I worked hard in school and at work, I did my best to help other people, and I certainly did not murder my brother. During that period of my life, when I first realized that I suffered from depression, I spent a lot of time searching my head and heart, trying to determine what I had done to deserve this. It took a long time for me to come to terms with the fact that Christians can be depressed just the same as non-Christians. It was almost as if I had to forgive myself for a condition that I couldn’t control.

I don’t believe that depression has to pull Christians away from God. It certainly can; it is a serious condition that should not be underestimated. At the same time, it has the power to bring people closer to God as well. I don’t always feel close to God, but I trust Him to always be close to me. I don’t believe that God is punishing me for my sin with depression any more than God punishing someone with cancer or a miscarriage or fatal car accident at the hands of a drunk driver. And while I know that it was not God’s original intention for me to be depressed, I have faith that He will use it to bring me and other closer to Him. I already see that in my life in my training to be a counselor and my ability to relate to and empathize with other people.

So, Pastor Cordova, what would you say to me about my experience with depression? Is my experience valid, or am I simply deluding myself?

Quiero empezar aquí: ¿cómo puede usted decir que la depresión no tiene una causa orgánica? Hay un montón de hallazgos de investigación que indican que la depresión puede resultar a causa de un desequilibrio de neurotransmisores en el cerebro. Cierto, algunas personas experimentan la depresión a causa de algo que hicieron por el que se sienten culpables, pero eso no es verdad de todos. O pensemos en la persona que empieza a padecer la depresión después de que un querido se muere. ¿Cómo pecó esa persona? Por seguro, la pérdida de una relación significante y cariñosa no es un pecado.

Estaré de acuerdo con Pastor Cordova que los farmacéuticos alivian los síntomas de depresión sin arreglar la raíz del problema, pero, otra vez, no es verdad para todos. He conocido a personas cuya depresión ha sido suficientemente manejada hasta el punto que ya no experimentan sus síntomas de depresión. Estoy segura que se puede formar el argumento que esas personas simplemente usan las drogas para engañarse, pero eso no es una prueba que los medicamentos no pueden erradicar la depresión.

Ahora venimos al punto con el que tengo la más disputa: ¿La depresión es causada por el pecado? Puedo ver cómo usted puede pensar así, especialmente si tu experiencia es que la depresión le fuerza a la gente alejarse de Dios. Pero disiento con todo corazón con la aserción que la depresión viene del pecado. Como muchos de ustedes ya saben, he padecido depresión desde 2008. Tomo un antidepresivo cada mañana, y asisto a terapia con mi psicóloga maravillosa (quién también es cristiana) tres o cuatro veces al mes. Tengo un problema con la gente que dice que estoy deprimida a causa de mi pecado. Admito que soy pecadora y que no hay nada que puedo hacer para salvarme de mi pecado. Pero ¿qué es lo que se supone que he hecho que me causa sentir estas emociones?

El ejemplo de un empleado que llama a su jefe y dice que se siente deprimida muestra que Pastor Cordova tiene poco entendimiento de la esencia verdadera de la depresión. Como he escrito antes, la depresión no es simplemente sentir triste. Es una condición que puede diezmar la voluntad para vivir de una persona. Puede confinar a una persona a la cama tan eficazmente como la neumonía. Se dice que la depresión es el resfriado del mundo de enfermedad mental, pero eso no quiere decir que no es una enfermedad intensa, dolorosa, y sumamente peligrosa.

Lo encuentro un poco desafortunado que Pastor Cordova necesita referirles a los doctores y psicólogos como “profesionales” con las comillas. ¿No han asistido esas personas a las escuelas graduadas, trabajado muchos prácticas y residencias, y ganarse el derecho de ser considerados profesionales, sin comillas? Los pastores asisten a la escuela, obtienen especializaciones graduadas, hacen las prácticas, y necesitan ser ordenados para ser pastores. Puede que su ciencia sea incorrecta, pero no significa que no merecen la respeta por lo que han logrado.

El ejemplo del asesinato de Abel por su hermano Cain es particularmente relevador de la actitud de Pastor Cardova hacia lo que los profesionales de la salud mental llaman el ABC: affect, behavior, y cognition (sentimientos, acciones, y pensamientos). Según la interpretación de Pastor Cordova del cuento en Genesis, Cain experimentó la depresión después de matar a su hermano. Éste es un ejemplo de lo del comportamiento influyendo los sentimientos. Pero no es siempre lo que pasa. Algunas personas experimentan los sentimientos primero sin las acciones pecadores. Eso es lo que me pasó a mí. Había graduado del colegio, iba a empezar la universidad tres meses después, había trabajado en un trabajo que realmente me encantó, trabajé duro en la escuela y en el trabajo, me esforcé ayudar a otros lo más posible, y ciertamente no maté a mi hermano. Durante ese período de mi vida, cuando primero me di cuenta que padecí depresión, pasé mucho tiempo buscando en mi mente y corazón, intentando determinar lo qué había cometido para merecer esto. Me costó mucho antes de que yo aceptara que los cristianos pueden estar deprimidos tanto como los no cristianos. Era como si tuviera que perdonarme por una condición que no podía controlar.

No creo que la depresión tenga que estirar a la gente y despedazarle de Dios. Se puede hacerlo, seguramente; es una condición muy grave que no debe ser subestimada. Pero al mismo tiempo, tiene el poder de hacerle a la gente acercarse a Dios también. No siempre me siento cerca de Dios, pero confío que Dios siempre estaré cerca de mí. No creo que Dios me castiga por mi pecado con la depresión; después de todo, Dios no castiga con el cáncer o el aborto espontaneo y un accidente fatal a causa de un conductor emborrachado. Y mientras que sé que no era la intención original de Dios que esté deprimida, confío que Él lo usará para traernos a mí y a otros más cercanos a Su mismo. Ya veo esto en mi vida y en mi entrenamiento  de ser consejera y mi habilidad de verme reflejada en otras personas y mostrar empatía.

Así que, Pastor Cordova, ¿qué me puede decir usted sobre mi experiencia con la depresión? ¿Es válida mi experiencia, o simplemente me engaño?

7 Reasons That Young Adults Might Be Leaving Your Church

It seems that the CRC has been having a problem lately with their young adults (ages 18-25). As in, they are leaving in droves. They head off to college and then they don't come back. The powers that be have been discussing this issue for a while now and as I was sitting in church this morning, I put together a list of reasons that young adults are peacing out.

1. Many churches have little or no ministry aimed at young adults. This is a cyclical problem: if there is no young adult community, they'll leave; and if there's no one around to join a YA ministry, it will be difficult to get one started.
2. Similar to #1, many churches have little or no ministry that support single young adults. The CRC is really good at promoting families and marriage, but not so good at validating singlehood. It's very hard to find your place in a community where almost everyone is engaged or married and asks you, "Are you dating anyone? Have you found the Right One yet? Are you putting yourself out there?" My suggestion: a solid ministry for singles. Not everyone wants to get married. Not everyone can get married. And for those YAs that do want to get married but aren't dating anyone, you need a place where they feel validated and welcome.
3. Young adults may not see themselves represented among those leading worship, teaching church school, and serving in other positions. It's hard to picture yourself in a leadership position if your examples seem so different from you.
4. If there are few young adults in your church to begin with, the YAs that are there may feel like they don't belong. As the median age of a given church rises and members become more conservative, younger members may find themselves having to keep silent when their views differ from the collective standpoint of the church on key issues. Instead of voicing their viewpoints and risking the fallout, YAs may find it easier to simply find another church, or leave the Church altogether.
5. One in ten young adults experience depression sometime between the ages of 18 and 25. Between the demands of college, the jump into the workforce, moving away from home, and learning to be their own person, many YAs don't know how to cope. Depression is a topic that churches tend to stay far away from. Some churches go so far as to blame people who are depressed, saying that if they were better Christians, they wouldn't be depressed. Not okay, guys.
6. It's getting a little better, but historically, the church has been non-inclusive of the LGBTQQIAA community. That's Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Questioning, Intersex, Allies, and Asexual, if you're having trouble keeping track. I'm not gonna lay out the arguments for and against tolerating homosexuality in the Church, but just know that there are gay and lesbian Christians out there (and more of them than you might think) and it's difficult for them to feel Christ's love when the church doesn't show it.
7. Young adults have changed and the Church hasn't. That is, the years of young adulthood are characterized by change: change in environment, change in employment, change in family, change in friends, change in education, change in conscience, change in pretty much everything. When they come back to a church after being away for a while, it can be disorienting. They may still know the people, but they might feel like those people don't know them anymore. They may not even know themselves anymore. The Church is supposed to be the place where you feel at home, right? Where you'll be accepted, no matter what, right?  Where you'll be embraced with all of the stuff you've been through, right? If the Church doesn't want to change, it must at least be willing to understand and accept its sinners, just the way they are. After all, aren't we all just community of imperfect people?

A Mostly Cost-Free Guide to Raising an Achievement-Oriented Drug-Free Adult Virgin

This is an adaption from Bossypants, by Tina Fey and all tips come from experience.

1. Get her interested in spelling bees. There's nothing more desirable than a girl who spends her free time poring over national-level spelling lists.
2. Let her take care of her own unibrow/eyebrows. It might feel like it's impossible to resist the urge to pin her down and do some radical plucking, but just let her figure it out.
3. Foster her aptitude for music by encouraging her to be a musician herself so that she need not cavort with musicians later on.
4. Do not buy her a car of her own. Give her permission to drive the family car. She'll think twice about making out with some guy behind the Taco Bell in the back of the car that you all go to Grandma's house in.
5. Her first cell phone should come with her driver's license. But mom! All of the kids in my class have cell phones! Well, if all the kids in your class had chlamydia, would you want that too?
6. Her first laptop should come with her high school diploma. Reasoning, see above.
7. Don't install internet site blocking software. That will show her that you don't trust her to make good web-surfing choices. Do put the computer in a shared open space. That will show her that you intend to monitor her good web-surfing choices.
8. Cultivate a healthy fear of unplanned pregnancies and sexually-transmitted infections.
9. Convince her that living at home during her college years is a fabulous economically intelligent decision.
10. Travel the country during the summer so that she can brag to her classmates about all the national parks, landmarks, forests, monuments, and historic centers she's been to.
11. If she's not using makeup, don't encourage her to. You'll save both of you a lot of money. Plus. she probably doesn't need it and is beautiful just the way she is.
12. Strong father figure / a fear thereof. She's gotta be afraid of what will happen if she doesn't brush her teeth or lets bugs into the house by leaving the door open.
13. Let it be known that she'll be disowned if she comes home pregnant and unwed.
14. Push those AP and honors classes and encourage her to do her best in all things school-related.
15. Give her love and validation (especially you dads) so that she doesn't need to find it from that creep down the road with long greasy hair, tattoos, and a motorcycle.

Life After the Conference Grounds

Isn't there a song or a phrase somewhere that says "You can't go home again"? This is the first summer of not living and working at the Conference Grounds after five years in a row of being there. I had to move on because I have school this summer and I wouldn't be able to work there full-time. I figured that visiting frequently would be enough, that it would fill me up with the added benefit of not having to work in the ice cream store under a baking hot sun. I knew that it would feel a little different to be there only every so often, but I didn't expect it to feel this different.

It's not that I feel left out of something great. Technically, I am left out because I don't work there anymore, but I made my peace with that at the end of last summer, so it that part doesn't bother me. I think what's so hard is knowing that I eventually have to go home each time. And home isn't the Conference Grounds. It will always be my heart home, but I don't live there anymore. No matter how much fun I have while I'm visiting my friends there, in the back of my mind, there's that niggling voice that says, "Don't get too happy, you know you'll just have to go home later."

Sometimes it's just too hard, ya know? Being in a place that used to be your place. That place where you fit perfectly, no questions asked. I can go back and visit all I want, but it's not the same. Today, before I left, it physically hurt to be there and know that I couldn't stay. I can't explain where it hurt or why it hurt. It hurt so much that it has made me wonder if it's even worth it to go out there again. Is it worth it to enjoy myself for a few hours and then feel so horribly lonely afterward? In the long run, would I be better off emotionally if I just stayed away? Do the good feelings outweigh the bad ones?

That's what I'm struggling with tonight. I'd have a good cry about it, but we both know that that ain't gonna happen. Sometimes I hold my breath until my heart starts beating really loud just to make sure that it's still going. But ya know what? It is what it is. Good night world, the sun'll come out tomorrow.

A Prayer For You On This Fathers' Day

Today is the day when everyone remembers their dad, sends cards and presents, and gives hugs, either in person or in long-distance.

But for those of you for whom Fathers' Day hurts, this post is for you.

For the kids who are far away from their dads, whether it's miles or continents, I pray that the distance won't seem so great and that there will be a way for you to connect with your dad.
For the kids whose fathers have died, I pray that your grief will not drown you and that your happy memories of Dad will hold you up.
For the kids who have never known their fathers, I pray that you would be able to forget the reasons that you don't know your dad and appreciate the chromosomes he passed along.
For the kids who don't get to see their dads very often, I pray that you will be able to celebrate your dad the next time you see him as fully as you would have celebrated him today.
For the kids whose fathers have hurt them, I pray that this day would not remind you of that pain.

For the fathers whose children have died, I pray that your grief will not overtake you and that you will remember that you will always be their dad.
For the stepfathers, I pray that you will appreciate your stepchildren for who they are, forgive them when they treat you badly, and be the strong role model they need.
For the fathers who don't get to see their kids very often, I pray that the time you do spend with your kids can be as special as it would have been today and that being away won't hurt too much.

For all of you whose Fathers' Day is less than ideal...I'm praying for you.

Spotlight

 W

e
l
l,
b
a
c
k
to
the
spot-
light.
I bet you
can't believe
that you're here
again. It's like it all comes rushing back, as
if four years ago was yesterday. I bet you never in a million
years thought you'd have to go through all of this again. Everyone is hurt.
Everyone is upset. Everyone feels lost. People you have never met are following this story
on the edge of their seats. "Gortsema" has become a household name, whispered speculations and whispered prayers. Even people who have never met Riley know her story, know what she's been through, know what you've been through. And the question remains: Why? Why her? Why now? Why you? Why, God? Why did this happen? Why? The questions will drive you crazy. They say that, in this kind of situation, all you can do is pray. But they never tell you how to pray when you can't find the words. It's easy to say, "She's in Heaven," but that doesn't really help you, does it? She's not here. "She's not suffering anymore," they'll say. But such small comfort that is. It's okay to want her back. It's okay to want both of them back. "God bears your pain," but it's pretty hard to understand that when
it feels like God disappeared. And in the end,
together with your pain and confusion, you're
back in this hellish spotlight.

It's Okay.

This is a list of things you don't hear in our culture.

1. It's okay to not go to college after you finish high school. 
2. It's okay to stop going to college if it's not the thing for you. 
3. It's okay to take a year off from school if you're not sure what you're doing there in the first place. And if that year turns into several years or not going back at all, that's okay too. 
4. It's okay to go to community college. They are just as academically rigorous as 4-year state colleges. Their quality is just as high. And hello, they cost a fraction of the price of other colleges! 
5. It's okay to not know what you want to do when you graduate from high school.
6. It's okay to not know what you want to do when you graduate from college.
7. It's okay to not get perfect grades. Your grades don't define you. 
8. It's okay to fail. It doesn't make you a failure. 
9. It's okay to not like kids. 
10. It's okay to not want to have kids. 
11. It's okay to work a job that doesn't give you lots of money, especially if you love that job. 
12. It's okay to not be happy all the time. 
13. It's okay to live with your parents (though you should probably check with them as to how long their welcome will last). 
14. It's okay to not fulfill everyone else's expectations all the time. 
15. It's okay to not fulfill your own expectations all the time. 
16. It's okay to feel far away from God from time to time. 
17. It's okay to wonder if God even cares about what happens to you. 
18. It's okay to cry, even for guys. It's not a sign of weakness.
19. It's okay to not be perfect. 
20. It's okay to not be doing great things all the time. 
21. It's okay to be you. 

Doing Great Things All The Time

If there is one thing that I have learned from this season of my life, it is this:

"Andrea, you can't always be doing great things all the time."

My therapist said that to me a couple of weeks ago after listening to my umpteenth complaint about how bored and frustrated and sad I felt with my life. I'm not in school for the first spring in 18 years, I don't work during the day, and I simply don't have much to DO. I watch a lot of TV. I read a lot of books. I check my email obsessively so that I won't miss any important WMU news or deadlines. I spend a lot of time next door playing with the kids because they are so much more interesting than my own house. I even started exercising.

Yes. EXERCISING.

About two weeks after moving back home, I began to feel extremely depressed about doing so little with my life. I was looking for a daytime job that wouldn't interfere with my afternoon and night jobs, but with very little luck. It was cold and snowy and gray and lifeless outside, which mirrored perfectly the way I felt inside. Hearing that I had been accepted to my master's program helped to ease my anxiety about the future, but it changed into a different kind of waiting that was only slightly easier to tolerate. My future was safely on track, it just hadn't started moving forward yet.

I've felt that motionlessness very deeply. My minecart of life is at a standstill on the tracks between the junctions of college and grad school. It has coasted to a stop and I'm very afraid that my little minecart has lost all of the momentum it had gained through all those years of school. I'm afraid that it will be hard to push my minecart into motion and keep it moving. So much of my life during the past few months has felt slow, monotonous, and unexciting. I never ever ever thought that I would say this, but I miss having schoolwork. I miss being occupied. I miss moving at the speed of light.

"You can't always be doing great things all the time."

If you are not familiar with Calvin College and its culture, that idea might seem like a no-brainer. Duh. You can't do great things all the time because then you'd be exhausted and always trying to out-do yourself and you'd never be satisfied. Somehow, though, when you're inside the Calvin bubble, you can delude yourself. People at Calvin and from Calvin seem to always be doing great things all the time. There are posters everywhere urging you to join this club, attend this seminar, participate in this awareness event, get involved with this ministry, on and on and on. The school's website has an entire News and Stories division devoted to showing the great things that their graduates are doing all the time. This person is single-handedly building wells in this remote village in Africa. This person is mapping this mysterious portion of the brain and discovering what it does. This person is teaching entire immigrant communities how to read English. This person just became an ambassador to the United Nations. On and on and on.

If they did a News and Stories story about me, it would be embarrassingly disappointing. "This person wakes up at 10:00 every morning but usually stays in bed til 11 because she can't think of any reason to get out of bed. She has watched the entire series of Law and Order: SVU beginning to end (that's thirteen seasons). Sometimes she eats lunch; sometimes she doesn't have an appetite. She leaves for work around 3:00 during the week, and curses the snow up and down for wreaking havoc with her little car. Here's something exciting! She got stuck in her employer's driveway on afternoon and slid backward into a tree, destroying a taillight and part of her rear bumper. The tree is fine, though, so don't worry."

I love Calvin dearly, but sometimes their idealism spins out of control. Its entire mission is to redeem the WORLD, aka do great things. Math class is not just math class, it is "changing the world through math." Spanish class is not just Spanish class, it is "ministering to Spanish-speaking people who don't know Jesus and changing the world." Education classes are not just education classes, they are "being the best teacher the world has ever seen and bringing God's light to every student and, of course, changing the world." The people of Calvin can usually make a joke out of this idealism and optimism and redeem-it-all-ism, but at the end of the day, it gets stuck in your head like the reviled, overplayed song on the radio that everyone is sick of.

You can imagine my surprise after spending a few weeks at home, living life in a much lower gear, and feeling horribly inadequate. Here I was, a bilingual college graduate with a teaching certificate, for crying out loud, but feeling like I amounted to very little. I really do have a lot going for me: not pregnant, not a teenage mother, not a drug addict, not an alcoholic, college-educated, literate, fed and sheltered, and loved. In no way am I need of "getting my life back on track." But why can't I make myself remember that?! 

I guess it all boils down to this: you can't always be doing great things all the time. Sometimes, all you can do is exist. Live your day-to-day life. Make it through the week. Do your homework. Take care of your kids. Go to work and put up with the people you don't like. Get up in the morning. Eat at least some healthy food. Get in bed and fall asleep at night.

We can't all be digging wells in Africa. We can't all be studying the human brain and finding cures for cancer. We can't all be teaching English to immigrants. We can't all be legislators and ambassadors on the front lines, crusading for freedoms and rights. Most of all, we can't always hold ourselves to the impossible standard of doing big, noteworthy, sparkling, attention-getting things every moment of every day. It's a good thing to strive for, but we've got to stay realistic. Life itself is a big thing. Making lunch for your 4-year-old isn't very sparkly or glamorous, but if you didn't do it, your kid would starve. Keeping your head above the flood that is your schoolwork is not fancy or exciting, but if you blew it all off, you wouldn't get where you want to go. If you didn't have these stretches of time that seem interminable and deadly tedious, you wouldn't appreciate the opportunities that arise for doing great things, things that make life seem worthwhile, things that make you feel alive.

"We can do no great things, just small things with great love. It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it." - Mother Theresa

Preach.

My Father the Cancer Patient

What you are about to read has not been approved by my dad. So please don't talk to him about it. You can talk to me and my family, but he would rather not discuss it. If it comes up in conversation, do not mention that you read it here. Say someone else told you. In short, do not treat him any differently. He doesn't want that.

When you throw out the word "cancer," a funny thing happens. People's eyebrows go up, their heads tilt to the side, and everyone is on high alert. There's a very specific feeling that goes along with that word; a feeling of apprehension, anxiety, and fear. It's everywhere - everyone has been affected somehow by this malicious disease. As for me, it has come closer than I ever imagined it would.

Over the course of my twenty-three years, my perception of my dad's identity has been constantly developing. I have a whole list of words that fit the sentence "My father the __________." Things like...

Dad. First and foremost, he's my dad. Always has been, always will be. Sometimes he wouldn't let us do things we really wanted, but overall, I'd say he's done a pretty good job filling this role.

Professor. My dad is an instructor at Grand Rapids CC in the dental hygiene program. He's been there as long as I can remember. He uses me and my brothers as examples in his lectures and his students could probably pick us out of a lineup. Or, at least, they could have when we were younger.

Occasional Dog Lover. We never had a dog growing up because my mom and I are allergic to them. I wouldn't say that my dad is an animal person. He tolerates them and doesn't go out of his way to touch them. But when the dogs next door are outside, he'll walk to the property line and they'll run to him and he'll scratch their heads and talk to them in a baby voice. It's pretty cute.

Rescuer. About two weeks ago, I was trying to get out of the driveway at the house where I work. My little 2-wheel drive car couldn't get up the incline to the road and started sliding backward down the driveway toward their house. It was ice and slush everywhere, so my brakes were useless. I collided slo-mo with a tree, effectively destroying one of my taillights. I had no idea what to do, and whenever that happens, I call my dad. He was already on his way home, but he turned around and drove out to where I work to help me get my car out. He always keeps his cool when one of us calls him in such circumstances. And he comes to the rescue.

Fount of Common Sense. Here are some of my favorite phrases that he would shout whenever we did something dumb:
 - "Close the door! You weren't born in a barn!"
 - "Turn off the water! I have to pay for that!"
 - "Don't touch that end of the hook."
 - "Stop looking straight at the sun. Unless you want to go blind."
 - "If you don't brush your teeth, they will fall out and I will not buy you new ones."

Red Wings Fanatic. If the Red Wings are playing on TV, you can expect to find my dad on the couch downstairs in front of the big screen. The only sounds he makes are when someone scores. If it's the other team, he grits his teeth and lets out a sort of frustrated groan. If it's the Red Wings, he shouts "SCOOOOOORES!" You can literally hear it anywhere in the house. It has scared my mom and I on more than one occasion. I jump right out of my skin. Other than those two things, he doesn't make a single other sound.

Italian chef and baker. My dad loves to cook and bake. Anyone who has sampled his goods will tell you that his homemade bread, cinnamon rolls, bread sticks, and homemade pizza are the best they've ever had. He also specializes in pasta dishes, grilling, and s'mores. For catering information, call us.

Face-melting bass guitarist. When I was in high school, my dad decided that he wanted to pick up the bass. He hadn't learned to play any musical instruments when he was younger, but he was in choir and knew how to read music. One afternoon, he told my mom that he was going down to Rainbow Music to look at some guitar models, get some information, and "just see what's out there." He came home with a blue bass guitar, amp, and starter pack.  He started taking lessons from my biology teacher and playing at church, and he's been at it ever since.

Airplane enthusiast. Dad loves planes. Not flying on them, necessarily, but the planes themselves. For a while, he built and flew remote control model airplanes whose wingspans are as tall as I am. They're all hanging from the ceiling of our storeroom. He has these big books of full-page photos of planes from wars past and present. I'm pretty sure that the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum was one of his favorite stops when we went to Washington D.C. The man loves planes.

Man who thinks of fruit as a dessert. As far back as I can remember, my dad has saved his fruit for last when we eat dinner. He was always the last to finish eating, usually after my mom had started reading the devotional, savoring his fruit.

There are many other identities that my dad has. Two months ago, a new one was added.

Cancer patient.

My dad was diagnosed with a slow-growing non-aggressive form of cancer shortly before Christmas. He didn't tell me and my brothers until after the new year had started. At first I was mad about that, but then I realized that that was a smart decision, since it probably would have ruined Christmas. He told us not to tell people, that it wasn't a big deal, that he would have surgery to remove it and then we'd be done with it.

But it was a big deal. Cancer is always a big deal.

It didn't matter that they caught his cancer early, or that it was easily removable, or that he probably wouldn't  need chemo or radiation. As soon as I heard him say "I have cancer," it was all over. I remember feeling like I was in a wind tunnel, with a loud rushing sound in my ears and an inability to remain standing upright. It was just like in a movie: his mouth was moving, but I wasn't hearing his words because my own thoughts were drowning them out.

Yesterday was the day of his surgery, which went well and with no complications. He stayed the night at the hospital and came home early this afternoon. No fanfare, no carepage, no bulletin announcement. Since the beginning, my dad has wanted this whole thing kept on the down-low. He didn't want people bringing meals, or coming to pray over him, or any sort of "cancer attention." That decision was very hard for me to accept because I needed to form a support system and learn to cope with this new dimension of my dad. He was acting as if this was no big deal - the whole family was - but I couldn't handle that. I would find myself thinking, Am I blowing this out of proportion? If they're not worried about it, shouldn't I just calm down? WHY IS EVERYONE ACTING SO WEIRD?

I did end up telling a few people simply because I couldn't help it. My close friends could tell that something was wrong as soon as they asked about how my parents were. I'm sure my face gave it away every time. I'm not such a great actress sometimes. Once the "secret" was out, I always felt so much better. These were people that I could trust with my emotions and could share my burden. I knew I could count on their prayers and support and phone calls and love. I had a hard time accepting that my parents apparently didn't want this. I had an ever harder time reconciling the fact that telling was something that I needed to do, but that my parents forbade me to do.

My dad has since changed his mind about our vow of silence, but I know that he still doesn't want a lot of attention about this. So here's the gist: he's home recovering from surgery for about three weeks, he'll be back to work after GRCC's spring break, his lab reports come back in about 10 days, and he'll have more blood work done in a month. Based on the location and type of his cancer, his doctor is fairly sure that it was isolated and he most likely won't have to have further treatment. They caught it really early and he'll be back to 100% pretty soon. For all intents and purposes, the most serious part of this leg of the cancer journey is behind us.

There is, of course, always the chance that cancer will pop up somewhere else in the future, but as my dad always says, "We'll jump over that bridge when we come to it." I've laid awake at night thinking about what would happen if it grows somewhere else. That's the funny thing about cancer - you can never be 100% sure that the doctors got all of it. There's always that chance that it will come back, even after many many years of remission. It keeps you off-balance that way. It's not over 'til it's over.

So here we are. My dad has cancer, but he's okay. My family and I ask for your prayers and encouragement, but nothing more. We don't want people to bring meals or to treat us like he's on his deathbed because he isn't. The best way for you to help us is to pray for us and let us know that you're thinking of us. I repeat: no meals, no fruit baskets, no gifts, etc. It would make him feel very uncomfortable.

Thank you for reading this novel, and thank you in advance for your prayers.

What Valentine's Day Used to Be About

I promise, this will not be a post about how it sucks to be single on Valentine's Day.

I actually hadn't given much thought to Valentine's Day this year, probably because I live in a place that is not wallpapered with advertisements for events and celebrations of V-Day. Add to that the fact that I'm no longer surrounded by couples my age, and I almost forgot about it completely.

Do you remember what Valentine's Day used to be all about? When we were kids, it was all about candy, little paper cards with movie and cartoon characters on them, and parties at school. I brought some homemade cupcakes next door to my neighbors and the twins were sifting through all of the candy they got from their preschool V-Day party today. I had forgotten about this aspect of Valentine's. For kids, it's second to Halloween in terms of candy haul. Those twins were in sugar rush mode and loving every minute of it. Lilly asked me if I had gotten any candy at school today. I told her that I don't go to school right now and therefore didn't get any candy. She looked up at me with her big green eyes and said, "Anjerah (Andrea), that is so sad. I am sad for you because you don't have any candy. Do you want my necklace?" For these two, V-Day meant lots of candy and hugs and smooches from the people they love. They have no idea what "single" means and why it can be so crippling at times. I had forgotten about this simplicity of mind in the flurry of mushy Facebook statuses about boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, and "true love" (whatever that is).

Speaking of Facebook statuses, I saw a lot of statuses about letting Jesus be your Valentine. I had mixed feelings about these. While I understand and appreciate the sentiment, it seems hollow to me. Yes, Jesus is the only person we should ever need to fulfill us, but at the same time, we were created to be relational beings; to know someone else so fully and deeply that they become a part of us. It is a very physical longing that we experience. I'll be the first to admit that it is very, very hard to feel that an invisible and intangible Jesus is filling a hole that a flesh-and-blood human being is supposed to fill. And I think that's okay. Even Jesus experienced painful human loneliness in spite of his divinity. Regardless of what this day was meant to be back in the time of Saint Valentine, we live in a culture now that places value on having someone special to be your valentine. Living counter to that culture can be both rewarding and lonely.

One person in particular has been on my mind today: my third-grade teacher. If you read back a few months, you will remember that her husband died very unexpectedly. For the first time in more than two decades, she is without her valentine. As hard as it can be to be single sometimes, it is, without a doubt, utterly crippling to miss a person you had at your side for so long. She is very close to my heart tonight, as is anyone whose valentine has been ripped away from them, no matter how long ago it happened.

I'll leave you all with a moment of levity: as I was baking those cupcakes this morning, I was listening to the radio. 105.3 HOT-FM was my station of choice, and normally I think they do a pretty good job. However, this morning they were playing a pre-recorded happy message every so often. I think their intentions were good, but hearing "From all of us at 105.3 to you, have a happy VD" made me wonder who was in charge of that little campaign.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Identity

When I first transferred to Calvin, I had to do a three-day Transfer Student Orientation the weekend before second semester classes started. From what I can tell, it was similar to the orientation that first-year students do: bonding time with your orientation group, tours, meals with faculty from your program, a service day in the community, sessions on integrating into Calvin's community, etc. Thankfully, we didn't have to do sessions on "adjusting to college life" because all of us had been college students already. 

During one of the sessions, the facilitator had us write down on slips of paper the goals we had for our time at Calvin. I don't remember what I wrote down. Probably something to do with getting a good teaching job since that was my main reason for getting my degree from Calvin. Once everyone had finished writing, the facilitator told us to trade slips with the people around us until he told us to stop. I ended up with the slip of paper  that you can see below. 

I thought it was an interesting slip for me to end up with, given that I was pretty secure in my plans for Calvin and graduation and career. I'm not sure what made me tack it to my bulletin board and keep it. Orientation was exactly three years ago, after all. However, now that I am on this side of graduation, this slip of paper perfectly sums up my life.

I know in my head what I want to do: go to Western, get a Master's Degree in School Counseling, and get a job in a school as a counselor. In my head, that is my plan. Even before starting at Western, though, I have to be accepted to their program. As far as I know, and with what others have told me, this program is not one of those highly competitive programs where hundreds apply and twenty get in. Someone who graduated from this program told me that so long as I have good grades and solid recommendations, there should be no reason to reject my application. My head knows this and believes this, but each day that passes without a letter from Western causes my heart to twist a little bit tighter.

If/when I am accepted, I won't even start classes until May. In the meantime, I don't have any major career plans. Substitute teaching, even long-term subbing, scares me. I absolutely do not like the idea of being in a different school with hundreds of different students every day. A good friend of mine is in a similar situation to mine and is subbing until her long-term sub position starts in March. She has exactly the personality that works for subbing - exuberant, friendly, extroverted, and go-with-the-flow. I have learned that I am much more comfortable with one-on-one or small groups situations. I can do one-on-thirty if I have to, like in a regular classroom, but I am so much better with individuals.

Keeping that in mind, I picked up a job as an aide for a 20-year-old young man with autism. I come to his house where he lives with his family and I spend the day helping him live his life. He is non-verbal and cognitively about 4 or 5 years old. He's capable of entertaining himself and seems to enjoy being alone from time to time, which means I don't have to hover over him. Because of his autism, though, he needs help with daily tasks like using the bathroom, making coffee, and operating his videos. It is unlike any job I have ever had. I've only worked one day with him so far, and even though it was a bit overwhelming, I felt like I did good that day. It's only a part-time job, since he goes to school during the week, which still leaves me with the dilemma of what to do during the day.

Between my job as an aide and all of my tutoring students, I average about 25 hours per week of working. I don't have much to do during the day. It's a weird situation because I will be working full-time (or more) once summer starts and that will continue once the new school year starts up. Finding a very temporary job for the next three months is proving difficult. I would like to be working more, if only to have something to do. Having graduated from a widely-known and respected institution like Calvin carries the tacit expectation that you are on your way to great things with your career and your life. Compared with lots of my fellow graduates, I am not fulfilling that tacit expectation (yet).

This feeling of un-fulfillment  began to eat away at me this past week as I spent my mornings and early afternoons at home watching TV and obsessively checking the mailbox. It's hard to find your value in a career when you haven't started one yet. Calvin places so much emphasis on "redeeming the world" - that is, changing it for the better with what you do. Is it possible to redeem the world by watching four episodes of Grey's Anatomy in a row? I feel better about myself when I'm tutoring or working with the young man with autism, but those jobs fill only a small percentage of my days right now.

I went out with my Substitute Teacher Extraordinaire friend on Friday night to catch up and swap post-graduation stories. Even though she is working almost every day, my friend admitted that she felt the same uneasiness that I feel. Even though we teacher graduates regard subbing as a professional's work, the State of Michigan doesn't. In some states, you need only 90 credit hours of college in order to sub. Annie was telling me that she knew how I felt; that working a day-to-day low-paying job was not what she expected to be doing after graduating. She brought me to a great conclusion though. I should not expect to find all of my self-worth in my work. At times like this, it would only make me feel bad. It was so refreshing to sit with her and have her remind me that I am not my work. Work is a part of me, but it does not define me. There are more important identities to hold to: child of God, daughter, sister, friend, mentor, confidante...as Annie put it, those are the identities to cling to.

So along with "different path," I add "child of God" to my list of mantras. Thank you, Annie, for reminding me of this. You da best. To the rest of you, thank you for reading.

Caught In Between

I am caught in between many different worlds right now.

I have just three days left at Calvin, which feels weird. There are very few people that finish their Calvin career at the end of interim. Instead of going out with a bang - student teaching, teacher commissioning ceremony, graduation, etc. - I am going out with a whisper, disappearing quietly while everyone else enjoys interim break and gears up for spring semester.

I am in an interim class that is traditionally taken by freshmen. There are 40 freshmen in my class. While they are exploring themselves and their identities as college students and determining their paths, I am crossing off an item on a checklist. I can't get my teaching certificate until my grades for this class are in. Most of the rest of my classmates are gaining momentum; I am coasting to a stop.

I am waiting for a letter from Western Michigan University telling me that I have been accepted to the graduate program that I have been dreaming about for the last six months. I have literally had nightmares that I come home to a letter stating that my application has been rejected. WMU is the only school that I applied to because it's close, it's affordable, and its program is exactly what I want. Applying to this program was the first career decision that felt absolutely 100% right to me, far more than teaching and Spanish ever did. If I don't get in, I really don't know what I'll do. I have literally put all of my eggs in one basket.

As for my romantic life...my therapist tells me that, once I get into the grad school environment, my singleness will not be nearly so glaring as it is here at Calvin. She tells me that once I get away from Calvin, I will realize that being 23 and single is perfectly normal, expected, even desired.  She tells me that I have chosen a different path than many people my age; a path of higher education and career pursuit. It's hard to remember that and be content with it when I can see so many friends together on a path that I want to be on. Different path. Different path. Different....path.....

On a somewhat unrelated note, counseling is great. Not great as in a good time, but soul-great. You should try it.

So as you can see, I am caught in between the worlds of Calvin and Western, between freshmen and graduates, between singleness and marriage, between frustration and contentment...God is a God of works-in-progress.