Most of you know by now that I've been going to a little Anglican church for about 15 months (when I'm actually in Fort Collins on a Sunday morning, which doesn't happen all that often.) For those of you who didn't know that and have been wondering why you haven't seen me around at the previous church for awhile, sorry to break the news to you, in a blog, 15 months later.
A couple of months ago, I ran into just such a person from my previous church who didn't know I had left and she seemed a little shocked when I told her I was going to *gasp* an Anglican Church. She actually asked me straight up, "How do you reconcile your faith with going to a church like THAT?"
In hindsight, I probably should have asked her what she meant by that, but I assumed that she meant what everyone else has meant who's asked the similar question over the last 15 months - "Have you lost your mind? Why would you leave an awesome non-denominational church for a liturgical church that has, worldwide, in recent times been fraught with all kinds of turmoil? It's not too late to come back! Jesus still loves you even though you have made this profound error in judgment."
It would take me a long time to answer this question in completion, and really nobody cares all that much anyway. I think they're more just concerned that I am no longer following Jesus but am instead following a religion. I'm grateful for the many friends who have visited my new little Anglican Church with me and have seen just how Christ-centered it is. The invitation to join in worship with me on any Sunday is always there so you can see it too.
Today I am able to add even more to the answer of why I choose to worship at this season in my life in a liturgical church.
For those of you who have never visited one, just heard things about them, such as that no one who goes to a Episcopal, Anglican, Lutheran, Catholic, Presbyterian, or fill in the blank liturgical Church is a Christian because you can't possibly be a Christian if you go to a church where you say and pray the same things week after week and do things like observe Lent or go to confession, let me tell you about just this one aspect of the service that struck me so profoundly this morning.
Every Sunday there are at least two readings from Scripture, more often three, and a Psalm is read in unison. So it goes Old Testament reading, Psalm said together, New Testament reading, and a reading from the Gospel.
After the OT and NT readings, the reader says, "The Word of the Lord."
The congregation answers and says, "Thanks be to God."
We say it every week. I've said it dozens of times since I've started going to Christ Our Hope. There are plenty of times that I haven't really thought about those four little words as I've said them, but they really caught my attention today.
The OT reading was from Deuteronomy 28. The chapter is towards the end of Deuteronomy after a whole bunch of laws have been given to the Israelite people. I love Deuteronomy. It's long been a favorite book of mine, though an odd choice I admit. I love it because it captures both the compassionate heart of God to want to bless and prosper and cherish the ones He loves but also a very clear laying down the law that He is God and He is holy and that there is very much a distinction between Him and us and that by even breaking one of the various laws He's spelled out, we've proved to Him, to ourselves, and to everyone else that we will never live up to His standard.
That's why Jesus is such good news, because He reconciles the compassionate heart of mercy God has with God's heart for justice. But I digress.
So Deuteronomy 28 starts out explaining all of the wonderful blessings that will come if the people just follow God. They will be blessed no matter what - everything they do will be blessed! It's like God is giving them the Midas touch if they just obey Him. It would be great to just stop reading right there, but then God goes on to give a list of curses, or all of the things that will happen if the people do not follow Him.
It says things like, "At midday you will grope about like a blind man in the dark. You will be unsuccessful in everything you do; day after day you will be oppressed and robbed, with no one to rescue you." And later on, it says, "The Lord will give you an anxious mind, eyes weary with longing, and a despairing heart. You will live in constant suspense, filled with dread both night and day, never sure of your life."
Well, that sounds really crappy. I'll take the blessings for obedience, please, and how about you just turn a blind eye when I disobey, God, ok?
It was actually really uncomfortable to hear the curses for disobedience read. But you know what was even more uncomfortable?
"Thanks be to God."
Wow. Did I really just thank God for telling me about the awful ways my life is going to go down if I don't put Him first? I think I did. Hmmmm.
I'm all for thanking God for good things, but thank Him for bad things or hard things? That's different. There's no discrimination here, either. It's not like we say, "No thank you, God" when we are read a passage that makes us squirm. No. We say "Thanks be to God" week after week because every part of His Word deserves examination and reception with a grateful heart.
In saying "Thanks be to God" after the Scripture is read, I'm basically saying, "I hear what you've said, God, and I thank you for saying it to me. I trust that you have spoken the truth to me, no matter how hard it is to hear it. I trust you, I surrender to you, I thank you for communicating so clearly to me through your Word."
Thanks be to God.
These four little words challenged me today about whether or not I choose not only to obey or disobey God, but whether or not I'm choosing to trust Him in spite of the uncomfortable things His Word has to say about sin, disobedience, hard circumstances, and heartache.
I'm so grateful for that reminder today because it hasn't been the easiest week, and grateful that it's a reminder I'll have again and again in the upcoming weeks and months whenever I say it. There can be great value in repetition, when married with a thoughtful heart that pays attention to what's being said.
"Robin, I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Thanks be to God.
"Robin, in this world, you will have trouble. But take heart, I have overcome the world."
Thanks be to God.
"Robin, you are to have no other gods before me."
Thanks be to God.
"Robin, I will never leave you or forsake you."
Thanks be to God.
"Robin, blessed are you when people say all kinds of evil about you on account of me."
Thanks be to God.
"Robin, I am near to the brokenhearted and I defend those who are crushed in spirit."
Thanks be to God.
"Robin, I have called you by name and you are mine. When you walk through the fire you will not be burned and when the rushing waters surround you, you will not be swept away."
This is the Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Why learning a new language is hard for me
I've had a long, sordid relationship with the Spanish language. It started in 8th grade when I opened my fall schedule and discovered, with great horror, that my first period class was P.E. What kind of school does that to a 13 year old girl?
Fortunately, there was a Beginner's Spanish class also offered during first period, so I traded being sweaty and gross for the rest of the day for la lengua mas bonita - Espanol.
Thanks to this early morning 8th grade Spanish class, I can still recite the pledge of allegiance in Spanish faster than I can recite it in English:
Prometo fidelidad a la bandera de Los Estados Unidos de America
Y la republica que representa
Una nacion, bajo Dios, indivisible
Con libertad y justicia para todos.
So far, this has not proven to be a useful skill, but I haven't stopped hoping.
One year of middle school Spanish turned into three more years of high school Spanish, which turned into two years of college Spanish. By the time I finished my last college Spanish class, I was having dreams in which God would speak to me in Spanish. I wish I could remember what He told me because maybe things would make more sense in my life than they currently do if I had followed His Spanish instructions more carefully all of those years ago.
As is generally the case for most gringas who learn Spanish in school, I had little or no use for it in my real life, and no opportunity to practice it. I subsequently never mastered the art of speaking Spanish, but every once in awhile, my ears would perk up when I was out and about and ran into Spanish speakers, mostly late at night in Walmart. Sometimes I would even go to the Santa Fe Walmart late at night just to listen to the Spanish families out shopping. Recently, I've discovered the Fort Collins Walmart is also a jackpot late at night for Spanish speakers.
So over a decade goes by since my last formal Spanish class. Flash forward to spring 2010 when I take a group of friends to Mexico, only to get pulled over by a Spanish speaking police officer for driving the wrong way down a one way street. I was grateful that I miraculously remembered the phone number of a Spanish speaking Mexican friend who lived in the same town and was able to get him on the phone with the cop (actually with all four cops who appeared out of nowhere and surrounded my car when I pulled over) and with some veiled threats and bribery promises, my friend cleared up the situation for me. But I realized in that moment I was a bit rusty as far as Spanish went and put it on my list of things to work on.
In the meantime, I switched jobs and all of a sudden found myself periodically being more or less a tour guide in Spanish speaking countries. Right before my first trip to Peru last June, I devoured Rosetta Stone as if I were on death row eating my last meal. It paid off to some extent - my friend Jeff went to Peru with me (and he had also been on the ill-fated Mexico trip the year before) and said to me within 45 minutes of being in Lima, "Your Spanish is way better this year than it was in Mexico." Yes! Gracias, Jefe.
But for me, better is never good enough. So I started taking Spanish classes and all sorts of other Spanish related things (you can read more about that here).
In the month that I've been immersing myself in Spanish as much as is possible for someone who works 40 hours a week and also wants to have some semblance of a life that's not just about Spanish, I've been encouraged to see how much my comprehension and reading ability has come back, but I'm still really struggling with speaking Spanish and writing it.
For instance, on Thursday, my Spanish teacher taught me about past participles. Being an English major, you'd think I would know what a past participle is, but I didn't until I learned about them in Spanish on Thursday. He wanted me to write some simple sentences using past participles, for instance:
Maria ha puesto la mesa.
Maria had already set the table.
I didn't think he was actually serious about making me write sentences like this but after a couple of minutes of me just sitting there watching him do other stuff, he said, "Are you deep in thought? Why aren't you writing your sentences?"
And I realized that it was because writing a simple sentence about a recently completed action was way too hard, not because I lack the vocabulary or comprehension to make it happen but because I want to know so much more about Maria than that she's already set the table.
I want to know why she set the table in the first place and who she set it for. I want to know what kind of dishes she used, if they were her grandma's old china or something cheap she bought just to have. What kind of food is she making? And why does her name have to be Maria, my least favorite female Spanish name in the world, for personal reasons mostly having to do with runaway train.
My English speaking brain can't handle keeping things simple, so naturally any attempts I make at speaking or writing in Spanish are beyond my realm of capability because I want to jump to a skill level I don't yet have because that's where I automatically go in my native language.
Not surprisingly, my most meaningful and in depth conversations with native Spanish speakers have generally been with 7 year old girls and they go something like this:
Me: Hola. Me llamo Robin (Hello my name is Robin.)
Girl: Hola. Me llamo Anna (hello my name is Anna)
Me: Tengo dos gatos (I have two gatos.)
Girl: Tengo un perro (I have a dog).
Me: Que bueno! (that's great!)
Anna and I are totally on the same page when we talk in Spanish, mostly because I have no problems dumbing myself down when talking to a child. But I would never walk up to my grown man friend Ricardo and say, "Hola, Ricardo. Tengo dos gatos." Maybe Ricardo would be really glad to know that I have two cats, but most likely he would wonder why I felt compelled to share that information with him in the first place.
So learning Spanish again for me right now is a lesson in slowing down, not trying to make something simple into something complicated, and to build on each step as I master it. There's a lot of wisdom in this for me overall when it comes to life. I tend to make things way harder and more complicated than they need to be and right now Spanish is forcing me to keep things simple. And tell whoever will listen about my awesome cats.
Fortunately, there was a Beginner's Spanish class also offered during first period, so I traded being sweaty and gross for the rest of the day for la lengua mas bonita - Espanol.
Thanks to this early morning 8th grade Spanish class, I can still recite the pledge of allegiance in Spanish faster than I can recite it in English:
Prometo fidelidad a la bandera de Los Estados Unidos de America
Y la republica que representa
Una nacion, bajo Dios, indivisible
Con libertad y justicia para todos.
So far, this has not proven to be a useful skill, but I haven't stopped hoping.
One year of middle school Spanish turned into three more years of high school Spanish, which turned into two years of college Spanish. By the time I finished my last college Spanish class, I was having dreams in which God would speak to me in Spanish. I wish I could remember what He told me because maybe things would make more sense in my life than they currently do if I had followed His Spanish instructions more carefully all of those years ago.
As is generally the case for most gringas who learn Spanish in school, I had little or no use for it in my real life, and no opportunity to practice it. I subsequently never mastered the art of speaking Spanish, but every once in awhile, my ears would perk up when I was out and about and ran into Spanish speakers, mostly late at night in Walmart. Sometimes I would even go to the Santa Fe Walmart late at night just to listen to the Spanish families out shopping. Recently, I've discovered the Fort Collins Walmart is also a jackpot late at night for Spanish speakers.
So over a decade goes by since my last formal Spanish class. Flash forward to spring 2010 when I take a group of friends to Mexico, only to get pulled over by a Spanish speaking police officer for driving the wrong way down a one way street. I was grateful that I miraculously remembered the phone number of a Spanish speaking Mexican friend who lived in the same town and was able to get him on the phone with the cop (actually with all four cops who appeared out of nowhere and surrounded my car when I pulled over) and with some veiled threats and bribery promises, my friend cleared up the situation for me. But I realized in that moment I was a bit rusty as far as Spanish went and put it on my list of things to work on.
In the meantime, I switched jobs and all of a sudden found myself periodically being more or less a tour guide in Spanish speaking countries. Right before my first trip to Peru last June, I devoured Rosetta Stone as if I were on death row eating my last meal. It paid off to some extent - my friend Jeff went to Peru with me (and he had also been on the ill-fated Mexico trip the year before) and said to me within 45 minutes of being in Lima, "Your Spanish is way better this year than it was in Mexico." Yes! Gracias, Jefe.
But for me, better is never good enough. So I started taking Spanish classes and all sorts of other Spanish related things (you can read more about that here).
In the month that I've been immersing myself in Spanish as much as is possible for someone who works 40 hours a week and also wants to have some semblance of a life that's not just about Spanish, I've been encouraged to see how much my comprehension and reading ability has come back, but I'm still really struggling with speaking Spanish and writing it.
For instance, on Thursday, my Spanish teacher taught me about past participles. Being an English major, you'd think I would know what a past participle is, but I didn't until I learned about them in Spanish on Thursday. He wanted me to write some simple sentences using past participles, for instance:
Maria ha puesto la mesa.
Maria had already set the table.
I didn't think he was actually serious about making me write sentences like this but after a couple of minutes of me just sitting there watching him do other stuff, he said, "Are you deep in thought? Why aren't you writing your sentences?"
And I realized that it was because writing a simple sentence about a recently completed action was way too hard, not because I lack the vocabulary or comprehension to make it happen but because I want to know so much more about Maria than that she's already set the table.
I want to know why she set the table in the first place and who she set it for. I want to know what kind of dishes she used, if they were her grandma's old china or something cheap she bought just to have. What kind of food is she making? And why does her name have to be Maria, my least favorite female Spanish name in the world, for personal reasons mostly having to do with runaway train.
My English speaking brain can't handle keeping things simple, so naturally any attempts I make at speaking or writing in Spanish are beyond my realm of capability because I want to jump to a skill level I don't yet have because that's where I automatically go in my native language.
Not surprisingly, my most meaningful and in depth conversations with native Spanish speakers have generally been with 7 year old girls and they go something like this:
Me: Hola. Me llamo Robin (Hello my name is Robin.)
Girl: Hola. Me llamo Anna (hello my name is Anna)
Me: Tengo dos gatos (I have two gatos.)
Girl: Tengo un perro (I have a dog).
Me: Que bueno! (that's great!)
Anna and I are totally on the same page when we talk in Spanish, mostly because I have no problems dumbing myself down when talking to a child. But I would never walk up to my grown man friend Ricardo and say, "Hola, Ricardo. Tengo dos gatos." Maybe Ricardo would be really glad to know that I have two cats, but most likely he would wonder why I felt compelled to share that information with him in the first place.
So learning Spanish again for me right now is a lesson in slowing down, not trying to make something simple into something complicated, and to build on each step as I master it. There's a lot of wisdom in this for me overall when it comes to life. I tend to make things way harder and more complicated than they need to be and right now Spanish is forcing me to keep things simple. And tell whoever will listen about my awesome cats.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Closed door # 3
Closed door # 3 of 2012 happened yesterday. I had suspicions that it was about to close but it was still surprisingly hard when it did. He changed his facebook status from single to being in a relationship with some other girl, so I did what any reasonable, mature 33 year old single woman would do - I unfriended him.
The short side of the story is that it was a case of hit and miss that went on for a long time. We were introduced by a mutual friend a couple of years ago but the timing was never quite right.
We most recently connected just six weeks ago, right before I went to Cuba. I was thrilled to finally actually spend some time with the guy and enjoyed talking to him and wanted to spend more time with him and thought maybe this time the timing would be right. But then I went to Cuba and then I came home for three weeks and then I went to Canada and then I came home and BAM! Surprise! Slammed door # 3. He's got a girlfriend and it's not me.
Last night I spent some time thinking things like, "I should have made a point to actually have gotten to know him better years ago" and "If I hadn't gone to Cuba then maybe things would have been different" or "If only I had stayed longer at that party."
And then following that came the typical barrage of "you're worthless, you're unwanted, you're unlovable, you're going to be alone for the rest of your life, no one is ever going to want you, just accept it now," crap that nobody wants to admit actually goes through their minds but the truth is, it goes through everyone's mind at some point.
So where am I going with all of this? That's a really great question. Today has been a hard day. My contacts have been cloudy all day from last night's crying. I drowned some of my sorrow in creamy habanero sauce from Cafe Mexicali, which definitely improved things. And I'm trying really hard to not let my heart feel too sick even though hope deferred makes the heart sick.
It's not even necessarily about this particular guy. It's more that it's just another closed door and I'm so tired of closed doors. I don't even want any doors anymore at all, but it's like God keeps allowing them to crack open just a bit only to then slam them in my face.
Deep down in my soul, I know that's not true. God doesn't operate that way. He doesn't dangle a carrot in front of us only to rip it away. Jesus says that God is a good father who gives good gifts to his children. A good father doesn't taunt his children. A good father will keep bad things away from his child, and I know ultimately that is the reason behind every door He's closed this year. For whatever reason, some more obvious than others, none of these men have been what God considers good for my life. Any of them together with me is not going to accomplish the best plan that God is working out. I know that. But the sting...it still doesn't stop the sting when it happens.
I started reading a book Saturday evening (God has good timing) written by a woman who's further along in her 30s than I am and who is still single. The chapter I read last night after all of this went down was about how Satan would want us to believe that we're unwanted and unlovable when we're faced with rejection but that it's simply not true. And I do know that, really I do. It was the perfect chapter for me to read at that moment, and God knew that when He had me start reading the book the night before. He holds my times in His hands.
But it's like the pain right you feel right after someone you love dies. Even though you know you'll see them again, it doesn't stop your earthly heart from feeling pain. It takes time for the heart to align with the truth that the mind knows. That's why I'm glad God made us to have both minds and hearts. We need both of them to get us through this messy life. I'm grateful that my rational mind can hold me together when my heart is completely irrational, and that sometimes my irrational heart encourages my rational mind to take risks and allow myself to feel.
It is hard to be 33 and single. It's hard to watch people much younger than me get married and have kids. It's hard to be completely content one day and be so lonely I could die the next day. It's hard to face the reality that most likely I'm not going to get to have children. It's hard to hear all of the well meaning things that (married) people throw my way whenever I start talking about being single. As if someone who got married when they were 23 knows anything about being single. I hate it when people use the verse about God giving you the desire of your heart if you delight yourself in Him. As if somehow my life is a disappointment to God, which is why I'm still single. Or why they finally were blessed with marriage - because they figured out the key to delighting themselves in God and were subsesquently blessed with the golden chalice of marriage and now they just want to encourage me to do the same thing. I could hit those people and one of these days, I just might. Or unfriend them on facebook. I'm good at that too.
The bottom line is - I trust God with my days. He has a reason for everything that He allows or doesn't allow into my life. He knows the big picture - I just see today. He has a timing and a season for everything. And He knows what He's doing.
I was blessed to be able to text my dear friend Paige this afternoon. She's been out of town for the weekend and I didn't want to bother her last night because she was at a fancy schmancy award ceremony with her husband, so I texted her this afternoon. She has such a way of encouraging me and and helping me feel better no matter what (and it usually makes me cry). God has gifted her with encouragement and it's a gift I long to have in more abundance for others.
This is what she said (after she told me that I'm sweet and wonderful and that she never liked him anyway and that he was the one actually missing out, not me):
I will choose to believe her words tonight and also keep moving forward with my life. I'm not waiting for a man to begin my life. I love my life! I love the places I've gotten to go and the people I've met and the things I've seen that maybe wouldn't have happened if I was married and had kids. God has crafted a beautiful life for me regardless of my marital status. I'm just sad for tonight, for another closed door, but I know that God brings joy in the morning. So I wait for Him.
And eat some chocolate cookies in the meantime.
The short side of the story is that it was a case of hit and miss that went on for a long time. We were introduced by a mutual friend a couple of years ago but the timing was never quite right.
We most recently connected just six weeks ago, right before I went to Cuba. I was thrilled to finally actually spend some time with the guy and enjoyed talking to him and wanted to spend more time with him and thought maybe this time the timing would be right. But then I went to Cuba and then I came home for three weeks and then I went to Canada and then I came home and BAM! Surprise! Slammed door # 3. He's got a girlfriend and it's not me.
Last night I spent some time thinking things like, "I should have made a point to actually have gotten to know him better years ago" and "If I hadn't gone to Cuba then maybe things would have been different" or "If only I had stayed longer at that party."
And then following that came the typical barrage of "you're worthless, you're unwanted, you're unlovable, you're going to be alone for the rest of your life, no one is ever going to want you, just accept it now," crap that nobody wants to admit actually goes through their minds but the truth is, it goes through everyone's mind at some point.
So where am I going with all of this? That's a really great question. Today has been a hard day. My contacts have been cloudy all day from last night's crying. I drowned some of my sorrow in creamy habanero sauce from Cafe Mexicali, which definitely improved things. And I'm trying really hard to not let my heart feel too sick even though hope deferred makes the heart sick.
It's not even necessarily about this particular guy. It's more that it's just another closed door and I'm so tired of closed doors. I don't even want any doors anymore at all, but it's like God keeps allowing them to crack open just a bit only to then slam them in my face.
Deep down in my soul, I know that's not true. God doesn't operate that way. He doesn't dangle a carrot in front of us only to rip it away. Jesus says that God is a good father who gives good gifts to his children. A good father doesn't taunt his children. A good father will keep bad things away from his child, and I know ultimately that is the reason behind every door He's closed this year. For whatever reason, some more obvious than others, none of these men have been what God considers good for my life. Any of them together with me is not going to accomplish the best plan that God is working out. I know that. But the sting...it still doesn't stop the sting when it happens.
I started reading a book Saturday evening (God has good timing) written by a woman who's further along in her 30s than I am and who is still single. The chapter I read last night after all of this went down was about how Satan would want us to believe that we're unwanted and unlovable when we're faced with rejection but that it's simply not true. And I do know that, really I do. It was the perfect chapter for me to read at that moment, and God knew that when He had me start reading the book the night before. He holds my times in His hands.
But it's like the pain right you feel right after someone you love dies. Even though you know you'll see them again, it doesn't stop your earthly heart from feeling pain. It takes time for the heart to align with the truth that the mind knows. That's why I'm glad God made us to have both minds and hearts. We need both of them to get us through this messy life. I'm grateful that my rational mind can hold me together when my heart is completely irrational, and that sometimes my irrational heart encourages my rational mind to take risks and allow myself to feel.
It is hard to be 33 and single. It's hard to watch people much younger than me get married and have kids. It's hard to be completely content one day and be so lonely I could die the next day. It's hard to face the reality that most likely I'm not going to get to have children. It's hard to hear all of the well meaning things that (married) people throw my way whenever I start talking about being single. As if someone who got married when they were 23 knows anything about being single. I hate it when people use the verse about God giving you the desire of your heart if you delight yourself in Him. As if somehow my life is a disappointment to God, which is why I'm still single. Or why they finally were blessed with marriage - because they figured out the key to delighting themselves in God and were subsesquently blessed with the golden chalice of marriage and now they just want to encourage me to do the same thing. I could hit those people and one of these days, I just might. Or unfriend them on facebook. I'm good at that too.
The bottom line is - I trust God with my days. He has a reason for everything that He allows or doesn't allow into my life. He knows the big picture - I just see today. He has a timing and a season for everything. And He knows what He's doing.
I was blessed to be able to text my dear friend Paige this afternoon. She's been out of town for the weekend and I didn't want to bother her last night because she was at a fancy schmancy award ceremony with her husband, so I texted her this afternoon. She has such a way of encouraging me and and helping me feel better no matter what (and it usually makes me cry). God has gifted her with encouragement and it's a gift I long to have in more abundance for others.
This is what she said (after she told me that I'm sweet and wonderful and that she never liked him anyway and that he was the one actually missing out, not me):
I will choose to believe her words tonight and also keep moving forward with my life. I'm not waiting for a man to begin my life. I love my life! I love the places I've gotten to go and the people I've met and the things I've seen that maybe wouldn't have happened if I was married and had kids. God has crafted a beautiful life for me regardless of my marital status. I'm just sad for tonight, for another closed door, but I know that God brings joy in the morning. So I wait for Him.
And eat some chocolate cookies in the meantime.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Oh, the irony
Last night I was watching a movie about a runaway train and about halfway
through it realized the irony. I won't go into the details, but the
opportunity/temptation to jump back on the runaway train in my life presented
itself not too long ago, so in some ways watching a movie about a literal
runaway train was maybe God's gentle reminder to me to be wise and remember
that runaway trains are dangerous and unpredictable and even though it may seem
like the ride of your life, in the end it might kill you. Point taken, God and
Netflix.
Also on the irony radar in the last couple of weeks is that I started going gangbusters on learning Spanish better. I'll get to the ironic part in a second. It started when I joined a Spanish Meetup Group right before I went to Cuba, mostly because I wanted to practice some Spanish before my trip but also partly because I was starting to feel like I should meet some new people. I really hate meeting new people, and it astounds me that I have any friends at all because at some point they all were new people to me and I probably hated meeting them. It's not that I hate people, it's just the act of meeting them that's tough for me. I'm terrible at small talk, I never know what to ask people, and it freaks me out when new people want to know anything about me. I'm the girl who doesn't go to parties at all or when she does, she stands in a corner with a cup of water and tries to not make eye contact and then leaves when she's been there for a reasonable amount of time, usually around 17 minutes.
But every few years I get this idea that I should meet new people. It's been about three years since the last time and with all of my friends up and moving to different states, it seemed like the time to make new friends. (I would like to mention that I still have Christina. She would point this out to me if I did not first acknowledge it here.)
So I went to the Meetup twice before Cuba and since coming home from Cuba have added Spanish movie nights, Spanish game nights, Spanish lessons, Spanish workshops and more to my calendar. I have six Spanish events happening this week and five next week.
My name is Robin and I'm a Spanish-a-holic.
Here's where the irony comes in. Back when Erika got engaged, there was an engagement party for her. This was back in January. At said engagement party, I was standing in a corner with a cup of water in my hand when this woman came up to me and started a conversation. Yes, a new person had the nerve to talk to me and somehow I managed to choke out a conversation back. She knew Erika through her husband - her husband and Robert are in the Air Force together. When she was growing up she used to travel a lot with her family. I started sharing some of my travel stories with her and how I really wanted to learn Spanish better, and she told me about this guy who teaches Spanish and that I should go take lessons from him.
So after the party, I checked out the guy's website and it looked like something that would be right up my alley. But then runaway train ran me over and one of the side effects of that was a complete aversion to all things Spanish, and the thought of purposely learning the language any more than I already knew it seemed like the quickest way to make myself vomit. I forgot the guy's name, forgot about lessons, and mostly forgot the conversation at that party ever really happened.
I had to work through some things, mostly forgiveness, so learning Spanish was put on the backburner until right before I went to Cuba, when it all of a sudden became a necessity again.
Ironically, since January, the guy changed the name of his company so when I started going to the Spanish Meetup he organized, it didn't click at all that he was the same person who had been recommended to me months earlier. In fact, I didn't make the connection until a couple of weeks ago when I overheard him say the name of the old company to someone else. All of a sudden, I realized I was right where I was supposed to be and where I should have been months ago before runaway train happened.
So I'm taking Spanish lessons because Erika's friend told me to from the guy she told me to take them from but I went about it in a very roundabout way. Sometimes life has a way of working itself out that way. You never know who or what is going to reappear in your life, so it's a good idea to be as kind as much as possible, forgive, and be open to new opportunities. That's probably a whole separate blog topic for another day.
I love that God has put me back on track even though I was derailed for awhile earlier this year. I love that He puts movies about runaway trains in my Netflix list right when I need the reminder. I love that He brings us back to where we should have been before bad things happened and somehow makes it look like the good, the bad, and the ugly were all part of His plan for our lives. I love that what seems like irony to us is just His way of doing things. I love that He is the same yesterday, today and forever.
Also on the irony radar in the last couple of weeks is that I started going gangbusters on learning Spanish better. I'll get to the ironic part in a second. It started when I joined a Spanish Meetup Group right before I went to Cuba, mostly because I wanted to practice some Spanish before my trip but also partly because I was starting to feel like I should meet some new people. I really hate meeting new people, and it astounds me that I have any friends at all because at some point they all were new people to me and I probably hated meeting them. It's not that I hate people, it's just the act of meeting them that's tough for me. I'm terrible at small talk, I never know what to ask people, and it freaks me out when new people want to know anything about me. I'm the girl who doesn't go to parties at all or when she does, she stands in a corner with a cup of water and tries to not make eye contact and then leaves when she's been there for a reasonable amount of time, usually around 17 minutes.
But every few years I get this idea that I should meet new people. It's been about three years since the last time and with all of my friends up and moving to different states, it seemed like the time to make new friends. (I would like to mention that I still have Christina. She would point this out to me if I did not first acknowledge it here.)
So I went to the Meetup twice before Cuba and since coming home from Cuba have added Spanish movie nights, Spanish game nights, Spanish lessons, Spanish workshops and more to my calendar. I have six Spanish events happening this week and five next week.
My name is Robin and I'm a Spanish-a-holic.
Here's where the irony comes in. Back when Erika got engaged, there was an engagement party for her. This was back in January. At said engagement party, I was standing in a corner with a cup of water in my hand when this woman came up to me and started a conversation. Yes, a new person had the nerve to talk to me and somehow I managed to choke out a conversation back. She knew Erika through her husband - her husband and Robert are in the Air Force together. When she was growing up she used to travel a lot with her family. I started sharing some of my travel stories with her and how I really wanted to learn Spanish better, and she told me about this guy who teaches Spanish and that I should go take lessons from him.
So after the party, I checked out the guy's website and it looked like something that would be right up my alley. But then runaway train ran me over and one of the side effects of that was a complete aversion to all things Spanish, and the thought of purposely learning the language any more than I already knew it seemed like the quickest way to make myself vomit. I forgot the guy's name, forgot about lessons, and mostly forgot the conversation at that party ever really happened.
I had to work through some things, mostly forgiveness, so learning Spanish was put on the backburner until right before I went to Cuba, when it all of a sudden became a necessity again.
Ironically, since January, the guy changed the name of his company so when I started going to the Spanish Meetup he organized, it didn't click at all that he was the same person who had been recommended to me months earlier. In fact, I didn't make the connection until a couple of weeks ago when I overheard him say the name of the old company to someone else. All of a sudden, I realized I was right where I was supposed to be and where I should have been months ago before runaway train happened.
So I'm taking Spanish lessons because Erika's friend told me to from the guy she told me to take them from but I went about it in a very roundabout way. Sometimes life has a way of working itself out that way. You never know who or what is going to reappear in your life, so it's a good idea to be as kind as much as possible, forgive, and be open to new opportunities. That's probably a whole separate blog topic for another day.
I love that God has put me back on track even though I was derailed for awhile earlier this year. I love that He puts movies about runaway trains in my Netflix list right when I need the reminder. I love that He brings us back to where we should have been before bad things happened and somehow makes it look like the good, the bad, and the ugly were all part of His plan for our lives. I love that what seems like irony to us is just His way of doing things. I love that He is the same yesterday, today and forever.
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