The Slow Seasons

So I’m trying, along with countless other young women, to address the “why” and the “how” and the hurt accompanying singleness. And maybe this is just my opinion (I’m about to state is as fact; argue with me later): Our culture is twisted. We flaunt feminism, claiming that women are absolutely equal (if not superior) to men. And then we wonder why they are no men. I have news for you, single ladies: the median age for marriage is 35. Just half of U.S. adults are married.

I’m done throwing pity parties, so buckle up. The truth is that I’m 22 and  regrettably without a significant other, and although this is not at all what I expected from my 22nd trip around the sun, it’s actually been an incredible teacher.

But I’m not here to mope about being single or tell you it gets any easier with each passing day. I’m here to tell you that our story, your story, started long before that of creation and we’d better start living like it. Today — today — is ripe with blessing. That doesn’t mean we can’t wait for something, hope for something, have deep and often overwhelming desires. I get it; I feel all of those things with you. But waiting is not the equivalent of standing around with hands in our pockets. It’s about action. Focused, intentional action to a specific end.

Learning to wait well is a little bit like being on a train. You’re going somewhere, moving forward. Some hours are spent speeding past the green-brown-blue blur of the countryside with only splashes of pink for rose gardens and sketched outlines for buildings. And then the train slows to round a bend or pull into a station and you can see a boy walking his dog. You can see expressions on faces, the 2-for-1 deal at a local bakery, the tangle of ivy and honeysuckle in a backyard. It’s beauty on a new level, a detail-rich, enhanced level.

That’s waiting. It’s about absorbing the world around you in a way you can’t when you’re going a hundred miles an hour. Either way, you’re alive and moving forward, but one way allows you to savor the world more fully.

Ladies, it’s time to stop wallowing. This, too, is a season. The train will pick up speed again and you’ll wonder where the past few weeks have gone and how you could have missed them. But now, right now, be content to notice the freckles on their faces. Enjoy the next challenging assignment at work, or a home-cooked meal and a sunset. Absorb the soft drumming of the rain. Take pleasure in being alone or surrounded by people.

Waiting gives you the opportunity to invest in individual lives and to take up new (or old) hobbies. It’s all about leisurely walks after dinner, or arriving early at the office, or reading stacks of good books. Your mind isn’t pulled in 20 different directions because it only needs to focus on a single direction.

Bonus: This season of slowness leads to gradual life change on deeper levels, to lasting transformation. It holds its own sort of lovely for people who are willing to notice it. Start today; savor it with me.

New Year, New Website

Things look a little different (and hopefully better) around here! My old site felt as clunky as the old habits I rid myself of in 2018. With the start of 2019, a fresh look was in order.

This streamlined site puts more emphasis on words. But don’t worry, I’ll continue sharing pictures, too.

Take a look around. See what you think. Thanks for sticking with me all this time.

People & Their Sandwiches

This post is an open letter written for a few specific people; you know who you are. Thank you for entering and changing my world, for helping me laugh and learn and grow. I’m so grateful.

You wonderful human. You best-thing-that’s-happened. You people-loving, arms-wide soul. I see you, and I see all your layers. The depth, scars, mysteries, triumphs and addictions. I see you.

I’m sitting here trying to break through some sort of ceiling. It might be glass… but it’s probably acrylic. Three inches of bullet-proof acrylic, the kind that scratches easily. There are words just bottled up inside me, things I want to tell you that maybe you haven’t heard before, at least not sincerely. But I mean every word. I want you to hear me.

“And the more I learn about what it feels like to stay in love, the more surprised I am, and the more I realize why for so long I have been missing it. It doesn’t feel exactly like I thought it would feel. I’m finding it in the strangest places, in the most unexpected ways. It is easier than I ever thought it could be and also harder and softer and stronger and takes more of my heart than anyone ever told me it would.” – Ally Fallon

I’ve felt this so deeply, it has become ingrained in my soul. Finally embedded here, written on the walls of this heart. Like hearing an old, familiar song, it’s more real and beautiful this time than it was before.

Together, we’ve experienced a level of transparency and humanity that only comes through physical proximity five (and often more) days every week for months. We could be alright forever, this way, but schedules and seasons have to change. If our togetherness can’t last forever, I’m so glad it has lasted this long.

What I want you to believe

Here’s what I want you to know: Nothing you do could make you any less valuable. Failure, hard days, when you give up or give in… these things don’t define you. They sculpt your soul, rub off the rough edges, fill in the empty places. When I see you, I’ll always think, “Wow, what a human. What a very wonderful person.” And I hope you’ll begin to believe it for yourself.

Eat red meat or don’t. Recycle plastic when you can, binge-watch a show, listen to music too loudly in your car, windows rolled down. Read your books, fix your hair, go to work and to class and to your friend’s dorm. Use all the hand gestures you can, and play until your muscles ache. Go to musicals, have the numbers of everyone or no one on campus, own your own strengths and refine your weaknesses. Know the souls around you, pour into them. Seek peace and pursue it. Be a leader.

Friendship, forever

This summer, I’ve fallen in love with you in C.S. Lewis’s “friendship” way. You’re one of the dearest people I know; I love your present and future self. And I’ll always be watching from over here, cheering you on.

The Hard Thing About Being Human

“What a hard thing it is to be human. ”

Ally Fallon

The acrid smell of burnt popcorn wafted through our apartment last night. A good idea gone bad, something enjoyable snuffed out as quickly as you can snap your fingers. And I was left smelling like smoke wondering which emotion (the high-high or the low-low) was real. I think I knew full well, even in the moment; once again, I’d succumbed to unmet expectations.

So I ate handfuls of a fresh bag of popcorn. Tried to swallow my pride along with the puffed kernels, thoughts racing ahead.

Ex·pec·ta·tion | ekspekˈtāSH(ə)n/ | Noun

Synonyms: supposition, assumption, presumption, conjecture, surmise, calculation, prediction, hope

A strong belief that something will happen or be the case in the future.

“Reality had not lived up to expectations”

A belief that someone will or should achieve something.

Well, there you have it. A strong belief that something will happen or be the case in the future. A belief that someone will or should achieve something in the future. I guess that’s one reason I’ve never doubted God or “lost” my faith. My expectations are decided; my aim is true. In that case, I know I have no cause to ever, ever doubt.

Expectations are the antagonist for every relationship I’ve ever had, every argument I’ve ever fought. I’m too darn sure of everything. Expectations are set in my own mind before they leave my mouth, and at that point, it’s usually too late.

It’s a dumb word, really… and it’s been chasing me around for years. Tailing me better than any policeman could, turning up at every inconvenient juncture. I like to be right, but who doesn’t? I hate to wrestle with the unknown (and hate to be wrong) but again, who doesn’t? And yet, the expectations I set for myself, for other people, for situations… they’re unrealistic. They’re the reasons my days occasionally backslide from excellent to miserable.

Here’s what I know: Really good intentions don’t guarantee a certain outcome. In fact, they can quickly wander into resentment. What I do, I have to do without expectations. In the words of Annie. F. Downs (see here and here), the things that make me most upset are my unmet expectations. The broken relationship, the disappointing situation, that all makes sense, ultimately. It’s my sterile, colorless expectations that produce the most frustration.

I’m finally realizing that I interpret everything according to what I expect. That drives me to make decisions that don’t align with who I am, set goals that aren’t realistic. I can’t be “in control and in love.” Not with a person or my own life, and certainly not with God.

That’s the heart of it, right? I want to stay in control because I’m afraid to let go. But I can let go and still be okay. I’m financially secure, surrounded by beautiful people and a strong family. I just can’t have all my ducks in a row. Instead, I need to look at my life with compassion. Look at myself with compassion. Look at this moment with compassion. And accept the fact that I’m absolutely human.

Does this resonate with you? Listen to Annie’s conversation with Ally to inject your soul with hope.

Nothing but the Good Stuff

1. A prelude to summer: The whir of lawnmowers, and the scent of fresh-cut grass wafting through my open windows.

2. I’m convinced that The Glenn Beck Program, my go-to for real news, should always be enjoyed while washing dishes or vacuuming. (Monday’s broadcast was especially laugh-inducing, by the way.)

3. Whole wheat maple syrup banana oatmeal muffins. Nothing but the good stuff, plus chocolate chips and cinnamon for garnish. They’re rising in the oven as I type… and they’re better than a candle for good smells!

4. Exceptional stories, the kind that cause laughter and tears all in the same sitting.  I don’t typically cry over a paperback, but goodness, I nearly did with this one.

5. A baby garden to water. This “chore” has become the best part of my post-work routine.

What are you thankful for today?

The Acute Desire for Approval

“Evil is the greatest explanation for God.”

Perhaps it’s the rain. It feels especially unwelcome after such a sunny weekend. Or maybe it’s the quietness that fills a space after guests leave. (Those silences make me realize that my home should always be used for hospitality, and often.) In any case, my thoughts are doing a remarkable interpretation of laundry churning in the dryer.

So today’s post is from my sermon notes, because at least those were ordered and cohesive.

The Acute Desire for Approval

I’ll admit it. At my core, I crave approval. I think everyone does. We all want to be significant, we want to matter. In the words of my pastor, we have an acute addiction to approval. What do we forgo when we let it control our lives?

A Distraction from Our Calling

Although not inherently wrong, my very human desire for approval is most certainly a distraction. When I spend my life seeking the approval of others, I fail to relish the approval of God. More importantly, I sail straight by His calling for my life. Rather than dwell on truth, I press “replay” on the thoughtless words someone said, or the situations my foolishness left me in.

Put that way, it seems incredibly stupid, doesn’t it? I’m probably the only person who does this: I cooperate with negative thoughts! My failures don’t define me, but I tend to believe that they do. It’s an awful slope to slide down.

But evil is indeed the greatest explanation for God. When I slip towards self-loathing, the only and best solution is to immerse myself in what God says is true. I’m incapable of manufacturing lasting approval for myself. It must come from the One who created me and knows what will happen tomorrow.

Created for Freedom

The truth is that we were created for much more than a life defined by mistakes. We were created for freedom, and to live in that freedom each day. That’s a key tenant of the Gospel.  As per my pastor, here are a few ways to live in freedom:

1. Repent. When lies begin to fill your mind, do a mental (or perhaps a physical) about-face. Immediately remind yourself of the truth.

2. Lean. Choose to rely on God’s power rather than your own. Stop fixing yourself.

3. Stand. Ground yourself on God’s promises, and realize your craving for approval is an echo of a much deeper desire for relationship with God.

4. Stop. Quit trying to earn the approval of people! You’re wearing yourself out. Forgo people-pleasing in favor of honoring God with your life.

Speak truth to yourselves, friends. God is greater; believe it, whether you’re filled with hope or overwhelmed by churning thoughts.

Blueberry Coconut Scones

The lady who did announcements at church called it “Narnia.” And I would tend to agree. Although the thermostat has once again dipped below 32, the winter wonderland outside my kitchen window is truly beautiful.  Our town has cloaked itself in white, completely disregarding the fact that it’s February and cardinals and finches are singing.

So what better to do on a snowy (SUPERBOWLGOEAGLES) Sunday afternoon than perfect my scone-making skills?

I’m particular when it comes to scones: They must be buttery, almost-airy, have layers, be sweet-but-not-too-sweet. I’ve been trying out recipes for several weeks. One dough was too dense, another too dry, a third to heavy on the baking powder. No matter what I tweaked, nothing ended up quite right.

My quest ended this afternoon. I have struck baking gold.

These beauties originated from Sarah Kieffer at the Vanilla Bean Blog. Her recipe is a real winner as-is. And it’s still a winner, even after I adapted it to fit my pantry! (Keep scrolling to see the version I devised.) Buttery, melt-in-your-mouth, with just the right touch of sweetness. Did I mention they’re also photogenic? Nailed it.

I highly recommend you give these a try! I sprinkled coconut shavings on mine, but that’s entirely optional. You can also substitute the blueberries for most other fruit. Or, if you prefer a savory scone, fold in thinly sliced jalapenos and fresh cilantro. Top with cheddar cheese before baking.

Taken from Sarah Kieffer at the Vanilla Bean Blog

2 ¼ cups (320g) all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 tablespoons sugar, plus more for sprinkling
½ teaspoon each: salt and cinnamon
1/2 cup coconut milk (you can also use crème fraîche or sour cream)
½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 large egg
12 tablespoons (1 ½ sticks; 170 g) unsalted butter (I used margarine), cold and cut into ½ -inch pieces
Egg white (or heavy cream) for brushing

Adjust an oven rack to the lower middle position. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Stack two baking sheets on top of each other and line the top sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk the flour, baking powder, 2 tablespoons sugar, and salt. In a medium bowl or liquid measuring cup, whisk the crème fraîche, vanilla, and egg.

Add the butter to the dry ingredients and use a pastry cutter to cut it into the mixture until the flour-coated pieces are the size of peas. Add the wet ingredients and fold with a spatula until just combined.

Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and knead until it comes together, 4 to 6 times, adding flour as necessary, as the dough will be sticky. Pat the dough gently into a square and roll it into a 12-inch square (again, using flour as necessary). Fold the dough in thirds, similar to a business letter. Fold the dough into thirds again, making a square. Transfer it to a floured sheet pan or plate and put it in the freezer for 10 minutes.

Return the dough to the floured surface, roll it into a 12-inch square, and fold it business letter style. Place the dough seam side down and gently roll it into a 12 by 4-inch rectangle. With a sharp knife, cut it crosswise into 4 equal rectangles, then cut each rectangle diagonally into 2 triangles. Transfer the triangles to the prepared baking sheet.

Brush the tops with a little heavy cream, making sure it doesn’t drip down the sides and sprinkle the tops generously with sugar. Bake 18 to 25 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through, until the tops and bottoms are light golden brown. Transfer the sheet pan to a wire rack and let the scones cool 10 minutes before serving.

At the Intersection of Passion & Purpose

“Passion is not a plan. Passion is a feeling, and feelings change.”

Terri Trespicio

When we seek “God’s calling,” are we seeking what we’re passionate about… or what we’re made for?

Every freshman at my college is required to take the “freshman core.” It’s comprised of four classes, one per every eight weeks, for the duration of the school year. The second in  the series is essentials of behavioral science, more commonly referred to as “Essentials.”

That class sticks out in my memory for many reasons. My break out group (a cohort of maybe eight opinionated freshmen guided by a laid-back upperclassman) was particularly vocal. Our discussion time regularly dissolved into debate, and Essentials provided plenty of material.

One of the people who lectured, a professional counselor or something similar, spoke about self-actualization. In short, each person has two versions of themselves: the current version and an idealized version. The two circles slowly overlap as we grow and mature and all the rest. In the end, we should strive to have them overlap completely, so that our current self is identical to the idealized version.

Our professor meant no harm. She was simply sharing a key concept as it pertained to our subject. She never touted it as gospel.

But self-actualization unsettled me. It seemed so self-centered, so driven by personal gain. I was repulsed by it; and believe me, so was my break out group. We were all happy to share our thoughts on the subject, post-lecture.

At its root, self-actualization is the desire to attain full potential. It’s also a common first-world approach to life. “Are we really seeking God’s calling? Or are we desperately seeking importance and fulfillment?” asks Julie Roys, author of “Redeeming the Feminine Soul.” Passion is self and pleasure-oriented, but purpose is quite the opposite. It looks outward. It is others-oriented. And it tends to be long-term. It “gives more weight to meaning that pleasure,” one author noted.

Although passion can inform and fuel purpose, it cannot be its replacement. Although it’s often the inspiration for positive growth, passion is fickle; it “is a feeling, and feelings change.” For instance, I’m passionate about ending human trafficking. But what good would I do if I charged into Wellspring International and demanded that I be sent to the worst red light district in India? That decision would be driven by self-gratification… and the sense that I can end trafficking faster and more effectively than someone who is trained to do so. The people at Wellspring would tell me to go home and support them in a different way. A way that allows purpose to command and capitalize on passion, and direct both to the desired outcome.

Passion is healthy. Care about what matters, and care deeply. But purpose is what we all should invest careful time and thought into: Purpose that’s acted upon changes our world and the people in it. It’s Kingdom-building. In fact, I believe our purpose is identical to God’s calling; passion only fans that flame into a voracious, powerful fire.

Warning: No Temporary Fixes Found

Note: This post marks the advent of a new style of blogging, a style I hope is more true to my mindset and lifestyle. Alongside my usual photo session sneak peeks, I’ll post musings about life as a young adult in the professional world. I’m glad you’re along for the ride.

Scrambled weather. Lightning forecast. Earthbound way to start the day: buttered oatmeal, fresh berries, river of thick cream. So soothed.

Ruth Reichl (@ruthreichl)

I hesitate to type my thoughts into existence. My degree and career are tied to connection and communication; I know how many people can access and judge what I write. Simultaneously, writing (even to an unknown audience) is my best practice, my outlet, my balm. I must write, or else cease to think in a straight line.

I can guess what sort of people will read this: my parents, grandparents, cousins, friends and acquaintances from high school. I welcome each of you. Maybe my lessons-learned will help you along your own journey.

Developing a Voice

My name is Abby,  and I’m a young professional. I manage all outbound and internal communication for a small-but-growing non-profit.  In my spare time, I read books, take pictures, help lead a young adults ministry at church and feed home-cooked meals to my friends.

At least that’s the go-to bio. The one I recite when new people invariably ask. That’s what I do. But who I am is another matter.

For some time, I’ve felt disconnected from my own voice. You could’ve hung an “Under Construction” sign around my neck for years. I wrote first for my mom, then for professors, now for my boss and the public at large. But writers are artists and they are known in the same manner as photographers and painters: by their style. Their voice. My voice.

This isn’t another self-help blog to make you feel better about your situation or find a temporary fix. There are no quick cures for a broken heart or rerouted plans, no time-turners to mend the past, no TARDIS to manage the future. Here, you will only find real stories.  Real stories from a real person who is fed up with social constructs and misplaced priorities and empty promises.

I draw inspiration from Kristen Morris, Hannah Martin, Ellie B and more… these ladies are truly special. They know what it means to be genuine.  And that’s what I’m reaching for, too: A Jane Eyre complex, if you will.

So let’s get started. Hello, friend; welcome to my corner of the internet, where truth isn’t relative and kindness is a premium.

The Mind of an Actor (2/3)

This is part two; read the first post here.

There are layers of complexity in “Measure for Measure” that require an incredible amount of effort. For instance, because there are only five AFTLS members, each is required to play three-to-four characters. Gerrard plays Duke Vincentio, Froth, Barnadine and a friar. “It’s really fun,” Gerrard said. “You have your major roles- mine is the Duke. We discovered that 30 percent of the play is the Duke talking.”

Sometimes these characters overlap in a scene. The actors are, in effect, talking to themselves. And yet, the audience is entirely convinced there is more than one person on stage. This happy trick is played on the mind throughout the whole of “Measure for Measure.”

But the overlapping roles are not a handicap. In fact, it is a welcome reprieve and challenge. “I swap from the Duke to the friar and Froth,” Gerrard explained. This style of acting is difficult but satisfying: He gets to play more than one character. “But it’s the audience that makes it work,” Gerrard added. “The Duke and the friar are the same person, and you want the audience to know that.” When these characters overlap within a scene, the audience must imagine that they are, in fact, different people; otherwise, the scene falls flat.

Gerrard paused in his explanation to smile and wave cheerfully at someone over my shoulder. “It’s Peter,” he said. “Here he comes! You can interview both of us.”

Peter Bray is tall and broad-shouldered. His smooth, chiseled face, wiry hair and dark eyes are a striking combination. He also wears a polo, though his is dark grey. Like Gerrard, Bray’s eyes communicate an abiding, although more reserved, passion for theatre. I ask him the question I had posed to Gerrard: What is it like to play more than one character, especially when they overlap in a scene?

“It’s really exciting,” Bray said, animation in his deep voice. “There’s extreme demand. At the drop of a hat — literally — you have to have rapid access to a different character; you have to step into a mask.”

Before “Measure for Measure,” neither Bray nor Gerrard had assumed several characters within the same scene. Drama school prepared them to access the level of required ability, but it was never directly addressed. Both agreed that there is a level of mystery involved. They get to “let the audience in” on the secret. The audience feels as though they understand something about the characters and the actors themselves; that is what makes “Measure for Measure” so compelling.

“It’s an ongoing process,” Gerrard continued. He leaned forward, eager for me to understand. “We’re still getting better. You never really finish it, and nothing really prepares you.”

“It takes more than time,” Bray nodded. “It takes extreme attention and brain fuel.” After even an hour of practice, Bray said, the team is exhausted.

But what role is the audience play in a performance? Much more than you might assume; it goes beyond laughter and facial expressions. The third and final installment will be this Friday!