In my inbox.

Amen.

Really thought-provoking and surprisingly comforting for me, this thought.

.secret things belong to the lord.

"He is leading you, step by step,

through your life.

Hold His hand in trusting dependence,

letting Him guide you through this day.

Your future looks uncertain and feels flimsy—

even precarious.

That is how it should be.

Secret things belong to the Lord,

and future things are secret things."

(just what my heart needed today, ash,

thank you. i love you.)

.Until they rest in Thee: A how-to. (Unfortunately only on how to paint the quote; I find living it out significantly more difficult.)

"You have made us for yourself,

O Lord,

and our hearts are restless

until they rest in you."

-st. augustine

i've been wanting some simple and truthful words

on the walls by my bed.

i played around with inexpensive ideas on how to do so...

letters cut out of fabric?

large script, framed?

loving the looks of natural wood signs

like this and this...

and empowered by a how-to...

on wood it was.

step one:

pick quote.

st. augustine's quote on resting in God

has been in my head and heart lately.

i need it in my head and heart more...

reminding me.

step two:

pick font you love.

(i can't believe i'm saying this because it's sooo hipster and in right now but:

i've been getting really into 'typography'.

a combo of falling in love with this artist,

being friends with the krolls, mayr, and my bud isaiah,

and researching what i want in a tattoo...)

i tried out a few and settled on:

'living together.

beautiful,

scrawled handwriting-y, but still readable,

downloaded free.

step three:

find wood.

i love and am so grateful for these pieces,

they're solid mahogany and i think they're gorgeous...

and most of all i love the fact that aaron and irene gave them to me for free!

they were hand-me-downs from a long-ago deck project

and have been sitting in their garage for like eight years.

thanks guys!!!

step four:

print really big.

i used 250-pt.

step five:

spread out words as desired.

tape in place.

(it probably would be a good idea to measure

and i'm sure some people would draw lines and stuff to make sure the words come out properly spaced

and running straight...

buuuut, i mostly eyeballed it.)

step six:

trace letters heavily with a ball-point pen.

it will leave a light indent on the wood.

step seven:

fill in with paint of choice.

i kept a small lamp on the floor as i worked so i could see the indents clearer.

my initial plan was to use paint and a brush,

but for the sake of ease, i used a sharpie.

it worked great and i think was probably much easier to do details with.

step eight:

continue with steps six and seven

for the better part of a week and a half, if you're me.

(it's so relaxing!

every day i looked forward to coming home and sharpie-ing my quote...

is that weird?)

step nine:

apply wood glue liberally.

i brushed glue between the pieces i wanted together

and clamped them between the legs of my couch and my coffee table to dry,

then glued strips of cardboard and fabric to the back

and let everything dry overnight.

if you have a clamp, use it.

if not, use what you have!

like... harry potter, textbooks, and poetry.

step ten:

enjoy.

(a handy dad from church said he could help me figure out how to hang them up without pulling the plaster down. :-))

.He will show Himself.

"A girl who prays

is a girl standing

with her hands open to the world.

She knows that

God will show Himself

in the nature which surrounds her,

in the people she meets,

in the situations she runs into.

She trusts that the world holds God's secret within it."

-Nouwen,

Show Me The Way:

Readings for Each Day of Lent

Only in a patient waiting in expectation.

"It is very hard to tolerate the experience of God

as a purifying absence,

and to keep our hearts open so as to

patiently and reverently prepare His way.

We are tempted to grasp rapid solutions instead...

In our impatient culture,

it has indeed become extremely difficult to see

much salvation in waiting.

But still...

the God who saves is not made by human hands...

Only in a patient waiting in expectation

can we slowly break away from our illusions

and pray as the psalmist prayed:

'God, You are my God,

I am seeking You,

my soul is thirsting for You.'"

-Nouwen,

Show Me The Way:

Readings for Each Day of Lent

.lent.

Grateful for what Rez and being in an Anglican community

taught me about living in the liturgical seasons.

Missing that community this season,

and grateful to be walking out Lent

in the midst of this one.

"The Lenten season begins.

It is a time to be with You

in a special way,

a time to pray,

to fast,

and thus to follow You

on Your way to Jerusalem,

to Golgotha,

and to the final victory over death...

Help me become deaf to the voices of my own desires

and more attentive

to Your voice,

which calls me to choose the narrow road to life...

give me the strength and courage

to live this season faithfully.

Faithful God,

trusting in You,

we begin the 40 days of conversion and penance."

-Henri Nouwen,

from Show Me The Way: Daily Lenten Readings

.xoxoxo.

i love valentines day!

first of all:

a shout-out to my sweet beautiful wonderful friend claire,

my valentine since 2003.

when we took each other (well, our parents drove us) to see How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days in theaters to celebrate.

i miss you terribly. and sorry my valentine's package is getting there late.

(it involves chocolate!! that's all i'll say.)

my outfit today:

displaying some valentine's love for my favorites.

(don't miss my heart-shaped earrings!)

felt-heart barrette made for me by elli, age 10. love her.

last night was valentines-making and valentine's baking.

and of course celebrating today.

my cohort never misses a chance for extra fun.

happy day

from my heart-filled corner of the world to yours.

now go hug someone you love.

(and eat chocolate.)

weave our days together like waves/and particles of light.

emily freaks out about grad school,

part four...

part hopefully-everything.

from the Book of Common Prayer,

Collect 24:

"For Vocation in Daily Work".

"Almighty God,

our heavenly Father,

You declare Your glory

and show forth your handiwork

in the heavens and in the earth:

Deliver us in our various occupations

from the service of self alone,

that we may do the work You give us to do

in truth

and beauty

and for the common good;

for the sake of Him

who came among us as one who serves.

Your Son Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you

and the Holy Spirit,

one God, forever and ever.

Amen."

and we'll have time to know our neighbors all by name/and every star at night.

(emily freaks out about grad school,

parts one and two)

"The goal is to know God,

not to know more..."

-richard rohr

What do I want my life to look like?
Who do I want to be?

I am asking
and starting to answer.

I have always known
I wanted a home filled with
friends, children, flowers.
So I'm trying to make one.

And if I want a life characterized by
space, joy, relationships, prayer,
I am the one who needs to create it. Now.

The last few months have taught me:
I need to do grad school on my own terms,
because no one else
is going to create that life for me.

I want to be kind,
even as I work hard to be competent.

I want to sharpen myself off the intelligence and work of my classmates,
and I also want to know
their hearts
and their families
and their favorite place to be taken out on their birthdays.

I want to study to learn and understand,
not to be impressive.

I will pick practicum sites where I will get excellent training to steward my education:
and where I can speak Spanish and make children feel safe.

I will wear tights and try to cajole these crazy curls into a chignon:
and I will continue to smile warmly and laugh when people make jokes.

As long as prayer and discernment and the feedback of good friends continue to tell me it is a good decision,
I will be staying in this program.

But I am knitting, sewing, walking, baking, and community-ing my way through this program.

I will do my homework on the couch
while little girls draw on my kitchen chalkboard
and teenagers spread out their algebra on my living room floor.

I will spend my mornings in class, my afternoons in textbooks and my evenings laughing with friends.

My meals will be simple,
but they will be preceded by giving thanks
and they will be shared.

I will write papers and I will write love letters.

I will ask Him to make His words root themselves deep in me.

On the weekends I may work on research projects,
but I for sure will worship with the church I love,
take long runs through the vineyards,
sew and pray alone in my light-filled space,
and get enough sleep.

Every year I will ask myself again
if this degree will help me
to love Him
and love others.

Because growing in those two areas
is the only reason I should be here.

like little thieves, we rub our hands/we hold our hearts between them.

(emily freaks out about grad school, part one can be found here)

"The goal is to know God,

not to know more..."

-richard rohr

...At the beginning of January, a few hours before leaving to go curl up by the sea for a few days, I stopped by school for a quick meeting with our program's clinical training director. That conversation turned out to be pivotal. He asked me where I was thinking about applying for practicum next year, and, to my surprise, he suggested I apply for a placement I hadn't even considered. One I'd heard about but quickly dismissed as way too "hard-core" for me.

If I got it, I'd be working with kids, giving them assessments for various learning disabilities. I'd be at a university, in the city, getting excellent training from some of the most skilled and well-known psychologists in Oregon. And (he pointed out with a knowing look) the name of the placement would really open doors in a few years when it came time to apply to internship sites.

I thanked him for the suggestion. I was flattered he thought I should apply, and I was interested. It made sense, right? Think how many options I would have later if I was at a top site now. I'd be working with kids, technically, and that was what I wanted, right? It would be intense... I would definitely learn a ton... I'd grow as a clinician!

I left for my retreat thinking I'd probably apply for it. Why not?

And then I spent three and a half days with God.
I had even more time than I'd had all break to notice just how weary I was. No matter how long I slept, it felt not long enough. When I sat and tried to read, my mind raced, and when I tried to write down my prayers I felt too anxious to follow a thought.
I prayed through a list of spiritual disciplines, wanting to pick a few to concentrate on in 2013. The ones that consistently jumped out at me had a theme: Simplicity. Slowing. Rule for Life.

I pictured spending the next few months writing and re-writing a cover letter. Skipping spring break so I could be available for interviews. Buying a new pair of pumps and trying to convince people who don't know me how professional and together I am.

And if I did get it? I'd be working with kids... who I'd meet once and have to remain blank-faced for. I imagined a year of trying to prove myself in an ultra-competitive environment. Of getting home late every day, exhausted from over an hour commute. Of even more pressure, more "professional development". More feeling like I have to hide my personality to succeed in a field I chose to enter because I felt formed and gifted for it.

And then, unexpectedly, a different picture kept coming into my mind more and more.

A favorite professor, one who knows me well and hugs me when she sees me in the hallways and invited me to a Christmas party at her house, had told me a year ago that she'd take me at her site if I needed a placement this year.
She'd said it almost apologetically: it's in the rural schools, not like a fancy university site.
And she wants me to get whatever I think is the best training for me, so I shouldn't feel obligated.
But she would love to have me. And it's such a special site (her voice got all earnest and excited), working with, for, these kids.

It's right here in the county where I make my home.

I'd be working at an elementary school, my favorite age-
but instead of being blank-faced, the focus could be on building relationships
in the "feelings groups" and therapy-through-play we'd be doing together.

I would still need to be professional and on top of things-
with the shared goal with the other staff of getting the best care available
to kids whose parents are farmers, migrant workers, don't speak English at home,
have never seen a psychologist before.

I'd still be getting careful supervision-
from someone who's known me since my first week here and who gets what I'm about.

Instead of spending all semester with my stomach in knots, hoping for a chance to be on the bottom of the totem pole,
I could have everything decided next week. I could spend the next months putting my heart into preparing and planning.

Instead of spending over two hours of my days in city traffic,
I'd be driving just a few miles past farms and fields and mountains.


And this is the part that makes me cry, and that is a whole other topic on its own:
it's a direct answer to another conversation God and I had been having.
About how I could get to know the needs of the people in my little corner of the world.
How I could better know and love those who are marginalized right here,
where I walk and work and play out my days.
It hadn't even occurred to me to pray that that might happen through school.


I got home from the sea, and I scheduled another meeting with the clinical training director.

And I told him thank you so much for this opportunity, but I think what makes the most sense for me right now is to work in the school district. If they'll take me.

He stared at me.
And as I explained my reasoning (I didn't even try to be cool or professional or what not and leave out prayer), he slowly nodded. He assured me my training would be excellent, saying (still blinking in surprise) that maybe the name recognition wouldn't be the same but my experience would certainly be built working with those kids, under this fantastic professor who has such a heart for them. In fact, he said, it sounded like it might... actually... be a really great fit for me.

And then I met with that professor and told her I wanted to do it. After convincing her I was serious, which took some doing, she started to spill over with plans. For groups, for assessments, for me being able to interpret directly for the Mexican parents...

Last week it was confirmed.
I will be a practicum counselor right here in the rural schools, starting Fall 2013...

(...to be continued...)

(part three)

i want only this/i want to live, i want to live a simple life.

(This is a story of recent events that, when all written-out, was way too long for one blog post.

Enjoy part one...)

"The goal is to know God,

not to know more..."

-richard rohr

Once upon a time there was a girl.
In college she majored in coffee dates.

Not really, she majored in psychology. But she spent significantly more time on coffee dates than studying, which is relevant to the rest of this story.

The girl loved lots of things. Like knitting, and hugging, and going for walks. She loved runs on the prairie path and speaking Spanish and eating out with friends. She loved snail-mail, and journaling, and books by Henri Nouwen, and inviting people over for game nights. She loved days with nowhere to be and lots of people to talk to.

So naturally, she did exactly what you'd expect from someone whose entire worldview screams COZY AND RELATIONAL...

She decided to move across the country and enter a freakin' doctoral program.

Surprise! The girl is me. You totally didn't see that coming, did you?

I love a lot of things about grad school. But there are also a lot of things I don't love about it. I tried to write to explain those things three separate times and it kept coming out in a long stream of stressed out consciousness... but basically, to summarize:

The world of academia is intense. And whether you think it's a good world or a bad world, it is not a world for which I am a natural fit.

Graduate school has its difficulties which can be expected: long hours, steep learning curves, needing to stretch oneself in mind and abilities.

But the unique stresses of competition and professionalism, the unkindness that can come with people running on little sleep and fear of failure, and the arrogance that can be bred among a "community" of academics... has not been like anything I've experienced before.

And I've spent a lot of time wondering if I'm in the right place and pursuing the right career.

Last semester contained more stress than I've been under in recent memory. There were tears, and sleeplessness, and a lot of doubts running through my head and heart. Christmas break held a lot of hard prayers, hard conversations with people who know and love me well, and hard questions to ask myself.

Do I want to be here? Is this degree worth this pace and quality of life? Am I going to like myself when I'm done here?!

(...to be continued...)

(emily freaks out about grad school, parts two and three)

Gandalf thought of most things; and though he could not do everything, he could do a great deal for friends in a tight corner.

I drove to the airport at 4 am the other day.

I've been there enough I figured I wouldn't need my GPS to get home....

....What does one do upon finding one's self

completely lost

on the outskirts of Portland

in the dark at 4:30 in the morning?...

...

Call one's high school youth group leader.

Obviously.

...

Also known as,

"drive 1600 miles to pick you up from your first year of college",

"want to live in our house?",

"yes, I think you should apply for that crazy six-months-overseas program at your school even though it scares you",
"here, I made an Excel spreadsheet so we can do your budget with your first real job",

constant encourager,

continual pointer-outer of how God is at work,
even when I can't see Him.

...

Because obviously,

from 3,000 miles away,

Matt can figure out on google-maps

where I am

and where I need to turn around...

Which direction are you facing?

Go past these two streets...

okay.

Then once you go under this bridge

you're going to go .5 miles

and there's the exit you need.

Okay?

Okay.

Have a good day at work.

Have a good day at grad school.

...

Grateful.

Quiet.

.happy birthday dad.

thank you for

starting every voicemail with

"Hi... this is your Dad! I love you so much!"

(multiple times a week.

every. one.

starts with,

"I love you so much!".)

thank you for

talking about the Beatles so much

that i assumed our family friend John

was John Lennon

until I was like, six;
and that once you tried to understand how i feel during worship music at church
by comparing it to how you feel listening to Paul McCartney.

thank you for

thinking i am so much more

beautiful

smart

and funny

than i really am.

it's so great... please don't stop.

thank you that

every time someone says something nice about one of us,

instead of saying,

"Oh, thanks."

or

"Well, I'm glad she's polite for you",

you say

"I know! Isn't she wonderful??!!"

thank you for

your excellent one-liners

even in times of tension.

a particular recent favorite:

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be so upset!

I said 'go to therapy', not 'go to hell'!".

classic.

thank you for

always wanting to hear

what i'm learning in school

and being so so excited

i am going into psychology.

thank you for

going to the same restaurant

for lunch

every single day

and ordering the same thing

every single time

for years and years.

the servers love you.

the manager loves you.

and i love your steadiness and predictability.

i am slightly concerned that if they ever close,
you will starve to death.
but we can worry about that later.

thank you for

teaching us that you should always

tip at least 20%.

thank you for

printing and mailing out to all of our friends and family

a Christmas card which read

"Peace on Earth, Goodwill to All, and Don't Forget To Vote Democrat in 2012!!".
you're ridiculous.

and i love that you and mom taught us to be concerned for the needs of the voiceless.

on the Christmas front,
thank you for
making sure, should anyone be giving out prizes for most unique Christmas Eve,
we would have won this year.
with your careful selection of our cozy family movie to watch:
Lost in Translation
(wikipedia's explanation: "explores themes of loneliness, insomnia, existential ennui, and culture shock against the backdrop of a modern Japanese city.")
you're right,
White Christmas or A Miracle on 34th Street
would have just been cliche.

thank you for

this line in an email,

which i just found when i was looking for pictures

and made me crack up:

"Life should be a frolic, at least in spirit, if possible while meeting our responsibilities."

...duly noted.

thank you

that our best dates have always been and will always be

hanging out for hours in a bookstore.

thank you that
every time we see a family with little kids
you always say
"don't you remember that?
you were like that yesterday!".
still.

thank you for

being so, so thrilled with your present from me this year,

a trip for the two of us to take,

even though you, um, have to pay for it.

i feel so lame,

and yet you really are so thrilled.

it's pretty cute.

thank you that
you read Sherlock Holmes to me
as bedtime stories.

thank you for

the only good advice i've ever heard

for a miserable emotional 8th grader.

you sat with me at the kitchen table as i cried

in thirteen-year-old woe,

holding my hand and looking even sadder than i was,

saying over and over,

"I promise, this too shall pass."

i still try to remember it

on the (extremely rare) occasion i'm ever emotional now, too.

thank you for

your response to the email

i sent you and mom during my cognitive therapy class this fall,

which read only:

"acceptance and commitment therapy is so how you guys parented us".

you wrote back immediately,

"Yay! Thanks Em! We love you soooooo much!"

assuming i had clearly meant it as a high compliment.

('acceptance and commitment therapy'

is a technique defined by increased

"awareness of the here and now, experienced with openness, interest and receptiveness".)

number one,

we are the weirdest family i know;

number two, thank you.

thank you for

loving

the Beatles

Abraham Lincoln

the Beatles

Seinfeld

the Beatles

bike trips

the Beatles

Chipotle (which you pronounce Chi-pote-LAY even though your pre-teen and teen can.not.believe.you.ohmygossshhh)

the Beatles

nature

the Beatles

and us.

(i do know you love us more than the Beatles.

i respect their place as a strong second.)

happy birthday!!!

i love you sooooo much

and i am so glad you are mine.