Discovering Beauty at Four in the Morning

This story is about a deer.

A few weeks ago, I woke up at 4 am (don't ask). I walked out of my apartment and heard a rustling noise.

My first instinct when faced with danger is always to freeze. I realize that this doesn't always bode well for me, because that means in face of danger, I'll be the first one to die. I will not survive the zombie apocalypse. Sigh. Someone always has to take one for the team.

At any rate, I descended down the stairs, and before my foot hit the parking lot pavement, a deer stepped out of the shadows.

She was beautiful.

I watched her, taken in by her deep, fathomless eyes. She stared at me before she turned to the uncertain path ahead of her. Her hoofs clicked musically against the pavement as she galloped across the parking lot to reach the haven of forest in the corner of the apartment complex.

I remained there, for a moment, no longer caring that it was 4 in the morning, but thankful that I was able to encounter that stolen moment of beauty. I pondered on how she got lost and if she will be able to make it back safely. I hoped she will. But I will remember her and the beauty she offered me this morning.

I hope that I have that kind of beauty to offer the world.

And I pray that all of you encounter beautiful moments this week--even at 4 in the morning.

Rearrangement

In a slight manic episode, I rearranged my apartment.

The last time I had rearranged my apartment, I threw out my back in my foolish attempt to move my furniture on my own.

Ok, I'll admit, some things didn't change. I still moved the furniture on my own, but at least I didn't throw out my back. (But if you ask the worship team, I was very sore on Sunday morning. Blarg.)

I don't know why, but this particular change had opened my heart. I moved the couches around, made the TV less of the focus of the room, and moved my music out from the boxes and placed them on what was once my entertainment center. (Yes, I kept the TV--it's just on a less prominent place in the living room. And yes, I still am looking for a piano). I collected all my books from the numerous random piles throughout my apartment and placed them on the bookshelf where they belonged. And all that I have written is within reach.

It was freedom. And for the first time in a long time since I moved out on my own, it felt like it was my home and not just a place where I slept.

My life was no longer hidden in corners of my apartment; it was out in the open.

If my home is a metaphor of my heart, I feel like this sudden, and albeit manic, rearrangement of my apartment may be a step in the right direction in revealing who I really am.

Long Drives in the Car and Singing Loudly

One of my favorite memories is the road trip to LA and San Diego that I had taken the spring break of my junior year with my housemates, Heather and Larissa. We had taken my car and drove 21 hours to LA, picked up Larissa's sister, Megan, and then headed over to San Diego.

And of course, there was singing. Loud singing. On-top-of-your-lungs-don't-care-who-is-watching-singing. I am certain we looked odd and a tad bit crazy, but we also looked like we were having a lot of fun.

I miss moments like that.

I have lot of fear and trepidation when I sing. It's not within the comfort zone--or as some people put it--my sweet spot--to sing. As I've mentioned many times before, I find freedom and joy in playing piano. Since I can't carry a piano with me everywhere I go (no, the dinky keyboard I take with me for rehearsals does not count!), singing often becomes the next best thing.

I enjoy singing. I enjoy singing and not caring if anyone hears, not caring if it sounds great, not caring what people think. I enjoy singing when it is about heart and freedom and joy.

Which is probably why you'll only find me singing with such great abandon when I'm taking a long drive in the car.

It's too bad that I can't afford the gas to fuel my car for such carefree frivolity.

Planner

We must be willing to be rid of the life we had planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.

--Joseph Campbell

In high school, what kept me sane with my ever busy schedule (yes, some things never change) was my planner.

It kept everything--my schedule, notes, driving directions, photos, Post-its, Band-aids. My entire life seemed to be contained in that little day-time planner.

When I left high school, I stopped keeping time in a planner and trusted my memory to help me with my still ever busy schedule. As of late, I find that my memory is unable to hold of my daily itinerary. When I started to forget things, (and not just because I'm stressed) I broke down and bought a planner.

Although I understand that we have better, faster, sleeker tools to keep track of our time and to-do lists, I find it easier to have a planner that isn't on a computer. There is something about writing it down that helps me remember.

Now, I find myself in a similar dilemma that I had in high school: my life is again driven by action items and planned schedules. The lists keep getting longer and the time keep slipping away faster. Suddenly, it seems like the sum of my life is contained in these pages.

And I didn't plan on that.

Walking Aimlessly and Venturing into the Unknown

I love taking walks. But to be specific, I love wandering aimlessly.

I'm not much of an adventurer. I'm not one to explore. And I am not definitely not one characterized by taking risks into the unknown; at least without some type of plan.

Which bring me to my church's Women's Retreat I attended this weekend. We were at Camp Seymour (oh, 6th grade camp memories!) this year and we had about 3 hours of free time on Saturday. I opted to take a walk. Not a hike. No plan. Just aimless wandering.

I convinced two of my friends (thanks, Erin and Jessica!) to come along with me. We wandered along a trail, enjoyed the beauty of the deep colors of the Glen Cove, and discovered the Pioneer Bowl (I really need to find those camp pictures. Go Lake Youngs Grizzlies!). However, by the time we stumbled onto the now forever known as "Hobo Hut," my tolerance level for aimless wandering came to an end. In typical Abby fashion, I wanted to double back. Erin and Jessica were convinced we were close to the end of the trail and we would be back to camp soon if we just kept going. Better heads prevailed and we forged on, hoping our skills in logic and deduction rather than our rusty orienteering and would get us back home.

Eventually, we found our way. We joked about not bringing a compass or a map and laughed at our decision making skills:

Me: Hmm...the trail splits. What do you think?

Erin: [pointing to a trail] That looks good. [pause.]

Jessica: What trail marker were we following?

Me: I think it was red. [All of us look around. No red trail marker to be found.] We've got blue and white.

Jessica: Blue?

Erin: Blue. [both look at me.]

Me: Sure. Blue it is.

It's a wonder how we got back to camp. However, within that 40 minute walk, I realized a few things about myself. I'm not an advocate for wandering through life aimlessly. We should be engaged in life. We should have purpose in the way we choose to live our lives. We can't wander aimlessly forever.

I am fearful of wandering from my routine-driven life. I'm afraid I will be lost in my adventure; that I will not find my way back home. I would opt to retreat and go back the way I came rather than keep going forward and find a way out. As much as I would like to take a risk, I often don't.

What beautiful discoveries would I have missed if I didn't wander from my routine-driven life? Is there such a thing as living life a little too safe?

I will not walk about my life aimlessly, but risking a walk into the unknown every once in awhile may be worth the adventure.

I Wanna Put On My Boogie Shoes

My blogs have been full of deep thoughts as of late, so I decided to offer a lighter note.

It took me over a year, but for the little girl in me who adored the movie The Wizard of Oz in her formative years, I went outside of my typical conservative box...

...and finally bought a pair of red shoes.

I am not used to being silly over something like a pair of shoes, but sometimes you have to embrace the silliness. Thank you, once again, for indulging my inner child.

Blog title from "Boogie Shoes," KC & The Sunshine Band.

Loving Fall

Apparently, I am still stuck in a school schedule.

I love Fall. Yes, I understand that it is not technically Fall for another couple weeks...but I don't care. I love it.

I love the leaves that turn color, the smell of a cooler air, the excitement of new beginnings. I love wearing sweaters, buying new school supplies (yes, I still buy them) and replacing my flip flops for boots. I love Fall.

Summers are traditionally hard for me. I am out of steam by July, and August is just torture. But when August 31st turns to September 1st, I am energized. I am ready to take on new adventures.

This Fall is no exception. I am excited for the new doors opening for me, and the opportunities that I am exploring. I am not sure what will come out of the life that is laid out before me, but this uncertainty doesn't scare me--just because it's Fall.

I have not set any goals yet this Labor Day weekend, but I hope that during my trip to Washington, DC, I will be inspired to make some goals. And maybe this time I will also have a plan to achieve them.

And that life is laid out before us is filled with the glorious and the challenging.

--Hal Sparks, "Thoughts on Summer."

Then the time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

--Anais Nin

Thoughts on Thinking

Who knows where thoughts come from--they just appear.
--Lucas, "Empire Records"

This week, I'm supposed to take some time and think.

Yes, I think a lot about a lot of things. And it's not always at different times. At any given moment, I'm thinking about many things at the same time.

But quite honestly, most of my thinking is sporadic at best and unfocused. I think about something, mull over how difficult it seems, and then move on to the next thing that pops into my head. My mind is constantly on, but I don't do a whole lot with the thoughts that appear. I've got too much to do to spend the time to think something through.

I react more than I respond.

Like I said, this week, I'm supposed to take some time to think...and not worry. To meditate and not troubleshoot. To listen and not react. To focus and not be distracted.

This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

Random Distraction

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.
--Douglas Adams

Suddenly, I've found myself very busy, drinking too much coffee, and looking forward to my vacation. (How many days until the first week of August?)

It's been ten years since I've graduated high school, and I haven't stopped looking forward to summer vacation. Go figure.

My radio silence doesn't have to do thinking too much. I literally woke up one morning and my entire month of June and July was booked. Sigh.

Since I'm prone to thrive on stress, having my time filled with things isn't unusual for me. But this time around, I have no idea what the end result of these efforts will be, which only frustrates me more. But apparently, we operate on what is unseen.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
--Paul, 2nd Corinthians 4:16-18

I just hope that what I do is toward something that matters.

I don't operate very well with the unknown. But since I can't change that, I must press on and hope that what I do is toward something that matters.

Thank God for LOST nights. You just might keep me sane.

Apparently, I like being distracted. But every now and then, a little random distraction can be a good thing.

Lies!

You're beautiful, and I am weakened by the force of your eyes. So shine bright, and separate the truth from the lies.
--Jars of Clay, "Show You Love"

Every once in awhile, if encountering something completely insane and non sequitur, I'll randomly scream: "Lies!"

Also, I've adopted the word "lame" (from the "boys are lame" incident in the van during the Worship Conference last year...ask Traci or Mary Fredricks).

I suppose there are lies we've come to accept as truth. It doesn't matter when we started believing we are less than we are; we often make one little lie into the mantra that somehow became the master of our lives.

Lies: aka, Sneaky McSneakerson.

Ok...I'm done being silly. In the past few days, I've had a few conversations with people about lies disguised as truth. It doesn't have to be a huge lie; a lie is a lie. In my own experience, I've repeated certain lies so many times in my head that they've become my "truth." And I'm pretty confident I'm not alone in that struggle.

How does one overcome a lie? The answer seems relatively simple, but it's far from easy. How do you replace lies with truth when you're left to your own devices and that voice creeps up again, whispering, "are you really sure you believe that?"

Lies!

I may not be the only one who fights with believing a lie and trying to replace it with truth. But I can't help but imagine how wonderful life would be if we lived in the truth instead of being mastered by a lie.

Veritas vos liberabit.

Blinking Cursors, the Longshot, and the Random Ending

I don't know if it's because I'm out of practice, or because of this dry spell that has had me in a funk for the entire month of April, but I haven't written much on this blog lately.

Right now, the blinking cursor on my computer screen is mocking me and my supposed writer's block. It's been an hour since I pulled up my blog and all I've accomplished is finishing this blueberry scone and my cup of coffee. (Mmm...I might need another cup before I head to church...oh, The Coffee Shop).

Today's offering is about the underdog.

I don't follow horse races, but three people have brought up horse races in the past few days, so I figured something major was going on.

Apparently, the Kentucky Derby was on Saturday.

What I knew before today (Sunday) was that the heavy favorite had to bow out of the race. No real predictable reason, I suppose, but a huge disappointment, especially those who had already placed their bets.

This morning, I found out that the actual winner of that race was the complete underdog. And it wasn't a photo finish; the winner won by several horse lengths. Mine That Bird (who comes up with these names?) was a 50-1 longshot and surprised and delighted those who actually watched the race.

I suppose everyone loves an underdog story. They inspire and excite us, and help us believe that anything truly can happen. But this particular story amused me for reasons I can't quite explain (hence, this cursed writer's block).

Sometimes the ones that we don't pay much attention to are the ones that win in the end. And often I find that it's the random surprises that I delight in the most.

Things I Find in My Car

In my old car, I would find the craziest things.

Most of the time, it would things I had long forgotten: books, papers, files, an extra pair of socks. And for some reason, I had this reputation of finding pairs of shoes in my car.

Yes, my old car was a mobile shoe closet.

Friday, I wished that I still had a mobile shoe closet. My shoe broke and I had to fasten the broken buckle with a paper clip. The picture can be found on Facebook. Sigh.

At any rate, the point of this very random blog is that in my current car, every time I open the car door, I am met with a wall of a sweet scent. I don't own a car freshener, and I am not used to my car smelling like anything other than coffee. (Sigh. Some things don't change.)

I thought nothing of it until today. The scent was overwhelming. It was sweet, and very fruity. I don't opt for fruity smells...but the basis for that crazy opinion shall be saved for another blog. I couldn't find anything until I uncovered a gift bag. In it was a cherry-scented candle that my co-workers had bought for me for my birthday. And due to the hot weather lately, the wax had partially melted, unearthing the sweet smell.

It's not a pair of shoes, but it nearly tops the list of the random things I find in my car.

Voyeuristic, Much?

Yes, I still watch people. I must admit, however, it is not as fun as it used to be. At Starbucks, we used to watch people as they walked by our store, and we would guess what kind of coffee drink they would order based on how they looked, interacted with people, etc...

I was always wrong. So much for Sociology Abby.

Last Friday, I was stuck in traffic. Because there was nothing much to do other than singing along with the radio, I started people watching. However, there was a couple in the car behind me that caught my eye. I watched them through my rear view mirror, hoping to pass as someone who was a stickler for road rules.

Both of them were wearing sunglasses, which makes it harder for me to read their behavior. The man was driving, apparently on the receiving end of the heated discussion. The woman was emphatically gesturing, her hands flailing, her mouth distorting her face as it spat out each single word. I couldn't tell what the fight was about, and the only words I could recognize were the ones I can't repeat. She was angry and she wanted him (and everyone else) to know it. And he, sat and listened, his deadpan face revealing nothing that he was thinking.

I started to feel bad for the man. He seemed to have done this all before, having perfected the blank stare as his wife was tearing him a new one.

And then he spoke. His face turned ugly as an equally foul speech left lips. (People are uglier when they are angry) The woman was silenced, and if it weren't for the sunglasses, she might have blinked in disbelief.

I don't know what the man had said, but it was enough to break her. She started rubbing at her face, lifting her sunglasses slightly to wipe away her tears. She did this repeating motion of rubbing the skin under her eyes for a few minutes (right around block six of following me) before she finally raised her sunglasses atop her head to gain full access to her crying eyes.

And the man, stoic as ever, did not reveal his reaction to his weeping wife.

Now I felt bad for the woman. She seemed to have done all of this before, this wiping away of her tears as a way to comfort herself because no one else would help her.

Sure, I don't know what happened between them. They may not even be married. After eleven blocks of tailing me, they took a right and our brief story together ended. It was now left entirely up to my imagination.

I suddenly felt guilty for spying on this couple, so I said a quick prayer for them. I know I will never truly make it as a true voyeur, but I'm ok with that. Sometimes what I imagine is bad enough.

Dear Random People in my rear view mirror:

I'm sorry I spied on you. I hope everything is all right. It'll get better soon.

Sincerely,
Abby, Retired Voyeur

And to think that I was going to observe people for a living.

Partly Cloudy, Partly Sunny

When times are good, be happy, but when times are bad, consider: God has made one as well as the other.
--Solomon, Ecclesiastes 7:14

Today has been full of contrasts.

This morning, on my way to the Coffee Shop, I was distracted by the blue sky and sun streaking through the dark clouds as the rain poured itself onto the earth. I love the rain, but I also love the sun. And this morning was a perfect mixture.

But the best surprise was across from the Coffee Shop; a perfect rainbow arc. The rainbow was beautiful, even though the end of the rainbow was the Bartell Drugstore--which is nothing like a pot of gold. When I got out of the car, sans slipping, I was even more delighted to see that it was a double rainbow.

I love the way you love me, Lord.

I was talking with one of the baristas at the Coffee Shop about the rainbow. I asked him if I thought it was going to rain or shine. Drawing conclusions from the dark clouds covering the rainbow I had seen a few moments earlier, he opted for rain and darkness. Jokingly, I rolled my eyes.

Me: You forgot your lines, Coffee Boy. Do you want to try that again?
Coffee Boy: [laughing.] You can always count on my optimism.
Me: Yes. That's exactly why I come here. "It's going to rain. It's going to be dark. You're going to spill your coffee on yourself. You're going to slip and fall off the stage." Optimism at it's best. Don't let anyone tell you that you're a realist. It's all lies.

[Coffee Boy continues laughing at me.]

Me: Well, at least I make you laugh.
Coffee Boy: Yes, I am in a better mood now. I can count on you for that. Even if it is at your expense.
Me: That's why you guys pay me the big bucks. When someone thinks you're bad moody, they call me to come in and do something stupid just so you could feel better.
Coffee Boy: [still laughing.] That's how we work around here.
Me: Well, I don't care if it rains. I like both the rain and the sun.
Coffee Boy: It's a good thing that in Washington you often get both at the same time.
Me: And it's the only time you'll get a rainbow.

We can't be afraid of the bad or hope to only prolong the good. We need the bad to fully know what is good, and we need the good to help us get through the bad. Whether things are good or bad, dark or light, rain or shine, hope or struggle, valley or mountain top, desert or promised land, we need both in order to see how things truly are.

And maybe only then can we be not afraid of our circumstances, our plans, our futures. Maybe only then can we not focus on a life that is perfect and without pain. Maybe only then can we live life that is fully engaged and abundant.

All right, I'll stop. Metaphor, you have been milked.

I don't know why the rainbow meant so much to me today, but I needed it. Recently, my life has been full of competing contrasts, that I got lost in the chaos of it all.

I needed to know that I can keep going and hold onto hope. I needed to remember what God has promised me. I needed to believe that God's plan isn't to leave me in the desert. I needed to be reminded that everything is going to be all right.

I needed to see that in midst of everything going on right now, I still belong to God and that He has not forgotten me.

I love the way you love me, Lord.

And So It Goes

There are times when I wonder if God watches me, laughs and says, "Abby fell down again?!? Geez, I love that girl..."

It's these experiences when I have no control over my body that give me a humbling perspective.

Of course, here's a list of such experiences since I had joked about tripping over nothing in my last post.

1. Tripped up the stairs on my way to the third floor on Monday morning. I thought I had slipped on something, but...it was nothing.
2. On Tuesday night, I stub my toe at the foot of my bed and I literally fall into bed. Too bad I still couldn't sleep.
3. Dropped my curling iron this morning. I tried to save it by grabbing the cord, but it started swinging. I was not able to avoid it, but the hot iron collided with my arm, and I burnt myself anyway. As a result, I dropped the curling iron anyway. Sidenote: This is what happens when I try to put effort in looking pretty...and now, I have a burnt arm and the curls have morphed into one mondo curl. Sigh. It's Farrah Fawcett hair once again.
4. On my way down the stairs at my apartment, I realize that I had forgotten something. I trip on my way up. I am grateful that it was over the stair. I had feared that my pants would get caught in the heel of my shoe and I would go tumbling down the stairs.
5. On my second trip down the stairs at my apartment, my heel gets caught in my left pant leg and I almost go tumbling down the stairs.
6. As I get out of the car this morning, my foot slips and I nearly fall out of my car. Thank God no one was watching.

Sigh. My chiropractor probably wonders why my back is messed up.

I wonder how I manage to survive the day!

Awkward

My sister uncovered our elementary school year book (Yeah! Lake Youngs Grizzlies!) on Monday night.

Last night was the first time I went through the pictures.

Scary, scary stuff.

But at least we were all awkward at the same time. It almost makes up for the bad hair.

Some things were meant to stay hidden.

Improvement

Wahoo! Dance of joy!

I made it through 4 whole hours of uninterrupted sleep!

Sure, it's only 4 hours, but I'd take that over 30 minute intervals.

It isn't much, but at least it's an improvement. And apparently, I'll do the dance of joy for pretty much anything now.

Next goal: 4 hours and 30 minutes. Gotta work with what you got.

Risking Foolishness

I don't like taking risks and I don't like appearing foolish.

I am sure that no one does, but as of late, I have developed a healthy respect for those who risk foolishness anyway. They do what they love, they act without reservation, and they don't let what others think of them affect who they are or what they do or what they say.

I am quite reserved but I know I am so much more than what I allow others to see.

If any of you risk foolishness on a daily basis, you are my hero. I wish I could become more like you.

Shy

Random question on repeat in my mind: Why is it that in a group of people I am completely shy, but put me in a room with one person I am completely engaged?

I never realized how shy I truly am.

I am even more amazed how people don't think I am shy.

And I don't know when I equated being shy as being a bad thing.

My college degree is in observing groups of people and I still wonder why it is so hard for me to function in one.

Exhuasted

I finally got some sleep last night.

It is a wonder to me how I could have 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep and wake up groggy and dead to the world. Around 10 PM last night, I lay awake in bed, wishing that I could fall alseep. My mind and body had been so exhausted that at one point (obviously I don't remember when) it just gave up and rested.

Nothing like sleep born from complete exhaustion.

Yesterday was bad, I will admit. By the time work was over, my mind was already threatening to split in half. So when I finally went home, I was pretty certain had gone crazy.

I don't remember falling asleep. However, when my alarm went off this morning, the first thought in my mind (still in once piece) was, "What is going on right now?"

This question, unanswered, was quickly followed by, "What day is it?" and "What am I supposed to be doing now?"

I think it's sad that my body has not only become so unaccustomed to sleeping, but has no idea what to do when it finally awakes.