Agreeing with Van Gogh

"...the sight of the stars makes me dream." - Vincent Van Gogh

  

I looked at stars tonight, and it was one of the most quintessential things I've done all summer.  After a day of mismatched and uncoordinated everything, this is what ended the day, and made the most sense.  Star gazing is wonderful.  Very good medicine for the soul. 

What didn't make sense today...or at least wasn't normal?  Waking up and eating 3 Mr. Freezies for breakfast. Drying my hair with the air conditioner on the way to a meeting.  (I was late because I got lost.  This is normal.)  It continues from there with a mix of necessary, yet unexpected and unplanned things.  Sleeping at weird times in the day.  Talking about ceiling fans with strangers?  Just weird stuff. 

Deep July

Stream of consciousness. 

And. Begin.

I drove home from NE Minneapolis tonight and I wondered about God.  Words like mystery and provision and humanity were rattling around in me and I didn't know where to put them.  It reminded me that in some moments this year, God has been so real that I feel He is undeniably in my words and heartbeats.  Other times I've been worn and weary and the path in front of me has felt confused and unclear.  But I know that God doesn't change.  And I'm not asking fundamental questions about Jesus.  Sometimes there is a time to dwell in the big picture thoughts.  But not tonight.

I believe deep down somewhere that I am always being molded into something to express the creativity and faithfulness and character of God.  But the confession is that it doesn't feel like that lately.  At all. 

A Decent Little Cottage

Two reminders for me, a breath of fresh air, and late night peace. 

1.  This quote...

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense.

Frailty, Fortitude, and Hope

"I asked God for strength, that I might achieve.

I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health, that I might do greater things.

I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.

I asked for riches, that I might be happy.

I was given poverty, that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.

I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life.

I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing that I asked for—but got everything I had hoped for.

Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.

I am, among all people, most richly blessed."   

When I first read this poem, I was led to a lot of gratitude.  And I remember that certain mysteries about how the world works felt revealed.  The sort of thinking mentioned so eloquently by this unknown Confederate soldier is all about a pace for life.  A stance or direction toward something, or at least what you lean into as you grow.  I was just now thinking of things that are ironic and other things that are still mysterious and unknown about life.  And then this poem came back. 

Archives, Old and New

Back in the 90s, kids didn't dress like miniature adults (unlike kids today and colonial times in early American history). During my childhood, kids wore oversized shirts, stirrup pants, and neon socks with jelly shoes and thought nothing of it. I remember this because I see 5 year olds today who look really put together, and I really don't recall have any of that fashion at such a young age. And it's lots of 5 year olds, not just one or two. Friends who happen to teach elementary school have confirmed this as well.


Back in the 90s on colder days, there were full windbreaker pantsuits involved. And yes, those were neon and patterned too. Everyone who grew up in the 90s knows this style. And they probably have pictures in their archives that prove that what I am referring to is true of their childhood in some way as well.

Sometimes though when I talk to my friends about earlier years, and we discuss the reality that we felt dorky, I know that they have no idea how blatantly and tangibly the dork factor was represented in me. People who were on the edge of being dorky could sense the fashion or go along with a trend, at least a little, even if it was skewed or misread. (Example: rolling your socks in a way that seemed right, but, upon leaving the locker room and entering the gym before class, clearly wasn't.)

I believe I really just had no clue.

Adventure(land)!

  

Last week I went to Adventureland with Abby and David and Paul.

We slowed down to a full stop for this picture, and couldn't quit thinking about Clark Griswold and his family at Wally World.

What is Adventureland? If you had any sort of middle class upbringing in Iowa, I'm sure you know the answer to this question already. Adventureland is a theme park in Des Moines that feels like Valleyfair, but can actually be a place you go to where you don't feel nauseous before noon. It's got an older look to it, and clearly it's not as trendy as Valleyfair, but I loved it more.


I'm not sure though if it's because Valleyfair is such a hot spot for 8th graders everywhere this time of year and I'm taking a hiatus from 8th graders for a while (aka summer...the hiatus ends in September). Or if it's because I had an experience as an 8th grader myself that included getting into a dramatic 8th grade fight at the end of the day. Do NOT leave your friends for a fun-filled day at Valleyfair with your crush. If you're intending to have a sleepover at the end of the class trip, they will not be happy with you. Lesson learned, right away.

Say Thank You and Grow

I'm learning a lot of things lately. 

Not about teaching.   And not about history.

This takes up so, so much of my life throughout the year.  But now I'm studying the world without the teacher lens and it's been refreshing and interesting.  This summer I can see again that the nice part of growing up is figuring things out faster and landing somewhere solid more often because you know yourself differently.  I am liking (no, loving) the time to figure things out in different ways.

I do not claim to be living in a constant self-discovery right now (really I do not), but something is coming back to me, over and over again, and I can feel it.  Some sort of patience I had not previously had before this summer has come to me, and it makes me think about all of the thousands of movies and books I've encountered and conversations I've had with my own people who have told me that this happens.  So I see something new in patience, in my family, in how I deal with my money, in how I approach knowledge and understanding, in cooking, how I spend my time, in books, in people.... 

In the end, these are what make up your days and your life.