Single and Okay With That

I am at the ripe age where people start thinking about marriage and families. In my early 20s (and not getting any younger), I should have a steady boyfriend who should be my husband someday soon. We should have already discussed how many kids we want and obviously we need names for them already. 

Guess what? I don't have that. 

In a world that promotes dating and marriage as a flippant thing, the church has taken a strong defense in the opposite, urging young people to find a spouse quickly and stick with them. I understand the thinking and reasoning behind it, but it also leaves people like myself wondering what we're doing wrong. 

Yes, I am single. No, I don't need your help finding a boy. 

The first thing people at church always asked was if I found a guy rather than how school was doing or how I was mentally or emotionally or spiritually. And I know their concern, but it's this constant questioning that led me through high school and college believing that there was something wrong with me. That my lack of a relationship meant I was failing in some way. 

And that's wrong. 

Because it perpetuates the idea that we find the purpose in life in a relationship, a family, a home with a steady income, and not in Jesus Christ. 

It's taken me a long time to understand this: in my freshman year, a young woman, married and pregnant, explained that she always thought marriage and a family would make her life complete, but it doesn't. Only Christ can do that. I rolled my eyes at the time. It's easy for her to say that, she already has it all. But I can tell you now, as a single woman with no dating prospects, I am beginning to understand what she meant. 

It's hard to wrap your head around it when the world, both secular and Christian, tout the wonders of dating and marriage. And even now, I still struggle with the idea that God's plan might have me single for the rest of my days, but I think I know now what I didn't know then. 

My relationship status doesn't define me. 

I am beginning to be okay with not having a guy. With not knowing if I will ever be married. Do I want it? Yes. But if I can't be okay with the idea of being single, who's to say I'll be okay when I'm in a relationship?

Life is a mess. For me, it seems even messier than usual. I struggle to find balance as I wade through vet bills and rent and student loans under minimum wage all while searching for that mysterious career job. If I had one more unknown in my life, I might just crack. 

One day, I want to have a husband and a family, but right now I'm okay being single. I haven't failed as a human being because I don't have a boyfriend. God is enough and I know He has amazing things in store for me. 

From whale spouts to eagles wings: exploring Oregon.

When my parents talked to me about a graduation trip, my mind immediately went to London. My three month study abroad there made me fall in love with England. I wanted to go back. I wanted to explore Scotland again and the tiny little towns that hold the character and beauty of the English countryside. I also considered going somewhere new. I've always wanted to see Venice or Rome. I want to see the giants causeway in Northern Ireland and the ancient ruins of Pompeii. Europe has so much to offer.

Due to cost and timing though, an overseas trip seemed unreachable with each passing moment. I started considered a closer to home trip. I had an inkling of an idea. I found a hotel on Pinterest that seemed worth a visit but who would go to Newport, Oregon? I mean, what does Oregon have to offer that England cannot top?

Nevertheless, I scouted out the terrain. Newport is a small coastal town that boasts a lighthouse and beach trails. The hotel that I found is really what drew me to this tiny town. Sylvia Beach Hotel is a book lovers dream. The three store building is settled on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Each room is dedicated to a specific author. From Shakespeare to Hemingway to Rowling, even Dr. Seuss for kids.

A little more research and we had a plan for a trip. We'd start on the coast, spending time at my hotel find, then see the redwoods in Northern California and end up in Portland for a few days. The plans were vague and we didn't book hotels in an effort to have a relaxed vacation, free to change our minds should we wish to.

And I'm so glad we ended up going to Oregon.

The land itself is beautiful. Lush green forest covers the hills and mountains. Pristine beaches stretch as far as you can see. Yes, it was cold, but I loved it. Oregon was untouched country. We saw eagles and elk and whales and sea lions and so much more.

And one of the best parts? Sylvia Beach Hotel.

Yes, it's in a small town and it's an old hotel. The floors creak and the rooms have the musty small you get in old libraries and your grandparents house. The atmosphere more than makes up for it though.

A typical day starts with having a cup of coffee or tea in the library overlooking the ocean. There could be five or six people there with you but everyone is quiet. Silence is understood there, not awkward. During the day you can mosey down the beach or drive up to the lighthouse. The day is yours to explore and there's no hurry to be anywhere. The hotel offers dinner in the evening, where you can chat with other guests as the sun sets on the beach. People are friendly, willing to talk or sit in silence. Then you can retire to your room or the library and read to your heart's content. It's a wonderful place. It gave me high hopes for the trip.

From there, we traveled south along the coast into California. It might have been my prejudice against California, but I felt a difference in the atmosphere almost immediately. Nevertheless, we continued to our intended destination, the famous redwoods. We booked a hotel with less than friendly staff and somewhat suspicious tenants and tried to focus on the beauty of nature around us. The trees that surround us were hundreds of years old and so grew in the oddest shapes. I loved exploring and getting lost in the trees (trying to ignore the slight fear of getting ticks and Lyme disease). We found a hidden beach and tried watching our Spurs win in the finals. I'm so glad I went, but I was already longing for the Oregon coast.

So after a few days, we traveled back up north, cutting through the heart of the State to end in Portland. Portland held one thing for me: Powell's bookstore. This independent bookstore was great. I could spend days in the multiple story, city block store and still feel incomplete. Books upon books upon books. New books and used books and rare books and everything in between. Every town needs a Powell's.

The rest of the trip was spent mostly outdoors. We explored the Lewis and Clark landmarks and took an excruciatingly slow train on the Hood River. We drove up Mt. Hood, watching the temperature drop the higher we climbed. Finally we ended our trip with a mile and a half hike up the wettest part of Oregon to the top of Multnomah Falls. It was sad to go back to 90 degree weather when I was just getting used to 60's and rainy.

The redwoods were amazing, Mt. Hood was spectacular, and Multnomah Falls was breathtaking, but if I ever end up in Oregon again, I know I'll be spending my time in a small beach town in a blue building with wonderful stories inside.

The Little Things

The 2013-2014 school year has not been my year.

I should preface that statement though. Nothing tragic has happened. There has been no major catastrophe that occurred and has left me alone or penniless. Instead, it's been the little things.

And little things add up fast.

It's not just dealing with people's foul moods occasionally as you struggle to help them as a part of your job, but the constant barrage of people thinking you aren't qualified to help, or simply don't want help. It's not just one homework assignment or one test, but finding yourself with three projects, seven assignments and two tests all in one week. It's not just graduation, but struggling to figure out what to do with your life afterwards, and wonder why you spent four years in college besides gaining an impressive amount of debt.

And it doesn't go away, it just escalates.

All this makes me very grateful for the people God has put in my life. Especially one who has been reminding me recently that it's not just the annoying little things that make up our life. Little victories can be found as well.

And little things add up fast.

My friend has Cerebral Palsy that, as she states, makes her a bit wobbly. Despite having this, she has the most amazing stories from growing up. If you want the best high school stories, just ask her. The one that really struck me was the day she learned to tie her shoes.

To the average person, tying our shoes is such a basic and unthoughtful event. For my friend, she had difficulty gripping things, so she never really learned how, just assumed she wouldn't be able to and found shoes that she didn't need to tie. Her best friend disagreed. He spent hours one day, helping her learn how, because he saw, as I see every day, her disability doesn't define her. And now, she knows how to tie her shoes. And tells everyone this story because it shows one thing:

Small things matter.

Because with the tiny things that add to your burden, there are small things that lighten it as well. Sometimes, we forget the victories and focus on the defeats. At least, I know I do. 

So, as I push through to graduation, I'm sticking close to those who remind me of the victories, not the defeats. David fought off the giant with a small stone, so too will I fight off my giants. 

One small victory at a time. 

Head in the Clouds, Feet in the Sand

I have never been a huge beach person. It's sweltering hot, there are people everywhere, and you'll find sand from one trip years down the road. The appeal just never hit me like it does most people. I much prefer the weather of England, rain and all, but the recent trip has left me pondering if I haven't found the right fit for a beach. Maybe I was wrong because the closest access to a beach is grainy hot sand and dirty water that is full of algae half the time.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

It started on Wednesday June 24th with my grandmother passing away in her sleep. She had been suffering from stage four Alzheimer's and, in a way, it was a relief to know that the struggle was finally over for her. My family had been preparing for this and the only things that really needed to be done was to get everyone to Florida for the funeral. It wasn't going to be a big affair, just my parents, siblings, aunt, uncle, two cousins and a cousin-in-law. There were ten of us in all. By Friday, we had our tickets purchased. By Monday, we were in the air.

It wasn't going to be a long trip so I tried to bask in the little moments. My family hasn't gotten to go on a vacation together in years. We each have responsibilities now and it was nice to just be a family again. My older brother and I tend to be a bit more mischievous around each other, though it's totally his fault. He breathes mischief and brings it out of me. I'm the victim here...anyways.

I also enjoy flying. I love the feeling you get when the plane is taking off. I love getting above the clouds and finding a whole new world in the valleys and mountains made of insubstantial matter. Part of me wishes there was some way I could stick my hand out as we go through clouds. My mind says it would just make me wet but my eyes see a world of possibilities. I love seeing my home in a different view, watching as cities and farms are mapped out on the land. Worries seem a bit farther away when you're 32,000 feet in the air from civilization.

Then we landed in Florida and the whirlwind of a "vacation" never stopped. The funeral was scheduled for Tuesday and our flight home was Wednesday. It wasn't enough time to do everything that could possibly be done. Disney World was out of the question (unfortunately. I will get there some day though!) so that left the beach and maybe some shopping. Our hotel was a five minute or less walk to the beach on Cocoa Beach, Florida. It was a pretty small town and much different than my Texas home. Everything smelled like fish and people weren't in much of a rush to get anywhere. The prices were significantly higher and all the buildings were made out of cinder block.

With our days booked, that left evenings and mornings free. I spent the two evenings we had on the beach and loved it. The day was cooler at that time the sand felt soft and cool to my feet and, thankfully, there weren't that many people on the beach itself. I never actually got in the water, but walking down the shoreline was more than enough. I never realized how much I could enjoy the beach. Going in the cool of the evening meant never getting sunburned, meant never having to squint against the glare of the sand and the water, meant never having to deal with throngs of chattering people cluttering up the air.

I enjoyed it so much, I woke up before six in the morning to see the sunrise on the water. I spent an hour watching the waves and letting the water hitting legs. In the distance, I could see pelicans diving in and out of the water for breakfast. I wish I could have stayed in the moment longer, but all too soon it was time to go home.

I Like Big Books and I Cannot Lie

So, it's been awhile since my last post. If it's any consolation, I've thought about writing...a lot. Then I get to this page and my mind goes blank. As summer is dwindling, I've decided to take up my keyboard again and write a post.

The subject of course is books. I cannot get enough of the written word. My summer, since I have been unemployed, has been spent diving into various worlds and adventures with my favorite characters. By the time I return to school, I will have read at least nineteen books of various length.

Most people think I'm crazy that way, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

When I was a kid, I remember being asked if would I rather be blind or deaf. It was a simple question. If I had to choose then I would choose being deaf any day. My vehement response as a child hasn't changed much. While I would miss music and hearing people talk and listening to the rain, I would miss reading more. I cannot fathom a world without stories.

I am not a passive reader.

Reading is life altering to me. Reading takes me away from the worries and stresses of my life to worlds of adventure and intrigue. Reading shows me new creatures and new places to explore. Reading lets me see things beyond this world. Reading teaches me.

I believe in the characters whose stories I read.

I cry and I rage and I fight for the characters. I hurt and I weep and I argue for the characters. Characters like Harry Potter, Meliara, Danica Shardae, Percy Jackson, Eragon and so many more are not just names, not just letters arranged on the page. These are characters that I have come to know and love. Characters that I may never see in real life, but nevertheless they have made an impact on my life; they have become part of my life.

I am a bibliophile and oh so proud of it.

So, do the world a favor. Shut off the internet for an afternoon. It will be there tomorrow. Take a novel and find a comfy spot, whether it be the beach, the porch or your favorite armchair, and lose yourself to the power of writing. You won't regret it, I promise.

The Fragrance of a Flower

Thursday afternoon, as I was walking to work, something happened that hadn't happened in a long time. I felt inspired to put up another blog post because of a tiny second in my day. It was a rather insignificant moment. No one was around me. It was a mildly warm day for winter. It had been stressful with school and work and I was trying to get in a more postive outlook before going into work.

Then a smell hit my nose for the briefest of moments. I knew that smell.

For a split second I caught a whiff of the same smell I grew acustomed to in London walking through the small park by our hostel. I love that smell. I never found the flowers that produced such a fragrance but that just made me crave it more. I don't really know what caused me to smell it here. It's winter in Texas. Nothing grows. The grass is yellow, the trees are bare, and the only somewhat fragrant thing nearby would be the school gym, which isn't excatly pleasant. But for that split second, I knew I had smelled it.

Of course the moment I tried discovering the scent, it disappeared. It had a tremendous effect, whether it was an illusion or not. I felt relaxed and calm; a feeling that had escaped me since school started. I felt like I was back in London in the small park, the small piece of green countryside in the middle of cold gray buildings. It gave me just enough momentum to carry my day forward.

The scent brought back memories as well. It's been a year since my flight left for London. This time last year I was fighting my way through London traffic and getting used to the time difference. I miss it. I miss the way the city is imbued with history and stories just waiting to be told. I miss everyday tasks like getting food at Waitrose or catching the Tube or the bus. I miss the sense of adventure that you get when you're in a foriegn country; as if there's something exciting waiting for you if only you're brave enough to find it. I miss the countryside. I miss Scotland and its hairy coos. I even miss having toast and jam in the mornng in the small kitchen of our hostel, looking out the window at the small courtyard in the back.

But beyond just missing it, I hope to go back. Not as a tourist or a student, just a traveler waiting to see what the city and country has in store for them.

The Ending of Our Tale

I'm sitting in the Heathrow airport, fighting off yawns and boredom, wondering how in the world I ended up where I am. I mean that in the sense of time, of course, because it has flown by once again. Three months ago I was on my way to the airport to go to London and now I'm going home. I have an hour before my flight and I feel myself reminiscing over the past three months.
I'm starting to realize the things that I'll miss. Things like the countryside, the constant adventures, the ability to get around without a car. Things like Cadbury chocolate, Scottish shortbread cookies, Nandos, and healthy food without the cost. I'll miss the people I've become good friends with on this trip. Thankfully most of them are heading back to Texas with me but the sweet staff at the Pickwick and the cool British professors will always be on my heart. Although you could never convince me to live in London, I am so grateful for the opportunity to come here.

I'm also realizing that I've changed over the course of this semester, whether for good or bad I don't know. I feel older, stronger, more sure of myself and what I want somehow. It's been a life changing experience.

We are about to board now and I have said my goodbyes to London, to England, to British accents, to plays every week, and all the adventures in between. All I have left to say is...

Cheers