Maturity

I went out to lunch with a dear college friend yesterday, and, in so many ways, it was like coming home again, if you'll forgive me for that cliche. I wish so much that the work the Lord has designated for us had fewer miles between us. Yet, the time we have is sweet and restoring.

Our topics of conversation were typical for us: how the Lord is working in our lives, where we believe He is leading for the future, the conflict of anxiety and faith we feel about where our lives our heading. We talked about our families and funny stories. Yet, we also talked about some very adult issues that we didn't talk about in college. We talked a lot about finances. We never talked about finances in college. Sure, there were student loans and whether we had enough money to go to a concert or even out to Steakn'Shake, but we both had qualified for all of the student loans we needed, and we were happily ignoring the fact that they were accruing interest and we would have to pay them back someday. We both had jobs that paid for the little expenses, I had enough in savings to pay for my blessed negligable rent, our parents owned our cars and of course took care of the insurance payments for those, we were on our parents' health insurance plans, and, really, we were quite content with pasta and wearing the same clothes we had owned since high school. I know everyone was not that fortunate, and, please forgive me if I implied that the financial circumstances of all college students are easy and carefree. However, in the case of my friend and I, that is exactly what they were.

Today, things are different. I am fortunate to be single and have health insurance covered by my employer. She is not so fortunate, and due to health issues with her husband, that can't find a single insurance company to cover them at all, except for the one who will not cover pre-existing conditions for at least a year. I never thought about health insurance as a college student. Now, as it seems possible that I will not be a teacher forever, I wonder about how I am going to pay for health insurance, what about the health insurance of my family someday, will I ever have to refrain from going to the doctor because I can't pay for the visit. We talked about retirement and if we will have enough money to help take care of our parents someday. We talked about where our retirements would come from. The life puzzles we used to discuss centered on our class schedules or whether her parents would let her get engaged. Now, they are a matrix of income, insurance, and retirement. When did this happen?

2005

I have always been a traditional, sentimental person. I develop deep attachments to people, places, and things. This year, I've experienced loss in all of those areas. This year they tore down my high school. It being just down the road from my parents' house, I was able to watch as the auditorium was the first to go, the stage and closed-off balcony remaining exposed to the temper of the sky for a few days, then the west side of the school, then the east side. The classrooms where I once felt at home are no more. Also, this year I lost my grandfather, and after his death, the hog confinement was torn down and the little farmhouse where I lived until I was five was burnt to the ground along with the barn and the remaining buildings. The farmstead that has been in my family for decades, the home where my dad spent his first years and then where I and my brother learned to walk as well is now a burnt spot in the grass. My family no longer owns even that burnt spot in the grass. One of my favorite places in the entire world, where the yard rolls downward slightly, only to roll again into a hay meadow before bowling upward towards a windmill on a hill - I will probably never stand there again. And this fall, a strong storm tore through my parents' neighborhood, bringing down a huge, and I mean HUGE willow tree in my backyard. I promise you that I am not exaggerating when I say that willow tree was twice as big as any other willow tree I have ever seen in my life. It was a monster, and I loved that tree. My brother and I would literally swing from the branches when we were little - the trick was to get a decent amount of willow branches so that if one broke, the remaining branches would continue to swing. However, if you pulled too many branches together, your range of swinging was compromised. It provided shade, a backrest, and just a beautiful backdrop to the back yard. In my eyes, the tree's absence has turned our backyard from soft French Impressionism to stark Modernism.

You may wonder why I have spent more time talking about the things and structures I have lost rather than my grandfather. I don't know. Yet, what I have experienced this year is the transient nature of everything on this earth. That which I have lost this year has been here since before I was born. I have never known my grandparents' place without my grandpa. I have never known my street without the high school; I have never known my backyard without the willow tree. I have never known not being able to go out to the North Farm whenever i wanted to. What I once treasured no longer exists in this world. I'm okay with that, but it does set my heart to longing. I long for a world where I will be able to embrace without loss. I long for a world that does not require us to guard our hearts from holding onto things too tightly. I long for a world where I do not outlive that which comforted me and steadied me and was refuge for me while growing up. I long for Heaven. I long for that day when everything will be made right. I long for His embrace, I long to hear Him say my name. What a glorious, completing moment that will be. I will hear Him say my name, and my past, present, and future will no longer be vessels of regret and anxiety. I will hear Him say my name.

Tragic irony

I have observed an irony this Christmas season that I have never fully realized before. Of course, all of us are aware of much of the irony of the Christmas season, even if we don't describe it such words. It is marketed as a month of peace, love, and joy, yet very little of the said attributes abounds in the gift-giving, party-attending, present-wrapping, family-bearing, traffic succumbing activities we partake in. You know that. I know that. Admonitions to slow down and realize the true meaning of Christmas are cliche now. However, Christmas bothered me this year in a way it hasn't in other years. Others have summed it up on lighted church signs in trite phrases, proclaiming "Jesus is the reason for the season, " or "Keep the Christ in Christmas," but I don't see anything cute in the reality. Thousands, if not millions, who celebrated the birth of Christ yesterday have not acknowledged that Jesus is Lord, have not acknowledged of their need for a savior, have not repented of their sin. The thing about it that crushes me, brings tears to my eyes, makes me just want tear something apart in frustration, is so many of those people are hurting. Divorce, unemployment, loneliness, rejection, illness, troubled finances, addiction, death, along with so many nameless hurts and longings live in the hearts of many. I've seen people, burdened with such loads on their backs, look for relief in the giving and celebration of Christmas, sing the Christmas carols proclaiming salvation through God incarnate, and then, once New Years' comes around, face the same burden that has plagued them all year long. People are hurting, the stumble upon the very truth, the only truth, that will save them, that will redeem them, that will restore their lives, and yet they do not see it. They will have their fun with it, it brings them satisfaction for awhile, yet it is nothing to them. The miracle of Christ's birth is one thing - acknowledging one's need for salvation, confessing Jesus as Lord is another. It's painfully ironic that in this fallen, violent, hurtful world, one of the most celebrated holidays is a day honoring the Savior offered to all mankind, yet most of those who sing glory to the newborn king do not see Jesus as a king and do not want to give Him glory with their lives. They brush up against God's cosmic love for them, but they do not see. They sing of the most incredible, passionate love story that has unfolded on this earth, yet it means nothing to their own soul. Christ has come and no one seems to know. It's been that way since the night of His birth. It brings tears to my eyes; I wonder if it brings sorrow to God's heart as well. God with ys. Immanuel. Our Savior has come. We have all fallen short of the glory of God. The selfish, greedy, prideful things we do separate us from Him. He sent His Son to earth in human flesh to grow up and die, so that justice would be done for the wrongs that we committed. And now, with the blood of our Lord as our plea, we may be close to God. Christ is Lord. Our Savior has come. It's good news. It's hope. Our Savior has come.

fear not

Merry Christmas, everyone. Our beloved Savior has come; let us adore Him and fear no more.

love,
Jessie

ache

I'm feeling a little unsettled this evening. Many of this day's hours have been spent in the car, listening to music, sermons, and the news. Some time has been spent in prayer and thoughtful wandering, but, at the moment, I am left with a sickening feeling of discontent. Today was a wedding shower for my brother's fiance, Linsay, so I drove to Charleston and had a wonderful time seeing Linsay and so many of the other girls again. Rebekah and Jen did a great job with the shower, the food was good, the conversation was pleasant, and Linsay seemed to have a great time. Upon leaving the shower I went to Kristi and Matt's, enjoyed hot apple cider in front of the fire place, and took in the beauty of the Christmas tree. Yet, as I was talking to Kristi about this and that, I felt tears well up in my eyes and a lump rise in my throat. I just wanted to cry for some reason, and I probably would have if Matt hadn't been there. I don't know where this melancholy comes from. Maybe it was because I got to see my mom today but really didn't get to talk to her. Maybe it was because I got to see several people today but didn't really get to talk to them. Perhaps it was that all-too-common feeling of displacement. I'm welcome in so many places, but I don't know anywhere that I'm completely settled. Some days it feels as if I have many homes - here, LeRoy, Charleston, Crete; for some reason today it felt as if I had none. The three-hour drive home seemed insurmountable this evening. I called Kristen and talked for awhile, hoping that in conversation with her time would disappear and I would be off the road soon. It was good while the conversation lasted, and I love that girl to the ends of the earth, but when I hung up the phone I felt as lost as ever. As I was listening to the radio the other day, I think it was Chris Rice I heard talk about "the ache," a vague yet acute emotional pain, seeming to have nor origin or logic, that takes ahold of us, makes us tearful, and sets in our being a longing for something nameless and elusive. I feel that ache today. It's loneliness, disappointment, hope, love, sorrow, waiting, longing all at once. It's wanting something more, wanting someone more, yet no one and nothing on this earth seems to satisfy it. I wonder if this longing is part of the human experience, perhaps in part because we are not in our heavenly home yet, perhaps in part because our hearts and minds are continually seduced by that which is not of God. I'm learning, though, that no one but God is going to bring me rest tonight, no one is going to soothe this dull throbbing, no one is going to turn my discontent into thankfulness but my Father tonight. I really don't feel like turning to God. My first impulse is to bury myself under the covers and feel sorry for myself (although I can't pinpoint a reason to be unsatisfied right now), yet, it's God I want, it's God I need, and Him I will seek and find tonight.

a little nervous...

Everyone who reads this, please pray for me tomorrow, Friday, December 16. I have to talk to my boss to tell him I will not be able to be a drama director because I am going to be taking seminary classes. I don't think he will be very happy with me, and I'm almost sure he will try to talk me out of it, and I'm afraid he'll get mad at me, and I know you non-people-pleasers may not understand this but it is torture for me!

My Eternity is Not a Wal-Mart Parking Lot

I wasn't feeling well about a week ago. It was about 5:00 or 6:00 in the evening, I was tired, I was cold, and I just wanted to go home and curl up under a quilt. However, I was convinced that my head weighed five pounds more than it had the day before, and I wanted some medicine. Glaring flourescent lighting, crying children, and obstacle course of determined shoppers, stray carts, and meandering customers made me feel even more tired than did my classes of high school freshmen, but I went forth to Wal-Mart get my medicine anyway. I braved the venture without incident, but I was about to start my car to leave the parking lot, shivering and sick, weary and worn, my eye happened to catch an elderly woman, slowly but steadily hobbling towards the entrance with a cane. Then I noticed the car beside me, hatchback open as a mother was loading groceries into the back, two little boys running and climbing around the car, another child in her arms. She eventually turned her attention away from the groceries to put the child in a car seat and work to corrall the two rambunctious ones into their seats as well. She looked tired, and I was sure there was a lot of night left ahead of her. Everyone I observed looked tired. Everyone was cold. And, I, therefore, shivered in lonely, weary silence as well. This shouldn't be the bulk of life, I thought. Loading and corralling and stepping around and avoiding people in the freezing air so that we can go home and go to sleep and do it all over again isn't what we are living for. At least, it shouldn't be what we are living for. Thank goodness there is more. Thank goodness there is light and goodness and grace and leisure and warmth and comfort and rest and refreshing and love, yes, and love in life, and these dreary miserable moments are only moments. I hope that mother of three knows that. I hope she knows that she isn't alone in raising those three kids - or even that she and her husband aren't alone in it. I hope that elderly woman knows that whatever dreams have come true as well as whatever disappointments have come to pass, that she is pursued by a loving Father. Thank goodness that my eternity is not in that Wal-Mart parking lot. I hope others realize it as well.

simply

"God, your God, chose you out of all the people on Earth for himself as a cherished, personal treasure. God wasn't attracted to you and didn't choose you because you were big and important - the fact is, there was almost nothing to you. He did it out of sheer love, keeping the promise he made to your ancestors. God stepped in and mightily brought you back out of that world of slavery, freed you from the iron grip of Pharaoh king of Egypt. Know this: God, your God, is God indeed, a God you can depend upon." - Deuteronomy 7 - The Message

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How do Christmas lights break from the time you store them away in January to the time you take them out again in December? They just sit there all year.