“Not my idea of God, but God. Not my idea of H., but H. Yes, and also not my idea of my neighbour, but my neighbour. For don't we often make this mistake as regards people who are still alive -- who are with us in the same room? Talking and acting not to the man himself but to the picture -- almost the précis -- we've made of him in our own minds? And he has to depart from it pretty widely before we even notice the fact.”

/ C.S. Lewis

"A Grief Observed"

Wheaton Goodbyes

For me, there is nothing more difficult than saying goodbye... Letting one chapter end and another begin. Leading up to Baylor graduation, merely walking into our apt at Crescent Plex brought a lump to my throat, leading me to tears with the weight of leaving. How could life get better than living with your best friends in a quirky town like Waco where the biggest stress was which group of friends to hangout with on a Friday?! The following year, I was led into a spiral of Identity Crisis, longing with sentimentality for the carefree days of college, while simultaneously being thrust into a world that required an Adult version of myself, one that had yet to develop. When you are living those blissful golden years, it's hard to notice that it someday might change... Time seems to freeze in place, as if perhaps it will continue like it is forever.

But all of a sudden it's seven years later and I am graduating with a master's from Wheaton College - a journey that has changed me in ways I never could've predicted. My word for the past two years is Gift. I am learning what it means to live in gratitude as I pay attention to the working of God around me. Through learning the history of the church & traditions of our spiritual mothers and fathers, I understand what the spirit-driven process of forming the inner world to become like Christ really means. As I dug deep into my family of origin, I mourned losses and celebrated victories, struggled with the past and found hope in the future, and - most importantly - began to understand in a profoundly new way the reconciliation and renewal of Christ. Systematic theology courses intimidated me, philosophy of education classes reworked me, and counseling classes fed me. I utilized tools in quantitative and qualitative research that I never knew existed. I wrote paper on paper in the depths of the library, digging into topics like imagination, child formation, teaching for transformation, and courageous living. I quoted CS Lewis, watched days of Tolkien, and read Chesterton, T.S Eliot, and Nouwen. I learned that leadership is more about service than about strength. I explored who God created me to be, and how to be a good steward of what He's given me. I wrestled with calling, strengths, gifts, compassion, needs, desires, hurts, and loves. My professors poured into me, brought clarity to undefined topics, and were FOR me as a learner and person, no matter my questions. I made three close friends in the process of school - friends that uplifted me, encouraged me, held hands with me, and loved me. I carry these dears with me even as the program ends. This program has constantly pushed me into states of disequilibrium where I am challenged to define what it is I believe after critical analysis, biblical interpretation, and stimulating discussion.

I leave this program changed. I am not who I was when I started. I worship God in ways I never knew before and I now see how ALL of Creation points to Him.

In a few short weeks I exit the world of graduate school (thesis pending) and jump into Whatever Is Next. When I was debating whether or not to go to Wheaton, my dear friend Sonja told me: "Rebecca, dare to dream outside the Kindergarten classroom." This is certainly what my time away from the classroom has been about: daring to dream. My prayer is for this idea to materialize as I make next steps. I have a life and friends, family and job waiting for me here in Chicago... I don't know where daring to dream could lead next, but I am open.

“The voice we should listen to most as we choose a vocation 

is the voice that we might think we should listen to least, 

and that is the voice of our own gladness.”

/ Frederick Buechner, Graduation Address 

Zoo Selfies and Day Drinks

Because what better way to emerge from Hibernation?!

Spring is here and life is full.

Thankful, so thankful, for friends that commit to life together. 

In the beautiful Here-I-Am type of way.

A weekend grad "retreat." I passed comps!

Teaching the littles.

Roommate birthdays... Little Goat.

Yes, Dad got me a selfie stick for Easter.
Yes, I now have 35 photos in a Zoo Selfie Stick album.
This could probably be a whole separate blog post...

But seriously - when was the last time you marveled at a giraffe?! 

Thankful for these ladies! 

A 30th birthday photobooth for Stephy!

When the sun decides to shine it means a day of bloody mary's, beer gardens, and sangria.
The idea of "ease into summer" did not go very far.

Him over Me

I was once asked [most likely on a first date] what the majority of my thoughts during the day revolve around. While I wish my slightly intelligent AND holy (!) response of - I mostly debate the theological implications of soteriology and how that plays out in the various denominational views, was the reality... could be true - I hate to admit the reality is  that my Thought Life revolves around the constant nebula of My Future. When will I finish my master's? What will I do on Friday? I have to text/call so-and-so. Do I really want to stay in this job? What would life look like to move out? Will I ever get married? 

It's no wonder that so many of the spiritual disciplines call us to the present and root us in the moment. As I write my thesis, I realize this is precisely what pilgrimage does for the individual - it calls one to live life as it is Right Now. I gravitate towards pilgrimage because my soul knows I need it. One of my favorite authors on spiritual disciplines,Adele Calhoun, has this to say about Silence:

"As you quietly offer your body you can hone your listening reflexes. There is nothing you need to do here. This is not a time to come up with strategies for fixing your life. Silence is a time to rest in God. Lean into God, trusting that being with him in silence will loosen your rootedness in the world and plant you by streams of living water. It can form your life even if it doesn't solve your life. The anonymous author of The Way of the Pilgrim wrote, 'I need peace and silence to give free play to this quickening flame of prayer.' Let the silence lead you to prayer."

I want to want God more than I want my plans. I want to see Him more than I see myself. I want to trust Him more so that my future doesn't seem like a dark looming question mark to answer, rather a beckoning to turn my eyes to His work and thank Him for this life I get to live. I want to remember that only He is life to my soul in a way nothing else can ever be. 

Getting Rid of the Ego

As one grows up, he or she tends to seek out the thing they are Good At. At first, one identifies this strength from family, which eventually shifts into affirmation from peers. My favorite developmental psychologist, Erik Erickson, termed the outcome of virtues in this stage Industry vs. Inferiority. If one does not find self-worth with a specific "industry," he or she starts to compare their personal abilities to other children and enters into a stage of "inferiority." As a child, I quickly detected that my gifts were not in sports or student government, rather the thing I was most consistently drawn to was academics. (Early signs of a teacher...? Guilty.) Convinced my teachers held the information of the world in their hands, I lived under the impression that if I just sat with them long enough, I could crack the codes of the universe. Over the years, I prided myself in high honors through academic achievement. I found identity through words from teachers, family, and students as I daily fought the pressure to assume this Good Student role.

... Which brings me to a pending master's and an approaching graduation date. After clocking over 80 hours this past week in a room surrounded by [close to 37] books, I pumped out a literature review that I was supposedly "working on all semester." I proudly presented this document glowing with newly acquired research to my professor, expecting his seal of approval and permission to move onto the next thesis chapter, due on Wednesday. Instead, I sat stunned reading an email of the worst academic criticism I have ever encountered. While my eyes welled with tears, they were not blurred enough to ignore the last word of the document: "Redo." My instinct told me to fight and I strung together words in defense of my writing. (Thank you Google Drafts for saving me from an email I would undoubtedly regret...)

Living the Cube Life.

... and all the books.

It has only been in the process of writing this thesis that I am learning to recognize and let go of my Ego. It is the ego that seeks out such desperate need for Approval, constantly answering to the plaguing thought of "Am I doing this right?!" While the ego is always there, I can choose not to operate under this illusion or defense system - because it is in that place that I am closed off to the refinement and challenge that is ultimately for my good, to make me a more compassionate and understanding human. I am trying to return to my Authentic Self - generous, sincere, and present; instead of being overridden by the ego - greedy, fearful, and defensive. This.is.not.easy. Especially when it comes to Identity.

What is the pressure I sense to graduate in May? I quickly jump to disappointment in myself and listen to thoughts of Failure. I start believing things like "I was never cut out for a higher degree... I'll never be accepted into a PhD program... I'm not smart... I don't deserve my professor's time..." Instead of an initial response of defense and shame, I would like to be more willing, more receiving, more attentive to constructive criticism. I am too quick to be a Know-It-All and I don't like this piece of myself. I pray that God changes me; that I find my identity in who He says I am instead of academics. Because when this happens, nothing can crumble or shake; nothing can rattle my core when I know I am deeply loved by Him. And if the Creator of the Universe calls me His, what other approval do I seek?!

This is a truth I know with my mind, but I am challenged to live out from my heart.

What Inspires You?

I received a text from my roomie the other day apologizing for The Morning Grumps, in which she additionally noted "I wish I was a morning person like you!" Sometimes my day-to-day operates in such tunnel zone Autopilot that I forget the uniqueness of each individual (hello... egocentric self.) ;) Do I like mornings? Yes. But I forget mornings are not everyone's Thing. It's like when you grow up doing pizza & Chinese on Sunday nights, so you naturally believe it's the foundational tradition of every family... Only to find that some families do Mexican or others don't do anything; each one to their own routines establishing who they are.

I see you sun!

For as long as I can remember, mornings have been my source of Inspiration. Living in a Spanish culture of contrast revealed this soul-giving time like nothing else could - this margin of the day when my thoughts were set free and my spirit could settle. I remember 9am walks in El Parque Magdalena watching lights flicker on the interior of apartments in the distance, feeling as though I was witnessing magic; imagining I was the only one awake to gaze upon the earth returning to life.

Walks to Heritage and occasional stops for pie at a neighborhood fave.

Although I pass people on the street at 6am in Chicago, the night still lingers before the morning passes through. The sun arises as a new day brims and hope seems tangible. Now that it's spring, the possibilities seem more fervent. I awake to an early morning alarm to set off for a lakefront run or brisk walk to Heritage Coffee. Spring, oh spring... glimmers of warmth fill the earth as thawed bones are restored to life.

Sunrises over the Lake. I love you Chicago.

Right Now

There seems to come a point in every winter when I no longer wash my hair (because hello - hats!), realize I've worn the same pair of leggings for about a week (to work AND sleep), and would rather watch Netflix marathons of Friends then go out to... basically anywhere. Truth be told, on Friday eve it took a lot of convincing to peel ourselves out of our perfectly molded crevices on the couch, turn off our shared and blanketed heater, and brave the melting snow trenches to meet our friends for drinks at Revolution Brewery.

Winter Survival is artisan soups & breads from Chicago chefs - donation based -
promoting community in our neighborhood in the depths of winter

Folk tunes paired with wine was a lovely Sunday eve in celebration of my dad's birthday.

At this point, all concerns are merited... What exactly happens to us Chicagoans in these dreary months?! Whoever argues with the validity of S.A.D, I am here to tell you it is a REAL thing people.

Daylight Savings means sunrise runs on the lake.
< Unfiltered! >

This weekend though - the sun began to shine and a friendly glow broke through the cloudy haze hovering over our city. It is always an indicator that spring is on its way when Southport strolls become a place for hello's to neighbors and cars pause for others with gracious waves allowing for a peaceful merge. Also, I may or may not have gotten a sun tan from a 20-minute phone call with my bro while tilting my face up to the window from the couch inside my apartment. Which is either deeply pathetic or absolutely lovely, depending on your outlook this season.

This weekend, I mapped out my trek across the country from May-June.
I think I'll call it Rebecca's Driving Tour of Married Friends.
;)

Yesterday was 38 degrees and I went running in shorts and this weekend is supposed to be 50's, which means we are basically planning for a Beach Day. In all other parts of the world, it seems that Weather is the mundane topic you talk about when there's nothing else to say, but here in The City of Six Months of Winter, weather.is.everything. When the sun starts to shine and the birds begin to sing, somehow life seems that much more manageable. It's no longer a hustle and a pep talk of "I can do this" as your bare feet hit the cold floor in the dark of the morning, rather it's ditching the puffer coat for a vest and celebrating the sun at 6:30pm indicating a full evening ahead.

I spent last Friday exploring with this dear friend of mine, Lindsay.
Linds and her husband Dave are involved in the most incredible ministry on the South Side.

I hold this time sacred; my thesis is on pause for Life After Comps, my daydreams drift to windows down and music blaring on a summer drive across the country, and I am mid-contract-signing for a dream offer with Mosaic in the fall. In this season of Winter on the Cusp of Spring, it seems everyone lives in the feeling of anticipation. And I like that feeling... I like knowing there are surprises to come and something great around the corner. I enjoy the gentle rhythm that coaxes my hibernating soul; there is a time for Netflix Binges and a time for Beach BBQ's, there is a time for cubicle studying and a time for marathon training, there is a time for Bachelor Watch Parties and a time for Music Mondays, there is a time for solitude and a time for community... All things happen in the push & pull of sun and clouds, snow and rain, wine and margaritas;) As we await Easter, it is essentially this anticipation of All Things New in spring that teaches us of the Death and Resurrection... that shows us to mourn for His death and to celebrate His life. The movements of the world and all of creation point us to Him, our Creator King.

Yes, those are two cop cars parked outside the Lily.
Just in case you're wondering if the Crazy Pam situation is still on the loose...
 Here's evidence. 

A Case for the Lily

Since moving into my apt (known as The Lily) in December 2010, my former roommate Betsy and I have construed stories regarding our middle-age, chain-smoking, should-be-on-an-episode-of-Horders, Korean neighbor who shares our two-flat on the bottom floor. An excessive amount of brand name packages arriving at our doorstep in her name combined with a locked and secluded portion of the basement dedicated to "beads" was the impetus to our curiosity. When friends would ask about her, we flippantly spewed off fragments of stories we conjured from late-night rounds of laundry in a basement stacked with antiques: she was married to a foreign ambassador, traveled the world, divorced, has a secret family, lived in Mexico, and possibly has emergency funds buried at the bottom of Lake Michigan. The tales we told were more or less true for us, and the line between fact and fiction seemed blurred in a way that invited us to live in a realm of possibilities.

Lily exterior.

What primarily began to tip us off about Pam wasn't just her denial of owning a cat when our house suddenly wreaked of dirty litter or her Estate Sale filled with thousand dollar furs or her newly acquired purple hair or her car revoked for "unknown reasons" or her changing the outside locks five or six times or only seeing her leave the house when she incessantly shouted for her dog in the yard... Rather, it is a case involving unmerited accusation causing us to question whether or not we should continue living in our dear Lily home.

Lily interior: my desk.

After a range of harassing texts regarding "disappearing crystal," conversations alluding to us as suspects of stealing, and threats to "evict us" scrawled on post-it notes tacked to our door, we awoke at 5:30AM yesterday to the crashing of doors below. When we tried to leave our home, chairs blocked our door and in a haywired voice, we were met with demands to give her back the piano she had given us last year. In seemingly convenient timing, our hot water heater broke and we were all left in a tired and baffled state as we fumbled through the motion of getting ready for the day.

[Yes yes- the police were called and all parties questioned, but hello - fear for our lives?!]

These days we feel like we are living in a real-life game of Clue with an accompaniment of mystery music following us as we come and go. What is real and what isn't? What do we choose to ignore and what do we take seriously? While there are certainly other factors at work here - our recent obsession with Serial or playing too many games of Mafia or perhaps a delusional spell that winter has cast on all of us - lately we can't shake the visions of headlines announcing a case that has suddenly unfolded in the heart of Lakeview.

View from inside:
the evergreen outside our window, which gives
the appearance of living in a treehouse even in the middle of winter.

It leaves all three of us in a form of puzzlement, albeit slightly entertained through the daily texts of gif chains and emoji'ed updates. All options are being considered as we proceed in a pre-cautionary buddy system to our cars and respond in startling jumps at each creak and doorknob... but seriously - what the what?!

Life as a Gift

"That's the real meaning of fear of the Lord in the Bible.
Fear literally means affectionate awe and wonder at greatness and a sense of astonishment.
If I asked 10 people, "Do you trust God?" and they all said yes - but the truth was that nine were lying - do you know how I'd learn the identity of the one who really trusts God?
I'd videotape all 10 of them for a month, and the one who lived with an abiding sense of gratitude would be the one who trusted God.
Gratitude always implies the perception, evaluation, and acceptance of life as a gift."

/ Mark Yaconelli
Youthworker Roundtable Interview

As I passed this man daily on my morning lakefront runs, I wondered why he would stand in the lakefront chill to handout stale bread to these careless birds. Why would he give such attention to creatures that do not give back, wasting time in one solitary place for these meaningless beings?!

And then I realized the delight in his eyes; his nod at the detail in their beaks, the color in their reflection. Perhaps his dreams took flight in their wings and his thoughts took on rhythm in the simplicity of their motion. Stopping, pausing, noticing was enough for him. Is it for me? To take life off autopilot and behold the beauty that stands in front of me is a regular discipline; one that commands my life.