"Glaf Clops"

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Hours of preparation for a thirty minute meal surrounded by loved ones are always met with mixed feelings. I, for one, really love cooking, however I frequently find myself cooking arguably the largest meal of my year (Young Life Camp excluded) in a small kitchen that is relatively unfamiliar to me, which is less than desirable. This year was no different on that front, however I had a lot of help. This is the first year that I have been responsible for such a great amount of the meal, and it went really well. I coached my mother through prepping the turkey, I handled a bourbon pumpkin pie and a jello salad, and she aided me in creating two mashed potato dishes: one for gravy and one to stand alone. We had nine mouths to feed, and no one left any way close to hungry. All parties were thrilled with the food, and I think all our hearts were thankful for one another and the shared time.

My Aunt Teresa is famous for her ability to switch letters and syllables in spoken words (golf claps came out as glaf clops) and is thus the subject of much of our laughter as a family. She provides us with stories to share for years. Actually, we all have provided humorous antics. Each year the same stories are told, and we laugh just as hard, if not harder. We always play Catch Phrase, and this year we played the Game of Things which was most enjoyable. My cousin Joely is now seven years old and is getting to the point where she can really interact with all of us, and I think we all appreciate getting to see her develop and gain more of her own personality as kids do. She has energy and excitement almost all the time, and that can rub off on the rest of us. My mother and Aunt Teresa bonded with Joely well this year, I think. "Miss Mary Mack" was taught and repeated many, many, many times. And then repeated some more. I know all the words, and I certainly did not before.

I must confess that I have moments of extreme cynicism in regards to family. No family is perfect, and it is easy to believe your family is the worst, and I get stuck there. My family certainly has what sometimes seems like more than its fair share of discontent, but for this four day period, I believe we were largely able to look passed any issues and simply enjoy one another. I got to see my mother display a child-like joy that I have not seen in a long time as she played clapping games with her sister and niece. Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary were able to relax more and not worry as much about what their daughter might be doing. Aunt Teresa was there to field difficult questions for me and provide a listening ear. Nana sat, watched, directed the baking of rolls, and laughed. If you looked into her eyes, there was love and peace that she probably has not felt in a while as she manages the less wonderful parts of age and a weaker body. When I wasn't in the kitchen, I sat and watched a lot. Siblings can certainly lose sight of the good in one another as they face life, realize that they are vastly different, and see one another change. However, this Thanksgiving I am so thankful for clarity of vision in what is important and what is beautiful in family - my quirky, dysfunctional, broken, hilarious, loving family.

Along with family rides friendship in my heart. For whatever reason, this Thanksgiving equated with a trip into Sean's past. High school was not my favorite time of life. In fact, I loathed it, and thinking back to it isn't loved either. Those four years were pervaded by broken friendships, a keen lack of understanding of myself, and heartache. Of course there were good things, too, those are overwhelmed by the not-so-good it seems. I have apologized time and time again to people I hurt, and have forgiven people that have hurt me. However, forgiving myself is the most difficult task for me, and probably deserves it's own post or five... As I reflected on a few lost friendships last weekend and the beginning of this week, I had no idea what was awaiting me on Wednesday night. I literally faced a friendship which I assumed was long gone. It didn't end well in high school, at least I didn't handle the end of it well. What actually happened was that our needs changed. Tell that to an angsty, emotionally intense, seventeen years old Sean, and see how he takes it.

Josiah (the friend) and I saw each other randomly at a friend's house. There was no awkwardness (I let go of my hurt and anger over that friendship long ago), and we simply started talking and catching up between interruptions and distractions. We talked about music, literature, random stories and anecdotes, and laughed a lot. At the end of the night we were both getting ready to leave and the conversation led us to the point of no return: discussing our friendship. Neither of us seemed to avoid it, so in we jumped. Apologies were given and accepted, honesty was displayed, and genuine wishes to have done things differently were shared. At one point I told Josiah "I have thought a lot about what I would say to you.. Turns out that this was it". That was the truth, and it caught me off guard. Never had I actually thought this kind of conversation would happen, nor that we would ever simultaneously express the desire to re-enter each others' lives. Redemption. Reconciliation. My heart Rejoiced. No where in my being was I aware that this is what my heart needed, but it was. I had spent so much time looking at the ways I had messed up and hurt people, and I found myself believing that nothing would ever change that. Not one day later, I faced Truth. Truth that says that love, time, and genuine hearts can allow Redemption. Nothing is completely lost if there is real desire for change. There is no room for "glaf clops". No. My heart erupts with applause at the thought that, even after heartache and friendships dismissed, there can be Redemption, Reconciliation, and Rejoicing.

And there is much Thanksgiving for that.

My Declaration of Independence

“And by and by Christopher Robin came to an end of things, and he was silent, and he sat there, looking out over the world, just wishing it wouldn’t stop.“

I think I've been avoiding this post. Sitting here, reading that quote for the one-hundredth time, I am forced to admit my reality of being in Wichita with no set plan to return to Oregon. You see, A. A. Milne spoke that quote to me, a year after my first encounter with it, a brief two nights before I departed Oregon after spending almost half a year there. Five and a half months is quite the expanse of time, my friends. In fact, I challenge you to spend that much time in a place and not allow your heart to settle there. That was the most trying part, because in past experiences, I have only been long enough away to build really great relationships, but not feel like I had actually moveed, Does that make sense? I've always known where in my tenure I was. This time, however, there were enough pace changes and even season changes that my whole person settled as if it was a more permanent situation. In one way, that made it all the more worthwhile. I lost the sense of "I'm leaving" and gained the feeling of "this is life", so I dug into it more. In another way, it hurts. Unfortunately, I cannot work around that.

My most recent stint in OR was one of the most impacting periods of my life. Not only was I isolated in a desert, but I was also isolated in my job. There was no community handed to me. In fact, if I wanted it, I had to work to get it. Eventually, I did achieve a really wonderful community in my roommates and a couple other people, but it took a while to get there, and then even longer to really maintain. Murphy's Law would dictate that the community begins flourishing just as it is about to be disrupted, and Murphy was right. However, that is okay. My goal is not to discredit any of that community, as it was necessary for my survival, and it was wonderful. That being said, the lack of community that I mentioned influenced me just as much as the moments filled with community.

Before going to the Ranch last May, I was far more dependent on my friendships than I would have ever cared to admit. Furthermore, my identity was wrapped up in having friendships that looked the way I wanted them to look. So, I was put in a desert working my ass off in a job that didn't have tons of companionship (managing people, being managed, and only having one other person in your position who always worked opposite shifts of you), living with three guys whom I didn't know beforehand and hardly saw. Truthfully, I thought I would rely on older friendships to get me through, however communication is difficult out there. I've always prided myself on my communication abilities, but even the best laid plans go awry when exhaustion is so pervasive and you work harder than you knew you could. Because of these things, I learned to not only survive, but thrive independently. My reliance began to shift from those relationships upon which I leaned too heavily, to the relationship on which I don't lean enough.

Part of me wishes I could tell you that this season changed all of my habits, rid me of all of my sinful nature, got me doing daily devotionals with ease, and all other wonderful things that "true Christians" are supposed to have together. That would be a lie. What this season did accomplish was changing my view to see Christ in things that I otherwise would overlook. It allowed me to see Christ within my own heart and truly believe that my identity did not need friendships to exist. Do friendships aid in molding me to be this person I believe Christ wants me to be? Of course. Are friendships necessary in life? I believe so. However, they are not necessary for the reasons I thought. Friendships are there to sharpen us, teach us, love us, but not define us. This was knowledge that existed in my head but had never quite made it to my heart. Because of this new "heart-knowledge" my friendships prospered. Naturally I saw it in my friendships out in OR, and in the broader Pacific Northwest, but now I do see it in the relationships in which I'm investing here in Wichita.

Friendships in Wichita, and even my work in Wichita, have helped to smooth this transition. But all the smoothing in the world cannot prevent my heart from longing for what it knows exists in relationships all across the country. Interestingly, I had no tearful farewell. I say it is interesting because tearful departures are kind of in my blood. Even this quote didn't shake me enough to bring tears. However, as I was leaving the the state of Oregon, I heard the quote a little differently in my head: 

"And by and by, we have come to an end of the things, and we are silent, and we sit here, driving out into the world, and just wishing it wouldn't stop".

Truer words have ne'er been spoken. And as I meditated on that statement, I realized that in all of my readiness for change and home that I never wanted those relationships, that world which I was leaving, these adventures of travel, to ever, ever stop. And tears finally flowed.