Wednesday, February 25, 2015

That Time I Clogged the Public Pool....

I drank coffee at hour 1600 yesterday. I was cold, and it sounded cozy. After three sips, I deemed it unwise to continue, as caffeine in the late afternoon tends to rouse me quite early. I come to you at the ungodly hour of 0500, chipper as a foxhound on a summer's eve.* As is normally the case after a particularly personal post, I will make myself chuckle. When we first met, I promised humorous anecdotes of my ridiculously awkward life, even if that meant retreating to the archives. Let's dive into the deep end...

As with most of my mortifying experiences, we can trace this to a few root causes:

1) The back of the bus
2) A slightly extreme level of youthful curiosity
3) A childhood ailment

1) Sitting in the back of the bus always gave us elementary schoolers a sense of maturity. During one such ride, a classmate demonstrated this as she regaled us with stories of skinny-dipping in her parents' pond.

2) In the days prior to children's total inundation with technology, you had to create your own, unique experiences. That often included activities stemming from thoughts such as, "I wonder how the dog's electric fence collar feels on my neck at full voltage. For five seconds. How about on my tongue?"*

3) Self-diagnosis: I have over productive facial fluids. Though this may not sound scientific, it explains constant sniffling, occasional drooling, and most pertinent to this story, ear wax accumulation. I was twelve the first time I experienced this inconvenient phenomenon, and when the doctor shined the flashlight into my canal, he gasped at the yellow blockade. It was too intense to irrigate at the moment*, so I was instructed to dissolve the malady with a daily dose of warm water and baking soda. Each night, I lay with one side of my head on the table while the little bubbles went to work, breaking down months of build up. Sadly, this is not the most humiliating aspect of this story.

Only days later, with my head half clogged, I traveled with my sisters and mother to visit my oldest sister, Julie. A recent college graduate, she was enjoying the small luxuries of adulthood, one of which was an apartment complex pool, soon to become infamous in my life annals.

In between shopping and eating copious amounts of ice cream, we spent an afternoon poolside. I had not yet reached the point of adolescence where I could bask for hours, so after a short while, I turned off my walkman and ventured into the hot tub, located in a small area on the way to the locker rooms. It was not entirely public, but it was certainly not private.

And so we reach the point of factor convergence. My mind wandered to the conversation on the bus, and as I sat alone, curiosity led me down the path: "I wonder how skinny dipping feels." My mental faculties may not have been functioning at a balanced level, i.e., the common sense neurons were flailing in an attempt to swim through wax. Instead of firing and telling me this was a terrible idea, I heard, "You should try it. Five seconds." I listened. Five seconds later, and not a millisecond more, I reached for my bathing suit top, but it was nowhere to be found. Mind you, the bubbles were not even running, so the absolute disappearance of the top was quite improbable. Yet, I turned and turned only to grasp at water.

So there I was. Aghast. Dumbfounded. Topless. And although I was quite young and mostly undeveloped, I could not meander to the outdoor pool to gather my clothes or towel. People would notice. A few people passed the hot tub area, and I held my breath, thanking all of the things that they did not enter. When traffic broke, I scurried to the women's locker room, curled up in a shower, and sat.

After what seemed like an eternity, Julie came to ask if I was alright. I quickly requested she bring my clothes and promised myself to never speak of the incident.* Hours later, however, I weighed the pros and cons, and decided I increased the odds of solving the lost bathing suit top mystery by employing their aid. After all, it was a super cute tankini from Venus, and I had spent hard earned money to buy it. Swallowing my dignity, I confessed. After a couple blank stares and some confused laughs, my mother was on the case. The following morning, she stopped by the pool desk to ask if they happened upon a rogue bathing suit top. The attendant confirmed that indeed, they had. It had been suctioned into the filter, causing it to clog and the entire pool to overflow. Apparently, they had been dealing with the issue since five o'clock in the morning. After returning the garment, he told my mother that "her daughter had some explaining to do."

Here it is. Fifteen years later, a robust explanation. It was the first and last time I went skinny dipping, and I think it is best that age has severely curbed my extreme sense of curiosity. As with all my stories, there is a lesson to be learned. Apart from the obvious, make sure you put your bathing suit top outside the hot tub if you decide to take it off*, it reinforces one of my favorite lessons: if you can't laugh at yourself, life is going to be a whole lot longer than you'd like. I hope it made you laugh as well.


* I've decided to create my own idiomatic expressions.
* That game may have had a greater lasting affect than I credit it.
* For those of you unfamiliar with this, irrigation is the process of flushing out the wax via an industrial grade syringe.
* We all know that wasn't going to happen.
* Or maybe don't take it off in the first place.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

On Marriage, Life and God

Mitch*: "Gail and I have been together seventeen years. We are champs."
Dad: "Nancy and I have been together thirty-seven years. What does that make us?"
Mitch: "Yea, but you got married in a different time. That's only like fifteen years now-a-days."
Gail: "Yea. We're the Hewitts. Hewitts rule."

That might be a you-had-to-be-there or you-have-to-know-them exchange, but it is a light way to begin what is on the heavier end of my blog spectrum, so I stuck it in there. Don't worry. It's not like Coldstone brownie sundae heavy but like Haagen Daaz cookies&cream* heavy.

Today is my parent's thirty-eighth wedding anniversary. Since Gail and Mitch started dating when I was eight, I grew up watching their relationship. When I think of marriage, I see both these couples. I see their mutual respect and adoration for one another, and the way they stand by one another and work through differences, hardships and disagreements to build a strong foundation for their families. And I've always wanted that.

That's right. I'm a twenty six year old woman who wants to get married. Grab your manhood, run and hide! No, I don't spend evenings pining after a hypothetical someone, and I don't see every guy I meet as a potential partner. On the contrary, I accept Seinfeld's general rule that 95% of the population is undateable, and I much prefer to wait than settle. I am well aware of the benefits and freedoms of being young and single, and I take advantage of them.

But I do want marriage. This is not because I need someone to validate me, feel the pressures of society or sense my biological clock ticking. I want what I see within my family. I want to build and share a life with someone, and let's be honest, I just have so much love to give. Of course, having someone obligated to give me gifts, tell me I'm beautiful and fix my electronics would also be nice.

Some people greatly desire adventure, but I never did. As an adolescent, I wanted to stay near family, get married, run a bakery with my cousin - and be a professional tennis player sponsored by Nike - and I realize there is still time for (most of) that. However, the past five years have been filled with decisions to follow where God has led, but that does not mean it has been where I would choose. It seems I am pushed further and further outside my comfort zone, and when I reach a point of relative stability, he calls me to leave.* Alone. Struggling to be confident in my decision and myself. Struggling to do so with a smile. And sometimes, I'm exhausted.

I recently had one of those weeks, upset with God and questioning why I am where I am. Truth is, I have had them more than I would like to admit. I was going to write in the heat of my hot mess, but that would have likely been incoherent babble on how January sucks, the Browns are depressing, and Buzzfeed represents everything that is wrong with society. Instead, I write today, with a relatively clear head, offering those truths the Holy Spirit consistently brings to mind when I am most discouraged.

1) My life is not mine. Christianity is a daily surrender. It is taking up your cross and following Christ. It is not about me. It is about God's glory. He wants others to see His love through me. It is about building my relationship with Him through Jesus Christ. I think God calls us out of our comfort zone so we rely on Him for strength, calling us further out so we have no choice but to reach further in. It is in those moments of desperation that I feel Him most. When I reach the end of myself and am empty, there is room for Him to fill me.

2) A little theory I call maximizing Christ. This is definitely the math geek in me, and though it is not fully flushed out, I like the idea. So I have all this love in me, and away from family or a significant other, I need to channel it elsewhere. I look at the relationships I have cultivated during my time in Charlottesville, and I see God. I see him working through me to comfort others, bring joy to their lives, challenge them, and share my beliefs. He works through them to do the same. On an ROI driven note, I consider, if my experience brings one more person to know the reality of Jesus Christ, then isn't that cool?

Before I start sounding like I think myself a martyr of sorts, I move on to points three and four.

3) I am small, and my desires are small. My favorite C.S. Lewis quote - besides the entirety of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe which I can quote by heart is, "We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” C.S. Lewis refers to drink, sex and ambition, but we could seek our joy from a great number of things, good or bad. If the source is not ultimately God, however, we are selling ourselves short. It is easy to be overwhelmed by my own goals and desires, especially when I do not see the full picture of my life, but in giving those to God, there is a promise. He shall supply all our needs*, and even more exciting,

4) There is a joy. My man Paul exhorts us to, "Run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

You know I love Paul, however, I prefer to think of it as a tennis match. Surprising, I know. Though I think if they had tennis back in the day, Paul might agree with my metaphor. While a race is finite, a match has no clock and could theoretically last forever. It is a grind, some points won quite easily and some when it seems that no matter how strong your shot is, the opponent's shot pushes you to a new limit. Indeed, I am thankful for the wonderful people and opportunities God has placed in my life, and I cherish those points. During those long points at pivotal moments, I hold on to the joy that is set before me. A joy I cannot comprehend. And afterward, I am one point closer.

I could drop more Scripture bombs on y'all, but I won't. I am quite a child of my faith. I am as human and fallen as they come, justified by grace alone, and continually being refined. When I write such posts as this, it is not to be melodramatic*, but it is with the small hope that God uses my experience to encourage and draw someone closer to Him.

In the spirit of anniversaries, I will end with this verse: "This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus."*

* Bro-in-law - read my blog more if you don't know that!
* Blogger does not spellcheck cookies&cream which I respect.
* Incidentally, my adaptive personality means I get stable quite quickly, making the time between transition shorter. Perhaps a startup is the perfect fit, because by definition, startups are rarely comfortable.
* Phillippians 4:19
* Hebrews 12:1-3
* Though it could totally appear melodramatic.
* 1 John 4:17