More than a coffee shop

     The scream and hum of the espresso machine, the chatter of friends, the smell of fresh rain, the clink of mugs on tables, all surround me. This place is full of life—in all walks and seasons. From celebratory meetings, to the start of fresh love, and passed tissues and encouraging hand grasps. Life is full of juxtapositions and contradictions. The coffee shop is a microcosm of culture. It reflects the world and the city it exists in. you can tell a lot about someone from what they order, how they treat strangers, customers, children, the disabled and elderly. The way a person studies—tuning out the clang and the clatter.

                The attire of the patrons, the design of the interior, the menu—all reflect what is normal, valued, and es”steamed” –organic, local, gluten-free. This place exemplifies my culture, my city.

                But it also reflects me. The things I prioritize—relationships, academic study, being a part of my culture—knowing and interacting with those I attend church with, live beside, the ones who also call this place home. The way I view those different than me, the way I put others first, what I choose to drink and eat—all apparent in this place. How do I respond to the slow orderer, the homeless person with a stench, the mom with an overflowing and shrieking stroller? This place, Burien Press, is where I press into Burien—where I begin to know the homeless by name, the giggles from the stroller, the priorities of those around me. If I hope to influence my culture, I must know it. I have to know to understand and to speak into the lives around me. This step can be as easy as sharing a cup of coffee.

“I will give you treasures of darkness”

                Today, I’ve studied and written—two staples of this season of preparation. I woke up looking back and look at what I lack—not a fun place to be. It’s easy for my simple life to feel hollow when I compare it to the weddings, babies, and careers around me. Every so often, I read back through my blog, reminiscing on what I’ve been inspired to write about in the past. Often, this leads to appreciation for this day and season as I look back with fresh perspective.

                One theme from today’s perusing was how each season has blessings and burdens—that often are only appreciated in hindsight. From my time in Kenya, to transitioning home, to the whirlwind of school—each adventure stretched and strengthened me in many ways. In the midst of each season, even in this one, I tend to focus on what I wish I had or what I seem to be missing. But when I look back, I can see how each season’s “lack” was a lesson—preparing me for this day and circumstance; and that encourages me today. A verse from Isaiah sums up this idea when God tells the Israelites that  “I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places, that you may know that it is I, the LORD, the God of Israel, who call you by your name” (Isaiah 45:3).

               Exactly, as I look to where I’ve been—past jobs, colleges, Kenya—I can see how each step was pivotal and the lessons were treasure. At the time they seemed like darkness-why did I lose my hearing, wait to go back to school, have the privilege of working in Kibera? But in hindsight I can see why. The banes are blessings—treasures out of darkness that remind me that my life is purposed. So the things I sometimes see as banes —studying, singleness, an open social calendar—are actually blessings. They remind me that God has called me—he knows heart, my secret places, and is purposeful in how he’s purposed my circumstances. There are always treasures in darkness.

Come in with the rain

The first drop darkens the pavement, followed by a thousand others that run and blend and wash away the dirt, the filth, making rivers in the crevices. Autumn is here. Rustling leaves, rolling clouds, and sporadic sunbreaks mark this favorite season of mine. The torrent slows, the sky parts, and the rainbow colored trees shudder in the breeze. Times, they are a changin'.

One of my favorite authors eloquently remarked that “One of the things that makes a dead leaf fall to the ground is the bud of the new leaf that pushes it off the limb.”   ― Jan Karon

I feel as though the last month has been that exact process- the dead leaf of a once vibrant faith has been slowly pushed off--making way for a more mature and centered faith. I'm sure this process will happen many times over in my life--as I enter new phases and relationships. The year of academia that followed the year of emotional upheaval and death, further tore my faith--it was a gutted house. I was between the rock of the faith I had so "easily" rooted my life on, and the hard place of devoting my mind to studying a subject that solely looks to the observable. The Sunday platitudes felt hollow and my coursework offered little hope outside of this life--where was I really rooted?

The storm percolated and I was forced to make a choice-cling to the dead leaf, or let it fall and hope that I found faith somewhere. It wasn't until I finally began to read for fun--when it actually seemed like fun, rather than an academic duty, that the storm clouds broke. It was as surprising as feeling the first weighty drop of rain, the moment of clarity, as I re-read "miracles" by C.S. Lewis.  In grateful relief his words were used to unclench me from the binds of a failing faith. In the beginning of the book he remarks that what the Naturalist fails to realize is that they are using their minds to understand and claim that the physical is all there is. Exactly, this doesn't demean the study of what is observable, if anything, it adds meaning to it! The puzzle fit, the rain cleansed, the storm passed. Reconciliation and renewed faith came in with the rain of belief and behavior.  Reminding me that I don't have to know and explain everything, we all walk by faith. I can trust my Savior to come in like the rain--renewing, refreshing, redeeming.

when things change

I can't believe it has been over a month since I posted, my apologies. My writing tends to ebb and flow, and after a year of being told what to write and read, I'm a bit rusty in the discipline of writing what I want to say and feel. I still have one major hurdle--the BCBA certification exam next month.

What went on when my proverbial pen was silent? Well, September was full of resting and working--I was able to visit my undergraduate college for Alumni weekend--and was so refreshed to reconnect with professors and friends, and reminded that I'm not crazy for basing my world view off of faith, not just facts and observable phenomena.  I also began working with an agency--one I am excited to be a part of and to learn and grow in my knowledge and skills.  September also meant substituting as a paraeducator.

Now, it's October. My favorite month of the year. I come alive when autumn draws on the trees and I cant help but drink in the golden sunsets, the blustery days and the hint of pumpkin spice. As Albert Camus aptly described "Autumn is a second spring, where every leaf is a flower". My days have been full of study sessions and rest, reminding myself that each day is important and that I don't have to know or have everything figured out, all at once.

I can't help but think back to this time last year--when I was in the beginning of the intense year, ready to quit out of sheer exhaustion. I'm so grateful for that season--the year of intense study and work that I was prepared for and prepared me for this season. Looking back, it is amazing to see how guided I have been in this field and career--how friendships opened doors and experience was invaluable. I am encouraged by how clearly the way has been paved for me to be in this field, to be entrusted with the souls who offer so much--the world so needs those with special needs.

Today, as I look ahead and prepare for the exam, knowing change is coming--I am encouraged that at some point this too, will be hindsight. A year from now I'll be able cup a steaming mug of coffee and sigh with gratitude for where I've been and where I am.