Tag Archives: In-between

Graceful Seasons of Change by Kristen Bishop

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Posted by kritzau on April 23, 2012 – 11:13 am
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Growth in Change

 

Kristen Bishop is a grad student studying Child Life Development.  But more importantly she is s student of life.  You can read about her learnings here on her blog. Recently she relocated from Southern California to the Pacific Northwest, which matches up with her love of fall and coffee.  You will find her working with children at a local hospital making sure they understand what is happening in their situations and easing families’ burdens with her gentle nature and wise soul.  She is one of the most creative minds I know, taking the ordinary and making it extraordinary.

 

 

 

if you were to look through my art journal, you would find a common theme.

change.

i really don’t like it. and choose to deal with it through writing, painting, ripping paper, scribbling, painting more, ripping more magazines/paper/tape… you get it.

 

change means things are no longer in my own control.

and change means that i must fully put my trust in the Creator of the Universe.

and that scares me. because, well, i can’t control the Creator.

 

while change is inevitable, time and time again i have stood face-to-face with change, showing her my angriest face. and as a result of that, all i found was deep pain. the changes occurred, despite my efforts to stop them. at times, i felt like my heart was literally being torn in half. these changes were significant- friends getting married, graduating from college, moving to a new city, moving to a new state. and now i face the completion of my graduate program- which means redefining my identity as a student to an employee, a workin’ girl, a real adult (i think…).

 

 

 

throughout all these experiences, i have been learning how to accept change with grace. i have also learned that i have serious control issues. it has become a bit of a joke among family and friends. i like being in charge and i like when things go my way. there are times when this control (or “organization”, as i like to call it) works to my advantage. but more often than not, it leads to a lifestyle of inflexibility and lots of disappointment. so, like i said, i’m also learning about grace. and as i learn about and practice grace in my own life- there is growth.

 

i find that the seasons can be the most beautiful example of grace and change and growth. here in the PNW, i have seen snow and ice turn into gorgeous shades of pink and yellow. as spring arrives, the trees start to bud and flowers begin to bloom. bright yellow daffodils grow wildly on the side of the freeway and tulips add sparks of color wherever i look. and the beauty of it is that the change from winter to spring is a process. these flowers did not bloom overnight. it has taken months. and there are still trees that need to blossom, flowers to open up, and vines to produce fruit. change, with grace, is a journey.

 

 

this next change is a big one. finishing my Master’s degree and learning a style and rhythm of life that does not include papers, research, and due dates will be an adjustment. what will i do with my time? what will my new rhythm be like? where will i live and work?  as i finish up my internship in Washington, i begin to search out where God might have me in the next stage of life. and saying that, is a lot easier than doing it. i feel like i am constantly asking God for His lead in my next step. then i say, “amen” and start thinking about all the things i need to do. there it goes, i loose trust in Him the minute it becomes about me and what i need to do to make things happen my way… Lord, help me.

 

 

i vividly remember a conversation i had with Kristin [Ritzau] a few years ago. i shared with her that i couldn’t wait until the day when i had my life, my emotions, my relationships “all together”. Kristin paused, and with the most love and grace said to me, “you will never have it ‘all together’, my dear.” and she’s absolutely right. things are always changing, growing, and adjusting. i am continually learning to show up to my life instead of being frustrated and anxious about each process. i can’t plan the next steps. i don’t know what will happen. and that.is.scary. but i know that the Creator is in control. no matter what. and for that, i truly am thankful. because let’s be honest, i am a mess. i am not in control of my own life. and i will re-learn this throughout my entire earthly existence. but by the GRACE of God, i am alive from one day to the next. i learn more about the Creator and more about myself through each situation that presents change. and invites grace. and produces growth.

Changing Days by Sara Honda

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Posted by kritzau on April 18, 2012 – 10:21 am
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Growth in Change

Sara Honda works at the University of Colorado Denver.  In her free time, she loves mentoring teenage girls, exploring the beautiful sunny state of Colorado, and watching Survivor. She secretly loves professional golf, hates onions and Crocs with a passion, and wishes she was a hip hop dancer.

 

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
― Annie Dillard

 

A few months ago, a good friend shared this quote with me.  At first, the quote made me uneasy.  I could see the truth of it, and that’s what hit me.  There are a lot of my days that feel routine, that feel mundane.  Do I really want my life to reflect the hours I spend riding the train to work every week?  That makes me seem too ordinary.  Or the hours I spend sitting in front of a computer each day?  I’m not exactly saving starving children.  What about all those nights I go to bed before 10pm? Does that make me lame?  (I swear I’m cool, people.  I just like my sleep!)

 

The more I thought about the quote, the more I began to welcome Dillard’s idea as an invitation rather than a conviction.  What if we treated every day and every decision, little or big, relevant or not, as though it really mattered?  Not with the pressure that everything is make-or-break, but that the decisions we make will, over time, tell a story of who we are.  What we buy/say/do/read/think are indicators of our values.

 

Our childhood and young adult years are marked by milestones: sweet-16, first car, first kiss, graduation, college, and first job.  Many of my friends are encountering adult milestones: engagement, graduate school, marriage, babies, and travel.  But I’ve been without any significant cliché life-changing milestones for a few years now.  I had become a full-grown adult, and yet for a long time I was waiting for something else to make me feel like I’d reached adulthood.  Would the perfect job do it?  Maybe I wouldn’t feel like an adult until I was married, or at the very least in a serious and committed relationship.  Does it happen when you have a baby?  Perhaps if I lived on my own (which I am currently doing, and yet I still feel like a kid)? 

 

I am sure the fact that I sometimes like coloring in coloring books and watching Harry Potter movies has nothing to do with it, nor the fact that I still don’t know how to order an alcoholic drink.  “I’ll take one of those alcohol-thingys.  Um, the wet kind.  Do you have anything pink?”

 

Over time, I have come to appreciate (with much prodding from God) that my life has already started, and that the seemingly-mundane decisions I make today are in fact  meaningful.  It’s hard to pinpoint a particular moment over the past few years that significantly changed me, but somehow I’ve evolved.  It has been nearly three years since I graduated from college, and in that time I’ve gained confidence, new lifelong friendships, a deeper understanding of God’s presence in my life, and assurance of the ways God has called me to minister to others. 

 

As we get to know ourselves better (and I truly believe this process lasts until the day we die), we are able to recognize when we are not growing.  For me, I begin to feel frustrated and ask that ever-present “Why am I here?”  It spurs me to get to know someone new, get plugged in to a new group, or take on different responsibilities at work.

Change in my life is not marked by milestone moments, but by the little decisions I make every day that dictate who I am, and who God is shaping me to be.  Change is gradual, fluid, and welcome.  I know there are still milestone moments to come (good and bad), but I have come to the understanding that these are just another part of the long and constant growth known as my life.  God has promised us that a life lived for him will be meaningful and worth living.  That has been my journey; appreciating consistency and recognizing that sometimes growth is gradual and occurs without my immediate knowledge.  I hope that if your story is similar to mine,  you can recognize growth in your life, and that if you do experience change on a more significant level, you can still recognize the change that happens in the quiet lulls in between. 

Letting Go by Sarah Scheidler

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Posted by kritzau on April 11, 2012 – 10:35 am
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Growth in Change

Sarah loves all things organic… Her soul is fed by a good challenge, coffee & old dusty stuff with potential. She meddles in all things artistic… but adores photographing people (you can find her work here)… She is a mother x 3 and a wife to a wonderfully creative type. Former avid blogger… gone hotwheels racer and baby chaser…

 

Growth in Change: Letting Go

It was slow as molasses…yes in January…  A change that came out of nowhere and yet… over much time and many discussions, in retrospect, my husband and I should of known what was coming…

God wanted to do something different than we had planned… Damn. It. All.

I am not a risk taker by nature. I am loyal, responsible & calculated and I married a man who is equally conscious, reliable and planned. Together for nearly 8 years we lived together happily buying and selling homes, living within our means, wanting for nothing, sharing and enjoying all that we had, the best we knew how…  It was a good life.

We remodeled our craftsman house (read: 2200 sq ft beauty with 3 car garage) in Pasadena, Ca… and as we moved back in… in to a much larger, better planned out space… I kept finding myself wanting to purge… and purge more of the things we did not use regularly… I didn’t really think much of it as it happened but gradually it became obvious… we had plenty of space to store things… and few things to store…

A few months later, during my husbands sabbatical from pastoral work, my sweet but entirely burned out husband, and I began to do some soul searching… and real questioning… you know the kind that starts with “Do I really have a need for 15 pairs of jeans?” and moves to “How can I be a good steward of  today, Lord?” and “God how can you heal my soul?” and “What do we really value & desire?” and maybe even “God help us to dream..” … My husband also took a motorcycle training class… we tried to connect with others… but made very few connections, after many attempts…

In this space there was much hurt, more loneliness and layers and layers of disappointment in people who were called to care for others, but did not care for me…

So we prayed. And prayed. And at the end of my husband’s sabbatical we agreed that we needed to begin a conversation with the church about what we believed God had done and was doing… Quite honestly, he wasn’t sure exactly WHAT God was calling us to but he was pretty certain it was NOT his current position/job…

I remember sitting in the living room of our lovely craftsman home…  sharing tears… realizing we were going to have to move… away from our neighbors… 8 months pregnant with our third munchkin…  and down size our living space, significantly…

The purging I had started a few months prior to this was nothing compared to this mass purge, lots of tears, putting our craftsman up for rent, saying bittersweet goodbyes to our church family of 10+ years and the hope that God knew what He was doing even if we had only a glimpse. I revisited our finances a few (million) times, we met with wise folks to make sure we weren’t overlooking something… I researched places to live… From Portland, OR and the greater Los Angeles area… We searched for housing and jobs…

God was calling us to something new… something unknown… something ridiculous really… something creative…

 

We trusted and we leaped.

 

Exactly one year later, we have found ourselves surrounded by an amazing community. Literally. Surrounded. Our church community lives sprinkled among the streets surrounding our sweet little postage stamp sized rental home.  There there are people who live what they believe… humbly and intentionally… and it heals our souls… It heals me to walk down an unmarked alley to even more nondescript doors… down stairs into a basement to meet for church… in a place where my children, who may be found brake dancing in the back during worship, are joyfully greeted… It heals me to have ladies that will let me contribute to their lives… if even by a grocery run… It heals me to be invited to showers (baby & wedding) where guests are welcome with or without a gift… welcome even without knowing the one celebrated.

Tim is slowly, but surely, pursuing his own creative journey…  I continue to search for time (& literally space) to carve out for my love of all things creative… and/or growing… my children included…

Our little family has LOVED learning to love being together so much, so closely.  The boys have learned the neighbors have a small farm, clubhouse and trampoline.  Tim’s appreciation for the little things like a good cup of coffee has grown. I have learned to shop for less, less often.

Shortly after we moved into our little place, I remember saying to a new friend “We are exactly where God wants us”… but it stung quite a bit… I welled up with tears often when speaking of where we came… how we came… where we are. Even now, some days I daydream and wonder if one day we will suddenly find ourselves in our former life… With the big house… enormous yard…  our own master suite… a custom made place for everything and then I remember.

 

I am EXACTLY where God would have me… and I. Love. It. Right. Where. I. Am.

 

 

 

Lessons From Therapy by Megan Lundgren

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Posted by kritzau on March 6, 2012 – 4:32 pm
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Megan Lundgren is a Licensed Psychotherapist and a professional Photographer. She is also our neighbor and a member of our chicken co-op.  Megan’s fantasy is to have crème brulee French toast at Julienne with Steve Martin, Tina Fey, and Amy Poehler. 
 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my therapy clients, it’s hope.

Hope may not seem obvious if you’re not looking for it: sometimes clients are in despair, other times they have suffered a trauma. But there’s one clear sign – one blazing, neon sign that flashes HOPE! when they walk into my office:

They showed up.

Trust me, I know. The hardest thing to do when you are tired, angry, sad, anxious, lonely, or confused is to be present. The temptation is to run away and hide, and to forcibly push people aside on your way out.

The temptation is to be alone.

When I was 8 years old at Yosemite Sierra Summer Camp, I overheard two girls gossiping about me. I had thought these girls were my camp buddies, and I was deeply hurt by their words. It stung; I felt betrayed.

So, what did I do? In a fit of anger I picked up a pebble and hurled it towards them. THWAP! It ricocheted off one of their shoulders. They turned around, and saw me red-faced with hot tears streaming down my cheeks. So I ran. I ran and hid in the bathroom, and sobbed. I felt so alone.

Our camp counselor, Dakota, heard my choked up tears and asked me to come out of the bathroom stall to talk. I remember being scared to come out of the safety of my stall, scared of telling her what happened – I was afraid of being rejected all over again.

I had a choice. Remaining secure in my bathroom stall would mean that I was in control, but that I would suffer alone. On the other hand, telling Dakota about my pain meant that I had to risk judgment – but it also held the possibility of receiving comfort and care from my counselor.

Sometimes I wonder if my therapy clients have to overcome an internal battle of wills before sessions: the will to stay at home, complacent, or the will to come to therapy and work towards change.  When they walk through my office doors, I fight the urge to cheer them on: Congrats! You’re here! You’re so brave! You’re not alone!

What I am learning from my clients is that they’re not ready to give up. They’re willing to face pain because they have hope for their relationships and hope for transformation.

When I was an 8 year-old girl at Yosemite Sierra Summer Camp, I had a choice: to escape, or to enter into a mess with the hope of healing and companionship.  I left camp that year with a memory of hope:

I don’t remember what Dakota said, but I remember her arms around me.

Hope-full Advice by Naomi Mehl

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Posted by kritzau on February 14, 2012 – 7:47 am
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Naomi Mehl is one of those people who carries herself with grace.  She is a graceful friend and a graceful teacher to her high school Spanish students.  She is also one of those people who doesn’t talk to talk, so when she talks, we listen.  Thank you for your words Naomi.  And truly Happy St. Valentines.

 

For the majority of the 25 years I have been living, I have been single.  This has led me to be both the voluntary and involuntary recipient of all kinds of relationship advice. From parents, relatives, friends, the media, the 15 year-old high school students I teach; they probably all have rained their relational wisdom down upon me at some point.  I am sure, given where we currently fall on the calendar and the looming presence of that-holiday-that-shall-not-be-named, you too have been hearing all kinds of thoughts on relationships, regardless of your status.

My personal least-favorite has always been something to the effect of “Don’t worry.  It will happen when you least expect it,” followed by some long tangential story about how a friend they knew was perpetually fed up with being single, had some sort of epiphany, and magically decided to be a confident independent woman, only to be swept off her feet by an amazing partner the next day.  And as a nice finish, they will end with saying “So you just need to be confident and not anticipate it.”  The reason why this is my least favorite advice, though I don’t totally disagree with the observation, is because it addresses one of the core things I’m not good at: releasing control of something I want.  I understand that waiting and watching (at times despairingly, frantically, cynically) for a significant other is like waiting and watching for water to come to a boil.  It generally only makes the process seem to run less and less on my timeline.  But I did it anyways, because I couldn’t let go of control.  I couldn’t really believe that finding hope didn’t necessarily mean finding a great relationship but could mean finding contentment and belief in what I already had.

I had to ditch this common belief that hope is what you do while trying to get something (or someone) you want.  All throughout high school I passively waited for some boy to notice me.  I hoped, I waited, I fixated, I wondered, and I didn’t get anywhere.  I also didn’t end up being very confident or content either.  For all the effort I was putting into hoping for a relationship, I wasn’t very hopeful.  I certainly didn’t see how much hope could be found in the person I already was.

Finding hope has never been a one time thing.  If I am going to acknowledge that finding hope is a choice and action, it is definitely one I end up having to chose every day.  Every day I chose whether or not I will be open, whether or not I will be present with myself and with others around me, and whether or not I will be attentive to both the pleasant and the painful in my life.

Choosing this more and more often has also led me to realize that finding hope is a process that doesn’t entirely rely on me or on the perfection of my actions.  There have been plenty of days when I was closed up and closed off, yet hope still entered in.  There were plenty of days when I made the wrong move, got hurt or hurt someone else, yet forgiveness came.  There were plenty of days when anxiety about a relationship consumed me, but it still turned out okay.

Again, as we find ourselves in the season of high romantic expectations and unsolicited advice, may we chose to be open and present.  May we find hope in that present place.  May hope enter in.

 

Opposite of Shame by Shannon Leith

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Posted by kritzau on February 1, 2012 – 8:38 am
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

 

shannon leith is an artist.  her life is consumed with finding clarity and contentment in the ordinary. she writes in all lower case. her website shines with creativity.  you can find her with her camera, with her pet bird, or with friends and family because even though she finds hope in the ordinary, she is extraordinary. 

 

 

 

hope has felt hopeless lately.

with men— it seems like i will never find a fit for me. am i going to be alone forever?
with money— i honestly don’t know how i’m paying this month’s bills.
with my art— i often feel like a 4 year old: what i create just feels like a cute and pathetic try.
with my business— the dreams i’m pursuing feel like they’re failing.
with my home— i wish i had someone here to do the daily with.
with my pet bird—why does he always bite me? WHAT THE HECK.

as i sit with these disappointments its become pretty clear to me that i deal with shame.  the voices inside tell me that i don’t deserve a good guy in my life, that i am incompetent with money, that my art is awful, my business sense is off, i will be alone forever, and that i can’t even take care of a bird.

turns out: these things aren’t true.
but they seem true.

i met with a woman last week who told me that the way to heal my shame was to claim hope.

i essentially feel hopeless and worthless right now in almost every area of my life. it seems absolutely impossible to have hope that i will one day find a man who is inspiring and vibrant and deep.  it seems impossible to hope that one day i will have my finances under control.  it seems impossible to think that my dreams are worth pursuing.

so, as a way of practicing my theme of no-shame 2012, and as a way of claiming hope—— i’ve been photographing myself after my favorite time of the day: my shower.  i love the feeling of being all drippy and fresh and awake and alive. i love the warm towel after. i love the steamy bathroom.  i love deciding what to wear.  i love putting on moisturizer.  i love the look of a clean and bare face.  i love wet wavy strands of hair.  i don’t miss a day. showers make me feel grounded and centered and lovely.

 
these images are a declaration that i don’t have to downplay myself.  i can put a little bit of hope in the possibility of something being bright and full today instead of disappointing and empty. it’s a new day.

 
(no shame 2012.)