Unemployment

Dear Unemployment,

Okay, it's ofish.  I'm worried.  Anxious, really.  I slept restlessly last night waking up with this sense of worry that I just couldn't shake and feeling like I'd drank 4 cups of coffee within and hour on an empty stomach.

Ergo, it's official: I'm anxious.  ...about the "u" word.

I've been applying to some jobs here and there over the course of the last couple of weeks, but haven't heard anything promising and quite frankly, haven't been trying that hard.  Confession:  words like "follow-up phone call", "networking", and "informational interview" make me nauseous.  So, I continue this roller-coaster schedule of:
1. having a little gumption and a glimmer of hope that today will be the day I find the perfect opportunity:
2. spending a few minutes or hours searching and applying online:
3. quickly losing any of the aforementioned gumption and hope when I fail to find anything remotely related to my skill-set and/or objectives:
4. becoming exhausted by the thought of the application, interview, proving-I'm-exactly-who-you-want-for-this-position process:
5. rushing to the kitchen to find the nearest chocolate and then escape to my current domestic-diva fantasy worlds of either: The Pioneer Woman or "The Dirty Life".

And then I start thinking about other options besides, you know, the typical job thing.  Options like:

- Opening an etsy shop and selling felt garland and one-yard bags.
- Having a baby, because I mean, I'll be home anyway and I just got an immersion blender (so as to make some kick-butt baby food, of course ... among others things, like soup...)
- Opening my sort-of-a-joke-but-no-seriously idea of a popcorn business
- Becoming an ebay phenom and making a fortune by buying low and selling high (ok, maybe not a fortune, but a least some profit).

Ugh.

This is exhausting.

And I'm not even there yet: the "U" word doesn't even officially begin until next week.

At the very least, I can survive off of the eggs the chickens produce and will be relatively clean as I've just finished about six batches of soap.  I may be without a job, but gosh darnit - I'm going to smell good!

~Julie

Chickens?  Yes, Kyle and I have chickens.  6 beautiful ladies.  To whom I have yet to write a letter.  I'd intended to do a photo-blog of them for months now .... Maybe I'll add that to my list of Unemployment Goals.

Frickin' Five Friday

Dear Friday,

In honor of Laura's amazing alliteration suggestions, it's official: I'm starting a weekly letter to you: Friday.  Why Friday? you ask.  Well, lists and alliterations make me giddy and I finished my last final yesterday, so naturally I couldn't wait to start.

I'm going with Laura's original title suggestion, but may alter it in the future as I see fit ...

So here it is: the first installment of

Frickin' Five Friday
Five things I'm looking forward to this weekend:


1. Dinner out with Kyle tonight.  To someplace new.  He has to wear a tie. I'm hungry already. (Thanks, Kurt!)
2. Pancakes with Powderhorn Neighbors on Saturday morning.  If you're in the hood, come on by!
3. Annie. An elementary school production with two of our friends' daughters in it.  Should be magnificent. And I will try to refrain from singing along (fellow audience member don't appreciate that so much).
4. Securing a super fantastic Christmas present for Kyle.  Here's hoping that everything pans out, because it is going to be EPIC!
5. The Christmas Pageant at church.  Kyle and I are Shepherd herders (literally, we're herding the sheps from the balcony to the sanctuary whilst keeping everyone alive and accounted for). And we have some fantastic, yet-to-be-revealed accessories for the kiddos to you know, help us all get into character.  Hopefully I'll have a picture or two to share.


TGIF,
Julie

December

Dear December,

Well, hello.  How'd it get to be the 15th already?

I have a lot to say, but not necessarily to any specific recipient, so I thought I'd just send a general letter about life recently.

I'm considering doing a weekly list-type post, because 1.) I love lists and 2.) I have specific things to say that fall within a certain category that would be best presented as a list.  I'm trying to figure out how to a.) make this original and b.) make this functional.  I have a friend who writes "Ten Things Tuesday" and I like this a lot because i.) I love alliterations and ii.) it would have to be an even number, naturally.  However, I hate to steal her material, and ten is somewhat of an intimidating number (what if I can only think of eight?).  So... this idea is currently under construction.

Back to you, December.  It's been quite the half of month. 

-You've brought official news of my pending unemployment (a "Farewell Neighb" letter is most definitely in the works), and my first I'm-soon-going-to-be-unemployed-freak-out-pity-party-moment.

- You've brought our beautiful Christmas tree, which I would post a picture of if I weren't in the Inver Hills Community College computer lab.  Single-handedly decorated by Kyle James Oostra.

- I'm an official soap-maker.

- I will officially be done with my first semester back-at-school classes in t-minus 90 minutes.  Hooray.

- The Oostras are now the proud owners of ....  an old-fashioned and fully functional typewriter!  Compliments of Justin Kohorst and the famouse Arneson white elephant party.  (Kyle won this.  I got an oversized hacky sack).*

- No snow.  What gives?  Let's get on that: I'm sick of the dirty, muddy ground.

- And, the official decision (God-willing and the creek don't rise) that I'm going to Nepal.  To visit Laurel.  With Eva. In 2012.  Oh boy! Can't wait.  This has been quite the decision process - perhaps this too warrants an entirely different letter.

- Kyle's amazing performance in the who-knows-how-manyeth-because-we-don't-really-keep-track-of-that-stuff annual Christmas at Calvary.  He's a hottie.  With a rockin bass. Voice.      He has a bass voice.

Well, that's all for now.  I'd thought this might be the month of the Oostra's first-ever Christmas card, but alas it's not going to happen.  I am however, throwing around the idea of a Christmas video-greeting.  Whaddya think?  We're pretty cute, and I have a commanding stage-presence.

Cheers!
Julie

*I had intended to write a letter last month to another new member of the Oostra household: The Dishwasher  (subtitle: The Appliance That Saved Our Marriage), but never got around to it: I was too busy fighting Kyle to unload or load it.  Maybe.

Argument

Dear Argument,

Well welcome back.  Written text doesn't necessarily convey emotion, so let me spell it out for you: I say this begrudgingly.


Though, to be fair, I'm thinking that this letter might be mis-titled.  Because, the hubbie and I didn't really have an argument per se, as I just made known a few things more than a few that I was frustrated about and limited discussion ensued.  This is usually how it goes - we're not really a fighting couple so much as a Julie-emotes-dynamically-and-Kyle-reacts-and-responds-kinda-couple.

This works sometimes.

And sometimes it doesn't.  


like tonight


So as a natural response to a situation where I feel I have no control and that generally makes me feel guilty and hurt, I do what any God-fearing wife and upstanding citizen would do: I get productive.

That's right people.  Don't let this late hour (11:48 p.m. CST) fool you: I'm getting things done and I. am. in. control.  Running the dishwasher (maybe twice as there's another pile of dishes in the "staging area"). Washing the winter coats that have needed it for two years.  Processing the applesauce I cooked last week.  Cooking lunch for the rest of the week. Preparing a package to send to Laurel.

And blogging about it.

All whilst having to precariously hoist myself over the dishwasher that, because it's portable, must sit in the doorway from the kitchen to the pantry when running so as to be hooked up to the sink.

Oh yes people, there were obstacles, but I overcame them.  Because I am in control.


Now, since you're all very intelligent blog-worldians, I'm sure you've already guessed that I'm going to make some meaningful conclusion about how I'm actually not in control, and I'm merely engaging in these excessive, solitary, late-night activities to allow myself some semblance of control because I'm feeling guilty and angry and not-in-control of this whole marriage thing.

Well, I have news for you.

You're right.

Except I'm not.

Going to write about it, that is.  Let's be real: we're not really there yet in our relationship.  You know where I'm talking about: the place where we divulge vulnerable information about our deepest shortcomings and fears.  I mean, how much do I really know about you?

Exactly.

Besides, I'd hate to pull the proverbial internet "overshare" and have you thinking that I'm out of control or something.

Now that would be bad.



Goodnight,
Julie

Sisters

Dear Sisters,

You know who I’m talking to.  Not necessarily the biological, and not even the really close girlfriends who are like sisters.  I’m speaking of actual sisters … Sisters of the Visitation, as in nuns.

You’re amazing.  I love you.  And can’t wait to spend a few hours with you tonight.

As I’ve sat here in Sister’s Sludge coffee shop (how ironic!), I’ve debated whether or not to come tonight, or to just go home, go for a long run, take a hot shower, and go to bed at 7:30p.m.  #ohsotempting 

However, more than my body needs sleep (I plan to catch up on that this weekend) my heart needs some care.  Honestly, I just need to sit at the feet of Jesus and be.  Throw off all these unattainably high expectations that I put on myself to be everything to everybody: the perfect wife, friend, employee, daughter, neighbor …  and take a deep breath. 

And you have this amazing way of allowing me to do that.  Every time I walk through your front door I feel the strong sense of peace that can only mean one thing: God is here.  

So, thank you, for having such welcoming hearts to let us girls spend a Friday night with you.  You are all so beautiful.  And I always imagine Mary and Elizabeth's visitation when I'm with you, because when I spend time with you I think I'm experiencing what they must have experienced so long ago:  a much-needed visit from a kindred spirit.  This is especially meaningful this time of year.

See you in an hour,

Julie

P.S. This goes without saying, but another reason I love you so much is that you're the closest thing to The Sound of Music I've experienced this side of the Atlantic, and I love that movie!

P.P.S. I would also like to mention that I often think of scenes from another favorite: Sister Act when I'm with you.  But I don't want to stereotype.

Contentment

Dear Contentment,

Why do you evade me?

I fear sometimes that I'll forever be stuck on the other side of the fence  (you know which fence I'm talking about - the one that divides me from the greener grass).  And in the same moment that I find myself longing for something else, I immediately feel slapped with the guilt of selfishness and ungratefulness.  And that one voice in my head tells me I should probably look up a verse about contentment and one about gratitude and get me a memorizin'.

That voice is probably right.

But it doesn't really make sense.  I mean, I say that I believe that circumstances can't make a person content and that money can't buy happiness, but let's get real here.  If there were a few less crappy situations in my life and a few more dollars in the bank, I think I'd be a happier person.  Maybe even more content.  Maybe.

Ugh.

Currently thinking of things like:

"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart ..."

"I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation ... whether living in plenty or in want."

But what does that even mean?  Delighting in the Lord?  How do you know if you have or have not delighted in him today? And what exactly is the secret, Paul?  Clearly some supernatural occurrence has to happen, because this is fairly illogical. 

Hmmm.  Maybe my issue isn't so much with you, contentment, but with hope.  Believing that contentment and peace is possible despite my circumstances and shortcomings. 

But here's the tricky part.  I've always been a dreamer.  Always had a pretty colorful imagination and the kind of person who was interested in everything* and wanted to do it all.  Couple that with having a brain that is constantly thinking no less that seven simultaneous thoughts, and you have a recipe for a.) high expectations and b.) extreme disappointment when things don't work out (enter: contentment issues).  So, where's the line?  How much can I, should I dream/expect/hope for/want/strive for?  And when do I let go and embrace reality and be content with that? Which, for the record, sounds an awful lot like "lowering my expectations", which is not something I a.) like to do or b.) necessarily know when to do. 

.........

As I type this, I keep coming back to the notion that this is first and foremost an internal issue - between my heart and soul and Jesus, as opposed to anything related to external circumstances.  Bummer.  External things seem way easier to fix than the inside of me.  And I'm a fixer.

Here's Hoping,

Julie

* Not "everything".  I had and have no interest in basketball.  After being the shortest one in the gymnasium for 4th grade basketball camp one sweaty July week , I said sayonara to Coach Dunn-Reier and buenos dias to the Stoner family swimming pool for good.

Thanksgiving

Dear Thanksgiving,

You guessed it: the proverbial "thankful" blog letter.  Don't be hater - be a THANKer.

er.

That was dumb. 

But I shall continue:

I. am. thankful.  Are you?

I hope so, because it's worth it.  Thanks to the suggestion of my dear friend Eva, I've been (not-so-consistently-mostly-in-spurts-trying-to-be-disciplined-even-when-I-don't-feel-like-it) keeping a list of things I'm thankful for.  I try and do this every day and a lot of the time it's really easy, because I have A. LOT. to be grateful for.  And sometimes it's really hard, because life is hard, and people are mean, and I'm broken, and I have skewed perspective which sometimes equates to a "world is ending" reaction even though it's really just a broken fingernail.

BUT it's been SO worth it.

Because it brings me out of the circumstantial gratitude and into the eternal gratitude. And it reminds me that looking around at other peoples' seemingly perfect lives is exhausting, fruitless, wrong, and detrimental to my soul and my relationships.  And God says you should do it.  And it reminds me not to take things for granted:

Like the other day, when one of the things I listed on my thankful list was: "Grateful to live in safety and not have to fear being kidnapped by giant evil Gremlins* every time I walk out my front door".  can I get an amen?! 

(You can guess what I happened to dream the night before that.)

But seriously, I am thankful.  Not because my life is perfect or even because it is comparatively better than most others' in the world (though in a lot of ways, it might be), but because God is gracious to me and I'm trying to respond to that appropriately.

So, I hope you too are grateful - I know of at least one thing you could list.  Unless of course you actually were kidnapped by giant evil Gremlins ...

With Gratitude,
Julie

*Are "giant" and "Gremlin" mutually exclusive?

Solitude

Dear Solitude,

My how I love you sometimes.  Scratch that - I need you sometimes!

Like tonight last Thursday.*  Bible study girls had left.  I got the kitchen all cleaned.  Packed a lunch for tomorrow. Lit almost all the candles in the house and sat down on the couch and took a deep. breath.

The first deep breath I've been able to take all week, it seems.

I'm realizing that my weeks have been especially "top-heavy": busy at the beginning; not-so-busy towards the end.  This week was no exception: Tuesday and Wednesday were unexpectedly crazy at work, and things have been extra stressful and emotional as of late due to some major changes.  I'd like to say more and articulate my true feelings on all of these "changes," but let's be real: this here blog is on the internets - aka: the place where no information is private and doesn't ever really get destroyed for real, aka: the place where confidentiality goes to die. 


Anyway, back to you: solitude.

Thank you.  What a lovely evening.  The introvert in me has been replenished.  All of me has been revived, actually. There's something about you combined with the beautiful flicker of candlelight that is soothing to my soul.  Add that with some Phyllis Tickle and I have me a recipe for simply being.  Still.  Aware.  Peaceful.  Able to hear and remember God's work and presence in ways that I can't when there is too much noise around.

Feeling very full and grateful.

Here's to making more room for you more often.

~Julie

*I began writing this last week, but then got distracted ... so here it is a few days later.

Long Prairie

Dear Long Prairie,

Looking forward to seeing you again this weekend. Last weekend was great, as was the weekend before that. Restful and relaxing as always.

I’ll admit, you’re still a little foreign to me. I don’t totally understand you, but I think I appreciate you more and more each time we’re together.

Things I love about Long Prairie, MN:

- You’re a small town. Rural really. Far away from the busy, sometimes-overwhelming cities that I do live or have lived in.

- Your people. You produce good stock. Some immediately from you and others and others from your surrounding area. Clearly this is true. I married one.  And we'll be saying goodbye to an especially beautiful one this weekend.

- You’re usually always relaxing. Two weekends ago I slept 10.5 hours on Friday night and 10 on Saturday night - glorious! I don’t have to cook or clean while here (though I try and offer), but delicious food always seems to be available. I usually don’t spend much time on the internet (though you now have wireless like the cool kids), so I’m not constantly thinking about what needs to be done with work or life obligations.

- Free Laundry. Laundry is a lot more enjoyable when a.) It’s free b.) The machines are readily accessible and c.) You have other tasks to keep you occupied while the machines are doing their job.

- Sewing Machine. You not only have available sewing machines for my domestic projects, but you also have more than a few sewers around who are always available to offer their assistance.  (spoiler alert on an upcoming blog letter: "my first quilt!")

- Readily accessible running options.  Went on a lovely 4-miler two weeks ago (though was informed afterwards that that wasn't the best idea given the surrounding trees and chances of stray hunters' bullets) and did a nice hill workout on water tower hill.

Until Tomorrow,
Julie

2011, Revisited

Dear 2011,

It's been quite the year so far, and as I begin to formulate next year's resolutions and goals, I thought I'd revisit your goals and see where I stand:


- Let people off the hook. Hmmm.  I can't really think of anyone that I've "left on the hook" (well maybe one or two - but I'd like to think that it wasn't really me that put them there, so much as it was they that crawled on themselves) ... so mostly a success?  I think I've done a better job of having grace for myself and quite frankly, letting other peoples' problems be their own problems and not my own.  Sound harsh?  Maybe a little, but let's be real: most of the time, I don't have any control over other people's choices and opinions of me anyway, so I might as well let them swim free (to continue this "hook" analogy).

- Don't buy clothes. Success.  It's been easier than I thought.  I haven't been cold (or naked).  Have purged my closet a couple of times, which proves to be a great stress-reliever, and have received some lovely clothes as gifts - how generous!  I will admit that I did purchase a couple of "necessities" with giftcards I had - but let's be honest, some things you just need to replace.

- Play piano. Fail.  Well, I have played a little, but certainly not to the extent that I had hoped.  I'm still stuck on the first few songs in my Beginner books.

- Run a half marathon or a 10 Mile. Success!!  Hurray for the TC 10 mile - probably my best road race so far.  It was a gorgeous day, and despite feeling like my training had been lacking, Kyle and I finished in just around 90 minutes - and I felt pretty good at the end.  I'm hoping to make this a tradition, but after spectating at the Monster Dash 1/2 Marathon, I thinking I might go for the extra 3.1 miles just so I can dress up whilst I run. Costumes suggestions accepted....

- Blog more. Success.  Sort of.  I would have liked to have blogged more.  There's still time.  But, compared to 2010 - this year has definitely seen an increase.

- Pray more. Success, I guess.  Again - kind of an intangible.  How does one really measure this? By minutes prayed?  Content covered?  Fervor? Quality of prayers? Number of people prayed for? Can you really every pray enough?  Well, whatever your criteria, I'm going to mark this one as "success" - in addition to some sweet liturgy from Phyllis Tickle, I've generally felt a lot of thankfulness for having moments with which to pray and sweet reminders to do so more often. He is faithful.

And as a sneakpeak to next year's goals:
"Yogi"  not to be confused with "Yoshi" from Mario Bros.


Cheers for 10 good months - and here's to 2 more!


-Julie

Leaves

Dear Leaves,

It's no secret that I love fall, so by definition, you're included in that.  I've been meaning to take some pictures of the changing trees in our neighborhood or along the river, but didn't get around to it.

But, Kyle and I had a lovely evening last week raking (and piling and bagging and stuffing and raking and bagging).  Really, it was a gift to have an opportunity to be outside and smell your fall-ness smell and hear your crunchiness.


I suggested we leave  a big pile of you on the parkway for kids to jump into and play in, but Kyle said he had no desire to rake twice, so into the bag you all went, with almost the same efficiency as Jim Stoner demands.






<-------  So glad I married this one.





Here's to a few short weeks left to enjoy you until spring.  (Leaves that is, not the great outdoors - I have very strategic plans in place so as to maximize my outdoor enjoyment this winter).

Cheers,
Julie




-What do you call a hotdog on October 31st?


-A Halloweenie!

Birthday

Dear Birthday,

It's no secret.  I like you. A lot. 

It's taken me a while to admit that - I feel the social pressure to maintain an appearance of humility, which apparently equates to insisting that one's birthday is "no big deal".  Pish-posh.

I don't think I necessarily make a big deal of you, so much as I just really really like you.  Who wouldn't?

You're consistent.  Always the same day each year.
You're responsible.  Never late.
You're even. Always solid on the 24th - not odd or prime.
You're celebratory. Obviously.
You're beautiful.  Fall is gorgeous, so are pumpkins.
You're globally-minded.  United Nations Day.
You're considerate.  Not too close to major holidays.
You're noble. Feast of Saint Anthony Claret.

So, I'm coming clean: no more pretending that you're "just another day".  I'm embracing that you're special and worth celebrating, because I'm worth that too.  Jesus said so, ergo it's true.

Thankful for dear friends with which to celebrate.  And generous ones who shared gifts, cards, and sentiments.  And of course my parents, who are always good for a Birthday limerick (Mom) and a Frank Sinatra-esque rendition of "Happy Birthday" via voicemail (Dad).  And to Kyle, who indulges me pretty much every day of the year, but especially on you, this special day. 

So, thank you dear Birthday for 26 great ones - here's to many more!

Gratefully,
The Birthday Girl

Update

Dear Update,

It's been a while.  There are reasons.  Some good.  Some lame.

Perhaps the overarching ones being: time (went back to full-time work and enrolled in part-time classes) and blog limitations (I'm realizing the precedent that I set with this whole "letters" thing can actually be quite limiting.  It demands a named recipient, and significantly limits some of my stream-of-conscious thoughts that I'd like to write about, but can't seem to fit within this structure).

So, for now, I write to and about some updates:
-It's fall. I. love. fall.  Not just because my birthday falls in the fall I love all the usual things that anyone who loves fall loves about it: pumpkin-flavored anything, turning trees, smells in the air, approaching holidays, reasons to stay inside and get cozy, better opportunities to bake, no need for air conditioners.
-School.  Ho boy.  It's good.  Really really good.  The first two times I was on campus for classes I couldn't stop smiling - I was giddy. Literally. Called my Mom talking a mile a minute about how academia and Julie have been reunited and the sparks are still there.  I'm so thankful for this opportunity** and am really enjoying my classes and the material.  Perhaps even bigger news is my perspective on classes.  I'm trying really hard to stick to the boundaries I've set regarding time, grades, and material.  Being a perfectionist, and someone who is quite frankly unfamiliar with anything that doesn't start and end with an "A", I've had many moments where I've had to remind myself that grades aren't everything.  I actually received what I'm pretty sure is the first C- of my life. Okay my group received it and we mostly blame the one girl who turned in the paper, but alas, I haven't lost any sleep over this.  I could write more about these boundaries and school and plans, but I'm thinking I'll save that for another letter.
-Travel.  Apparantly the Oostras decide to plan most of our travel plans during October and November.  This happened last year too.  It's all fun stuff: wedding in Michigan, game weekend in Wisconsin, graduation in California, and of course the all-important, don't-you-forget-it-if-you-married-a-Minnesota-boy, hold-on-to-your-flourescent-orange-apparal-please: hunting weekend(s)!
-Work.  The generic answer I have for anyone who asks about this topic is: "transitions".  Depending on who you are and how well I know you, I might launch into the gory, emotive details.  I won't here.  But let's just say this is another area where I'm praying for boundaries and perpsective.  Things have been STRESSful and I'm not really sure what the next few months will look like, so I'm holding things loosely and doing what I can.

That's enough for now ....

Julie

Hope

Dear Hope,

Let's get together.  The sooner the better.

I seem to be a little short on you in some specific areas lately and I don't like it.

I'm trying to do the whole "remember" thing, because that can help put things into perspective for me and remind me that suckiness* usually ends at some point.

Remembering gives me hope.

But this is hard.

So, I'm remembering the time that I was laying in bed as a six-year-old after watching Bambi convinced that my Mom had died on her way home from a meeting because I knew she was later than she said she'd be.  Turns out she didn't and she wasn't.  Who knew that I was still ironing out my time-telling skills?

Or I'm remembering my first time on a roller coaster when my 8-year-old brain had no hope that the rickety wooden coaster car I was in would hold me in going down that big hill.  Turns out I was wrong and it did. (as an aside: the jury's still out on some roller coasters, especially mobile carnival ones ...). 

I'm trying to remember the number of times when a friendship or relationship seemed irreparable, because there had been too much hurt.  Turns out it wasn't.

So, I'm trying hard to exercise the work of remembering.  Of calling to mind the ways that God has brought me through.  Mmm, no I don't like that phrase, actually.  I think back to these few (somewhat lame, I know) examples and the plethora of others, and I realize that God didn't just bring me through - he made it new.  Maybe even better. 

Even though it seems easier (and perhaps more logical) to believe things like: "run now! avoid more pain!"  and "people don't change - you're kidding yourself!", I'm trying to remember that God doesn't necessarily do the easy or the logical.

But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
"The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him."
The LORD is good to those who wait for (whose hope is in**) him, to the soul who seeks him.
Lamentations 3:21-25

So, here I am. Making a conscious decision to remember the times when I thought you were gone, but weren't. To wait for the Lord, because he is faithful and my source of hope.

Here's hoping,
Julie

*I don't like the work "suck" or any of its derivatives, but sometimes it just seems the most inappropriately appropriate.
**Different version, I forget which, but I like holding the two next to each other: reminds me that "hope" and "wait" are often related.

Wisconsin

Dear Wisconsin,

I'm going to try very hard to avoid negative stereotypes here, but you're not making it easy. 

I mean, the last three letters in your name do spell SIN.

Does this say anything about your character? (The word SANTA is an anagram for ... you guessed it: SATAN.)  *gasp!*

I digress....

I'm writing to appeal for some reconciliation before I return to you next week.  I'm guessing that my check for $200.50* will be an acceptable peace offering (memo line: "I LOVE WISCONSIN"). 

You see, I think we could be friends.  You're not unlike my current home state.  We're neighbors.  You have beautiful scenery and are  home to some folks I love.  And I hear that property taxes are a steal.  There's really no reason this couldn't work.

Except for your officers of the law.  Now, I was assured in the information pamphlet I received from the Wisconsin Department of Transportation, that your police officers absolutely do not engage in any sort of profiling when making traffic stops, but some of us west of the border find this a little hard to believe.  No no, I'm not talking racial or gender profiling, I'm talkin' license-plate profiling. 

That's right.  I said it.  I think you packercheeseheads take a particular dislike to those of us out of staters.  That's the only explanation I can find for why I received a "following to closely" ticket when I was in a line of 15 cars that were all following at the same distance. 

Hmmph.  I do not appreciated being pre-judged by my vehicle paraphernalia.  Please prove me wrong in future visits.

Love from MN,
Red Ford Focus

* Why the odd dollar amount??  I asked myself this same question and couldn't come up with an answer.  I'm sure here in Minnesota we only give tickets in full dollar amounts in increments of 5.  Take that Wisconsin.

Garden

Dear Garden,


I trust this won’t be the last letter I write to you as I have a number of different things to share (and photos). But today, I shall tell you why I like you:

-The opportunity to be outdoors. In nature, in the sun, in the rain.

-Your sweet smells. Walking into work past our (flourishing) vegetable gardens every morning is a highlight. I can’t really tell you exactly what the smell is – but it’s certainly alive. Nothing dead in there. Lots of growing.

-The excuse to get dirty. I’m not necessarily a big fan of not being clean, but there’s a small part of me that enjoys the fact that I don’t have to be clean (read: look cute, smell good) in the garden.

-You give me hope.

Really.

How a little, dry, dead-looking seed can somehow transform into a vibrant, green, living plant that produces fruit is beyond me. Every time I visit you and see something green peek out of the dirt, I think “No way! How’d that happen?”
 
And it gives me hope.
 
That if something dead and seemingly lifeless can be brought to life (and purposeful life at that!) then surely the same can be done with me. I mean, if God cares enough to bring a tiny tomato seed to fruit-bearing life, then he can certainly bring the dead inside of me into something vibrant, purposed, alive.  Right?
 
I could take this spiritual analogy a whole lot further, probably quoting some verses from John about pruning.  But I won't.
 
It's a miracle.  God can make a miracle out of me.  Perhaps he already has. 
 
And I really like garden tomatoes.
 
Sincerely,
Julie

Blog

Dear Blog,

I have changed your name.  You already know this, I'm sure.

It was time.  I wasn't thrilled with the shaky translation of the former title, and I think this one is a little more descriptive though perhaps egocentric.

We'll try this one out and see ...

Fondly,

The Author

Grad School

Dear Grad School,

Hmm where to start…

I love you. I loath you. You allude me. You overwhelm me. I idealize you.

Okay. I should clarify.

I’m not so much talking about you as much as I’m talking about the idea of you. We’ve never actually met, so I really can't speak from experience.

Anyway, due to interaction with “the Covenant” as most in it call it (wow that sounds creepier when actually written down, like we’re all going to go drink some grape juice together or something…) and North Park University, I’ve come to be skeptical of you. It seems in some cases you’re just a convenient and familiar next step for recent college grads who don’t know what else to do. I find this especially hard to swallow with seminary, because, you know shouldn’t the stakes be a little higher there? In my idealistic mind, the copious amounts of money and time that you required should not be taken lightly, and should be held in a certain level of reverence. Instead, in this day and age of directionless grads and a poor economy – you seem to be a really good option for those who, well, need an option.

Do I sound critical? I thought so. And you know what they say about criticism....


Well ok I don’t really know what “they” say about criticism, I just know myself well enough that most of the time my criticism is actually rooted in ... jealousy.

Ugh. Yes, I admit it. I’m not proud, but this is a safe place, right? (of course it is – it’s the internet!) Please no judgment...

Anyway, back to you. Mostly, I write this letter as an official goodbye. At least for now. I'd been hanging on to the idea of you for about 18 months, deferred enrollment once, and have (finally) given word that I won't be attending this fall. Not surprising, just sad. I'd found that I had put off the decision of officially saying "no" because I like the idea of you and I desperately want to go back to school. I knew you weren't going to happen - at least this time around - but I certainly liked hanging on to my acceptance letter and putting off sending the official "no". But alas, the time had come: I can't live in limbo, I had to make the decision.

I hope we meet someday. I actually pray for that. And maybe then I'll be eating all my jealousy-rooted judgmental words.

See you soon,
Julie

Baby Steps

Dear Baby Steps,

Sometimes I don’t blog because I don’t have anything to say. Or I don’t have a good idea of anyone to write a letter to.

Most of the time, however, I don’t blog because I have too much to say. (hard to believe, I know) A jumble of topics, recipients, ideas, questions flying through my brain seemingly simultaneously that there seems to be no reasonable way to organize all of them to create something coherent and readable. When I do attempt to sort through them to find a blog-worthy topic, I usually only get a sentence or two in before I determine that there is a more important recipient or that the letter isn't turning out well enough (read: perfect), so I abandon that idea and search for the next. Ideas like:


Dear Burger King. You sound exceptionally tantalizing today, exactly which parts of the cow are in your whoppers?

Dear Pope Benedict XVI. You’re on Twitter?!?! Well at least you praised Jesus in your first tweet. So I hear. I've never actually twitted, because to be honest it seems awfully …

Dear Smoking Loon. You are my new favorite Cab. De-lish! Let’s be friends forever (butinareasonableandresponsiblewayofcourseidonotwantodevelopissues).

Dear Minnesota State Government. What the hey?! Y’all better getcha selves together over there and do what you were hired to do. The current emotions that I’m experiencing due to your lack in workplace performance are as follows: disgusted, enraged, aghast, annoyed, …..

Dear Laurel, Warren, Kate and Josh, Eva, Kendra. Please move to South Minneapolis. Pronto. Josh you can come too, NE is still kind of far …

Dear Marriage. I was told you would be hard. But you failed to clarify exactly how hard.

Dear Expectations. Let’s reasonable. Seriously. I need a heavy dose of reality when it comes to you…

Dear Popcorn. I.love.you. I think I could eat you every single day. Oh wait, don’t I already do that?

Dear Hope. Donde estas? It feels like it's been a while...



This process of beginning/abandoning usually last for a few hours/days on and off until finally I’ve exhausted my mental capacity and entertain the idea of abandoning writing all together.



BUT.


I have a plan.



You ... Baby Steps.



I've realized how much I enjoy writing and how it really is a life-giving discipline for me to sort through thoughts and emotions to put them on paper (so to speak...), so in an attempt to continue doing this, I must start somewhere: with baby steps.  I'm being gentle with myself (one of my favorite lines of encouragement when I'm feeling overwhelmed).... and will attempt to lay my expectations of perfect-blogging aside, because, well that's just impossible.  And the best news? God chose me as his own on that exact precedent - that I would fall short. Even in blogging. Sweet. 

Here's to the first (baby)step,
Julie

Joshua Becker

Dear Joshua Becker,

I think we're going to be friends.  I've only read one and a half of your articles, but they.are.good.

And you shared a quote from my favorite artist, Joan Baez, in an amazing and true post about writing.  You're speaking my language of life balance, physical and emotional health, spirituality, nutrition, simplicity, nature, solitude.

Yes, we will be friends indeed.  If only in the blogosphere. 

I can't believe I just used the word "blogosphere".

Your Newest Fan Friend,
Julie

Cabin

Dear Cabin,

How I love thee.  Let me count the ways:

-The Hansons (they deserve a whole different letter, but I have no idea where to begin...)
-The smells: pine, campfire smoke, birch, lake, outdoors, nature, ahhh!
-Abraham and Gideon.  Cuu.Tees!  What delightful children. Pleasant, funny, adorable.  And, since Aly the Beloved Baby Hog wasn't there, I had the chance for more time with these kiddos. (I say that completely in love, Aly)
-The lake.  I must admit: I'm a lake snob.  I grew up going to Torch Lake, Michigan every summer which is a beautiful, clear, sand-bottom lake that you can still see the bottom of at a depth of 40 feet. I'm still not sure about these mud and weed-bottomed lakes around Minnesota, but Island Lake is growing on me for sure. And, since the weather wasn't warm enough for swimming or skiing - I was forced to enjoy the lake by simply watching it.  And breathing it all in.
-Road runs.  Saw 3 deer and only one other person.  A perfect 3 or so miler.  Sunny and 70.
-Sally (yes, I know she falls into the "Hansons" category, but allow me...) - I don't think I'll ever get tired of her calling me "honey".
-No technology.  I've never brought my laptop, and I turned off my phone for 24 hours straight - lovely.
-Rocking Abraham to sleep with hymns.  He didn't complain about my singing voice and in fact, offered complementary approval with his big, blue eyes.
-The view from the porch bed.  I love waking up to the sunshine peeking through these amazingly tall trees.  Can I reserve this sleeping spot for myself (and Kyle) forever?  *Dibs*                            
I guess I just did.
-Fires in the fireplace. It's the best of both worlds when it's nice enough to read outside during the day, but cool enough to have a fire inside during the evening.
-Nature. Creation. I'm realizing more and more that God meets me here in special ways.
-Peace.

Here's to many, many, many more years of enjoying you and the people you host. 

I'd rather be Up North,
Julie

20s (take two)

Dear 20s,

It's me again.  I'm glad I alluded to this sequel in my first letter, and thus committed myself to it, because I found myself falling into my pattern of thinking after a blogging marathon (yes, 2 counts as a marathon for me currently) where I loose any gumption I had to write as soon as I'm actually in front of a keyboard and I second guess every thought anyway.

Enough of that.  Here I am.

There are two strong and encouraging voices that I hear when it comes you and all the tension, expectations, struggles, and confusion that you 20s bring: my mother's and God's.  (Though as of this morning, I could probably add my dear friend Warren's as he wrote me an especially encouraging message - thank you friend).

My mom's faithful encouragement is consistently and simply: It's hard. I've been there. It will get better.  Simple, but hugely encouraging given the fact that it's really easy to develop a guilt complex or a "what's wrong with me?" attitude when everyone's telling you that this should be the best time of your life and you're struggling like you never have before.  So, thanks Mom, for validating my feelings, sharing empathy, and giving me hope that life won't always feel like this.  My mom has this unique way of making me feel like  I'm totally normal, when I'm completely convinced otherwise.  I realize the bias that she possesses, but my mother doesn't just make things up because they sound good, so don't mess!

And then there's God. Lately, as I've been walking through questions of job changes, school plans, future decisions, and everything in between, God has consistently and repeatedly been telling my heart: I don't really care. 


(Ummm - say what God?  I thought that caring was, like, you're job.....)

Don't freak out.

God does care.

About a lot of things.  Most things, probably.

BUT, I think that I've been missing the point for about 25 and a half years.  Every time I hear that whisper from the Spirit of I don't care, it's immediately followed by: I care about YOU. Now, this is risky to say, because that sounds pretty selfish, but I think it's true.  I think that more than what grad program I apply to, what job I work, who I want to help, or even where I live; more than any of that, is God's desire to know me and for me to know Him. I think that God certainly cares about and guides and leads people to specific jobs, vocations, studies, locations - most definitely He does this!  BUT, I think above any of that is His love for His people and His desire to be known by them. (And while I'm fully supportive of a communal interpretation/manifestation of Scripture - I'll dissect that plural pronoun and say that God desires that I would know His love for me deeper.)

It's kind of like if you had a hangnail and while attempting to remove said hangnail lost your balance and accidentally fell on a combine and dismembered your left leg.  You're laying there saying "Shoot! My hangnail is still there - and it's going to become infected and cause gangrene! What do I do?!"  And the farmer (who, of course was driving the combine) says "I don't really care about your hangnail - I'm thinking the leg injury is more important here."

Get it?

Poor analogy, I admit. 

He cares about all the stuff of vocation, study, etc. andbut He cares about me, His child.

SO, while I pray wade through the questions, worries, decisions of this decade of my life ... I cling to the still, small voice that says, I don't really care what you study or where you work, I care about you. You! Beloved Julie.   

I once heard someone say that she wakes up every morning and greets herself in the mirror as "Beloved ".  Without commenting on the self-talk-in-the-mirror factor here (another confession letter for sure!) ... that has stuck with me, because before I was Julie, God loved me.  Before the creation of the world.  So really, I'm Beloved first, then Julie.  Beloved Julie. 



God cares about works (even though I think I just admitted that sometimes I hear Him say he doesn't) and loves me SO much.

Thankfully,
Beloved Julie  

20s

Dear 20s (I pondered titling this "The Roaring 20s", but thought better of it ... though it would seem appropriate),

I hear that you're supposed to be the best years of my life. 

But I think that's a lie.

Maybe.

Sure, you have this allure of excitement and adventure - and an appearance of freedom, opportunity, and little responsibility.  I could see how 30s or the 40s might see you as this - and perhaps even the teens, but let's get some things straight:

Adventure is sometimes merely a positive interpretation of the words rootless and directionless.  Expectations are that 20-somethings would be free of responsibility that family (read: kids) bring about, while simultaneously enjoying all the freedoms that adulthood otherwise offers (read: choice, movement, finances, alcohol).  While some of this is true (I love that Kyle and I can just pick-up-and-go to the cabin for the weekend, can sleep in as late as we want on weekends and then walk over to MayDay Cafe for coffee, have as strick or as loose plans as we want, etc. . . ) - there's often general feelings of purposelessness and selfishness - fearing I'm wasting my time, my life and having no idea how to rectify this (and we Christians must not waste our lives - that's for sure).  It's also this weird tension between being free and having little responsibilities and feeling like I don't belong anywhere and my roots haven't had deep soil to grow in for about 7 years.  I often have this feeling that no one really knows me, because, well, the people I spend most of my time with have only known me for a year or so.  And just be it known that there's a lot more to Julie Oostra than just the last 12 months.

Opportunity is sometimes another word for a inordinate amount of options that are seemingly at your fingertips but often aren't a reality because of lack of experience, lack of finances, or lack of education that make you feel like you aren't actaully capable of anything meaningful and life-giving and thus cause paralyzing panic. Sometimes "choice" is a curse.  I've often wished that I was the kind of person who always knew what I wanted to "do" - like a number of my classmates growing up.  Since day one of kindergarten it seemed, Ryan knew he was going to be a doctor (okay - it was fifth grade, but still).  And look at him now - super smartly saving lives in some super detailed and complicated specialty related to brains. No wasted life there.  And then there's me: one year it was a doctor, the next a marine biologist, the next a teacher, the next (and the next) an Olympic track star, the next a university professor, the next a lawyer (or at least a legal advocate), the next a nutrition/health consultutant for sustainable food production and consumption, all the while thrown in there here and there: a mom.

Ugh, please just give me my 70s where I can love every kid that comes into view to death, rock on a rocking chair with Kyle every morning on the front porch with coffee, bake crazy amounts of pies for neighbors and friends and strangers, and listen to the problems of the broken and speak with that certain kind of wisdom that can only come with experiencce and say "It'll get better. I know."

I have some redemptive thoughts here for you, but quite honestly, I think this letter's gotten too long and I'm low on motivation.  I'll save these ideas for a second installment.

Carpe diem,
Julie

Home Business Parties

Dear Home Business Parties,

No, this is not a I-loathe-you-and-all-your-cheesy-sales-pitches-and-awkward-moments-of-forced-purchase kind of letter.


I actually kind of like you.

Sometimes.

Except that I’ve decided that there’s a new rule regarding you:

One can’t invite someone to a home business party without having invited that person over previously. I’m talking a no-strings-attached, purely social invite. In a public place or one’s home.

Now, I understand that besides the obvious, “I want to sell items and make money” or “I told the party host I’d have at least 12 people show up” reasons for inviting near strangers to your party; some people might actually really want to enjoy the social aspect of your events and really want to befriend the attendees. I could see how you might seem like a “safe” environment in which to get to know coworkers or acquaintances with whom you ordinarily do not socialize with. That the schedule and purpose of a party might provide nice structure as a host.

I get this, I really do.

But.

I’m putting my foot down with this rule. I and my over-analytical self and tired of getting these PamperedChefMelaleucaTupperwareNorwex invites from people with whom I’ve never engaged in voluntary socialization. How do I interpret this? Am I just another number on the invite list? Am I just another potential sale? Do you really care about the quality of my jellyroll pan? Do you really want to be my friend in real life? Or just my friend in the home-business-party world?

Therefore, the necessity of the rule. If the host is willing to actually hang out with the invitee prior to the aforementioned party, the host is either: a.) really wanting to engage in a genuine friendship with this person OR b.) willing to go to great(er) lengths to make a dollar and more power to her OR c.) genuinely concerned about the invitee’s organic cleaning, plastic storage, all-natural laundry detergent needs.

Phew, I feel better having voiced this.



But as I write, a second rule is forming in my head. Something regarding the ratio of home business party invites to non home business party invites. Probably at least 1 to 3, though this might be altered depending on the amount of purchase the invitee makes at said party ….

For another letter, I guess.


Best,
Julie

Death

Dear Death,

I don’t really get you.


I’ve always thought that we were pretty familiar given the number of funerals I’ve been to and the amount of time we’ve interacted (from afar, of course). I mean, I probably have about half of the Catholic Funeral Mass Liturgy memorized and I think I can still smell the incense from the last one.

But, you prove me wrong time and time again.

It’s almost like you win each time you come around – and leave those of us left standing in this horrible state of shock. As if it is a surprise that you came around. Again.

And then there’s the fact that you’re so complicated. At face value, it would seem that you’re bad. You know: separating loved ones; coming unexpectedly, often painfully. But then, some people – Christians especially – might view you as good. Putting an end to physical suffering; no more pain that this broken world brings; bringing people closer to the presence of God. Really though, I think that you’re just complicated. Now, I sort of feel guilty saying this because I think that I should look at you without fear or uncertainty, and I’m sure some Christians would chastise me for thinking what I do, but I’m just being honest here. I mean, who really knows what you’re all about? (besides God) When someone meets you do they immediately head one way or the other? You know what I mean ... up or down. What’s judgment all about? Some people are dealt a pretty crappy hand - is that taken into account when tallying up wrongdoings vs. acts of kindness? I’ve heard that there might be some sort of waiting period – a holding cell, if you will. How’s that work? Is it lonely there? Cold? Dark?

Oh, and what is up with the Sheol business?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, you've come around again and brought with you this rush of mixed emotions. Shock, sadness, fear, confusion, guilt, discomfort.

But probably most of all, like a slap in the face, you force me to face my own mortality and cling to the hard-to-believe still-don't-get-it hope that you’re not the end.

With love for Aunt Cindy,
Julie

Grumpy

Dear Grumpy, Bad Mood, Case of the Grumps,

Why hello, so not nice to see you today.  I shouldn’t be surprised given the rather gloomy weather and that dirty word keeps coming up in ominous conversations *snow*.

Blech.

Makes me want to wash my mouth out with soap.

I would MUCH rather be sitting on my comfy couch with sweatpants and a warm latte instead of underneath these harsh fluorescent lights staring at a computer screen, trying to put on a cheery face and pretend like you don’t exist.  And can I just ask why it is that self-entitled jerkfaces always seem to show up on days that you’re here too?  Did you call each other and decide to meet up for some fun wherever Julie is?  Real mature.

One thing I do appreciate about you is that I’m a little quieter whenever you come around.  Not just less-word-quieter, but quieter in my soul.  Deep-thinker-quieter.  Contemplative, if you will.

So, here I am on this dreary day, a little gloomy and more introspective that usual.  Wondering why evil happens.  Where Kyle and I will be in a year or five.  Wondering when and if we’ll have kids and if they’ll somehow make it into being Jesus-loving, semi-well adjusted adults despite this dysfunctional world and their dysfunctional parents.  Wondering how to really be a Jesus-follower in a capitalist society.  Wondering which battles to fight and which ones to endure. 

Wondering how I got here.

Wondering what the 10 year old wanna-be-a-Olympic-runner Julie would think of me now.  Or what the high school wanna-tell-everyone-about-Jesus Julie would think. Or what the academic wanna-fill-my-mind-with-every-possible-nugget-of-information-so-that-it-might-change-my-heart college age Julie would think. 

It's days like this when you come to visit that I fear the answers to those questions, and that other unwanted friend creeps in, regret. I worry that I'm wasting my time.  Spending an hour on the road commuting each day. At work. Trying to affirm people's humanity, while questioning my own. At home. Failing miserably a lot of the time at this thing called marriage. Barely knowing who lives 25 feet away on our street. Trying to love kids at church, but watching them choose teasing and fighting over caring.  Wanting to desperately connect with friends, but feeling often excluded and generally unknown.  

I'm tempted to try and end this letter with some sort of positive spin - you know, something somewhat spiritual and, of course true.  But, given the recipient of this letter, I'm going to refrain and allow myself to be in these thoughts for now.  

I'm feeling it and feeling it well.

See you (hopefully not too) soon,

Newly-married-working-adult Julie

Swimmers

Dear Swimmers,

Oh? Haven’t you heard. I’m one of you now.

Yep, it’s true. I’m a swimmer.

Julie the Swimmer.

Swimmer Julie.

You see, the last letter I wrote … that was just Julie. But now, now … I am Swimmer Julie.

How, you ask? What prompted the change? Well, just a small, but exceedingly necessary item for can’thandlethechlorineinmyeyessinktothebottomeventhoughthehumanbodyissupposedlybouyant people like me:

Goggles!

Wow do these little buggers make all the difference! Thanks to the kind gift from my dear husband (and his REI dividend) I’m able to actually swim with my face in the water (instead of with a neck thrown back with fluttering eyelids trying to keep the water from getting in my eyes). AND I have no less fear of swimming into the wall, other swimmers, the lane ropes, buoys, anchors, and the like.


I’ve learned a lot in the many various two times that I’ve officially been swimming. Things like lane etiquette:

1.) When approaching a lane that is already in use by another swimmer, it’s proper to make some friendly attempt to acknowledge your desire to share the lane.
- “Mind if I swim here too?” works well.

2.) When sharing a lane, determine if you are going to go back and forth on the same side of the lane, or go ‘around’ – that is; down on one side, back on the other.
- NOTE TO SELF: always encourage separate sides! This way, you won’t feel the pressure to keep up with the other swimmer, and/or feel the defeat when they lap you. Twice. And they have about 4% body fat. And they have about 45 years on you.

Also as a Swimmer, I’ve learned that a “lap” is actually considered TWO lengths of the pool. Read: down AND back. This seems like hogwash to me, especially considering the fact that I have to stop at the end of each lap/length and take off my goggles to catch my breath.* Therefore, unless otherwise noted, the use of the word “lap” will future forward refer to the distance from one end of the pool to the other.

That being said, I swam 20 laps yesterday and 20 on Monday. It felt amazing! Certainly a more freeing, floating-on-air-like feeling than running. And if I was sweating, I wouldn’t know, because I washed right off me! My body is definitely feeling the effects of this new exercise – I’m sore in some -ahem- interesting places. But overall, I’m glad to finally be one of you.

Admirably,
Swimmer Julie

* This whole goggle thing is new for me.  While they're essential to seeing underwater, they are limiting in my out-of-water vision, and therefore cause me to feel claustrophobic and constrained.  So, when I come to the end of the lap (please see above for current definition of this word) to take a break, I feel an unavoidable need to whip off my goggles to catch my breath.  Unhindered. Also, it's a little weird to only see the bottom half of people when peering under water with said goggles. Usually I focus on peoples' faces, not their waists-and-below.

Google Images

Dear Google Images,

You inspire me.  No, not on a deep, meaning-of-life level.  More of a "that's beautiful", "what a good idea", and "I'd like to look at that everyday" kind of a way.  I've found that this searching and collecting is also a good antidote for wanderlust, oddly enough.

And I experience A LOT of wanderlust.

Especially on days like today when the dark morning came too soon, my job seems filled with little purpose and lots of annoyances, I'm not feeling especially productive or attractive, and that familiar pang of melancholy hits me everytime I look at someone's facebook or blog photo of some amazing, breathtaking place they've visited or lived. 


I usually allow myself a few minutes of self-pity for my seemingly tiny existence.



And then, if I'm still dwelling on it and have the time, I go the world wide web.  Google, specifically.



And find me some beauty....

Since it's technically spring, I've obviously been thinking about gardening lately.  This seems beautiful, but I have a feeling my actual garen will look a little more like this:

And then I begin googling for my two favorite things of late:

Birds!  (Retro, caricatures, to be specific) And fabric (and any craft project involving fabric):

Isn't this amazing?!  I think I'm going to attempt something like it ... I have a paned window waiting to be beautified.

Well, I suppose that's enough surfing for me today: time to face reality.

Your Inspiree,

@Julie

N.T. Wright

Dear Tom,

I'm digging your book.

Yes, I know you've written a lot of them.  I'm speaking specifically about the one on Galatians.  Good stuff my British chum, good stuff.

I was actually thinking about writing this letter/post a while ago, because I liked your book then too. But, I never got around to it because I was spending so much time reading your wonderful book.  (Okay, okay, about 4% of that last sentence is true .... the part about "not getting around to it" ...)

But I'm GLAD I didn't write this little post a few months ago because it would have looked a lot different than it does now.

Because, you see I liked your book then because I agreed with it. I thought I had you figured out then.  I figured that you fell in the same area on the spectrum of faith ... spirituality ... Christian doctrine ... Jesus-following .. that I did. You know the "area" I speak of: the generally reasonable, always unselfish, truly caring for others, abhorring judgement or criticism, only loving area.  So really, I thought that you agreed with me and therefore WE were right.  And thank goodness for reasonable, unselfish, loving people like us to keep all those other judgmental crazies in line and in orthodoxy.  Phew.

That was then.

And then Chapter 8 came along.

And I didn't feel like writing you a complimentary letter .... But then I did.

You remember the whole part about "being a slave to each other in love"?  I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Tommy, but uh, that's not exactly p.c. around here.  Now, I know that you folks across the Atlantic might not be up on the latest fads here in the great US of A, but let me tell you, this business about "slave" isn't cool.  At all.  Have you seen the news lately??  I'm assuming you have because we're both so reasonable and intelligent - and we probably both get our global updates from the same reasonable and intelligent nonpartisan source.  Egypt?  Libya?  Tunisia?  Are any of these ringing bells?!  Slavery.  Essentially that's what these uprisings, protests, clashes, whatever-you-want-to-call-thems are all about!  These people have been oppressed (read: enSLAVEd) by power-hungry dictators for decades and are finally saying enough is enough: we deserve freedom.

So, as you can well imagine, I prickled a little when you decided to exegete some of Paul's exhortations to "Become one another's slaves (or servants) through love."  I was totally on board for the section leading up to this one (you remember, the one about freedom), but then you had to go and be all counter-cultural, offense-of-the-crossish on me and throw out words like slave and servant.  Ugh.

You see, I've had a really long day, week, year, going on four years now, and I really just needed some encouragement (I'm slowly realizing much like the word "gossip" often gets hidden behind words like "processing" and "venting"; "tickling one's ears" hides behind the much more acceptable: "encouragement".) Like the whole Freedom bit - that was encouraging.  But this whole considering-others, servants/slave-in-love stuff is just plain exhausting.  I don't really think I have capacity for it right now due to some significant life circumstances, not to mention it's absurdity.

And just when I had calmed myself down after your terribly offensive suggestion that I willingly make myself lower than someone to serve them amidst all the responsibilities and obstacles of my very important life, this terribly stubborn voice that sits deep within my soul decided to throw in its two cents:

it just might be true.  


stay open.


you've been set FREE to do this.



So, way to go, Tom.  Way to, you know, awaken the Spirit, speak the hard truth, not succumb to culturally accepted norms.  All things that people like you and I so admire. 


Your #1 Fan,
Julie

First

Dear First,

I've debated this letter for quite some time now (just about an entire year, in fact).  I don't want to be one of those people who writes slanderous messages on the internet in some pathetic attempt to gain sympathy and feelings of vindication.  I do, however, want to be honest and quite frankly, see no point in having a blog if every "letter" I write is censored for potentially offensive or controversial material (is this sounding familiar?).  That being said, as I lay awake in bed unable to sleep tonight, the whole situation between you and I was playing in my mind on repeat.  I was having one of those days where I couldn't stop thinking about it.  And then I realized two things: 1.) it has been almost exactly one year to the day when I made the decision to resign and 2.) it's like a really, really bad breakup - and I don't have closure.

So, in light of my one year anniversary of the best, hardest, most-emotionally-charged decision I've ever made, I thought a letter might do us both some good.  (Who am I kidding?? This is mostly about me, not you.  But, if you feel so inclined to respond, I am definitely open to dialog.)  See, recently I've had moments where I wished that I had been in a place (emotionally or spiritually) where I could have been honest about the circumstances of my leaving, instead of pretending like everything was fine and that I wasn't deeply wounded by my church family while experiencing the most enormous crisis of my young, newly-out-of-college, newly-married, newly-moved-to-a-different-state life. As soon as these regretful thoughts creep in though, I am reminded of the bigger picture of things: that it was best for you - the church (as in, the specific congregation I am writing to) - that my leaving be the least dramatic as possible.  And, as we both well know, us Christians like to make things unnecessarily dramatic.  So, in some ways, I am glad that I was able to suck it up and put a smile on my face for two weeks while I "transitioned out" and attempted to feign sadness when sharing the news that I was leaving. The reality is, I wasn't sad.  I wasn't even mad.  I was utterly, emotionally numb.

I think it was best for you that things went as they did so there was minimal gossip and dissension among the congregation, and it was best for me because I, quite frankly, was an emotional zombie who was counting down the minutes until I could leave for the sake of my very survival.

Do I sounds dramatic?

I think so too.

But, as this very crisis that I reference proves; life is dramatic.  More than I ever thought it would be.

That being said, it has been a year-long process of working through hurt, anger, fear, and forgiveness and fighting the very attractive urge to be bitter.  In "higher" moments, so to speak, when I have a more eternal perspective and there's more Jesus and less Julie, I am really just overwhelmed with sadness.  Not for myself, but for us - the Church, that is (the capital "c", the entire group of us on this planet who are honestly and imperfectly following this God-in-human fellow named Jesus).  I'm sad because of all people to have supported me and encouraged me and allowed me to be honest and vulnerable, it should have been you. I'm sad because I know I'm not the only one who's felt forced to walk into a church building, slap on a smile, and keep it together for an hour and a half.  I'm sad because when I share these events with others, more than a few respond with an eye-roll and a sarcastic, "Christians really know how to shoot the wounded".  Really?  Is this who you really are??  Is this what you really want to communicate to people who are desperate for genuine human connection and true purpose in life???  Is this really your interpretation of following the Creator of the universe??

Please.say.it's.not.

Again, in higher moments, I'm able to say, "I was just an unfortunate and unintended casualty."  "You didn't mean it."  "It was so awkward, how were you supposed to respond?"

But,

Is that really good enough?? What about others?  I mean, if my personal pain and tragedy were overlooked, who's else are you missing?  Who's else have you already forgotten?  I (barely) made it out okay.  God graciously provided me with a solid foundation of knowledge of Him and a few caring people around me to carry me through.  But not everyone is as fortunate as I was.  It makes me sick to think about the people that we (the capital "c" Church) turn our backs on everyday: people who are different than us; people who's problems are too big or too uncomfortable; people who don't help themselves (because, of course, God helps those who help themselves ... and no one else?), people who take up "too much" time or "too much" emotional energy.  What about these people?  Where did they go when they went fleeing, dejected and wounded?

Ugh.  I didn't intend for this letter to be an exposé on Shortcomings in the American Church, but alas.  Yes, I'm hurt.  Yes, I was wounded. And yes, I'll be fine.  But I fear for those who aren't as fortunate as I.  And, if I'm really honest with myself, some of these pangs are not actually pangs of bitterness or resentment, they might actually be pangs of guilt - for times when I've done a pretty good job of shooting some wounded myself.

Lordhavemercy.

Julie


 

Dear 2011

Dear 2011,

Greetings!  I can't believe you're here already.  Since I'm a sucker for milestones and goals, you can well imagine that I'm quite excited to share with you my resolutions:

- Let people off the hook. I'm an idealist: things are either right or wrong and therefore people are either good (those who do "right" things) or bad (those who do "wrong" things)..... Enter into the gray area of relationships, human condition, sinfulness and selfishness, and divine redemption and this logic gets a little more complicated. This resolution could be subtitled "have more grace for people (and myself)".

- Don't buy clothes. Ah! I said it!  This is going to be hard, but I'm putting it in writing for the entire world to see (or at least my 8 followers) for accountability.  This is mostly motivated by finances, but also a desire to be free: I don't want material things to have a hold on me, nor do I want my physical appearance to.  I also desire a simpler life, and as much as I don't always believe it - I think I am more content with the less "stuff" there is is my life. Oh, and did I mention that I don't actually need anymore clothes anyway?

- Play piano. I would like to be better at the end of 2011 than I am now. And we have a beautiful one in our home.

- Run a half marathon or a 10 Mile.  It's been over 3 years since I ran a marathon, and the itch has returned.  Besides, the Twin Cities half marathon is in October - the best time for a race, because you have the warm weather of spring and summer in which to train!

- Blog more.  Besides the typical reasons for slacking in blog posts ("I don't have time," "who reads it anyway?"), I've realized the biggest reason I don't write as many letters is because of my perception of what others will think and my fear of offending.  I actually have a lot of ideas* of recipients for these letters - multiple ideas a day, actually, but I often weed them out before I ever hit "PUBLISH" for fear of what others will think.  I'm sick of this, quite frankly, and am somewhat surprised by this people-pleasing hangup I've developed considering some of the people I respect the most aren't those with whom necessarily I agree, but those who have the courage to speak their minds - Jeannette Walls, Rev. Gregory Boyle, Joan Baez, Janet McDonald, MLK, Fr. Richard Rohr, to name a few (perhaps future letter recipients??). So, readers beware, the potential for offense from this blog has increased, but it will be well worth it - if only for me. 

- Pray more.  I almost didn't add this one because it might be the hardest one for me to follow through on. And the thought of inconsistancy in this area is discouraging. But, in the spirit of letting myself off the hook (see resolution #1) and knowing how desparately I need time with my Heavenly Father, I'm adding it with the confidence that He is faithful and wants this more than I do.

So, dear 2011, I pray that a year from now, I will look back upon you, in much the same way that I looked back on 2010 and was filled with thankfulness for where I was and who was with me - and couldn't see anything but God's faithfulness.  

Cheers!
Julie

*I will readily admit that some of these ideas aren't necessarily post-worthy anyway ("Dear Fathead who cut me off at Lake and 22nd, Here's the number for an excellent driving school... Sincerely, Excessively Honking Lady Behind You).  I'll continue to evaluate letters before posting.