What to Make of Decisions

We make decisions every day.  Mostly mundane.  Sometimes stressful (oh the amount of hair I have lost over a doozy of a decision!)  But certain decisions, whether mundane or stressful, get lost in the shuffle of life, in the minutes and the hours that we spend distancing ourselves from those nail-biting moments until we forget that we ever made one.  And we forget, too, that certain decisions we made in our past can and will affect our future.  Sometimes we try to forget; other times we had no idea that one would carry more weight than we thought it would.

I decided nearly four-and-a-half years ago to attend a private Christian university in a small town in Indiana.  I left palm trees for corn, an ocean for the plains, a city for a bypass and gravel roads.  I left friends--good friends, the kind of friends you spend more time with than your own family.  I left a church that seemed healthy on the outside, but was beginning to decay.  I left it all to go to a state I had only visited a few times, and to live among people I had never met.  Best decision ever.

I made more friends--great friends, the kind you stand next to when they're saying their weddings vows.  I boycotted church (another good decision) so that I could find God outside of four walls with a steeple.  And I gave my heart to a place that wasn't really home, that didn't belong to me, yet somehow evolved into everything I needed.  

I thought that with the end of college came the close of four of the best years of my life.  Graduation meant good-bye, waving one last time to the crossroads of America.  I knew I would be back, but never quite knew how.  That is, until my parents made the decision to look for a new church.

Their decision has now led them to Joliet, IL, a city southwest of Chicago where, incidentally, the family of one of my dearest friends from college lives.  It is 3 hours away from Indianapolis (where several of my dearest friends from college live).  And it is smack dab in the middle of the Midwest, a place I decided to go to when I was only 18, never knowing that it would lead to this.  Never knowing that I had been preparing myself for where my family may relocate and where I will probably settle for at least a little while.  

Ah, decisions.  How soon I forget that I made you long ago.  How quickly I forget that you are all part of a plan that is bigger than me, one that extends beyond where I am going, yet always forces me to turn around and face where I came from.  I am praying that the church decides to take on my dad.  But I also hope that I take stock of the decisions that I have made, of their impact on my life; that no matter how mundane or stressful, any one of them may lead to something more. 

The Difference Between Coats and Cameras

This past Saturday, I worked from 5 til close at Talbots with my store manager, Franklin, and dear coworker, Suze.  We just did a set up last week with all of our new merchandise, but some pieces were shipped late.  One of those pieces happened to be a double-breasted black and white houndstooth peacoat.  

Understand that almost nothing at Talbots fits me.  I did buy a white sundress last summer, but even that had to be altered (at $22!  And even then it doesn't fit nearly as well as a dress would from, say, The Gap).  Needless to say, I take home pretty much all of my paycheck from the store.

This past Saturday, though, I made the mistake of trying on said peacoat.  Slipping into the lined arms of this 100% wool beauty, I thought that the tailors at Talbots Inc. must have been thinking of me when they made it.  With each button pushed into place, I looked at both Franklin and Suze, shock overtaking my face, and thought, "Why the Hell did I try this on?"

The coat was gorgeous.  I didn't want to take it off, and neither one of my coworkers wanted me to walk out of the store without it.  "You have to buy this, Liz," Suze said.  "It will be perfect for London!"  London, houndstooth, patent red shoes--it was as if all the stars were aligning within this one outfit.  

But I have a winter coat already.  In fact, I have three.  Three winter coats, a Columbia fleece, and a long sweater jacket.  I knew that I did not need another anything to ward off the cold.  Even when Franklin and Suze offered to buy it for me (at 50% off due to a special associate deal) and let me pay them back because they assumed I couldn't afford it right now, I turned them down.  Despite my resistance, I could afford it.  In fact, with the price being $134, I could have bought around 8 coats.  Yet I didn't need the coat, and in the end, I never did buy it.

What I bought, instead, was a new digital camera.  I should have done this 2 or 3 years ago.  I have been toting around a clunky hp since my freshman year of college; the experience has been less than fantastic.  My pictures are often faded, blurry, or washed out.  I have few settings and little patience to wait for the flash to finally kick in so I can get a picture.  

At $174, I spent $40 more on a Canon Powershot than I would that coat.  But I didn't have 3 cameras lying around--only one defunct relic.  So I think my resistance was worth it.  And maybe someday I will buy a black and white houndstooth peacoat.  I promise to take a picture with my new camera and post it.

blessings, 

liz

Travel Like a DeKlavon

Much love to my parents for teaching me how to navigate these great United States. I certainly put my travel skills to work last week as I drove up to Cleveland, OH to celebrate the union of Austin Rampey with Elise Richardson.

For fear that this post may miraculously morph into a book I will spare details, instead focusing on destinations, and perhaps provide a few anecdotes along the way.

I left Georgia at around 2 PM on Thursday, July 31, and drove to High Point, NC to stay with Bethany Limpach. She only lives 5 1/2 hours away and yet it has taken all summer for me to finally make a trip to see her! This was necessary, and the perfect beginning to an amazing week.

On Friday, I left High Point at around 11 (later than expected--Bethany and I got to talking in her bathroom). The trip to Cleveland was, for lack of a better word, looooong. But I survived, meeting up with the bride, her groom, and several other friends for dinner at Lise's sister's house. Jess drove up from Hudson, joining Libby, Lise, and me on a trip to the airport to pick up the other bridesmaids.

Time with the quadmates was also necessary as we have not all been together since first semester of our senior year. How I have missed those girls!  

The rest of the weekend went like this: coffee/breakfast on Saturday morning, getting our nails done, a bridal luncheon at Lise's house, the rehearsal/rehearsal dinner/a trip to the Sullivans' house in Hudson to retrieve Jess's things so she could stay with us at the hotel.  We visited with Tom and Jen Chamberlin for awhile--it was wonderful.  On Sunday, the b'maids made a trip to Dunkin' Donuts to get coffee for Elise and bring it to her at the wedding site.  We were surprised to discover that only the Richardson family was there to help, and when I say Richardsons I mean the immediate fam.  So we did what all good b'maids would do: we pitched in and decorated until everything was done.  The rest of the day we spent getting ready to make our "smashing" debut at the ceremony.  

Lise and Austin were married on Sunday, August 3rd, a little after 5:30 pm.  It was a great ceremony, and an awesome wedding--probably one of the best I've ever been to (and I've been to a LOT!)  On Monday, I met my friend Danielle for lunch in Cleveland, and then drove 5 1/2 hours to Indianapolis.  I went to Yats and my favorite bookstore, Half Price Books, with my friend Neil.  He was quite the trooper, being sick and all, but he survived.

Tuesday and Wednesday were devoted to Indy excursions: there was never a dull moment. Between meeting a friend of a friend to talk about L'Abri, to driving up to Anderson to see Libby, to going downtown with Strickland, Kaufman, and Lisa, I felt so grateful to have such amazing friends.  And that was just Tuesday.  On Wednesday, I hung out with Bethany Limpach again, going to dinner and seeing our friend Julie, and ended this crazy trip playing dutch blitz and eating ice cream at Julie's boyfriend's house.  

All in all, it was worth the gas and mileage put on my poor car, and the hours I sat in front of a steering wheel and windshield.  I hope to make it up to Indiana one more time before leaving for Europe.  But if not, I will wait impatiently for April, for the chance to rejoin everyone permanently.  

blessings,

liz

Weeping (often and unknown)

It would seem fitting that the newest soundtrack of my life would be "Say I am You" by the husband/wife duo The Weepies.  I readily admit my interest in music is so outdated, and so behind.  I could care less about knowing the newest "it" bands, the newest "unknown" bands (and then abandoning said bands because they become too "it").  I just decided one day to listen to their MySpace stuff, fell in love, and play their songs nearly all day every day because that's how I operate with a lot of my favorite music.  All this to say that "The Weepies" make me weepy.  Or maybe I was weepy to begin with and they just seal the deal.  

I've been frequenting Barnes & Noble on a regular basis.  I don't know if it is a good thing that it is located in the same outdoor lifestyle center (a stupid name for "fancy mall") where I work at Talbots, but I take it as so.  This frequenting has led to my finishing a book that I only read because my dearest friend, Lissa Joy Fecht, told me that I had to read it.  This is the same friend who told me I had to read Sex God by Rob Bell (despite my resistance of hopping on that theological band wagon--I may run alongside it, now, but I still refuse to hop on).  Anyway, the book is called Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist.  While I wouldn't have picked it out for myself, I am grateful that I did read it.  The whole thing.  And I didn't buy it (is that bad?  I figure B&N owes it to me for purchasing so many toffee nut frappucinos over the past six years).  

I am grateful because Shauna wrote with honesty--even when it sometimes felt stilted or vague, she was still honest.  She was honest about life, about Christianity, about rebelling and returning to a Creator who she readily acknowledges for her ability to write.  And I couldn't help but cry through several chapters; not because they were particularly poignant, but because they made me think beyond her prose, digging into my own past and pulling up weeds that I, too, should be writing about.  If anything, Shauna inspired me to keep plugging away at my book, a relatively silent endeavor since finishing college.  An endeavor eagerly awaiting a weighted heart and life filled with lessons others can learn from.  

So I've been weepy.  And listening to The Weepies.  And writing--slowly.  I need to change my lifestyle--I know I do.  I need to drink in these words like an alcoholic would wine, and I need to know that whatever comes out will actually satisfy and hopefully leave me yearning for more.

blessings,

liz

If I Am Dreaming, Please Let Me Sleep

Yesterday, I drove the 40-minute trek to a Starbucks in East Cobb.  I was going to meet with Penny, a friend of one of my dear coworkers who also happens to be a publicist.  After three hours of talking about family, friends, relationships, and writing, this is what I learned: she has two brothers who either own or have owned publishing houses, she has worked with authors such as Andy Stanley, Bruce Wilkinson, John Piper, and counts Louie and Shelley Giglio as friends. In a world where who you know seems to trump what you know, meeting with Penny helped me see that having a writing major happened for a reason.

When I went to college, I did not expect to leave with this writing major.  I expected anything but.  Now that I have those three years (I did little writing freshman year) under my belt, I've struggled to figure out what to do with it.  I have very few connections, very little experience within the field (outside of classes that required oodles of peer editing, I haven't had internships or garnered tutoring skills or edited anything of professional value).  I am hardly ambitious and wrestle with inadequacy on a daily basis. When Penny asked me the ultimate question, "If you could do anything right now, what would you do?" I had to answer, "I have no earthly idea."  When she asked me if I was interested in editing or copyediting, I told her that I was very interested, but again I had little experience.  "I know the top editor at a publishing house in Colorado Springs," she told me.  "I will call him and see what it would take to have a recent grad come on as a copy editor."  

Huh?  I sat, stupefied, the ice in my vanilla latte slowly melting in front of my wide eyes. The fact that I am leaving for England in seven months didn't seem to deter Penny from her desire to lay some groundwork as she called it for when I get back.  "I know an editor at Brio [a magazine for teen girls]" she said, "I should call her and see if they would want to have you write some articles for them while you're away in England."  Okay, now this is getting freaky. 

But somehow, it all seemed so right, too.  It is no mistake that I am home for these next few months, no mistake that Penny just happened to start attending my coworkers' small group.  As we connected on so many different levels, I started to see my life beyond where it is now. Watching as my God pulled two strangers together into a likely friendship, I felt abundantly blessed.  For three hours I saw how four years, how 22 years spent running away from and now running toward words may translate into a lifetime of work.  I don't know what will happen as a result of this conversation.  I do know that Penny plans to get together often.  I hope that takes place.  I don't want to waste any time I have left in Atlanta.  I don't want to miss out on the challenges that will come with pursuing things I didn't even know were my passions until this past year.

peace,

liz

If it Happens Again I'm Screamin'

I have to say that my being a size 6 doesn't boost the morale of many women who walk into Talbots. Comparing my body--a collection of limbs and parts that managed to survive adolescence and college with only 15 extra pounds clinging to bones--with that of a woman who has squeezed out four or five children, has developed a strange disease known as wrinkles, and has had a decrease in estrogen and elasticity due to a battle with the blessed menopause seems highly unfair. So stop. Please.

Just let me have a look at you, let me see your battle scars, the marks that make you who you are. And let me be reminded that in thirty years when 15 pounds grows to 30 or when my stretch marks expand and cellulite becomes more prominent than skin, I can remember having seen you, you beautiful, aged women who have worn your years well.  And please, believe me when I tell you that I am not trying to make you look younger: your pants will not sit too low, your shirt will not show sagging cleavage.  I will do my best to hide the bad and highlight the good.  Just let me do my job.  And stop staring at my ass--it isn't a size 2 so you can breathe. It's only a size 6.

I guess I should be writing on here

Ha, who knew that people actually read this?  But now that I know you (Libby and Lise) do I should probably tell you what's going on--even though I expect some phone calls soon!  

My old roommates and I share a blog together where I often write, but I guess I should fill the rest of the world in on life at the moment.

This may come as a shock, but my parents will probably be moving sometime soon (hopefully). Dad finally realized that the whole church plant just isn't going to make it so now it's time to take the next step and find an already established church with an opening.  The only churches within our denomination that have openings are, get this, up north.  There is one in Goshen, IN; Long Grove, IL; Adrian, MI; and a few others.  Ha, how ironic--I knew I was planning on coming back to the Midwest but I didn't know my parents would be joining me!  If they do end up near Indianapolis (where, at this moment, I am hoping to be when I get back from Europe) I'll feel a lot better having them close by.

Speaking of Europe, I am hopefully meeting with someone this week who works with Mom and who I also worked with last summer.  Her husband is from England so she has many in-laws in and around the London area.  I admit I have planned several U.S. trips but never something international!  I feel a little out of my league, and often question why the hell (yeah, I said it) I'm doing this. But then I remember my incredibly supportive parents and how both are probably looking forward to using this trip as an excuse to go to Europe as well.  And I think of the years I have ahead of me to work and earn money and how this is just something I have to do as either one last wild adventure before adulthood, or the first of many more.  I think the things I will learn there will be invaluable to my spirituality.  Anyway, with that said, I am saving and saving and will hopefully get there in January.  Sorry for such a long post, but I figured some of my dearest friends would want to know (again, b/c my phone doesn't ring very often!)

peace,

liz