Lather, Rinse, Retreat

It's hard to believe it's Thursday already! The retreat last weekend was great, jumble of feelings and all, but now I feel like I almost need another "mini retreat" in order to process everything that was stirred up in my mind and heart. I'm hoping to carve out a few hours Sunday afternoon for just that purpose, and then maybe I'll be ready to articulate here some of what I'm working through. For now, I wanted to post a few pics from my time among beautiful trees and dear friends in Michigan.

RETREAT!

In a mere matter of hours I will be on a bus headed to Michigan for a weekend retreat with the young adult ministry from my church. I am a jumble of feelings going into this.

I am excited. I am fatigued. I am optimistic, with a tinge of dread that I can't quite put my finger on. I am looking forward to meeting new people and to deepening relationships with those I already know. At the same time I am wary of spending 14 hours (7 each way) on a coach bus with people I know and don't know to varying degrees, where I will most likely be subjected to a wide array of get-to-know you games that will tax my social energy (which will make sense to the introverts out there). I am not thrilled about the constant temptation of a multitude of baked goods and other items that are not at all part of my diet. I am eager to spend time amidst the beauty of turning trees and rolling dunes. I am cranky that it's so dang cold outside. I am relieved that hours and hours of shopping finally produced a cute coat that fits. I am hopeful for times of refreshing from the Lord. I am fearful that I'll get in God's way.

I am a jumble of feelings going into this.

The Comfort and Satisfaction of Being Known, Or, How Jane Austen Makes Sense of My Life

Abraham Lincoln once said that “the better part of one’s life consists of his friendships.” When I take a moment to really consider the tremendous people I am privileged to call my friends—or when I am able to sit down and connect with one of them over a latte, or go for a walk where we air our concerns, or squash my cell phone against my ear as we catch up on each other’s lives—I am always overwhelmed with wonder and gratitude at these precious people God has placed in my life.

Yesterday morning I called one of my best friends on the way back to the office after dropping off my boss at the airport. It had been too long since we’d last talked, which was admittedly and pretty much single handedly my fault, and before long I was spilling out my latest account of relational klutziness, marked by more than a little melodrama. I confessed to her my confusion, my indecision, my moments of womanly weakness (real or perceived), my failed attempts at assertiveness, the battle of my instincts vs. my inclinations, my uncertainty about the validness of my standards and ideals. I appealed to her for perspective and wisdom, and she came through for me beautifully, confirming that my red flags were completely justified and telling me what I just needed someone to straight up tell me. Why is it that sometimes we need someone to tell us to do what we already deep down know we need to do in order to have the courage to actually do it?

One of my favorite quotes about friendship—because it so exquisitely captures the comfort and satisfaction of being known—goes like this:

“But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort—the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person—having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away” (Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859).

It was really quite remarkable. It was like I backed up my dump truck of life stuff, unloaded it on the dock of her willing ears, and with wisdom and grace she was able to take stock of the sticky mess I’d laid before her and say to me gently but confidently, “You’ve said a lot, but in all of that, I didn’t hear this, and from what I know of you and hope for you, that’s a pretty crucial thing to have absent.” And then, without missing a beat, she came out with, “It’s like in Pride and Prejudice, when Elizabeth has that encounter with Mr. Collins…or in Emma, when they’re in the carriage…” And I was like, “Oh my word, you are SO RIGHT! That’s exactly what this is like,” and “How did I not see that?!” and “Thank you for reminding me not to let go of hope for that which seems so elusive simply due to the immediate presence of a pale counterfeit.”

Okay, so in the actual moment my response was not nearly as eloquent as that last statement, but now, a day removed from the conversation, I can see—because a good friend helped my eyes to focus—that that’s what I had done.

And then, causing me to be further emboldened and encouraged, another friend called me yesterday afternoon to tell me the story of a not-even-close-to-mere-chance encounter with a remarkable young man who so far seems to be the male version of herself in terms of interests and passions, and that has bolstered my waning hope even more, giving me the courage to stay true to my inner Miss Elizabeth Bennett, and not succumb to the melancholy resignation of Charlotte Lucas.

Chaff, grain, and Jane. Thanks, friend.

Washington: Scraping the Zest

Oh, where to begin?! Last Thursday morning I got on a plane, sans all liquids, to spend some much anticipated vacation days visiting my TU friend Heather in Washington State. I returned to Chicago Tuesday night, grateful for the edict given over the weekend that allowed me to bring my little bottle of eyedrops on the plane (carefully enclosed in a ziploc bag, of course).

In between these aeronautical bookends I ventured here and there, by car, foot, and ferry, experiencing as much of Washington as possible, while at the same time feeling curiously relaxed. Trying to capsulize my vacation for a friend, I came up with this: if Washington were an orange (I know, an apple would be more appropriate given the state's agricultural reputation, but stick with me here), if Washington were an orange, I feel like I was able to scrape off a nice little pile of zest while I was there: enough to get a good taste of the local flavor, and enough to reveal that there is so much more beneath the surface to see, taste, and enjoy. That said, all it took was this brief visit to place Washington high on my list of favorite states, and I certainly hope to return and take in more of the natural beauty and the PNW culture. Granted, I'm pretty much a sucker for mountains and shoreline, so it's not like there was anything holding it back from my affections to begin with, but I am nevertheless surprised to find myself a bit smitten, if a person can be smitten with a state of the Union.

In addition to the purple (more blue really) mountains' majesty and abundant verdant vegetation, what did I LOVE about Washington and my time spent there? (in random order)

1. Pike's Place Market - a veritable smorgasbord for the senses with so many vibrant colors, interesting people, tantalizing smells, intriguing textures, ethnic foods, and diverse merchandise it made me giddy and almost a little dizzy...in a good way.

2. The bouquet I bought for Heather at Pike's Place Market (which earned me the nickname "Sugar Mama" for the rest of the weekend) that was quite possibly the most beautiful arrangement I'd ever seen, all for the astonishingly low price of $15.

3. The fact that there's espresso EVERYWHERE you turn. While the abundance of little independent coffee stands is quite remarkable, what drew my attention and amused me considerably was how all the other stores seemed to sell whatever they sell...and espresso. Some of my favorites:

• Tires, Brake, Transmissions...and espresso
• Top Soil, Gardening Supplies...and espresso
• Pumpkins, Corn, Squash...and espresso
• Live Bait...and espresso

3 1/2. The fact that the baristas take their coffee and their work very seriously, and that when you order a latte what they hand you a few minutes later is nothing less than a work of art. The vegan pumpkin loaf was really tasty, too.

4. Taking the ferry to Friday Harbor on San Juan Island and wandering around, leisurely reading a book over a tasty lunch, browsing in the quaint little shops, and then eagerly settling in at a little table on the front porch of The Doctor's Office (a coffee shop), which overlooked the harbor, to journal and muse on what life is like for the people who actually live there...only to have a local sit down at the table next to me not 10 minutes later, strike up a conversation, and occupy my attention for the next 2 hours, during which he squealched my cynicism toward island life (a good thing), bought me coffee (a welcome thing), asked for my number (a shady thing, considering how in the course of conversation he told me the story of how he met his current girlfriend), and introduced me to his 3-legged dog named Annie (at which point I remembered a line from the novel I'd started on the plane, in which the main character says something like, "I wouldn't have believed it, except it's my life").

5. The fact that Heather and I decided on our way to church Sunday moring to count all the motorcycles we saw...and that we didn't stop (or at least, Heather didn't stop) until we'd hit 1,600. In all I estimate we saw at least 4,000 that day, come to Anacortes for the annual Oyster Run, which pretty much seems to be an event where a huge wave of motorcylces come to town, everybody eats some oysters, and then they all go home again. I don't get it, but it was fun to count and watch them all go by.

6. The fact that despite Washington's reputation, it was all blue skies and sunshine, which showed off both Mt. Baker and Mt. Ranier, as well as all the rest of God's gorgeous creation.

7. The fact that I was able to do some exploring on my own for some recharging alone time (feeding my "I") AND hang out and reconnect with a friend who makes me laugh and makes me think (in excellent balance), and who also made me spicy peanut chicken stirfry. Her friends were rad, too.

Ack, this post is really long, and I haven't even mentioned the Seattle Public Library, the independent bookstores, the hiking, the sunsets, the salmon, the locks... Sigh, Washington was just wonderful. Thank you, Heather, for being a fabulous host and guide!