un·du·late

intransitive verb
1 : to form or move in waves : FLUCTUATE
2 : to rise and fall in volume, pitch, or cadence
3 : to present a wavy appearance

transitive verb
: to cause to move in a wavy, sinuous, or flowing manner

adjective
: having a wavy surface, edge, or markings

I am a little nervous. The last couple months have been saturated in undulating thoughts, feelings and convictions. It has been a conversion of sorts. Not a conversion in religious practices, but a conversion of how I see myself...how I allow myself to be. I cannot hold myself to the same standards, they are higher now in many respects. The complacency I had grown so accustomed to has changed to aggravation and restlessness, and I have felt the need to change old habits and practice new ones, such as discipline.

So, why am I nervous? I am going home. To a place in which old habits abound. And temporary as it might be, I am afraid I will find myself strange in this place, as I am no longer that person who was comfortable there...or that I will revert back to that person and forget all of my recent convictions.

There are so many good things to go home to. It isn't as though I do not want to be with family and the friends I have there; I love them more than I can say and am so looking forward to having some time to spend with them over the coming months. But I can't help but think there are many more undulating tasks ahead of me, and I am afraid that I will get stuck in another complacency...

There is a song by Sara Groves about the Israelites in their time in the desert; in their time of being in between, that I think really captures what I am feeling about this piece of time I have been in, and also how I feel about going back:

"I've been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacks.
The future feels so hard and
I want to go back,
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I've learned,
And those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned."

In case I end up having to eat my words in the near future, I just want to throw out one of the greatest draws to this place of comfort and familiarity: this miraculously new person, my nephew Garrett. I cannot even believe how much I can love someone I haven't even met yet! Isn't he amazing! I can't wait to teach him all kinds of tricks to play on his dad!

man·i·fest

adjective
1 : readily perceived by the senses and especially by the sight
2 : easily understood or recognized by the mind

transitive verb
: to make evident or certain by showing or displaying

Circumstance after circumstance has led me to an absolute frustration with the misuse and misunderstanding of language that has resulted so often in needless pain and turmoil. How can someone truly make their feelings, ideas or convictions manifest with a language that will fail, giving the audience, whoever that might be, the wrong impression?

A good friend put the problem into excellent clarity for me: that language, as with anything else in this world, is fallen.

I don't know about you, but this makes me really angry. To think about how often, in relationships in which both people care deeply for each other and want to avoid hurting each other, they end up hurting each other anyway just because of the language they use and how they each understand it differently. Now, obviously there are times when people, even in relationships in which they care about each other deeply, hurt one another purposefully. We are messed up. It is an inevitability. But when relationships become broken and come to the point where they seem unfixable as a result of miscommunication after miscommunication, this is obviously Satan's work, and I hate him for it.

It might seem like the easiest way to avoid miscommunication would be to not say anything at all, but I think in doing so, you miss an incredible opportunity for grace and redemption. I am determined to not only make work of a restoration of language and its place in my relationships, but in doing so, to also not fall into the trap of avoiding saying what I think or feel in fear of being misunderstood.

"And the words of the Lord are flawless, like silver refined in a furnace of clay, purified seven times." Psalm 12:6

privy

1 a : private, withdrawn b : secret
2 : belonging or relating to a person in one's individual rather than official capacity
3 : admitted as one sharing in a secret

I used to pride myself on being a very independent person. Being quite private, withdrawn. I was never one of a pair of "inseparables." In fact, most of my closest relationships have become so because of their ability to subsist when contact was usually limited to weekly (at the most) or maybe monthly conversations. I didn't really ever think this might be bad. And the bad part isn't that these relationships are so infrequent, but that there is an incredible lack in relationships that are more common. More every day.

I didn't become aware of this until recently, because I have now glimpsed the blessings of having an everyday person. Someone who isn't just around for the highs and lows, but also for the mundane. I have had this before, too, and I know that it doesn't even have to be the deepest, most meaningful relationship, but just one that is dependable. One that feels like a place where you can be at rest, not only in what you do, but with who you are.

I have to admit, I am not good at pursuing friendships. I never have been. I want to be pursued by people, but I rarely am willing to do the pursuing...well at least when it comes to people I might really want to walk through life with. I know that it is coming from my insecurities, that I am worried that they don't like me as much as I like them, and that I hope they will be the brave one and assume that I want to be their friend rather than having to be brave myself, but how fair is that?

One of the moments that brought me to this realization lately was when I did something that frustrates me to no end when I catch others doing it. I was talking with a new friend - someone I really enjoyed being around, and we did that thing where you say - "We should really do something sometime..." and then we did the exchanging number thing, and I found myself warning her about how I probably really won't call her, because that's just the way I am, and it was no reflection on how I felt about her...and then I wanted to punch myself.

I hate when people justify stupid behavior by saying - "oh, that's just the way I am" - as in - "you just have to deal with my immature behavior because although I am aware that it is neurotic, I just don't care enough to make the effort to be better." Yuck. I am completely guilty.

And it just makes me so mad to realize this, since it is so contradictory to this idea I have of wanting to really be a part of a community that holds each other up and serves one another and that is always welcoming to new people. One that isn't secretive or private, but really shares in each other's lives. I guess if this is something I really want, then I have to be willing to go there myself first, rather than wait to be invited.

guile·less

: free from any intent to deceive or impress others

It is interesting to consider people's different comfortability in public situations.

Consider the gym.

I am always incredibly impressed by the people who can walk up fearlessly to a machine when it becomes obvious they have never used it before as they begin to pull on things and reposition themselves in all manner of postures in order to figure out what the machine is supposed to do. I do not have this ability. I am way too concerned with looking foolish. Not that the people who do it should feel foolish, or anything.

Now imagine you are in a coffee shop, and while they play music here, you decide to listen to your own on your headphones while you work. Does the fact that there is some sort of noise already going on to distract others in the coffee shop give you the ability to sing along to your own music with fervor? Do you think, perhaps, that the other people can't hear you?

Well, I am hoping that was the case for the young gentleman that was in here a few minutes ago. Not that he should feel foolish if it wasn't or anything...

pre·di·lec·tion & pen·chant

: an established preference for something

: a strong and continued inclination

I am not great at patience. Ok, not even halfway decent. Once I decide I want something, I can usually convince myself that I might as well have it now. Hence the current balance on my credit card. It is a good thing those who love me do not base it on my abilities to uphold the Dutch stereotype of frugality.

This want of virtue also comes out when I spend a good amount of time around small children. Now, I realize that after the admittance of my inability to truly appreciate dogs, I am running the risk of offending anyone who is not the Grinch by saying this...but bear with me, and I hope you will see I am not only still human, but even still female as well.

A dear friend of mine and mother of three tells me repeatedly that your response to children will be drastically different when they are your own, or at least connected to you in some way. I had thought that this was always sort of an excuse for not liking someone else's kids...well, not exactly not liking them, but not necessarily wanting to be around them everyday. Or more than ten minutes.

Let me clarify a little. Most kids are actually a lot of fun to begin with. The trouble comes when they get to that age when they realize they are smarter than you. That's just not fun anymore. Suddenly you find yourself talking in circles trying to defend why you get to have a glass of pop when they can only have milk or juice. Or, my recent favorite, they say something about how they are the boss and they get to tell you what to do, and you come back with an incredibly satisfying rebuttal like, "No, I'm the boss. And I don't need anyone to be my boss because I am an adult," and then they bring out their superhuman smartness and walk all over you with, "Uh-uh...God is the boss of you."

Is there nothing more humiliating than being out-witted by a six year old?

Well I am, at any moment, going to become an aunt to the most perfect baby ever created. (Seriously, I think I might even have trouble someday saying my own kids - if and when they come of course - could be more perfect given the incredible genetics going into this child). I have to admit, I had been a little nervous that I would have trouble getting as excited about this baby as everyone else seems to be. It really hit me today, though. I was doing a little Christmas shopping at Barnes and Noble, and after checking out all the things I wanted, (yes, I see the inconsistency in that) I wandered around the children's section. Now, as with any form of children's entertainment, some of the books make you want to punch yourself in the face. But there are some authors and illustrators who really give kids the credit they deserve. Some of them can even remind cynical, crabby adults like me what it is like to imagine and hope and dream and live in a world of wonder.

I have done an awful job lately of being in wonder. I have been caught up in hurt, guilt and blame. Since Jesus said the Kingdom belongs to children, I'm guessing it doesn't have a whole lot of room for my cynicism or crabbiness. Kids aren't usually like that.

I think this little niece or nephew of mine will help me understand wonder again. I am building up a bit of a penchant and predilection toward that tiny person already. Plus, I can't really wait to have some good excuses to reread some of the classics, (you know, The Wind in the Willows, Mary Poppins, Peter Pan, The Berenstein Bears...kidding...sort of) and to ingrain a certain predilection for good literature into a very new mind. That's the prerogative and fancy of every aunt, right?

So, welcome baby Feyen! You can come any time, you know. Seriously. Due dates are really just your first chance to rebel...

har·ry:

transitive verb
1 : to make a pillaging or destructive raid on
2 : to force to move along by harassing
3 : to torment by or as if by constant attack

I have been feeling a bit this way. Just so we're clear, I have not been doing the harrying, well, not that I know of, but feeling a bit harried, perhaps. Ok, I wouldn't maybe go so far as to say I have been tormented, or imposed upon by a destructive raid...well, maybe I would. I am a bit of a romantic, after all.

Someone was just telling me about this idea of a "holy discontent:" that there is sometimes this feeling of anxiousness that you can't really explain, and you think that you are doing everything right and everything you are supposed to, yet things just feel a little off. And that maybe it is God stepping in and making you a little uncomfortable so that you will be forced to move in some way. To change some things, to adapt.

To be honest, I have been feeling overwhelmingly like this lately. I have been praying for God to change me, to make me content again with my situation, and not only content, but excited and even passionate, but He hasn't.

The realization that God has been causing these feelings to move me is very freeing. Well, I should say, I feel free now after going through the stages of feeling angry, hurt, abandoned and, of course, guilty. It is as though an incredible burden has been lifted. I feel I am being moved in a different direction, and although, or maybe because it is quite ambiguous at present, and isn't void of pain or tears, there is so much hope in it. And it has been an awfully long time since I have felt so much of it.

And...I think I just remembered how to exhale.

"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."
Hebrews 4:16

in·vei·gle \in-VAY-gul\

1 : to win over by wiles : entice
2 : to acquire by ingenuity or flattery : wangle

I feel like this word doesn't really fit its sound. It bothers me. The definition suggests it is an endeavor of charm...but I can't give it so much credit.

Maybe it is just my attitude lately. I refuse to be wangled by the common seductions of recent: the sparkle and ever jolly atmosphere of the upcoming season, the relaxing nature of a brainless but entertaining read, and, sadly, the always loyal and lovable golden retriever. (Gasp!)

Ok, before you hate me for not being a dog-lover, please know that I gave it my best effort. I house sat/dog sat for some friends this weekend, and was determined to appreciate the companionship of what we call man's best friend. And there couldn't have been a better specimen with which to test my canine-friendliness than Micah. I would even call him pretty. I actually went into the weekend half expecting to eat all of my previous anti-dog sentiments and even imagining myself falling into the classic single-girl (soon-to-be) in the city cliche of dog ownership.

Rest assured, there will be no humble word-eating today. At least not about dogs. Unless they come up with a dog who doesn't need smelly food, has no hair (or at least doesn't require you to ever touch it), makes no lip-licking sounds (actually, it might be good if there was no tongue at all), and doesn't wake you up in the middle of the night with his face in your face because he is freaked out by the windstorm, I have some suspicion that my feelings will not be changing any time soon. Go ahead and call me high maintenance or shallow. I'm over it.

Don't worry, I am not becoming completely inhuman. I am actually starting to give in to the fun of Christmas, be it reluctant. It is only, after all, November 27. We have almost a month to go. But since I have just discovered a Christmas song out by the Smashing Pumpkins, (Christmastime - not even kidding - why did no one tell me!) as ridiculous as it may seem, it is hard not to get a little caught up.

palinode \PAL-uh-nohd\

1 : an ode or song recanting or retracting something in an earlier poem
2 : a formal retraction

"Not that I agree with everything that I have said in this essay. There is much with which I entirely disagree." - Oscar Wilde

I love this word. Just the fact that it exists gives the freedom to say the wrong thing, not that you would ever want to say the wrong thing, but that sometimes you are afraid of saying something fearing that it might be wrong, so you never do. But it gives the option to put things out there, to process them, and to not necessarily have the right answers right away. (Granted, it is in reference to verse, not really conversation, but the idea is encouraging). And it is humble. I have always loved humility on other people. I am starting to love it on myself. Or, I think I will at least, if I ever really learn it.

I think I am realizing the incredible gift of friendships in which I can be completely honest. And not just honest in words, but honest in the way I respond to them, in my mannerisms, in my countenance. It is a lot harder, a lot more rare than I imagined. I am realizing that there is so much more to me than my word. I can talk all day about who I am and what I believe in and what I am passionate about, but really, it could be a whole lot of bunk.

I was told in seventh grade by my English teacher that I was demonstrative. I had to look it up. Basically, it means whatever I am feeling is written all over my face. Ok, to be completely honest, it's usually written all over my entire body. I think that, pretty much since that day, I have tried to lock up that part of my nature. I had always admired my dad for being quite the opposite. I had always imagined I was just like him. I thought that I, too, should be the casual, easy-going person that he is.

In middle school I babysat for one of my dad's coworkers, and she told me once that everyone at their office didn't get along with someone...except my dad. Everyone liked him. Who wouldn't want to be that person?! Well, turns out I am maybe a bit more like my mom. Who I have come to adore...but sometimes she can be a bit embarrassing. She definitely isn't afraid to say what she is thinking, or to show how she feels about something. She isn't even afraid to get up in front of a room full of well educated adults and lead them in a rousing game of What would you do with a drunken sailor, complete with singing and dancing.

I don't think I am quite to that point yet, in fact I might never be, but I am becoming more comfortable with the idea that I might not always be the easiest person to be around. Because, to be honest, sometimes I am pretty great to be around. (Still working on the humility, obviously). I am going to make it my endeavor to be honest, both in word and otherwise. I may need to employ a palinode a time or two, and I may even make more enemies than friends, but at least it'll be real.

"May the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." Psalm 19:14

tattoo \ta-TOO\

: a rapid rhythmic rapping

Whoa - who knew? You might be a little confused. The word you are thinking of has its roots in Tahitian. But this one comes to us from the great and powerful Dutch. From the Dutch word taptoe we get tattoo - pertaining to percussion, often associated with the military, and also the word taps - the final bugle call at night.

Mom, rest assured that my reasons for putting up this word today are purely to pay homage to our incredible heritage. I don't have any desire at the moment to get any ink done.

That's all. Just a fun fact to break from all the heavy soul-cleansing of late.

Goede dag, vrienden!

bunk

:nonsense

I am frustrated. Restless. I feel like I'm stuck. Which is ridiculous given the ways God has been pruning me with a vengeance lately. But, in some ways, it is because of all this pruning that I feel this way. Because of everything He's showing me, I am painfully aware of my inadequacy, my immaturity. I have felt incredibly juvenile lately. I'm sick of it. I want to be an adult already.

I realize that part of this has to do with certain comparisons I have made to my life lately: I stayed with a friend and her husband last night in their new house. Yes, that's right. I have friends who are mature enough to actually own a house. And they even have furniture to put in it! Unbelieveable. It's amazing how shocking it was to look at it all and wonder when, if ever, that might be me. Especially given my bank account balance at present. Yikes.

And then I get really frustrated with the fact that I am jealous. It's a whole lot of bunk really, my jealousy. Don't you like that phrase, though? I feel like it sounds very English...

I was talking with my very mature, married, home-owning friend about this thing our culture does to us: giving us points of "arrival" to shoot for. It seems no matter what situation we may find ourselves in, we are always looking toward what is next. But she talked about how now, after being married all of a few months, she is already thinking, hmm...I wonder how long we have to wait to have a baby...which is crazy to me, who looks at her life and thinks - what more could you want right now? She told me she really wishes she could have cherished the seasons of her life so far better. (And that she is trying to do that now, too). And all I can think in response is, of course. I know that I am supposed to cherish this time in my life. I know that someday I am supposed to look back and long to go back to this place, when everything was possible and I had nothing to lose...but how do you actually do that? Is it even possible? It doesn't feel possible right now.

Someone asked me a while ago if I thought I could be married to the same person forever. We were talking about how much I like change and tend to get restless when things get static. The truth is, I think anyone is going to come to a point in any relationship that they think, man, this is getting a little old. It's like the same thing everyday. I think it is inevitable. I just hope it comes in waves, and is countered by those moments when things are made fresh, new again even when you think you know everything and have experienced everything with each other.

I love watching this couple who are close friends of mine and have been married for about 50 years. You would think they just got back from their honeymoon the way they talk to each other. I wonder about all the things it took to get them there. I wonder if they learned how to be content during each step along the way. I wonder if they are still waiting for anything.

ame·na·ble

1 : liable to be brought to account
2 a : capable of submission

My eyes are being opened.

I have been hoping for a "divine appointment," a moment to feel pursued by God, to know that He is speaking to me.

I should have been careful of what I was wishing for.

I was talking to a friend last night, and we both shared moments recently that have awakened something in us, a need to answer a call. And it isn't as if, for either of us, this was a new thing we were being called to, but that these were things we had been drawn to, hoping for, for a long time. But there is a great fear in realizing that you are actually being called to something, being pursued to use what you have been given. The verse from Luke 12, here in the King James, has been attacking my mind: "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required." It is a frightening reality to face: that not only do I have gifts, but I am also amenable to those gifts. It is a hard place to be in: to be both sure of my ability, and yet to be humble. To know that I must do what I am called, and know that even as I am called, I am not immune to failure. To know that even though I am young and inexperienced, I may have a voice, and I may need to use it. And that I might be rejected. But I still have to try.

So, just to be sure I got the message, God gave me that verse one more time - in black and white. Today I picked up the book I have been reading, Girl Meets God, by Lauren F. Winner. And what verse do you think she used in the very first paragraph I read? That's right. She talked about weeping after coming to terms with what was going to be required of her. I think I can understand how that might happen. I think I am learning what it means to fear God. I am afraid of what He will ask me to do.

of·fi·cious: adjective

: volunteering one's services where they are neither asked nor needed : MEDDLESOME

So, this weekend at my church here in Pasco, we had a missions conference. I was super excited about it because last year I was so impressed with the weekend. For being such a small church in such a small town, they (actually, we) as a church, are incredibly missions-focused, and are very involved in various types of mission work throughout the world. Pretty cool. So, this year, I had high expectations. I was sorely disappointed. And not for anything the people of my church did, but for the way the guest speaker spoke to the people of my church. He talked about the kinds of things that his church over in Tacoma are doing - and how they are so far ahead of the game in this "second reformation" of the church that is happening. (I'm pretty sure if you ask him, that he is pretty much the founder of this new "reformation" - so be on the lookout!). And then he completely tore apart the way we, as a church, worship on Sunday mornings. He kept giving examples of his amazing "warehouse" church and how there aren't any pews, and they tell people not to come on Sunday mornings, and they don't have any spotlights or the "resident expert" up in front telling everyone else what to think.

So, let me just say that, while I do not believe these elements of the service or the sanctuary are necessary, it isn't as though they are evil and are leading people astray! AND, it isn't the only thing my church does! Yes, I agree that church needs to be more than just sitting in a pew on Sunday and soaking up whatever wisdom your pastor has to offer you, and then going about your week without once considering what God is calling you to do, but it doesn't mean there is no value in those things.

I just have no patience for people who do not know their audience, but still believe they have the right to tell them they are doing everything wrong, while they have all the answers as to how to do it right (since they are obviously philosophically light-years ahead of the rest of us). Good old Young Life and their "earning the right to be heard" could teach this guy a few things.

Just so you know, I did attempt to give mister "saving the future of the church in a Tacoma warehouse" some things to think about after two of his four talks, but he was really hard to communicate with. At least for me. He kept turning all of my arguments around into something completely different. I wish I could have punched him in the face.