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...