Wonder, 4/28

On the MAX today, in downtown on my way out of Portland, twin eight year old girls got on the train with their mother and their mother's friend. Their eyes were lit up like they had just walked into a candy store, and energy was bursting from them as if they were about to explode the moment the train would actually start to move. They chose the sideways facing bench and sat up on their knees, their feet hanging off the seats, their hands and faces glued to the window, mesmerized with wonder and newness at the strange morphing scenery from downtown to the railway station and all the way up through north Portland, which offers a big park, old houses, abandoned graffitied buildings, and an array of particularly sketch hotels with flashy neon signs, all along the way dotted with bars and restaurants and at least one organic grocery store (they're not just for rich people in Portland). Right next to their seats was the junction of the train car, and with the slightest turn one would call to the other as the accordion walls would crunch together on one side and stretch apart on the other and the ribbed lines on the floor would deviate all at once in a semi-circle. Oos and awes followed and then right back to the window. Numerous times in their wonder their mother had to tell them to settle down. They were clearly wired with excitement.

With straight nearly-black hair and thin-framed glasses, they reminded me of me at that age (except I had the stylish glasses of turn-of-the-decade 1990), when everything was grand and new and sparkled with the adventure and anticipation of the unknown. Whatever was around the corner was clearly going to be amazing. How could it not?! I have never forgotten that wonder, what it feels like surging through your body. As I sat there, delighting in their excitement, I remembered being that excited on the MAX at their age and I wished I could experience life like that again.

But wonder like that doesn't come around much anymore as an adult. Life gets heavy and full of responsibilities, both personal and community. The sadness of the world's depths of darkness weighs on us. Wonder doesn't come in giddy energy. Instead, I think as we get older and busier and more full of things to know, wonders come in the small moments, in the whispers, in the split seconds, in the every day, little spaces of goodness and beauty.  Sometimes we have to look for them. Sometimes they look for us. But now and then they just show up on the train with their own wonder to share and remind us why it's good to always know children and to once in a while be a little giddy. When we see the world through their eyes, we remember it is spectacular.  

As I was getting off that train I wanted to turn and say to them, never lose that spirit! But I didn't. I just walked on by and stepped off the train. I hope they had a fun day.  And I hope, by some chance, that I may see them again on the MAX.  Hours later, I am still marveling, and it is still making me smile.

When it matters, April 25

Being beautiful isn’t about what you wear or about making sure you burn more calories every day than you eat.  Living a life that is floating somewhere in Limbo is teaching me a few things about the depth and meaning of beauty.  Yesterday, in a conversation about this strange land of foggy limbo I’m in, a friend said to me, “This is just a season.”  It is good to be reminded of that, but at the same time I responded, “I would just like to know when this season is going to end.”  Sometimes it is hard for me to see the beauty in life.  I can dress so that I look really good, but I have realized that has no bearing on feeling beautiful--feeling good about myself, yes, but not feeling beautiful.  Perhaps it’s because I am me or perhaps it’s because I’m 30 and not 21 anymore, but in my life beauty has become something that strikes my heart.  Beauty has a depth and a meaning so much better than what the world will have me believe, and it can be seen in little moments, not just epic booms.  Beauty has to be found in little things I see each day.  The days in which I’m most distressed about my life are days in which I have blocked the ability to see beautiful things, or maybe a better way to say that is the ability to see things beautifully.  

Life ceases to be enjoyable when beauty ceases to exist.  Sometimes we have to work at seeing beauty, we have to be intentional.  And, yes, there may be days here and there where we simply can’t see.  

Today, I’m going out to Portland.  I’m going to go to Stumptown where I will enjoy the beauty of getting around when I can’t afford a car (because before this I lived in a place where that was very difficult), and where I will enjoy the beauty of a place that values a prize-winning cup of coffee even more so than mass profit.  They really do make the best mocha I have ever had.  And then I will go meet up with a friend. Sometimes I get bored in Portland, because overall, it is not new for me, and I want a new adventure, but the truth is that Portland is an amazing city.  It is beautiful to look at.  You never know what kind of people you will see on the street and on the bus.  Its unique character shines in the funky local business that can be found everywhere, not the least of which is the most amazing bookstore in the world.  So today, instead of being disappointed that I’m bumming around Portland, I will look for something interesting, something beautiful.  I may still be a little disappointed, but I will not let it rule my day.

April 17

Standing at the transit station today, I watched an airplane take off from the airport, soaring up and up into the sky.  I dreamed to be on it.  I have no idea where it was going, but I didn’t care.  I just wanted to be flying somewhere, anywhere, far away.  Just a little bit earlier, I sat on the MAX as it pulled into a stop and thought, I wish I were in a different city, a new city.  The plane was so inviting.  And then I turned around and saw my bus coming, which would simply take me into the next town.  It was such a let down.

What does it mean to be a woman?

April 9

I do not believe women can only find ultimate worth in getting married and having children.  There are many women in the world, and each of us have our own paths to walk.  Marriage is one path.  Marriage and children is another.  Singleness, widowhood, convent life are yet other ways of being.  My path right now is a path of singleness, a fact which I don’t generally have a problem with.  I love being single.  I love the freedom to go places, do things, travel, move without having to consider a whole other life of dreams and desires independent from mine.  The single, childless life is every way as worthwhile as the life who has birthed a multitude of children.

Every life is valuable.  

And yet, I found myself, today, believing someone else’s life was better than mine based largely on the fact that she is married and has children (really great children).  It was so inherent that I didn’t even think about why I thought her life was better until I took a moment to consider it.  The reason surprised me.  And yet, maybe it didn’t.  My friends who have children of their own, whether the children are six months or thirty years, speak about pregnancy, childbearing, and the emotional and physical ups and downs of parenting in profound ways that leave me in awe and starkly aware of the self-centeredness of my life.  I feel, perhaps strangely, less like an adult, and, not so strangely (unfortunately), less like a woman.  

That I would feel less like a woman is not really a surprise.  The value of womanhood has been defined by numerous cultures, in many cases for thousands of years, by the ability to procreate.  In some cultures in history, a woman who could not or did not have children held no purpose in society.  Such an understanding has been long pervasive in the church, so much so that today it saturates the mind without even being overtly discussed.  It simply permeates the air.  

I don’t know what to do about this disconnect between what my head believes and what my heart feels.  I don’t believe my life is any less valuable than this other person’s life.  But I find, despite my own disapproval, that I do see my life as less worthy, and I’m at a loss with this, because it goes against everything I ever want to teach young women about where their worth comes from.  

I’m not sure how this needs to change, but I know that it does.  Perhaps first we need safe space where we can even begin to talk about it.  There are too few safe spaces for women.  It is worth the consideration.  This whole discussion is.

April 9

I did not get to go to church today.  It’s the first--and, I hope, only--Easter Sunday that has ever happened.  Instead, I worked all day.  But I am so happy to say that after three months of working on Sundays, I will finally get to do some church this week, because the place I had started going to is going to be doing Wednesday evening events here and there.  I hate being unable to go to church.  I’m so relieved have something to participate in again.  

But that’s not to say today was a bust.  Yesterday was a crazy day at work due to Easter brunch being served.  That combined with people going out and going to families’ homes to eat made for a rather light work day today.  And to top it off, it was sunny and in the 60s.  I may not have been able to go out in it much, but it was just nice to have good sunlight streaming through the windows.  Living in the Northwest makes people very thankful for the sun!