Abundantly blessed

Admittedly, my blog posts aren't always the most, upbeat, exactly.  It's hard sometimes when you're a bit of a pessimist, or as my friend says, a practical realistic pessimist.  I'm generally much better at calamity than hope.  But this blog post isn't about the weight of the world or the intermingled joy and struggle of serving abroad or the heartbreaking realities of life around us.

This past week I was booking some flights, again.  I have done that a lot lately.  In the past few months I've booked flights to Singapore (I went for a weekend in March), to the US for the summer, and to Chiang Rai (in northern Thailand) for later this week.  This week I got tickets to go to central and northern California in July to spend time with friends and relatives.  And now that that itinerary is in place, I am working on the dates in June to go see my brother in New York.  Right around when I hit the button to finalize the purchase last week, it hit me.  I am so abundantly blessed.  

And not just by air travel, which I actually enjoy less and less every year (though my love of the people on the other side of flights keeps me at it), but by many many blessings that factor in and make the travel possible.  I started reflecting on the myriad of gifts that I have been given and am trying to spend time just appreciating them and recognizing them.  

I have a great job, which I enjoy and which allows me to openly serve and teach about God.  I have friends and family in many places who welcome me with open arms whenever I have opportunities to visit.  I get to live in a beautiful foreign country where the cost of living is low enough that I can afford luxuries like travel.  I work in an industry where I have extended time off every year to back to the States- I don't think I could do life here otherwise.  I have good friends here to travel with.  I have several "shorter" times off during the year to explore this part of the world.  I have family members who spend considerable time each summer shuttling me to and from the airport.  I have friends here who are like family. My sister sends me daily photos and videos of my nephew. 

Okay, that last one has nothing to do with my travel, but it's a pretty great blessing all the same.  It's always easy for me to look at life as half empty- rest assured life here is just daily life and carries all of the usual ups and downs of life on planet earth.  I complain about my aching back (which has been particularly bad lately since I haven't been working out and thus stretching enough) and other minor ailments, even though I'm generally healthy. I sigh and keep walking right past the dirty dishes in the sink, too tired to care.  I get lonely living here on my own, even in the midst of much coveted down time. I worry about the future and the when and what next- when the ink isn't even dry on my newest contract yet.  I look at daily life and see absent friends who have moved on to other adventures, instead of seeing the faces of the newer friends who have walked into my life this year, who I want to get to know more.  

Truth is, life isn't half empty, nor even just barely full. My cup runneth over.  But not because it's perfect or never stressful or lonely or any of those other things I often focus on.  God has been incredibly gracious in many tangible gifts, but also in the gift of himself.  While I certainly enjoy the many ways that God has blessed me recently, I am even more grateful for ways he has grown my knowledge and understanding of him. This season of lent was particularly beneficial in seeing areas of sin that needed to be dealt with and ways that I had not fully been acknowledging or accepting his grace, not really believing and living that la vida eterna starts now.  The other blessings might not feel so "blessed" without that bit.  So yeah, even in the midst of many normal every day struggles of life, I can see that I do live a great life and serve a great God. And for that, I am so very thankful. 

A Poem

Yesterday, as I rode my bike to drop some things off at a friend's house, I started writing this poem in my head. I shared it on facebook, but I thought it might make a good blog post too. 

My bike inches 

slowly behind as traffic 

writhes and wriggles it's way

down the soi of many 

names: Market Street,

Soi Prem, Ha Baht Road, though

no one calls it that anymore since

Sib Baht Road doesn't roll

off the tongue

in the same way.

We slither along to

the sounds of som tam and curry

paste, wafts of coconut rice and

fried chicken, the array of produce a sea

of color in the evening sun. 

The woman in front of me 

has several dozen eggs

strapped to the back 

of her moto. Are they

hard boiled? I doubt it,

she creeps along, slower 

even than I. Rush

hour on the back roads 

in Bangkok. 

Terrified excitement

It's been a busy week for a lot of reasons and I haven't been feeling great and as a result I've slept roughly 22 of the past 48 hours.  And something tells me I'll still go to bed on time tonight.  And while I know for some of you that sounds like absolute heaven (and believe me, to a degree, it is) it's also increibly frustrating for me.  It's the in-your-face reminder of my limits, which in this particular area, are somewhat "closer in" than most peoples.  It's the reminder that I can't quite keep up and can't quite do what "everyone else" does.  And of course, I hate that. [and yes, my thyroid levels and meds are frequently checked and that is not the problem here] 

In the past few weeks my efforts to prepare for my new position in K4 have stepped up quite a bit. I'm spending time every week observing the K4 and K5 classrooms, making lists of what I need and then trying to figure out where and how to get it all, going through storage to sort through the items from the last time the school had two K4 classrooms.  Thinking and and scheming and dreaming and planning for my classroom next year is taking a greater role in my life and it is soooo fun and exciting and terrifying all at once.  

It's scary to leave something that you know you're good at to challenge yourself with something that you think you could be equally as good at, but that is also quite new and the experience you do have is some years ago.  But mostly what terrifies me is not whether or not I'll enjoy it (I've worked enough with the age group to know that I will) nor whether or not I'll hold my own to do a decent job (I have mentors and examples past and present who have taught me so much). No, what terrifies me is that it will absolutely suck the life out of me and leave me dead on the floor.  

I know that in the first weeks and months I am going to have to be kind to myself and not expect too much out of myself outside of the work day.  I know that I am going to have to learn how to better control my intensity and energy output during the day instead of getting so into it that I'm spent by lunch time.  I know that there will always be days when I practically crawl home- that even happens now.  But my prayer is that I will be able to manage and pace myself and seek moments of solitude at lunch and otherwise care for my introverted self in ways that do not cost me my entire social life and routine.  Weekends like this make me nervous because they remind me that it doesn't take much to completely wipe me out and send me into hibernation mode, but in the same breath I am so filled with hope and joy and plans for next year that I am determined to make it work.  One day at a time. 

Back to the Blogosphere

It's been awhile since I have blogged, I know. But I am sitting down to do so tonight for two reasons. 

1. I have been wanting to get back into it for months

2. I didn't feel like going to the gym today, so I told myself I could only stay home if I a) made granola and b) wrote a blog post.  The granola is in the oven.  

I never really intended to stop writing in the first place.  When I got back from Japan in late October I wrote a long post complete with pictures, but the Blogger App randomly shut down without saving it and I just didn't have the energy to ever write it again.  And then one thing led to another, and it was March already.  I have a few half written posts from the last few months, but nothing ever made it to publication. 

So what's new?  Lots! 

Japan in October was awesome, beautiful, delicious, inspiring, chilly, and fun.  I loved it. An entire nation that was efficient and organized.  It made me want to go to Switzerland even more. 

November was the month of 'should I stay or should I go?' contract decision making. I chose to stay at ICS at least one more year.  

In early December I ran my first (and maybe last) half marathon.  I went to Angkor Wat (Cambodia) for 24 hours with two friends to run 13.1 miles in the tropical heat.  I finished. It wasn't pretty the last 1.5 miles or so, but I finished.  

I spent late December and early January in Michigan; Christmas at home for the first time in three years.  It was a wonderful jam-packed time with family and friends in Detroit, Ann Arbor, Grand Rapids, and Holland. The weather was pretty kind to me with fairly mild temps most of the time and very little snow.  

When I returned to Thailand in January I had two lovely days at the beach with a dear friend from my skating days before returning to work. My first day back at school was decision deadline again, as I had talked with the school in Decembr about possibly changing teaching positions.  I decided to go ahead and make a change!  Next year I will be moving to the elementary building to teach our K4 class.  K4 means 4 year old Kindergarten, or what we would call Pre-K.  I am so excited for this new challenge and adventure! 

February, like most of life, brought incredible joy and sadness. On February 17 my sister gave birth to the cutest baby known to man (and I, of course, am neither biased nor exaggerating), which was incredibly joyous and happy.  I was also thousands of miles away when it happened, which was sad and hard.  Serving overseas has many benefits and delights, but missing out on important milestones in the lives of family and friends will always hurt.  I wake up most mornings to a new picture of my nephew Elliot, which makes that 5am alarm clock just a bit more bearable. 

Last week, after more than 3 1/2 years in Bangkok, I finally acquired my own transportation!  I bought an electric bike. It is a bike, and you can pedal it, but it's a bit laborious and not really designed for that.  It's way more fun to use the electric motor to zip around the back roads at speeds up to 12 mph.  I ride it anywhere you would ride a bike (not the big roads) and behave on the road as a bike, not a moto.  So far, I love it.  It gives me more freedom, lets me be in control of my route and speed (instead of a mototaxi driver), and is just plain fun.  

So there it is folks.  Now that I've caught up on the nuts and bolts of life hopefully I can get back into the swing of writing and processing again.  I have been reading a great lenten series with my accountability partners and it has some great stuff, about which I might eventually have conherent thoughts!  

Autumn: it's like your pinky toe, not so meaningful until it's gone

Is it just me, or is the world suddenly and inexplicably head over heels about autumn?  It is definitely worse in Bangkok because of our absence of fall weather, but I feel like even from people stateside, there is an explosion of love for all things fall. I don't get it. Fall has always just meant that winter is coming. Sure, going to the orchard or the cider mill is fun, but it's always colder than you want it to be, and far too often, damp. Growing up there was always one fall afternoon per year when we'd round the corner walking home from school and be able to see our yard and my stomach would just drop. There in the yard, would be my mom, with a rake. And that meant only one thing: we would be spending the next few hours grumpily raking wet soggy leaves onto the tarps and dragging them out to the street. Sadly, once we rounded that corner and could see her, she could also see us. There was no where to run. 

Don't hate me, but I think fall is actually something like your pinky toe- it doesn't mean much to you unless you lose it. I mean, the colors are nice and all, and apple cider is great, but we all lived for many years, decades even, without going stark raving mad about it. For the tropical expats, missing fall makes sense. Like a pinky toe, life seems just slightly unbalanced without it, but I don't know, it's also quite livable. For everybody else, I don't understand the craze. Or perhaps it is my imagination and people have been this excited for fall my whole life and I was too busy dreading winter to notice. Maybe the subtle excitement of the natives is being blown out of proportion in my mind by the over excitement of everyone around me. 

Seriously though, is it just me? Is this whole We Love Fall thing as recent a fad as I think it is? Either way, I'm going to go turn the AC down another degree or two, find a blanket, and see if I can dig up a YouTube episode of Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin. I'll come out again when spring comes. 

Broken into beautiful

It's been one of those weeks for me. Those weeks when you are reminded countless times just how broken life is, how broken each of us are. We run around pretending that we are okay, covering our shame, our fear, our emptiness, our pain. We struggle with the ordinary moments, the monotony of daily life as we dredge ourselves up to do it One More Time. We struggle with the crises, the moments that divide lives into 'before' and 'after'. Weeks like this weigh heavily.

Truth is, we're all broken. But you know that, you don't need me to tell you. You know that the person next to you, the one who looks like they have it all together, doesn't. Too often we think we are the only one whose house is a disaster, whose family is struggling, who crumbles under the weight of their job or their relationships or their expectations. But we aren't the only ones. You don't usually even have to peel back many layers to find it. Right under the surface, we carry our silent grief, our hidden guilt, our quiet tears.

As I encountered situation after situation this week that broke my heart, I was reminded of how easy it is, especially in the age of social media, for us to build a façade and hide behind it. I know I do. But I was also reminded that wherever there is brokenness there is also Jesus. Lift up your heads, you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. 

In our weakness, He is there. When my family gathers for a fall weekend in Northern Michigan and I sit under the air con in Bangkok, the King of glory may come in. When leaders stumble, the King of glory may come in. When cancer invades and families are left without husbands and fathers, the King of glory may come in. When young people make tragic decisions, the King of glory may come in. When the clock ticks on and hope seems futile, the King of glory may come in. When babies die and a mother's arms are left empty, the King of glory may come in. When families struggle, the King of glory may come in. He can make broken things beautiful. He's the only one that can make broken things beautiful. In fact, he came to make broken into beautiful. 

Whatever you are facing this week dear friends, the King of glory may come in. 

He loves you. 

He is with you. 

He is for you. And he is mighty in battle. 

Run Clare, Run!

I am not a runner. In middle school a friend talked me into joining the track team to increase my fitness for skating, and I did the long jump event. On vacations up north in high school I'd try to go running with my friends and turn back early. In college my friends and I made bucket lists, years before bucket lists were a thing. I put "run a 5K" on my list right alongside things like climb a mountain and meet Michelle Kwan. That's about how realistic I thought it was. 

In early 2006 I decided I wasn't getting any younger and my knees weren't getting any better- it was now or never for the 5K so I used a couch to 5K program and ran in the Dexter-Ann Arbor Run. A year later I ran again, and cut 3 minutes off my time. Then, I moved to Argentina and did a small bit of jogging from time to time, but not much. Everywhere I go I seem to find myself in the midst of runners- Katie and Cora in Ann Arbor, Rebecca, Donna, and Joanna in Argentina, then a whole lot of people here. About this time last year my friends convinced me that I should run a December 10K with them. I was doubtful that it was physically possible, but I trained for it  and dragged myself across the finish line (which by the way, ended up being more like 11.7K). I wanted to be sure I got back in the running habit after Mike and Sara's Christmas visit, so I ran a second 10K in a early February. 

This past week I did possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life: I signed up for a half marathon at Angkor Wat in December. I just may come home in a body bag. I know I've felt that way about shorter distances before, but this time I really do have significant doubts. To make matters worse, my training program is supposed to start Monday, but I've had some major pinched nerves in my neck and the past week and unable to do anything much at all. Hopefully that will get sorted out soon so I can start getting some miles in. I still don't really like running or consider myself a runner but somehow I thought this would be a good idea. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it!