A Little Taste of Heaven

On Sunday I had the opportunity to attend a conference on including people with disabilities in the life of the church. It shouldn't really surprise anyone who knows me well that I was excited for this conference.  In addition to attending as a participant, I had been asked to help lead the worship service at the end.  The people in charge of the communion service thought it would be neat if I signed along with the songs from the front (instead of from my seat like I usually do) and if I signed the communion liturgy. They got me a copy of the songs and liturgy ahead of time and I was set to go.
I got a ride to the conference with a professor, who was also leading worship and facilitating a workshop and we arrived early to set things up for worship.  While we were standing at the front of the sanctuary, figuring out where things were going to work best, someone asked if I was the interpreter.  I said no and that I couldn't hear well enough or sign well enough to be an interpreter, but I'd be signing some during the worship service at the end of the conference.
A few moments later the person who had asked if I was the interpreter came back with two more people.  She introduced them to me, Y and A.  At first I didn't know why these introductions were being made.  The names didn't sound at all familiar to me.  Then I saw Y signing.  Y was the interpreter and A had a profound hearing loss. The three of us starting talking/signing.  We talked about ASL.  We talked about hearing loss.  We talked about which workshops we would be attending.  We worked out a method for team interpreting the worship service.
Y asked me if I had an interpreter for school. I told her I didn't.  She asked why not.  I told her that although I sometimes thought it would be helpful (even on a good hearing day, I can process visual input way easier than auditory input), I didn't think my sign was good enough for it to be truly beneficial. Afterall, I use ASL signs in an English word order. I haven't had enough instruction to learn the ASL syntax, and most the time I'm not with people who care.  I told her that I usually get by reading lips and hearing what I can.
She wasn't overly satisfied with my answer and kept pushing.  She told me about a type of interpreting where the interpreter uses ASL signs in English word order and puts everything on his/her lips as well.  I think she called it transliteration. (I may have made that word up, I'm not sure).  I listened (with both my eyes and ears), but didn't put too much on it.  The conference started and Y interpreted most of the opening announcements and introductions.  A and I watched and I realized that Y was signing in English word order (for the most part) and putting everything on her lips. I understood exactly what was going on, except for the name of one person, but Y told us she didn't catch it either. :)
We divided for workshops.  Y and A were in one workshop and I was in another.  The workshop was great and I got to talk some about inclusion for people with hearing loss and processing disorders.  After workshops we came back together for the communion service.  Y and I took turns interpreting.  I signed the songs and the liturgies that I had practiced ahead of time, Y signed everything else.  As part of the service, conference participants got to share what they learned, popcorn style.  I was sitting at the front of the room, with my back to everyone else and it was a rather large room.  I knew this part was coming and had kind of resigned myself to not knowing what people were saying.  That was before I knew Y was going to be there. Y interpreted everything everyone said.  I "heard" every word.  I felt like I was in heaven.  The entire worship service, I knew what was going on.  I had been able to follow everything and my brain was exhausted from trying to figure out sounds.  I don't remember the last time that happened.
On the way home, I thought more about what Y had said about getting an interpreter for classes, but continued to brush it off.  Then I went to classes yesterday. One class in particular, I struggled to follow what was going on.  The professor, I've been told, tends to mumble.  I just know his lips are very hard to read and he likes to talk to the white board.  There was some lively discussion during class, but by the time I located the speaker, they were half done and I'd missed it. I left class feeling like I wished I'd had an interpreter like Y to put it all in a form that I could understand.
I still don't know if I'm going to pursue getting an interpreter, but it's a thought tucked in the back of my mind. Having worship interpreted in a form I could understand, was a little taste of heaven for me.  Someday, when I get to heaven, I'll be able to understand worship all the time, and that is going to be a good, good day.

New Room

The view of my room from the doorway

My painting wall and the craft-supply corner being hid by a curtain

"I will lie down and sleep in peace for you alone o LORD make me dwell in safety" Ps. 4:8

I need to find some artwork for this wall yet.  Right now I have a picture from a darling little girl I love a lot.

Books, books, and more books.  There's more in the closet and the other half the cupboard.

Awesome care package from an awesome friend.  The button says: seemed like a good idea at the time

The shirt (for those who don't read ASL fingerspelling) says "Iowa" and is very appropriately in black and gold. 

Lessons from brokenness

Sometimes I take a picture because it really speaks to me and then I decide that I want to share it with everyone who takes the time to read my ramblings.
So here's the picture:

Actually, you get more than one picture because I couldn't pick which one I wanted to use.

So, here's the thing.  I don't know the story of this tree.  It's likely older than I am.  But by looking at it I can guess some of its story.  It's kind of like reading a book, just without words.  Once upon a time I imagine that this tree was growing up big and strong.  It was probably just minding it's own business when something happened.  What that something was, I have no idea.  Maybe it was a big wind. Maybe it was lightening.  Maybe it was ice.  I'd suggest hurricane (see Love is... for my thoughts about trees and hurricanes), but I know where this tree lives and a hurricane is highly unlikely. Whatever it was, it broke the tree.  The tree bent right over at a 90 degree angle. I can't say whether trees have feeling or not, but anthropomorphize with me here for a moment and imagine that the tree does have feelings.  Being broken like that would hurt.  It would hurt a lot.  That's kind of a big deal.  I mean, one day the tree was big and strong, the next it was bent over and hurting.
Continuing to anthropomorphize, the tree had a choice here.  It could have given up and died.  That would have been easy.  It was hurting, it was broken, life as it had been was over.  What purpose was there in going on?  Or the tree could decide to try and make the best of it's new situation.  It could reach towards the light.  It wasn't going to be easy.  The tree was used to reaching up to the sky for light, for the very light that it turned into food, the light that sustained.  Now it was going to have to go in a new direction and reach out, out over the edge of the gorge and towards what little light it could see.  This was much harder.  The tree wasn't used to supporting its weight in a horizontal fashion.  It had never intended to grow this way.
From the picture you can see which choice the tree made.  It continued to grow and over time, its wound began to heal. Look at the first picture.  The bark has healed over the original wound.  New bark has been formed.  It wasn't easy and it took time, but it happened.
It made me think about my life.  Sometimes "something" happens and it hurts.  It hurts a lot and I have to make a choice.  I can either give up and quit, or I can keep going, keep fighting, keep struggling to reach towards the light and the life that it gives. Sometimes the "something" is really big and it hurts more than I think I can bear, but I serve a G-d who cares for me, even more than he cares for the trees (check out Mathew 6). No matter how bad the "something" is, He is going to provide the healing.  This is something I can rest in.

PS: I was trying to find a song to go with this, but I couldn't remember/find the one that spoke my heart, so no song.  Sorry!

New beginnings

So I've been really bad at updating this.  I'll try and do better in the future. These last few weeks have been full of new beginnings and there are more to come.  I've begun new classes, new friendships have begun, I've begun life in a new town and soon I will begin a new internship
I've finished my first week of seminary classes and started my second week, which means I've had all of my classes at least once.  Most of them are pretty good.  There is one in particular that is a tad on the overwhelming side, but I'm sure I'll make it through (and it's not Greek!).  A couple of them are even fun and we get to do fun learning activities to help us learn about learning. Today in that class we got to play with a toy truck. Last week we talked about alien abduction.  It's classes like that that make me wonder why I wasn't an education major. :)
I'm getting used to living in Holland.  From my perspective, Holland is a very, very big place. Lots of places for me to explore.  Thankfully, the streets are laid out in a relatively easy to follow manner and I can easily find my way back to 13th street (where I live).  I've learned where I can see the sunset from, and where the grocery is, and where I really ought not to walk after dark, and may have even found a church home for the year.  I even got a library card!
Living in a new place does present some interesting challenges. One of those challenges is finding food that is "Joy-Friendly".  I had it pretty much figured out back in Canada and in Pella, but here it's all new. My first trip to the grocery lasted about 2 hours while I went through the entire store checking ingredient labels and searching for options.  There are apparently a few health food stores that I want to check out too, but I'm not getting my hopes up.  I'm already starting a list of things that I miss from home/need to bring with me next time I'm home (Joy-Friendly bouillon, Herbamere, etc).  I miss cheese, but I can't very well bring that across with me since it gets grumpy if it's in not in the fridge.
Another challenge is cooking for myself in a kitchen that is not my home kitchen.  I can cook, but I'm used to cooking within different parameters.  I'm used to having everything I could possibly need on hand and cooking for half a dozen to a dozen people and not having to really worry about how much food costs.
If any one has any suggestion on cost effective, Joy- Friendly cooking (if you want the complete details as to what makes something Joy-Friendly, let me know...the short list: no nuts, eggs, gluten, corn or dairy), please share!  right now we still have a farmers market twice a week so I'm taking advantage of fresh fruits and veggies and have even put some blueberries up for winter.
I should go study some Greek vocabulary words and then tonight I'm meeting with an ASL choir over at Hope to explore the possibility of signing with them this year.  Even more new beginnings. :)

First update from Michigan

I've been here for about five days now, so it's probably time to type up my "first impressions".   My cousin (Olga) and I traveled down together, while Ben and Papa pulled the trailer with all our stuff, since we were moving into unfurnished apartments and things like beds and desks take up lots of space.  The border went about as well as could be hoped, only about 2.5 hours, most of that spent waiting in line. I did not have any trouble crossing the border, but Olga's I-20 (similar to a student visa) had to be processed.  Other than the delay there, travel went remarkably well.  Couple spots of construction, but no major delays.
When we arrived in Holland we stopped at the bank first and got stuff sorted out there.  Or at least started sorting things out.  It took two more trips to the bank later in the week and I think we have it sorted finally. (See Mistaken Identity for the story as to why I had to sort things out at the bank)
So far seminary has been really good. We had orientation all week and sometimes it was overwhelming. Especially Tuesday. By the time we were done Tuesday afternoon I was so tired of listening and processing sound that I just took my hearing aids out and sat in my room/worked on unpacking, until dinner time. Dinner Tuesday night was at the President's house and there was really fun square dance like dancing and live music and Joy-friendly food.
Wednesday and Thursday were better days as far as having to process sound and not quite as exhausting. We only had time where we had to sit and listen for half the day...Wednesday morning was farmer's market, and Thursday afternoon was beach day, so those were both really good. Friday was all seminary retreat at Camp Geneva and sometimes the listening was tough because of the environment, but I did okay. We took communion as a body and I got to take communion too and that made me really happy. And we get to have chapel everyday, except weekends :)  Eventually I will be doing some signing during chapel, more than what I normally do, since I cannot sing without signing.
I did have a seizure Thursday night at Friendship House kickball, and people handled it really really well. Apparently I was really freaked out afterwards because I had no idea where I was or who was with me or anything, but it's all good. Evidently I told people I was going to have a seizure before I had one and they moved me to a safer spot. I don't remember any of it.
I love my roommates. They are super awesome and I think we are going to get on well. Their names are Lindsey and Jen. Last night after supper Lindsey and I made peach blueberry crisp and it was super yummy and joy-friendly. And Jen came into my room to give me a night-night hug.

Classes start Monday and I'm still exploring some internship options, so my impressions of seminary could change after those things fall into place, but I'm pretty sure it will be positive. 

Mistaken Identity

This is not the blog post I intended to write today.  I had one all thought out about blessings and leaving for seminary and such.  Maybe it will come later.  Maybe it will just go to the place where unwritten blog posts go.
Anyhow, for the story.
In July, I went to the States for a family reunion and we stopped in Holland, MI (where I am moving in 2 sleeps) and opened a bank account for me so that we could close my Iowa account and so that I'd have money in Holland when I got there. Sometimes I think ahead like that.  We got it all set up and life was good.
A few weeks ago we went ahead and got my online banking set up.  It was a bit of a tricky problem because my bank card hadn't arrived by mail yet.  I was supposed to be sent to my Canadian address.  But the bank people were really helpful and we got it done.  Life was good.
As of yesterday, my bank card still hadn't arrived in the mail.  We were going to call the bank people and have them send it to my Michigan address, since sending it here would be rather pointless. I ruptured my ear drum yesterday in my good ear and my other ear is brewing a wonderful infection, so mom was going to have to help me with the phone call anyways. We didn't get a chance to make the call yesterday, so it was first on the list of things to do this morning, after bottles, barn chores and breakfasts.  In preparation for the call I logged onto internet banking to check balances.  Knowing my account balance helps verify that I am who I say I am (when mom helps me with a call, she acts kind of like a relay operator, since I can read her lips and the telephone doesn't have lips for me to read.  Often I'll voice into the phone to assure people that I'm really there).  I logged on and tried to check my account balance and my account was gone.  There was no listing of it.  Nothing.  I thought maybe there had been an error loading it.  I logged out and tried again.  And again.  And again.  No change.  My account (and all the money I had saved for books, rent, etc) was gone.  I started to freak out a little.   We called the bank.  Now, not only did we need the card sent to my Michigan address, we needed to know what was happening with my account.
Mom called the bank and we went through the normal hoops of me verifying who I was and giving verbal permission for them to speak with mom on my behalf because the telephone doesn't have lips.  Mom asked about my accounts and was told that they had been closed and a cashier's check had been sent to me.  I just about hit the roof.  I had not asked my account to be closed, nor had I received a cashier's check.  Mom spoke more with the phone.  She was put on hold and transfered to a supervisor.  Same procedure.  I verified who I was and gave permission for them to talk to mom.  Mom told them what was going on and asked what was up.  Same answer.  On hold and transfered up a level.  At this level they needed permission in writing to talk to my mom on my behalf so we wrote a fax and disconnected and sent the fax in.  At this point, the most logical explanation was that my identity had been stolen.  I was in tears.  I did not have the time, energy or resources to have to rebuild my identity.
We sent the fax and waited for the supervisor, S, to call us back.  S. called us back and began to sort out what had happened.  I couldn't hardly follow the conversation since I was only seeing half of it, but mom's face told me that something really strange was happening.  She finished on the phone and explained to me what S. had said.  Because the bank had a non-US address for me (we had opened the account with my Canadian address), and the address they had wasn't valid/complete, and because they could not get ahold of me (the phone number they had was my new cell phone number, which has been turned off since I'm still in Canada, they assumed I was a terrorist and closed my account and took my money so I couldn't do bad things with it.  When I get to Holland on Monday, my dad and I have to go into the bank and finish sorting things out, but it should all end well, eventually.
The relief at finding out that my identity had not been stolen was so great that being mistaken for a terrorist wasn't a big deal.  We laughed about it.  I  mean, anyone who knows me, knows I am not a terrorist.  I mean, I can be scary and instill terror in disobedient children when needed, but I am nothing close to a terrorist. I do not have any plans of blowing things up or setting off bombs or attacking society or anything.
Joy =/= terrorist.
After I had some time to process what had happened, I started to think about the lesson in it, because there had to be something.  Mistaken Identity.  Someone assumed something about me based on partial information (the bank branch in Holland knew what was happening, that I was opening an account in preparation for moving, but hadn't moved yet, but the "higher-ups" didn't have that information) and it led to the mistaken identity. Someone thought I was someone that I wasn't and it caused all sorts of problems and tears and stress.  It made me really glad to know that there is one aspect of my identity that will never change and will never be mistaken for anything else, no matter what happens or where I move to.
I am a child of G-d.  My name is engraved upon the palm of His hand and He has placed His mark on me.  No one can steal that identity (though the enemy tries).  Nothing can change that identity.  I belong to Jesus and regardless of what anyone says, does, or assumes, that is not going to change.  That is an identity I can hold on to with both hands and don't need papers or signatures to support.  And it's so much more important than any other part of my identity, because it's the one part that will last into eternity and beyond.  Praise the Lord that no one can take that from me.
And, I'm not a terrorist.  That's a good thing too.

Not Mine Anyways

A couple times a month I spend a half day (or a whole day once a month) at The Maple and Moose in Blythe. The Maple and Moose is a cooperative that sells all kinds of wonderful craft type stuff (finished product).  Being a cooperative, everyone who has stuff there has to put in time running the store.  The alpaca collective has stuff in at the store, and since I’m an unemployed college student home for the summer, I got voluntold to take our share of shifts.  It’s not hard work, but it can be long and boring, especially full day (10 hour shifts).  To pass the time, I bring my computer with me.  Being in town, there are often unsecured wireless connections just floating around and I piggy-back off of them.  There is one that generally works very well.  I can be online and blog (see “What we have”) and talk to people on facebook and just in general amuse myself, while still tending to customers as needed (some days hours can go by with no customers).

When I got to the store today I couldn’t get my computer to connect to the connection I usually use. I found myself getting frustrated.  What would I do with myself on a 5 hour shift with no internet?  What if there was a swim team crisis that I had to solve? (I do all the data entry and meet set-up stuff…finals are tomorrow afternoon) What if I had a problem and had to use Skype to call Mommy in for back-up? How could I monitor the weather forecast? (swim meet tomorrow is an outdoor meet, the weather is crucial) I tried repeatedly to get connected and finally ended up restarting my computer and starting over.  I got my connection and spent about 2 hours bumming around the internet and selling some stuff at the store.   Then, about 2 hours and a bit into my shift, I lost my connection.  I tried repeatedly to reconnect.  It was gone.  The connection I usually use wasn’t even showing up on my list of available networks.  I tried a different connection.  No luck.

I sat, realizing I had about two and half hours left of my shift and no internet.  I played a couple games of frogger (that seemed to work even without internet) and realized that I am even worse at frogger now than I was when I was little and we used to play on the DataTrain and Atari (very old computer system and gaming system, respectively).  It does take real skill to get a final score of 10 in frogger…And then I just sat for a while in a state of frustration about the internet (or lack there of).  Then it hit me.

What right did I have to be upset about the internet not working?

It wasn’t my internet to start with.  I don’t pay for it.  I don’t make sure it stays bug free.  I simple enjoy the fruits of someone else’s labors and pocketbook. I sat uncomfortably with that for a time, knowing there had to be more to it.  Usually when something like that lodges in my head and makes me uncomfortable, there is something more to it.

I thought and thought (and ate my supper).  Where had I heard that question before:  “What right do you have to be upset about ____?”  I paged through my brain (today my brain is a book) and finally found it.  Jonah 4.   Jonah had finally gotten to Nineveh (after a detour that involved the stomach of a big fish) and preached fire and brimstone to them.  If they didn’t repent G-d was going to destroy them.  The people of Nineveh weren’t stupid and repented, and G-d relented.   Jonah was not pleased.  He yelled at G-d, angry that G-d had spared the wicked people.  G-d asked him: Have you any right to be angry?  Jonah didn’t respond but went away and pouted.  G-d, being the kind, loving G-d He is, caused a vine to grow up near Jonah to give him shade.  Jonah fell asleep in the shade of the vine, and G-d, being a kind, loving G-d who always strives to teach His children in a way they will understand, caused a worm to come eat the vine.  Bye-bye shade.  Enter super grumpy Jonah.   Again Jonah ranted and raved, and again G-d asked him: Do you have any right to be angry about the vine? You did nothing to cause it to grow, you did not tend it, yet you are angry about.

It made me think (with no internet and no customers, I had lots of time to think)…how many things do I worry about and get upset about when it’s not my place?  I fret about the weather and whether or not it is going to storm at our swim meet, but that’s not mine to worry about.  I wonder about the choices my friends make and how they live their lives, but that’s not mine either.  Really, the only things I need to concern myself with, is the choices I make.  That’s mine. 

Hey look! Internet is back on!  I can stop thinking now ;)