Heaven

Tonight I convinced my roommate Jane to go contra dancing with me. There is another mildly humorous story to tell about our evening, but tonight I simply want to share the statement that came from the couch about five minutes ago.

"I hope heaven has contra dancing."

Yes. This is what Jane wants in heaven. Contra dancing.

Love. It.

Courage

Why is it so incredibly easy to be dissatisfied with life?

Why can I be in the middle of Minnesota paddling beautiful lakes and wish I could drive to the cafe with a good friend instead?

Why can I be in a cafe with a good friend and wish that I was on a more exciting adventure?

Why is it that I relish my freedom as a single person yet some nights I dream of the settled ( as in fixed location, not lower standard) life?

I don't know why.

It's all somehow part of this whole growing process we call living.

As I was watching some pointless Hulu show one weekend, I heard the phrase “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." At first I was slightly convicted by that sentence, because a large part of me feels like I don't know exactly who I am. How can I show courage to grow up as who I am if I don't know what that should look like? My mind was set: I would never be the person that shows courage by becoming who I am. Sad, but true...I thought.

But lately my mind is changing. Let's delve into object lesson land for a brief moment.

Object #1: Cookies.

Lately I have been on a homemade foods kick, so these cookies were the kind from a recipe, not the kind from a box. I had very high hopes of these from-scratch cookies turning out super well so that everyone could marvel at my cookie baking skills.

None of the batches met my expectations. Some merged together into a form of cookie-like giant biscuit. Some were too crispy. Some were caramelly and really gooey.

None of these batches ended up how I thought they would. But I tasted a little bit (maybe a lotta bit) from each one and let me tell you...they didn't taste bad at all. Actually, they tasted quite good.

It doesn't matter that the end product was nothing like what I had hoped. They were good cookies. Fact.


Object #2: A Canoe Paddle.

I recently acquired a plain wooden canoe paddle from Sunrift. I plan to sand the shiny finish off, burn a fun design into the paddle, then refinish it.

Why would I torture a perfectly happy,shiny paddle with a burning tool then force it to soak in more shiny stuff after said torture? Simply because I know that after I have burned this paddle it will be one-of-a-kind. No one else on the planet will have a matching paddle. Ever. And - regardless of my minute artistic skill - that uniqueness will make this paddle a beautiful, treasured possession of mine. Because I (sort-of) created it.

Lessons:

#1: It's not always the end product that matters.
#2: Sometimes arriving at a better beauty is gonna burn a little.

Overall, I don't think it's ending as who you are that's the courage requiring part of this life. It seems that the real courage is called for while we are enduring the process of beautification.

HOORAY!

Today Gavin and I were sitting in the playroom going through our usual daily routine and I prompted him to say "ba, ba, ba...like ball." Until this afternoon such a prompt has always ended with me giving him a few seconds to respond then moving on to a different game because he is frustrated by the difficulty of speaking.

But we didn't move on today, because today those few seconds of waiting were not silent. Today Gavin responded!

Yeah, that's right; he said "ba, ba, ba."

At first I thought he was just making funny noises with no real intentionality behind them so I used the same prompt again. Lo and behold, same response. Then I used a different prompt and got no response. Then back to the first prompt...success again!

O my goodness the excitement that filled the playroom today then overflowed into the kitchen when I showed Gavin's mom our new sound.

So much joy filled that moment. Today was a success. Today Gavin grew a little. And today I have good reason to smile as I fall asleep.

And the source of so much happiness...nothing more than a simple letter "B."

Never Good at Goodbye

As I drove to work this morning the sun was shining and the temperature was rising all the way to forty-something, so I did what any self respecting southern sunshine lover would do. I rolled down my window and listened to country music.

Some poor country man was singing about his girl leavin' him. He was pretty sure it was the last time he'd see her again, because she'd gotten "good at goodbye."

Among the long list of things I'm no good at is goodbye. I've always been so frustrated with myself over this little hang-up because tough goodbyes are so inconvenient for someone who travels around a good bit. I mean goodbye happens A LOT in my life, so you'd think I'd be able to get through it with fewer tears and a smaller knot in my stomach...but nope.

I still need a shop-vac to suck all of the waterworks out of my car each time I leave somewhere old to go somewhere new.

And I've decided that I want it to stay that way. The day that I get good at goodbye is the day that I have ceased to care about where I am and who is there. That's the day that I stop enjoying new places for the community and love they hold and start simply traveling for a pretty picture.

I love to go new places, to feel hard core in my adventures, and to be independent and strong.

I also love the familiar feel of an old friend's house, the knowledge that a hug will await me at the end of a terrible day, and stories that involve people experiencing life together.

Letting go of these things should be hard. It should make us cry. It should feel like a piece of us has been yanked out.

If it doesn't, then I am of the mind that we didn't actually spend real time with real people in the midst of real life.

Naomi

There is something invaluable and indescribable about some people in life. My friend Naomi is one of those people. I can't tell you exactly how our lives became so intertwined. All I know is that sometime in college we started hiking together.

Then we went backpacking.

Then we went road tripping.

Then we flew over the ocean to see each other.

And somewhere in all of that adventuring we each gained a lifetime friend. I'm not talkin about just a "hey how are ya" friend. I'm talkin about the kind of friendship that continues despite the fact that right now Naomi is in the Philippines and we have only had one real conversation in the past six months.

How does this work? I honestly have no idea. You'll recall in one of my first posts about adventure (and if you don't then you should go back and read it!) I wrote about the rawness of relationships while on excursions. Looking back, I think this is what makes Naomi such a special person in my life. Conversations with Naomi are always completely honest, non-PC, raw moments in time. I love this about my friend.

Because of this vulnerability that makes her so wonderful, I know that Naomi is having a tough time where she is right now.

Whenever you are thinking about people in your life, please think of this person in mine as well.

Her heart will know.

Just Keep Walking

My little friend Gavin had a major breakdown today. When I arrived to take my shift with his program his parents were both out running errands, which apparently did not settle very well with Gavin...at all. About ten minutes into our day together Gavin just plopped down on the floor and started crying uncontrollably. He doesn't use words and therefore can't tell me what makes him sad, so I was a bit confused about what I could do to stop the crying. As instinct required I immediately picked Gavin up and just held held him while rocking and singing. This actually worked...for about five minutes.

Then he jumped off my lap and lunged across the room to a different chair where he continued to cry and scream. So my aching heart followed him across the room and tried to comfort him again.

This pattern of

breakdown-->
comfort-->
breakdown-->
comfort-->
breakdown

continued for just over an hour.

In many moments of that hour I thought it was the end. I thought, multiple times, that Gavin and I were done.

Finished.

Over.

But now it is a new day and we are still friends.

What's over is the breakdown.

What's over is the feeling that I'm not making a difference in Gavin's life.

After a long period of what felt like totally ineffective soothing of a very distraught little boy, the crying stopped. By the time we had a snack at three Gavin was smiling and laughing as if nothing terrible had ever happened.

Healing.

This seems to be a fairly common theme in life. Things are rollin' along just fine until something triggers inside of us and all of a sudden we feel alone. So we shut down. We scream, cry, drive all through the night...just because we don't know what else to do. And despite the fact that the majority of us can adequately use words, in those moments of breakdown none of the words we know will quite describe what we are feeling. No one can truly fix our problem, whatever it may be at the moment, because we aren't exactly sure what the problem is.

But comfort, love, and healing do come along after the breakdown - as many times as they need to. Right now Gavin is happy. I have not doubt, however, that we will experience another unusually difficult day together. But that day will end. And he will once again find comfort.

I guess what I'm getting at is that it's okay to breakdown now and then as long as we remember that the breakdown isn't the end of the pattern. There is a light at the end of that crazy-dark tunnel we're in, but we have to go through the tunnel to reach it.

So just keep walking friends. Just keep walking.

Thank You

This afternoon I noticed a good ole country boy in a good ole country truck as I passed him on HWY 25. Apparently he noticed me too, because as I looked in my rear view to re-notice him (yes, I did) I saw that he was waving at me. This frightened me a bit. There's something sacred about being able to notice someone without having to actually interact with them...ever...and he broke that by waving at me.

Then he caught up to me. Then he started making hand motions toward the hood of my car. That's when I realized that he was not actually noticing me...he was noticing that my hood was open. Something is broken with the latch which causes the hood of my car to constantly flap about an inch above where the hood of a car should be calmly resting. This broken something leads me to discover quite a few nice people in the world who are genuinely concerned that my hood is going to fly up in my face as I drive down the road, and good ole country boy was one of them.

After motioning about my hood he rolled down his window, as did I, and we had a conversation during which I explained that my hood is always open so there's no need to worry. He replied with a deep southern drawl "Well, your car may be out of whack but at least you look good."

So he was noticing more than just my broken car.

Now I generally respond terribly to spontaneous flirting from random people,and country boy had broken my right to a non-interactive noticing moment...twice. So what did I say to his...er...compliment?

"Thanks." Then I sped away, hood flapping in the wind.

Thank you country boy. Thank you.

Some Days

On the occasional drive home from work I search the old ipod for a Dixie Chicks song entitled Some Days You Gotta Dance. I then proceed to crank up the volume on my thumpin sound system in the little Civic and sing along in a terribly loud, somewhat purposefully out of tune voice. Driving, listening, and singing is without a doubt freeing, but only one action appropriately accompanies a song of this magnitude.

Dancing. In a car. Car dancing.

It's one of my favorite things to do, and had you been on the road this afternoon you would have witnessed it for yourself. The Dixie Chicks and I had quite a lovely afternoon date as I drove to the store for ingredients to blend with my homemade yogurt (that's right...HOMEMADE YOGURT!!! so excited about this!) for the creation of chip dip.

On the way home from the store I left my date, however, and moved on to other singers. To be honest I don't actually know who they were. I just turned the dial to 92.5 and held on for the ride. Then I rolled the down the one window that still works, cranked up the feet heat, and proceeded to sing loudly and dance ridiculously all the way home...and even for a little bit after arriving at my humble abode.

Some days are really stressful.
Some days (like today) are totally carefree and satisfying.
Regardless of which day you are experiencing...please remember...

Some days ya just gotta dance!

O My

Some of you already know that at the moment I am working as a nanny/therapist for a little 7 year old boy who has down syndrome and autism. We will call him Gavin. This precious little boy presents me with many challenges.

He does not speak. Sometimes he is very upset and can't tell me why. He cries and thrashes his body around. He inserts his limbs into the toilet bowl every time I take him to the bathroom.

One of the things Gavin and I are working on is learning to follow physical directions. Two weeks ago I tried very hard to teach him to touch his nose. When he finally did it on Thursday, I shouted and laughed with so much joy and pride I think even the neighbors heard. Gavin laughed too. So we did it more. And more. And more. Each time he touched his nose I made a huge stink about it.

So this past week I moved on to new directions. Every time I ask Gavin to reach up, or open his mouth, or touch the floor...he very proudly touches his nose.

Not On Our Own

Until yesterday I was quite proud of my immune system for blocking out all of the crazy illnesses that are so rampant in the world of a "kid watcher." Then came, quite literally, the wake up call. For the sake of your ability to eat later today I'll spare the details. Just think stomach bug and I'm sure you will understand exactly what has been going on...since late Sunday night/early Monday morning.

My mom was spending the night at my house so I could drive her to the airport early Monday morning and she went into supermom mode at the first sound of, well, you know. Despite the fact that I felt terrible, it was really quite a treat to have my mommy around for the worst part of it. Sometimes in my quest for self-sufficiency I lose sight of how truly wonderful it is to be taken care of.

All through the night my mom would wake up each time I did and she was right there to help with all the dirty details. At 5:45 AM my friend Eric drove her to the airport for me. Later in the day my friend Jane donned a pair of plastic gloves and proceeded to clean the remnants of my sickness that had been left on our front porch.
These people took care of me yesterday, and it was lovely.

It's odd though, because although the actions of these three people touched me deeply, I still spent the majority of the day feeling sorry for myself. A usual response when one is improperly disposing of everything previously eaten I'm sure, but yesterday I was not feeling sorry only about the fact that I was sick. I was feeling sorry about the fact that I was sick and alone. Yesterday I was at my weakest physically, and the one thing I truly wanted was company.

I didn't care anymore about being self-sufficient. I didn't care that someone would see me in a very gross state. I just wanted someone to be there. I felt like a little kid all day long. A little kid who was home alone (please pardon the unintentional movie pun).

My point in telling you this? Sickness led me to weakness, which led me to feel like a child, which led me to desire strength surrounding me, which led me to Christ. There it is. Yesterday I had such a need for something that no one could provide (and those who could didn't want to because, let's face it, who actually wants to comfort someone with a stomach bug at the risk of catching it themselves?). Yesterday I was incredibly weak. And yesterday I realized that my nasty sickness was a tiny display of how disgusting, helpless, and sad we are when left to our own devices.

How grateful I am that we don't have to be left on our own!

Today will provide ample opportunity to think about that, as I am feeling a bit better but made a mutual decision with my employer that we should allow one day for a buffer of the sickness to keep it from entering her home through me. So today I am, once again, alone (but not on my own:-).

Today was good.

Juneau pulled me on a sled.
So did Walter.
Jamal went sledding for the first time in his life.

We all trekked about a mile down the road to the Keigley's home, and after shedding my snowclothes I was quickly convinced by three beautiful children to re-don the bundle and return to the snow.

The kids were on sleds. I was either pushing, pulling, running, or some combination of the three. We were all laughing.

After round two of snowplay I entered into a ridiculously loud game of Pit with the adult crowd. Again, we were all laughing.

Then I sat on a couch with friends and tied an old blanket back together while watching some show about the E.R.

After the show Jeff drove me back home in the Bobcat while Laura sat on my lap.

This day was one of the best I have had in a very long time. And there wasn't anything incredibly adventurous about it. I didn't travel to any far off land. I didn't return with loads of pictures. I didn't plan some extravagant logistics spreadsheet and stock up on dehydrated food. I simply joined some wonderful people in playing.

What made today so special? Love. That's all. Just people, gathered together, having fun, sharing love. This is family. This is adventure. This is noteworthy.


This is life.

What do you do?

One of my favorite (read: hated) questions is "What do you do?" As a young twenty-something who seems to be meeting new people around every corner, it is a question I'm asked...often. To this day I have never come up with a truly decent answer. It's because I fight the battle of finding identity within "what I do" that this question is so terrible. See it's not a simple question about occupation for me. This overpowering request for information enters my ears as "What are you doing with your life? Be careful what you say, for I will most definitely judge your entire person based on your answer."

Because of the terror that plagues my being when asked this one simple question, I have spent many a moment trying to come up with a good way to answer. I'm sure that all of this thought over one simple conversation-starting question seems a bit unnecessary, but I tend to over think many an irrelevant issue. So I think about it. A lot. Earlier this week I was asked this very question in a small group, get-to-know-ya kind of setting. My answer?

Hi. I'm Torrye. I graduated from North Greenville, and right now I watch kids.

Really?

I watch kids?

Anyone know of a busy playground? or the latest in binoculars?

Wow. The embarrassment that followed this utterance was, well, embarrassing. People noticed the creepiness of my comment, and talked about it. Not in a rude way...just jokingly. But still, my response was talked about. And my entire goal had been to answer in the most simple way possible in order to avoid drawing any extra attention my direction.

Mission: failed.

Moral of the story? Extreme amounts of deliberation over this one question are quite ridiculous, and don't guarantee delivery of a "normal" first impression.

Aah. That's really the key isn't it? Too much thought about what others think leads to despair. OK so despair might be a bit dramatic. Just go with it. We care too much about the impression we give. Yes, there is something to be said for conducting ourselves in a manner worthy of respect. But there is also something to be said for simply doing what you do and being content with(if not proud of)it.

Some people I know are doing exactly what they wanted to be doing in life. They are stable financially. They live in only one place. Their cars start up every morning like clockwork.

They are sometimes happy and sometimes sad.

Others are more like myself,wandering around a bit, moving from one thing to the next. They can't always make ends meet. They don't stay in one place for very long. They don't have the most reliable transportation.

They are sometimes happy and sometimes sad.

This is life. We do what we can to get by, and hopefully a little more.

Sometimes we are happy.
Sometimes we are sad.
Sometimes we are surrounded by love.
Sometimes we are lonely.
Sometimes we are proud of what we tell others.
Sometimes we are embarrassed.


"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."

Thanks Paul.

Plain and simple: All of my effort in regulating the impression I leave on others is worthless. Their thoughts don't matter. His do, and He loves me...always.End of story.

Adventurer's Plight

Hello All! It seems that I have been sucked into the world of the blogger (at least temporarily). This is my second attempt at a first posting, as the first attempt was sadly deleted. That now non-existent first post was very well written and I was quite proud of it, and I'm gonna give it another go, but I have a feeling this second post will not have quite the same exquisiteness as the first. Forgive me. Read on if you wish.

The basic idea begins with one simple fact. I am an adventurer. I have made a habit of traipsing around the country (and occasionally outside of it) doing things that not a lot of people do...and not a lot of people really want to. This is what I love. This is what I crave...constantly.

My heart is truly satisfied when I am in some beautiful, foreign place with a good friend. We hike, paddle, bike, and often just sit in a location that is new. We exhaust our bodies. Sleepiness overrides the desire to be a polite people pleaser. Emotions, thoughts, questions, and doubts are laid bare for all to see. Things inevitably get tougher than I thought they would. At some point or points I will mention the fact that only crazy people live my life and find it enjoyable. And I doubt that I actually do enjoy it. But truth be told, at the end of every excursion I return with pictures, videos, and stories that I am all too happy to share with friends who quickly tire of my ramblings.

I love to share my experiences because it is during those moments that I feel most alive. It is when I'm doing something I didn't think I could handle that I finally feel as if I'm worth being around. The trouble with these adventures...coming back. See I've recently been pondering my love for exciting travels, and have as a result come to realize that I search for life in the things I'm doing. I live in adrenaline pumping moments. And the moments in between accomplishments are...well...nothing more than in between.

That's a lot of moments! That is a sum of many days that I view as wasted. Days that I feel weren't really worth living. Days that I don't think really fit into the big picture of my life.

Sad.

Very sad.

But I'm coming to see that there is no such thing as an "in between" phase in this life that I've been given. Every moment, whether I find it adventurous or not, is a moment in my life. And no matter how insignificant I may feel a time in life is, it is still just that. A time in life. Yes dear friends, life does continue even if noteworthy, endorphin-inducing moments are few and far between.

So here's the idea: Life-real life-is not found only in once-in-a-lifetime adventures. It is also found (and I propose found more prominently) in tiny moments that we may not see as worth mentioning. God did not create us to waste away the majority of our days waiting for the next big thing. We are not thumb-twiddlers who sit around oh so impatiently until something "worthwhile" comes our way. We are adventurers. People who live every day as if it actually matters because in reality...it does.

The goal for this tiny online snippet of my spider web brain is to use this blog that I have somehow been convinced to create as a means of recognizing and sharing small moments in life that actually matter. It seems that my travels have been suspended for a bit, so "small" moments are likely to abound.

Ah well, as I feared, this sad attempt at conveying my intended message did not come across with the same conciseness and power as I had originally typed. I'm tempted to keep typing in hopes that some of my original writing will make its way into this post, but we all know that our brains only want to read so many words at a time, and chances are I have already pushed past that limit. So tata for now friends.

Go live.