Settling in.

Three weeks ago I left my home, my city, my family, my dog, and my friends and moved to Fort Wayne, Indiana where I stepped into full-time on-campus residence life position at a Catholic university in the latter half of the middle of the fall semester. Does that sound dramatic to you? I'm trying to make it sound dramatic, with the run-on sentence and the comma-separated list. Is it dramatic, though? Because people keep asking me how I'm doing, if I'm "settling in" well, and I've run out of clever responses:

Yes, I'm settling in well. You're all very friendly. I love my job. I'm learning as I go. I found Starbucks, Half-Price Books, and Aldi's. My RAs are excellent, and I did the math and discovered that I have had conversations with at least 50 of my 140 residents.

What's really weird is that after three weeks of rolling with the punches, meeting new people, exploring the area, and being cheerful, "it" is starting to creep in. I can hear the homesickness scratching at my door. In retrospect, setting a glamour-shot of downtown Pittsburgh as my desktop background may have been a bad idea.

My sister called me from Rome yesterday. Her semester abroad is coming to an end in a few weeks and she called to say she misses home. Apparently she is experiencing culture shock and it's making her shockingly tired - her subconscious is finally fighting back against the tide of constant new-ness in her surroundings and forcing her to rest and recover. I had a moment where I wondered if my current exhaustion has anything to do with culture shock but... I'm pretty sure it's because I'm stressed from carrying the On Call phone all week. Possibly also related to the incident where a student locked himself out at 4:30 in the morning and called me instead of security.

The bottom line is that I'm stuck in this in-between place of "settling in" where I don't technically have problems - my job is great, I'm building relationships with people on campus, I'm getting a lot of extracurricular reading done, etc - but every now and again I realize how much is still missing. No one to make pancakes and watch The Walking Dead with, no nieces and nephew to visit, no church family, no local coffee shop where everyone knows my name... and no matter how content I am in my current position, it's an uphill battle to find a life outside of work.

As much as I appreciate their concern, somehow I don't think the people asking me how I'm doing are really going to be able to help that much.

The Real Question

Although I have lost none of the angst that instigated melodrama in my previous post, after some reflection I realized that I never really got at the thing that I wanted to say. What I did say was true and valid, of course... I'm not losing confidence in this dream, exactly, but I do need a place in which to wonder what it would take to decide that enough is enough. A  wise woman who visited Geneva a few months ago said "Writing is thinking"; I know so little about the hand of God and what it means to wait for direction and trust his plan that I can't help but write.

So the real question is, how does one discover the difference between real confidence from faith and simple defense-mechanism apathy?

When I bought my motorcycle last summer, I tried (and failed) to have a few conversations with my dad about why I wanted to ride. In my father's mind the purchase was the least intelligent thing I had ever done, and my decision to continue riding the most reckless. I wrote a post in defense of my decision a few months ago, but to summarize, I honestly don't believe that it is irresponsible to ride because ultimately, you're only a safe as God keeps you. Every time I hit the road in any kind of vehicle I am aware of the risks, I do my best to keep my head on straight, and I know that it is God's hand that guides me through safely.

It's amazing to me that I have that kind of faith when I'm on a bike with just a thin textile jacket, jeans, and a helmet for protection, yet when it comes to resumes, cover letters, and waiting for the illusive interview I feel like James' "wave upon the sea, driven with the wind, and tossed"? Because the confidence I feel in the daytime when I'm writing and cooking and cleaning isn't always there in the evening, when the distractions have dissipated. On my bike I feel light and joyful and connected to the creation in new ways, and while I am conscientious I know that there is little I can do to keep myself safe, yet in the job hunt, every passing day makes me ask myself a few more times, "What are you doing wrong? Why didn't you do this and this and that while you were in grad school? They would make your resume worth more. Shouldn't you be calling... emailing... filling out more applications...? Why. Doesn't. Anyone. Want. Me."

Why is it so easy to be recognize grace in my successes and so difficult to wait for it in new endeavors? Why am I so quick to feel responsible for all of the things that don't work out?

Don't answer any of those questions. This isn't about me, it's about faith. It's about hearing the Holy Spirit. And it's a tiny bit about hoping that God has a plan for my career that makes me feel light and joyful and connected to the creation in new ways. (I can see it now "SOC 318: Two Wheels and Four Lanes - an inquiry into motorcycle culture in the U.S." A semester cross-country... dude, that would be awesome...) 

a new (yet very old) kind of adventure

If I said "Niagara," you would probably think "Falls." If I said "Lake Erie," you would probably think "dang lake-effect snow." If I said "sailing," you would probably think "yacht." If I said "War of 1812," you would probably think "irrelevant history." Such have been many of my conversations of late regarding my newest hobby - volunteering on the US Brig Niagara. When I was young, I thought it was cool to be one of the few people who knew about Oliver Hazard Perry, the Battle of Lake Erie, and the Niagara. To be honest, nowadays I tend to be disappointed that no one seems to care about important stuff that happened in our nation's history. That's probably why I want to teach.

But I digress. Once upon a time America was at war with Britain because they wouldn't let us trade with France because they were preparing to be at war with Bonaparte and they didn't recognize our right to trade with whomever we want. It's called the War of 1812, sometimes "The Second Revolutionary War." In the midst of this war it became apparent that the British Navy needed to be stopped in the Great Lakes, but there was no one to do it... until Oliver Hazard Perry built a fleet out of Erie that won a really important battle that pretty much secured the American border and ultimately contributed to winning the war. The Niagara was Perry's flagship for the second half of the battle and his victory. She's kind of a big deal.

I know all of this because once upon a time, my father sailed on the Niagara as volunteer crew. After being retired off-and-on in Misery Bay, Presque Isle, for 160-odd years, she was fully rebuilt in 1988 and is now a sailing school vessel whose mission is to preserve the history of the War of 1812 in the Great Lakes as well as continue the tradition of square-rig sailing. Now I get to be part of that, because I am a member of the Flagship Niagara League, and I am now both a trainee and a maintenance volunteer for the rest of the winter.

I have made a few observations in my five week tenure as a Saturday maintenance trainee. For instance, keeping a ship in safe sailing shape is a heckalot of work, and most of it involves sanding and paint. I can't wait to graduate to tar and rope. Also, although I really do look forward to sailing in the summer, it is going to be a lot of work. I had intended to journal while I sailed, but it seems less and less credible to assume that I will have the time to do so. Also, the two-hour commute is surprisingly worth it every time.

Most of all, I believe that this experience will be an adventure the likes of which most of you have only read about (if that). It has been the story of my life to read about these sorts of things and spend very little time trying to find a way to do them, and yet here I am, tarring rope and painting yardarms. Maybe my new - yet ancient - adventure can inspire others to take part in the Niagara's mission, or even Nike's: just do it.

Updates (hopefully) to follow in the coming weeks.

Who am I voting for?

Since I went ahead and said that it's okay to ask other people who they are voting for, I have been encouraged to put forth my own two cents. That's the problem with asking questions, isn't it? When I answer you may discover that I am more ignorant and unlikeable than you originally thought. So I'll start you off easy: tomorrow I will not vote for Mitt Romney; I will also not vote for Barack Obama.

Now that you've judged, if you're still with me, here are some of my reasons.

In the interest of fairness and honesty, I am conservative and unlikely to vote for Barack Obama. I've heard a lot of interesting arguments for the President, but it takes a lot more than hope for change to bring me around to that way of thinking (primarily the Keynesian way of thinking). So, the question for me has become, do I vote for a "conservative" candidate who is electable, but in whom I may not necessarily have any confidence? To be completely honest, I came close to choosing not to vote this year, because neither of my "options" seem optimal.

But wait. Why is it that I have only two choices? As Americans we expect - sometimes demand - more options than that when we're shopping for milk and bread; what happened to our enthusiasm for the democratic process? No, don't answer that, I'm sure to be depressed. What my complaint really comes down to is the fact that I don't like having only two parties because they are so polarized that other voices are rarely heard, and maybe you agree that it's just not healthy. Sure, there are a lot of crazies out there that have been weeded out by the parties... but I'm sure you can agree that quite a few lunatics have managed to slip through in the past.

My father isn't thrilled with my current decision-making process. You probably won't be either. But tomorrow I'm not necessarily casting a vote for the president, I am casting a vote for the process: I am voting libertarian. Not because I think he can win, or even because I agree with all things libertarian, but because I want more options. I want honest discussions. I want the opportunity of a voice that is more than a straight party vote.

As I write, I realize that this seems ridiculous. The presidency is such an important thing - why would I use that vote to make a statement? Quite simply, because I don't think there is any other way for me to make a statement. And before you tell me it's impossible... according to Gary Johnson, if 5% of America made this choice, the third party would have equal access to the ballot and to federal funding. Think about that.

So many other things I would like to say, but I need to leave it now and look for a Higher Ed article. Happy Voting.

Who are you voting for? Some conversational advice

I will add to my previous comments about political conversations that this way of talking and thinking is very hard. I wrote that post on a happy afternoon after a long conversation with people whose thought processes are similar to my own, although their conclusions differ wildly. I am quite aware that this is not always the case, and that there are people who make these conversations painful no matter how hard you try. I name no names.

I don't want to seem naive on this point; I interact with enough people every day, even on a small campus, that I know how difficult it is to have hard conversations graciously when the other person seems dead set against that very thing. Even when they are on board with your approach, basic cultural and vocabulary differences sometimes make meaningful conversation practically impossible. So here are a few quick tips on talking with people who disagree with you on politics - or any other sensitive topic:

1. Remember humanity
I do mean that you should remember that you are human and they are human, and for that very reason you will both be wrong about something. However, I also mean that everyone should remember that our conversations have implications for the rest of humanity, for the great questions of life and death, poverty and wealth. If you are in a position to talk about these things, you are probably in a position to do something about them. It's really not about you at all.

2. Benefit of the doubt
I tend to think that I am better at this than your average grad student - why do we immediately assume that because someone believes x, they will also affirm r, e and m? Just because someone thinks differently does not mean that they have sold their souls or that they would affirm the agenda of a totalitarian regime. As you can see, these other letters simply do not follow, except in the word extreme.* 

3. Practice
This may seem callous of me, but at some point conversations have to come down to personal integrity. You're probably not going to convince "the other guy," whoever they are, that you are right and their entire cognitive framework is skewed, unless you have unwittingly stumbled on a great work of the Holy Spirit. Which is possible. In most cases, however, you can talk until you're blue in the face only to discover that they weren't listening to you at all, but instead assuming that you affirm r, e and m as well as x. So do this instead of asphyxiating: get in the habit of communicating what you want to say clearly, concisely, and respectfully. Even if that person never gets it, perhaps the practice you have in this conversation will help you be more graceful and persuasive in your next encounter with disagreement.

I hope to soon write a response to my own question: who am I voting for? Hopefully it will be done before election day, but as I said... if an election is the end of the conversation, then we're doing it wrong.

*see what I did there? 

Who are you voting for?

Election Season is coming down to the wire, and I hear that tensions over it are running high. On the small college campus of a Christian school, however, it is easy to be insulated from the outside world and the concerns of the nation. For some students, this begins (or perpetuates) a spirit of apathy; between school, clubs, sports and complaining about the food, there is plenty here to occupy young minds. When someone asks our generation to care, don't we normally ask, what difference does our caring make anyway? "It feels like a lesser-of-two-evils decision," and "voting third party is voting for [insert candidate] anyway" are more thoughtful, but express the same sentiment.

A smaller group of students choose to care - intensely. Much like their parents before them, these students know where they stand, who they should vote for, and often what the Bible says about it. The Geneva College Republicans have meetings and t-shirts and an informational table once in a while. There is a quieter, but no less dedicated, group of Democrats furthering their cause on campus. It would be unfair to say that their devotion does no good, but the polarization of their views often lends itself to intimidation rather than honest conversation.

Honest conversation is something that our campus desperately needs, but sometimes the election conversation is ended before it begins because of our fatalistic - or pugilistic - attitudes. This election season, however, I have a new perspective to offer you; new to me, although I can hope that it is not new to you.

Although it sometimes seems that Christians have more to learn about suspending judgment than the rest of the world, there IS something unique about having these conversations at a Christian school, or even more specifically, at Geneva. To summarize the Reformed perspective, we understand the Bible to be God's story which tells us of the good creation of all things, the brokenness of all things, the redemption of all things, and the hope (promise!) of restoration for all things. We, as Christians, are part of the redemption: who we are and what we do, after we have encountered Christ, is inexorably linked to God's love for his creation. It is our duty to represent God well and work toward that final restoration (Romans 8:18-30).

Thinking of the world in this way, therefore, leads me to believe that the real question in our conversations is not, "what do you think about [insert party or candidate]?" It is, "Who and what do you care about?" It is, "How does the current political climate, or a particular election or candidate, impact that thing or those people that you care about?" In the student ministry office we have been drawing attention to the election as often as we can. We frequently disagree - and we know when the conversation starts that we will disagree - but that doesn't stop us from talking about it. None of us questions the others' salvation when we discover that they are registered Democrat, or that they might support a pro-choice candidate, or that they are okay with rich people remaining rich. The discussion is about more than a "position" that can be summarized in one sentence on a political poll. I find it impossible to dismiss the input of a friend when I know that their position, like mine, is driven by a deep love for the poor and the oppressed; our political disagreement grows out of that love, but does not change it.

I find hope in having conversations about politics that end with hope rather than anger, and in having conversations that recognize that one election - or even all elections of all time - will neither fix nor damn the world. Life is bigger than that, and God is certainly bigger than that. In the end, whether there is a Republican, Democrat, or cartoon character in the White House, the things we care about will not change, the people we love will have no less need. Political discussions are important, laws are important, deciding how to vote and discovering the issues is important... but never forget that they are not the most important things.

The conversations that start because of politics cannot end with an election. If we really care about these things, there is no "win" or "lose" for us, only more or less difficult work for us to do as we move forward, with hope, to the work that God has given us:

He has told you, O man, what is good,
     and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
     and to walk humbly with your God? 

                     Micah 6:8 

Something old, something new, something borrowed and something... to complain about.

Old news: Spring Break has arrived at Geneva College. It's been a few days, actually, and in a mere four weekdays we will be back to the daily grind. I find it amusing that so many people say "Spring break, already?" Me, I was the exact opposite. Seven consecutive weeks of full-time school and three-quarter-time work wear me pretty thin. I'm all for break in the middle of March.

New news: I went for a run last weekend. Oh, wait, that's not new... the new news is that I sprained my ankle on that run and today I finally made it to the doctor. I have a bright, shiny (well, textured black, so not shiny at all) boot to wear for the next two weeks, and a brace after that. So many things I could say on the topic, but I'll keep it light-hearted: I've learned my lesson about running on the Sabbath.

Borrowed news: So many things to choose from! I suppose I'll go with what I consider to be the most important (and what you will think the most nerdy) - I love Doctor Who. Not because he's British (rather, it's British and he's a TimeLord), and not because it's science fiction (although that definitely helps); because it is so rare to watch a show that is honest about the failures of mankind, our cruelty, thoughtlessness and ignorance, and also takes the time to reaffirm the inherent value and potential of mankind, unique amid the splendors of the universe.

Complaints: If you're going to write that you have particular skills in either communication or English (or both), please proofread your Bible 300 paper before you turn it in. Just sayin'.

Post Post Office Ramblings, aka "The Milkshake Made Me Do It"

Two full weeks and one day later, I turned in my badge and quit the postal service. I promptly purchased a celebratory milkshake at Sheetz along with a few Reese's cups, and for that I apologize to you, my voluntary audience. Judge me gently for what follows - there is no plan, and I'm on a sugar high like you've never seen.

Before this summer when I thought of the USPS, I don't know what came to mind. Definitely the cranky lady who delivers our mail - it's not our fault that Zelienople denied our plea to be part of their city - and a lot of bored-looking clerks sitting behind counters. Maybe the mailman from Christy, he always made me smile...

"Beautiful, ain't it! Just been told us by the gov-ment in Washington. Now looky here, I figure that if rain or snow, nor none of those things are meant to stay us couriers, then we shorely can't have no gal-woman stayin' us."

Nothing I've ever seen prepared me for the "Logistics and Distribution Center." I know that shows my age and inexperience, because my father isn't at all surprised when I describe the machines we work with. Maybe some of you would be surprised, too, if you walked into that rush and clatter. Semi trailers docking, unloading, loading, and departing at more than 60 doors are just the beginning - five sorting machines, and an army of people just like us either feeding machines or sorting packages manually. I've gained an appreciation and healthy respect for conveyor belts, one that grows every time I finish a shift.

So my world has been made a little bigger, in the most basic sense, by this little brush with industry. Did you know that it costs less to ship almost anything through the Post Office than any of the other shipping companies? True story. I've learned a lot of other things, too...

For example, I always thought that when Quentin Tarantino put language in his films, he was being hyperbolic. People don't actually cuss that much, right? WRONG. They really, really do. They swear when they're upset, when they want you to do something differently, when they're frustrated, tired, stressed, or injured.

They also swear when they're happy, in the middle of normal conversations, when they're joking, indifferent, or have nothing better to do. It's ridiculous.

Then there's unions. I've watched North and South and I'm pretty well-read in Pittsburgh's history - I have half an idea of why unions exist and, even, why they're important. I'm grateful that union labor regulations require the post office to give us 15 minute breaks every two hours and a half-hour lunch (even if it is off the clock). What I don't understand is... well, everything else about them. And how casual employees survive as long as some of them do - we do roughly twice the work at half the pay, with no hope of improving our position and desperate not to be fired.

Of course, you also have to be careful, because there are two ways to yourself kicked out - not working enough, or working too hard. The best advice that I should have followed earlier in my casual employee career was "Sometimes working smart means working dumb." There's no way we're a threat to union jobs, but if a regular decides they don't like you they will make your life hell.

Oh the things I could say... but I'm coming off that high and realizing how pointless this post is. So what's the deal? What's the moral of this story?

First, never assume you know what you're getting into. When in doubt, don't ask a supervisor, ask another casual so you can look dumb together. Never volunteer for extra hours, because if they don't keep you today, they'll keep you tomorrow. Don't pull the mask off the Lone Ranger, and never, never, eat off of the break room table.

Musings from the Post Office

Happy December 22nd from the United States Post Office! That's right, my Christmas break plans included rejoining the ranks of "casual" postal employees. It's a bit of a disappointing transition from the rush and bustle of finals week - along with all its celebration and study and friendship - to the rattle and hum of a distribution center, but my bank account and future plans tell me that it's necessary.

Every time I get off an 8...9...12 hour shift I have to give myself a little pep talk about resigning my appointment, as in, convincing myself I shouldn't. Tempting as it is to turn in my badge and spend two weeks doing nothing, I have to remember that this is valuable, not only because it pays better than anything else I could be doing over break, but because of the things I learn from it.

For instance, just yesterday as I was talking myself out of quitting it occurred to me that I really am spoiled. My little sister says I work too much, and I'll admit that the transition from a school day to the night shift was ill-conceived, but at the same time... this is what real people do. Real people have real jobs that don't end the second week of December and resume in mid-January, with nothing between but reading and cookie-making. Real people put in hours when they would rather be at home loving their families or soaking their aching feet or planning Christmas shopping. Real people have to say "no" to good things on a daily basis because there is less appealing life stuff that must be done - and I shouldn't hide from being a real person.

I got off my shift early today and thus found myself wandering around Walmart at 3am hoping I would be struck by brilliant gift ideas. I didn't get any, unfortunately, but I was struck by the number of employees that were also there at 3am, restocking shelves and sweeping isles. Here in America our standards for customer service are pretty high, and I wonder how often we overlook the people who are right there, doing the things that must be done - especially during the holidays. They're men and women made in the image of God and doing their best.

 I tried to pretend I wasn't there (difficult, when I was one of five customers in the whole store) and stayed out of their way, but I couldn't help but think that they and I were both suffering through the same graveyard shift experience. I looked down at my painting jeans and work shirt, evenly covered with "priority dust" and realized that I'm not anything special because I'm in grad school. I'm just a Walmart employee. I'm just a postal employee. I'm just a member of the working class... and I could show them a little more respect. Maybe you could too?