My One Word for 2016

2016 is going to be one hell of a year. Don't get me wrong; 2015 was incredible, but I am so excited for 2016. 2015 was the year I first began as a wife. The year we began to figure out what that meant. We navigated budgetting and saving and meal planning and chores. We added some fur babies to our home (one at the end of 2014, the other this fall). We took a leap of faith and handed control of one particular aspect of our lives over to G-d. Then, on July 4th, we found out our family would be growing by another human. (Thankfully only one this time!) It's been insane ever since.

Ever since that moment, I've been growing into a different person, a mom, her mom. I know I'm never done growing as a person and I know my identity isn't solely who I am as a mom. I'm still a wife, a woman, a daughter, a sister. And those parts of me are nowhere near finished. But now there's this big new part being unlocked. It started the moment that second line showed up and has grown day by day. Every time I've heard her heartbeat or felt her kick, I've fallen a little more in love with her. And every moment she's gone nuts for the San Jose Sharks or kicked out of shock at the newest Star Wars movies and I've seen the pride and the joy on my husband's face, I've fallen more in love with him.

In this next year, while everyone is making their resolutions, I think my goals are fairly simple. You may disagree. In about three months, my daughter will enter the world and I want to be the mama she needs. I want to show her love, to show her what it means to be a godly woman and a loving wife. I want to show her how to adult, to budget and save and meal plan and cook. And I want to teach her to take care of herself too. To take five minutes for a shower, to drink a cup of tea and just breathe. I want to show her that eating good, healthy food doesn't mean being deprived or boring and that working out is something we do to feel our best and to be good stewards of the body G-d gave us, not because we don't like our reflection or we hate our thighs.

Do I think she's going to soak all of this in by the end of 2016?No. But I do think it will start to set a firm foundation. These values I want to impart to her aren't necessarily things I've already got mastered. So this goal isn't just "Keep living how I am but with a baby." It involves work and growth and deliberate change.

I don't expect to suddenly change who I am overnight. My diet won't suddenly be 100% organic or sugar free. We won't suddenly have our bills line up perfectly every month and I might sometimes overspend on stupid things. I won't suddenly work out 3x a week or stick to my devos every day. But these are all things I plan to work on. So for 2016, my one word is 'temple'. My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit and it is my job to care for it, inside and out.

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from G-d? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor G-d with your bodies.

-1 Corinthians 6:19-20

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A Makeover for the Blog

As you may have noticed, my blog has undergone a bit of a makeover recently. This blog has been my online home for the last three years, though I may not have always been around so much. And lately the set up here hasn't reflected who I am now.

"A Madwoman with a Blog" was designed when I was focused on my fandom and on my eccentricities. Identifying myself as a madwoman was both a nod to the fact that The Doctor was called a madman with a box and a nod to the fact that I don't consider myself normal.

I never wanted to be normal. I thought it was a mark of uniqueness, of being exceptional. Well I've started to realize that's not so. My life looks a lot like most others. I go to work. I come home. I don't work out as much as I should. I eat more junk than I should. I sleep. I watch TV. I tend to drift through life the way I think a lot of people do.

Well, no more. I'm committing to this thing called life. I'm trying to get myself healthier by working out and snacking smart. I'm trying to take time out to work on my hobbies. My knitting, my sewing, my reading. I don't want to just drift anymore. I want to commit. And yes, that does mean being a regular around this place. Whether my entries are just an account of what's going on in my life or they're an in-depth look into my psyche, I want to commit to writing. This is part of what He made me for and I've been a fool to ignore it for as long as I have.

So poke around, enjoy the view, let me know what you think. And commit with me. Commit to living life your way. Not just accepting the status quo.

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My Story: In a Nutshell

On my left arm, from shoulder to elbow, I have a tattoo. My tattoo took three hours to complete and a good chunk of my savings at the time. In script, sandwiched between roses at both top and bottom, my arm reads, "For I know the plans I have for you, [declares the L-rd,] plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Though the design is beautiful, over the following weeks, I struggled with the decision I'd made to get this large tattoo. I think a piece of that struggle had to do with what prompted the tattoo in the first place.

When I was eighteen, I fell in love. Shoving all my logic and my reason aside, ignoring the code I'd created for qualities my future mate must have, and blind to all but my feelings, I quickly got engaged. Over the next three years, I missed sign after sign that this relationship was not meant to be and I slowly lost sight of who I truly was and what I truly valued. Though I didn't think I was altering myself to please him, who I was changed subconsciously. College is a time of great change for most people and that was very true for me. At the start of freshman year, I was completely in love with the wrong man and only marginally faithful to G-d. As my collegiate career progressed, through the influence of my friends, professors, and classes, as well as the calling of the King Himself, I changed. I started to fall out of love with my fiance and draw closer to G-d. I may have realized the second part but it is only in retrospect that I can understand the first.

Before my King pulled me to Him, I ran away. I got scared I think and I wasn't ready to sacrifice the major life changing decision I'd already made, to give my life to this man, for a far off Creator who I didn't feel very close to. I felt my life could both serve Him and hold to the decision I'd made. Worse than that, I fell down a rabbit hole. I made some very large mistakes and I gave myself to him before I gave myself to Him. In the name of love, I broke the promise I'd made when I was nine years old. I had sex before I was married.

Only four months after I initially made that decision, G-d started to convict me. He laid it on my heart that what I was doing was wrong. But after talking out my confliction with a close friend, I tried to make things right with both G-d and my fiance. The resulting conversation was the worst fight I have ever been in. The heartache I felt that night, the number of tears I cried are something I wouldn't wish on another. Somehow, we put a band aid on our relationship and lasted another nine months. It took six months for him to be all but done and another three for G-d to fully work in me.

As my first relationship fell to pieces, I clung to G-d. I clung to His promise and His truth. I knew that He had plans for me that I knew nothing of. I knew He had a future for me and that He knew who my future husband was. I got my tattoo while I was still healing from my heartbreak. I took His promises and I had them engraved on my body. I struggled to come to terms with my tattoo at first. I wondered if I'd ever look at it and not think about my heartbreak. I wondered if I'd ever get over what went wrong in my life. I wondered how that story would affect my future. Then people started asking about it. I started encountering people outside of my circle, who didn't know my story. They'd see flowers poking out of my shirt and they'd admire the beautiful artwork. Inevitably, they'd be surprised at such a large tattoo on such a little girl. And they'd ask. They'd want to hear the story. Where are those words from? What made me chose that?

The tattoo on my arm started as a way to heal, a reminder of the promises He made and why I'd chosen to end my relationship, to sacrifice that part of myself. These days, it's so much more. On a regular basis, I have customers at work ask me what it says, admire the roses. I'm able to share an abbreviated version of my story with them. I'm able to tell them that all my plans fell apart but that I trust Someone else has better for me. And today I sit here, in Ohio for the first time in my life, my head resting on the arm of the man who now means the world to me. I know G-d has better plans for me. And today, I'm able to start living them. What's past is past and my future sits beside me. No matter what lies ahead of me, I know that G-d has a future in store for me and my tattoo is one small way that He reminds me of that on a daily basis.

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Romans 12: A Revelation

I have never fit in. It's a simple fact of my life. I was never popular and I've embraced the idea that I am weird. In fact, someone told me a few weeks ago that I was normal and I argued with him. The idea of being normal to me is tied up with the idea of fitting into a box and being a cookie cutter Stepford wife. Or whatever the equivalent is for a single twenty-something. So when I came across Romans 12:2 at Circle C Ranch years ago, I immediately clung to it.

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Right there, in black and white, in the first three words of this verse, it says, "Do not conform". I clung to that command. Do not conform. Do not be like this world. It's okay to not fit in. It's okay to stand out. It's okay to be your own person.

I still believe it's important to be yourself. Later on in the chapter, Paul talks about using your own unique gifts and how each person ought to use his own talents in a way that pleases G-d. My gift is not money management. I am not meant to be the treasurer of my church's board of directors. I am not meant to be an accountant. My gifts lie elsewhere and I need to be true to them. (That's part of what I'm doing in writing this, frankly.)

The problem with the way my thirteen-year-old self interpreted this verse though is that she stopped after the first eleven words. Oh she had every word memorized. But the first three were what she clung to. When she was bullied for not dressing how everyone else did, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world." When she was accused (as if it were a bad thing) of being a lesbian since she'd never had a boyfriend and she had joined the Gay-Straight Alliance, "Do not conform".

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She missed what the other three quarters of it say. To paraphrase, "Do not conform. Rather, be transformed mentally." She was so glad to cling to the idea that she wasn't supposed to look like the rest of the world that she forgot that she might have to change. She wasn't required to be clad in American Eagle from head to toe and listen to Top 40 radio but she also shouldn't remain static in who she was. The changes that should have overtaken her were more mental than physical and had nothing to do with popularity. She needed to learn how to relate to her parents without screaming. She needed to learn how to be a follower of Christ and not a fan of Jesus. She needed to learn how to seek His face daily. And she needed to learn how to start her journey towards being the godly woman He wants her to be.

If she had realized that, if she had moved past the acceptance she found in the first verse and if she had realized the transformation that G-d was trying to work in her, she might have found the promise found in the second half of the verse more readily. If she had learned how to be transformed in light of His desires, she might have realized how to find His will sooner.

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She didn't learn that. But I am. At thirteen, I needed to be accepted and I found that in Christ. I found Someone who didn't think I was weird and didn't want me to change in order to like me. I found someone who never fought with me over stupid things and who only wanted my best. I found someone who loved me. At thirteen, I needed that. But I wish that I'd revisited that verse with fresh eyes a few years later and realized that G-d was not calling me to a life of doing what I wanted. He was not calling me to a life of doing what made me happy. He was calling me to place my life on His altar. He was calling me to offer my body as a sacrifice to Him (Romans 12:1).

My life is supposed to be lived in a way that pleases my King. If I follow in His will, my life goes so much easier and I am happy. It might result in temporary discomfort but in the long run what He wants is best for me. If I let Him change me, I realize what He wants much sooner and I am able to say with conviction that I am living in a manner that is good and pleasing in His sight. I am able to say that my life is being lived in a way that brings glory to my King. I wonder what my life would be like if I'd learned this lesson before. That's a question I can never know.

What I do know is that I am learning now. And G-d has been good to me. He has arranged for me to have this amazing year, to return to the city where I left my heart four years ago, to make a friend there, and has lined up my next job, my next step. I don't know what comes after that. But I know I can trust Him. After all, He's gotten me this far. And if I keep letting Him change me and work in me, I have no doubt that I'll be able to see His will for what comes next.

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Bittersweet Uncertainty

On the one hand, I’m excited to go back home. I’m just so tired. I love my girls and Kathrin is amazing. I could not ask for a better host mom. (Daniel’s been gone a lot this month and he works a looooot so though I don’t have a problem with him, I don’t know him half as well as I know Kathrin or the girls.) And even though I am off at the end of my day and Kathrin’s good about making sure the girls know that I’m not responsible for them and giving me a way out if I’m trying to write or knit or chat with people, there’s still a part of me that I feel like I can’t turn off. I feel guilty if I don’t help out and clean up or if I don’t play with Ellie or calm the crying baby.

It’s just part of being family I think. When Sami was little, I felt similarly. Except that really was home. (I hate that sentence. Because this is home. I'm happy here and I feel welcome and loved and I'm never going to have another family like this one. But the sentiment behind that statement, I hope you understand. That this home is one I've made whereas the one with my little sister and my mom is one that was naturally created in my life without any effort on my part.) If I was sitting around reading and my mom wanted my help, she’d yell for me. Kathrin’s too polite/generous/something for that. She’s almost apologetic when she tells me some mornings, “Vickey, I didn’t get to the dishwasher yet. Can you do that this morning please? It doesn’t have to be right now. Finish your coffee first.” Yes, the woman lets me drink my coffee before I start doing any real work. That’s not to say that she never asks for my help when I’m “off duty”. Occasionally something happens and she asks me to help with this or just make sure that kid doesn't climb out of the high chair for a minute. But even so, it’s asking not, “Victoria get your butt in here and help me with the dishes.” There’s just somehow a difference. I think knowing that Kathrin won’t ask makes me feel guilty if I don’t do it. Because if I don’t do it, she’ll do it all herself. And she never complains about it. Seriously, this woman deserves a medal. (And Kathrin, if you’re reading this, I mean every word of this. You are fantastic.)

So because there’s a piece of me that’s on most of the time, it’s hard to kind of recover. And you would think when I go out that then I’d recharge. But I’m such an introvert that going out takes a different kind of energy. Yes my social meter gets filled up but something else gets drained. There is a very fine balance within me to keep all of my meters reading “OK”. I need to be with friends a certain amount, I need to be alone, I need to be with the family, I need to be outside, I need time with G-d, I need time to be creative. I need so much to be optimal. And I don’t even know what the amounts of those things are. I just know when they’re out of whack and I typically know how to fix them. After about ten months of trying to fine tune all of those different things, you can imagine I’d be worn out.

The thought of having to start over again in just two months is almost more than I can handle some days. Which leads me to “on the other hand”. Yes, I’m excited to go home, but I don’t want to leave. I’m going to miss the ability to walk to everything I need. I’m going to miss having little girls throw themselves on my back for piggy back rides. I’m going to miss “What are you watching?”. I’m going to miss “Oh you’re coloring your Bible again? Wow that’s a lot of ‘G-d’ there.” (Noemi knows anytime I mark my Bible in purple it’s a name of G-d.) I’m going to miss Beck’s Green Lemon and Mezzo Mix and I swear to you the Nutella is better over here. I’m going to miss my little room and chatting with Kathrin after the girls go to bed. I’m going to miss “Vickey will you draw me a wizard?” There is a lot that I’m going to miss.

(Artwork: Noemi)

And there’s a lot I’m unsure of in my future. I don’t know how I’m going to fit back into the family structure. I don’t know how I’m going to fit back into American life. I don’t know what I’m going to do for a job. I don’t know how to be in America and not be in school come September. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I don’t know when my love life will change or when my living situation will. I don’t know when I’ll find my purpose in life, the job I’m meant to have, the ministry I should be involved in. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Rochester. I don’t know a lot of things.

As someone in one of my Facebook groups said this week, “I know He's got it under control, but the planning part of my brain is going crazy right now”. And that’s exactly how I feel. I know He’s got plans for me. I know He’s got big plans, plans I could never dream of. But I don’t know where to start! I don’t know what the next step is. G-d’s word is a lamplight unto my feet… A lamplight. Not a floodlight. (Thank you to one of my wonderful Londonerd TA’s for that.) 

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If His word shows me the next step, what do I know? What am I certain of? I’m certain I need to go home. For a bit at least. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there. I need to get my license and then a car. I’d be good at event planning I think. And I’d like to pursue that a bit more. Aaaaand that’s all I got. I also know I need to find a church to get involved in. Both somewhere where I’m getting fed and where I’m feeding. That feels like so little to go on. I really feel lost some days.

If you’ve stuck with me that long, congratulations. Seriously I feel like you deserve a cookie. I tried to divide this up into a couple different posts (because I’m nearing two thousand words right now) but I think a lot of it’s too interrelated. It makes sense how I went from one thing to another and ultimately this is my space to write. If there comes a day when I write solely for the readers, this blog will have become soulless and I will give it up.

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