Bullet Points

I haven't blogged in a while. Since before a bunch of stizz-uff went down. And not blogging was a conscious choice, because I didn't know what to say. You know, during a lot of the stizz-nuff. I've had a really interesting month and the dust is settling a bit, so I want to start up on sharing again, blog-style.

This blog calls for bullet points because of how much I want to say. You're welcome.

1. Quitting
This is why I haven't been writing. I quit my job at The Phoenician and my mind has been a storm of thoughts and doubts and smiles and frowns since then. It happened in February. All during the time from then until today, I've been wondering how I would write about it in here. And today I decided that I'm not going to tell you all about my boss. Because that's not the kind of person I want to be. Lately I keep finding myself making all these decisions about "the kind of person I want to be." I think every decision we make is that kind of decision, but lately I have been acknowledging that, and it's a lot of pressure sometimes. Like now. I'd love to vent and scream and bring you all into the ring with me on this one, but I don't want to be a person who vents on blogs about other people. Especially when other people tend to be sad and hurting so much of the time. So I won't.

I'll just say this: The Phoenician was an unhealthy place for me. I was treated with a strange, confusing, ferocious dislike, and eventually felt very threatened. I hadn't found a new job by the time I quit, but I had sat crying in the bathroom with the Lord enough times to know when my time was up. It's a shame, because I liked what I did there and I liked The Phoenician family. And I think I did a good job.

My letter of resignation was short. Because I had spent enough of me in that office. And I sacrificed my health, and I sacrificed the respect with which I know I should be treated, bottom-of-the-totem-pole though I might have been. But now I am not there anymore. And our God ushered me out with his sweet breeze of a whisper, and I haven't looked back since.

2. Since then
Since that day in February, things have been even more of a whirlwind. Literally the day before I quit, I got connected with a sweet friend of Aaron's who started her own PR Consulting firm a year or so ago. It turned out they needed some part-time work for a few weeks, organizing their 'books.' I started there the Monday after I left The Phoenician, positively wide-eyed that God provided for us like that. I had a paycheck in my wallet that Friday, like always. We never even missed a Chipotle night, friends.

I was with Serendipit for about 3 weeks, I believe. As that was a temporary gig, I spent a lot of my free time then furiously applying for jobs.

[Regarding job searching: my friend Caitlin, kind of an 'expert' in the
biz, says as long as you're serious about it, you'll find something. That's
why I love Caitlin. And that's also why I love Jesus. Also, the free market.]

Then, I found another job.

I was hired as an HR rep for an awesome little company called Dependable Health Services, Inc. They have a giant staff of nurses who provide in-home care for patients across the valley. The first day I started there, we had a 'team meeting.' One of my coworkers shared a problem they had been having with one of our clients. Problems with clients are not good. I couldn't believe how unlucky I was to have my first day be on a day where the boss was going to have to hear terrible news that there was a client problem, and then, obviously, get angry at whoever caused the problem. But do you know what happened?

He listened as my coworker described the problem, and then he said: "Listen up everybody. If [the client] ever talks to any one of you like that ever again, you just give the phone to me. You all do an incredible job, every single day, and I am so proud of you. Don't let anyone tell you different."

And you know what happened? I cried. And I couldn't believe my poor little heart had been bracing for an angry tirade. Isn't it sad that I was conditioned for that? Not anymore.

Also at Dependable, there I have found such a sweet friend. We went out to a movie after my first week. Do you know how that feels? I feel so stinkin' grateful I could do jumping jacks. She is just awesome. Although, not too great at Words with Friends. (See that? That's trash talk.)

Then.

I got a call a week and a half ago from U.S. Congressman David Schweikert's office. They had gotten my contact info from Aaron's boss (we now owe her both our incomes. Do you think a bouquet of flowers ought to do it?) and wanted to interview me. So they did. And then they offered me a job as a staff assistant. Then I told them I wanted more money than they offered me. Then they said "ok." Then I said "ok."

And now here I am, working out my last week at Dependable, ready to start my new gig in politics on Monday.

Would you like a little peek into my brain? Here we are.

I'm sad to leave. I'm excited to go. I'm so bummed to leave my friend. I
feel guilty for leaving a company that put so much work into training me. But
everyone has been so nice about it. This is the right opportunity for me. I
can't believe this is happening. I can't wait to work in politics. I don't want
to leave. But the offices are right down the street from each other. I can still
visit for lunch. Mmm, lunch. I want a ham sandwich.

3. Here I Raise My Ebenezer
When I was at the Focus Institute in 07, I went on this beautiful women's retreat in the late fall, deep in the mountains behind Pike's Peak. "Deep" as in, in a town with little stores that had animal-skin rugs and cowboy jackets with leather fringes. My sweet friend Lindy gave a talk at the retreat, and she spoke so much truth to me that it hit me like a semi and I buried it deep, deep in my heart. And I kept it for times like now.

Do you know the song "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing"? Well, in it, you find one of my favorite lyrics of all time:

"Here I raise my Ebenezer: 'Hither by Thy Help I've Come.'"

Lindy taught us what this lyrics meant. Nestled way back in the old testament is a warrior of a chapter called Joshua 4. The Israelites are passing over the Jordan River, carrying the Ark of the Covenant. And when they make it safely, Joshua tells each tribe to plant a stone at their resting place for the night. Then he said:

"In the future, when your children ask you, 'what do these stones mean?'
tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant
of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.
These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever." -Joshua
4:6-7

This was their "Ebenezer." Joshua knew how precious it was to taste, to see, and to remember how the Lord has provided for you. Let's face it: the future did not hold peace and harmony for the Israelites. But if ever a doubt was to trickle into their meek hearts, they could look back on their stones and remember the God that dried a river for them.

I'll say it again - how precious it is to remember! So here is my Ebenezer: A month ago, I was completely torn up. I felt guilty, hurt, anxious, and angry. I came home from work with tears and stomach pain. I exhausted all the resources I had and tried to take the straightest path. But that only made it clearer that I had to quit my job. I didn't know if/when I'd find a new one, and what my husband and I were going to do for money until then. The next day, I had a temporary job. Then, I got a full-time job. Then, I got another full-time job that included an incredible raise.

Hither by thy help I've come.

4. New beginnings!
This bullet point is intentionally left blank. (nerd grin.)

Justice and Mercy

One of the benefits/curses of working at The Phoenician is the food. Last week Aaron Michael and I got to treat my cousin Stefanie, who was in town from Maryland visiting, to a lunch at Il Terrazzo, which is the Pho's shwanky Italian joint. My buddy Josh was the manager on duty and he told us not to order, so we obliged. He brought us dish after dish... cobb salads with scallops, then spinach ravioli, then three main dishes to share: an open-faced steak sandwich, a margarita pizza, and gourmet mac n cheese. Then for dessert, lemon meringue pie, crem brulee, and a homemade chocolate peanut butter bar. Our forks were busy.

Today, three of my coworkers were at a training class all day, so it was just my boss and me. When I got there this morning, she told me to start brainstorming lunch dreams... so we eventually decided to order from Relish Burger Bistro, another restaurant on property. And I ordered "crab cake sliders." In other words, tiny crab cake sandwiches with avocado and some kind of spicy Cole slaw. They changed my life, blog friends. They changed my life. I literally danced in my chair while I was eating them. It was a special moment. If you ever come to visit me in good ole' Phoenix, which I sure hope you do, the first thing we're doing is overloading on crab cake sliders. You're welcome.

I'm not sure why I felt compelled to delve into foodie land this evening, but I've had so many fabulous munchies lately that I felt like sharing. Well, sharing/hoping to make you jealous. And, of course, your only cure for jealousy is to come and see me, right? To partake? You're getting my motives now. (Ashley and Amy. Stat.)

ANYway.

Being alone in the office today was a bit of an experience on its own, notwithstanding the crab cakes. Even though my boss was there today, she is constantly in and out of meetings, so for the better part of the day it was really just me in the ol' HR office. Sometimes when there are lulls in the outside foot traffic (which are rare, but for some reason weren't so rare today) it gets too quiet in there and I have to hum Brooke Fraser or read my e-mails out loud to myself in an English accent. (If you don't believe me that that happens, call me tomorrow and I'll do it for you. I can't tell if I'm going Australian or British, but whatever it is, it's getting good. Mate.) And being in there by myself, answering e-mails and phone calls, helping walk-ins and just generally doing my other duties is becoming really a growing experience for me. A stretching, uncomfortable, but necessary experience. Not to romanticize the 9-5 humdrum that I'm sure everyone feels to some extent... but when one spends 40 hours a week in one place, it would be silly to imagine that God's not going to teach you some lessons in there.

A few months ago my manager told me that HR exists primarily to make everyone else in the resort's job easier. That was a bit of a nudge to me. Before that, I had started getting caught up in some of the other, I hate to say it... 'policing' aspects of our gig. Making sure papers are signed, procedures are followed, etc. And those things can sometimes be necessary to help make everyone else's job easier. But say for example, a few months ago, I received a form that was filled out incorrectly. My instinct would probably have been to send the form back to it's owner and ask for a correction. And I'm being honest when I tell you that I wouldn't have done that with sinister intentions - as in, LOOK WHAT YOU DID WRONG - I would have been doing it out of an effort to make sure everyone was aware of the correct way to do things. Good intentions, I think. Good intentions that sound bad, anyway.

But every time something like that happens now, I keep trying to remind myself that we are just there to help. If a form isn't filled out correctly, I get out my trusty white-out and go to town. If a manager is rude to me on the phone, I try to imagine the pressure they must be under, and how I sometimes might seem like another obstacle to what they're trying to accomplish. And I just try to help. If i answer the phone politely and the conversation starts with a nice, big, 'LISTEN LADY,' I really try to take it in stride. I don't always do great, but I'm trying. And it helps when I remember why I'm there - to help. Not to instruct, or enforce, or be human red tape. Not to correct people when they're rude to me or avoid correcting others' errors. To help. Mercy.

I need to learn mercy. It is something I can't learn. I have such a ferocious, thriving, deep-rooted respect for justice. I am addicted to it. I think it's how I make sense of things. It's how I make sense of God and how I make almost all of my daily decisions. But I think it's eating me. It's stealing my ability to heart-learn God's grace. And it's starting to eat the place in my heart that is supposed to feed mercy.

Last week I read Hosea 6:6, which is almost absurdly clear. Sometimes God is one for prose, and then sometimes He says things like, "I desire mercy." (Verse 6). As in, 'get this or go home. I can't make it any clearer.' And I felt like throwing up. Becuase I thought He wanted fairness.

Here's the thing. I think sometimes we have to choose between two things we love already. Choosing one thing over another doesn't mean you don't love the other; it just means you love the former thing more in that moment. I feel like I'm being too abstract... say, for example, that I have to choose between drinking orange juice or cranberry juice. I love them both. But let's say I choose cranberry juice, like I just did a few minutes ago. (YUM crangrape.) That doesn't mean I don't love orange juice. It just means that at 10:15 pm on 11-9-2010 (Dang is it really 10:15??), I loved crangrape more.

And I think I need to start loving mercy more than fairness. It's so easy to find opportunities to put that in practice at work, so I've really been trying to work at it. And failing miserably, I presume, but trying. I am trying to think of examples to share with you, but I want to be careful about how much detail I get into about work here online. In the peanut gallery.

Here's an example from home. If Aaron came to me with a dirty shirt on Thursday and wanted to wear it on Friday, mercy would want me to do a load of laundry; even though I hate laundry like the plague and usually keep a strict saturday-only policy, which Aaron knows about. When in theory, I suppose I could go to Aaron and say "you should have given me that shirt last weekend; now you'll have to wait. You know I only do it on Saturday." That's a silly example and I think I can confidently say I have never been so weirdly cruel as to do something like that. (And anyway he'd probably just tell me to take a hike and he'd do the laundry himself...rightly so, ha.) But it feebly describes what I'm trying to say. Sometimes the fair thing to do, or the justice-loving thing, might be in conflict with the mercy-loving thing. And I need to choose the mercy-loving thing. Always.

For a much better example than I could dream up, check out the book of Philemon. It's short and sweet, and it'll make you cringe. Onesimus used to be the servant of Philemon, but he ditched him and likely stole his money. He ended up running into Paul during his escape. They become friends and Paul write to Philemon. He says listen, take Onesimus back. Treat him like a brother and pay for him to become a citizen as well. Do it for me. I'm sure you will. Good day.

And there's the Most Hasty Summary of Philemon You've Ever Read. But nevertheless - it's mercy. Undeserved kindness. Check it out. (If you would like more info on the back story, shoot me an e-mail and I can ask my pastor for some of his notes.)

The only other thing I want to say on this subject is that I'm starting to investigate the possibility that maybe justice is never ours to choose. Maybe the only One who has the right to play the justice card is the perfect One. (Now that's not to say we shouldn't be wise. If someone steals my purse I'm not going to not call the police out of some delusion of mercy. But I'll call the police because I want my purse back, not because I want to punish it's robber.)

Mother Theresa, who still haunts me (in a good way) just about every day since I read this, called her mission the Sisters of Mercy. She learned it so much better than I.

What do you think?


CRANGRAPE juice, hurrah!

Wanderlust

Sometimes when I have to venture into the lobby area of the ridiculously extravagant hotel where I work (and I mean 'ridiculous' literally...seriously friends, you should see it. It's beautiful, but come on! Are you serious? If you can afford to stay here, well... actually, can you buy me lunch?) Anyway, when I have to go either into the lobby or one of our restaurants, I get vacation on the brain. There are always so many sunglasses-toting vacationers strolling around... flip flops on, visors on their heads, pastel-colored polo shirts on their backs and loud conversations about getting an impromptu bowl of ice cream spilling into my ears. JEALOUSY!

For one, It makes me miss my family. After all, what is vacation if not a family retreat? My parents, sister Jen, brother Joey and I went to Myrtle Beach every summer ever since I can remember, and I LOVED those trips. No internet; just lots of family euchre games, napping on the sand, watching the waves, and delivery pizza.

But secondly, it makes me miss that overwhelming feeling I always get when I'm seeing something I didn't expect. Whether it's water that stretches beyond my line of sight or snow-capped mountains in August, can't you just feel that feeling in your stomach when you're standing in front of something you've never seen before? And you realize - this is here! Every day!

If I had enough money to never work again, I'd spend my waking life traveling. And it's going to sound silly, but I have a real heaviness on my heart sometimes (insert: today) over the fact that I'm so, well, grounded right now.

The ironic thing is that I'm a girl who loves a routine, tends to hate change and gets homesick after 48 hours away. But I just can't help the restlessness I feel almost daily over the weird idea that in my lifetime, I'm going to see probably a relatively small percentage of the world. Isn't that weird, truly?

I knew I was going to have one of these days this morning when I sat down in between shower and blowdryer, took a sip of my daily glass of cranberry juice, opened my laptop, and almost unconsciously avoided the usual facebook perusing and when straight to a Google image search. The Aegean Sea. Sri Lanka. Brazil. Alaska.

Then, the second I got to work, I went to the Starwood Web site for employee discounts and started browsing the rather remarkable list of allllllll of the Starwood hotels in the world. Bali!! Phuket!! A CASTLE in Mallorca!! Israel, St. Maarten, Zimbabwe, my beloved Guayaquil. Italy! ITALY.

I just really want to see what God has done with the place, you know? And the HISTORY that's out there - can you imagine seeing the Parthenon? Can you imagine it? I can feel it in my stomach. I bet I'd get light-headed if I saw it. Then I'd write ten million pages in my journal about all the things I could imagine that happened there, once upon a gajillion years ago.

Sometimes, though, I have to TRY take a step back and relax. We are truly having an adventure out here in Arizona, even if we haven't left the state almost since we moved here. I have to try to remind myself that one day, if Aar and I can truly save the money we'd like to, I will get to take some pretty awesome trips.

And on the days when I truly feel mournful that I, up to now, have not chosen a life of wandering, or staying in hostels and owning not more than two shirts at a time (met a woman in Ecuador who had been doing this for over 20 years), I try to remind myself that being labeled a 'traveler' is not the most important diamond-in-the-rough that I should be after. There's a lyric in one of Nichole Nordeman's songs that I keep going back to. It's from her song "Legacy" -about wanting to be the best version of Jesus that we can be - no matter what that looks like for us personally - and nothing else. She sings:

Not 'well-traveled,' not 'well-read'
Not 'well-to-do' or 'well-bred'
I just want to hear instead
'Well done, good and faithful one.'

And so I hope I can calm my anxiety over my stagnancy. And I'll try to just concentrate on being the version of Jesus that He wants me to be, right here in Scottsdale, for now. (Hey! blog name! ;)

I'll leave you with my Top Ten list of places/things to see. Created a few years ago:

1. Jerusalem
2. Thailand (mainly: Koh Phi Phi - have been obsessed with it since high school)
3. Egypt (pyramids!! Can you imagine?)
4. Rome
5. the Sudan (relating more to wanting to help than wanting to see)
6. Easter Island (the face statues!!!! Every time I see a picture of them I let out a great, big, "WHAT?!?!?!")
7. Greece
8. Paris
9. the Redwood trees in northern CA (hoping to knock this one out during our stint out here in AZ ;)
10. the Amazon rain forest - CHECK! (See below: summer of '08! At the Pastaza River in Ecuador. I have never, ever, EVER, seen so many stars in my life.)

I want to leave you with this photo, too. I found it during my world-traveling via Google this morning. This is a place called Tierra del Fuego - I had to research it because Bill O'Reilly said he went there on vacation last week. ;) I can see where it gets its name (which translates to "Land on Fire".) It's at the very southern tip of Argentina...it may have to become number 11 on my list...PLEASE AARON!? ;)

!!!