Category: finding peace

The Scarcity Mindset of Red vs Blue

It’s been a wild ride here in the United States, as everyone around the world has probably followed. As a U.S. resident the opinions, the reactions, and the culture have been like nothing I have seen before. Truly surprising. What has surprised me the most has been the personal ethics and scarecity mindsets I have observed, from my fellow Americans sharing on social media.

The Roar of Social Media

For a land of opportunity and abundance, there are certainly a lot of conflicting opinions on that statement. Some people are quite in touch with the struggles of inflation and the economy and others are participating in conspicuous consumption. Some are lamenting in blue and some are gloating in red, others are calling for retrospection and unity, but one thing has been the common thread – it’s a bigger knot of problems than I ever expected, and untangling this is going to take more time than I think most people are willing to give it.

There is impatience and aggression. A celebration of nastiness on every level that I am shocked by. How long has this nasty edge been living under the surface waiting for us to notice its venom? How does the simple act of Patrick Ta’s eyeshadow being priced at $42 become a hotbed of elitism and premeditated nastiness towards complete strangers on the internet? It’s bizarre and I can only guess it has nothing to do with eyeshadow and more with a deep level of dissatisfaction in our current world.

Loss of Gentleness

I saw increasing pressure from political ads this year to be afraid of what lurks in the blue and the red. The election is over yet I am still getting ads targeting this fear and exploiting our peace for the sake of agenda. It is maddening and disheartening to me that we are allowing our peace to be stolen. Especially the peace of those most vulnerable in society.

I’m observing responses from people I follow who are letting their fear isolate them. I saw a call to clear out friends lists “to control what you can” like burning bridges is healthy advice for all situations. It can be, but it can also lead to a lot of pain and loneliness. Acting on emotions is a shifting sand. When your emotions change how can your choices be healthy and stable in the long run? There is more chance of self-sabotage than true desire.

I have been a bridge burner and when I look back at what fueled my decisions, it was not a healthy mindset. It was one deep in crisis allowing the self-destructive nature to keep me from moving forward. I’m also not writing this to judge anyone. I’m writing this from a place of concern to keep others from making the same mistakes as me. Mistakes that I wish I could take back.

One thing I have taken from these last few weeks is the importance of gentleness and patience. We are fully capable of living in a community with others who disagree with us if we choose to be gracious to one another and respect healthy boundaries. Not playing on each others’ fear or looking for fights. That’s just plain mean and not how you maintain relationships. That has been the number one thing I have noticed through this 2024 election cycle, is the lack of focus on America being one community and learning how to work with each other in our differences.

Truth and Realignment

I’m not saying my culture needs to let bullies keep bullying or evil take root for the sake of peace. I think we need to kick bad out and leave room for the good and the truth to flourish. What I am saying is that I think we need to pause, take a breath, and be willing to try reconciling. If it’s bad and causes more pain, okay, then we stop and reevaluate, but I don’t think it would be.

I think my fellow citizens are weary and lonely. We need each other to embrace our differences to see that we have more common ground than we have let agendas tell us we do.

Thinking purple instead of red and blue would be a good start. Abandoning the scarcity mindset would also be a healthy move toward letting go of fear. Especially as believers, there is nothing to fear if we fully surrender to God.

This has just been on my heart lately, dear reader, and I hope I haven’t offended you. I’ve been feeling creatively off from the sheer amount of negativity being spread. It is draining as an HSP neurodivergent introvert who seeks to spread kindness and love yet can’t fix the pain of people in my community. I wish I could and maybe this post is at least a safe space to ponder and start new conversations? I’m trying to focus on the positive.

We will also be back to our regularly scheduled programming of sewing, knitting, art, Bible Study, and K-pop content soon. This just felt too important to ignore.

Thank you for taking time with me today. I hope you know that you are loved and worthy. Until next time 🫶

Pop Press, Historical Biases, and the Straw Man of Politics

What is historical bias? As I dove deeper into my historical training, it became the elephant in the room of every class discussion and the turf monster of every thesis. It is where worldview intersects with historical interpretation and constructs an invisible wall between historical accuracy and interpretation in our present.

Even with firsthand accounts or eyewitness testimony of events, personal bias, and interpretation passively or actively weave themselves into the evidence. It is inescapable.

Something that I’ve gleaned, with a better understanding of, has been from listening to Biblical scholars meditate through the Greek and Hebrew translations of the Bible aka primary sources. It is truly an extraordinary work to ponder accounts from the past and sift through the biases we have as moderns to catch a fleeting moment of connection with the past filled with as deep of empathy for their pov as we can.

It is fleeting because the easier and more common way we interact with history is through quick and heavily biased source material.

A thesis-first and evidence-second approach, instead of first studying the evidence and letting it reveal the thesis is how we as humans prefer to communicate. But what we will gain if we let the text talk to us. Letting the text speak is similar to the Socratic method except instead of a conversation with people, you let the sources speak.

This does not translate well to our current pace of consuming information. It is slow and requires patience to study and understand the matter at hand from many angles. Therefore the “pop press” way of disseminating information, like the History Channel so often uses, rises from the ashes once again to the far reaches of TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube.

This is not to say that only bad history or bad thesis drafting is a product of social media. I’ve learned wonderful details about a vast array of histories, fashion, language, and culture through these social platforms that I couldn’t have had access to at college, because the experts didn’t exist. Dress History wasn’t even a widely accepted specialty during my time in college. Social Media has provided a platform for niche history lovers to share their passion with a new audience. Social Media also provides a salon of discussion to debunk myths or provide deeper context to a subject that was given the “pop press” treatment.

So why am I writing about this today? I was watching a video from a creator who used to be a fantastic source of fashion and film content, a 2000s historian of girlhood with insightful and researched evidence that let the text speak. The original work was so high caliber that this current slump into heavily biased “historical” fashion videos and content that is just politics loosely veiled as film or fashion-focused, has been a great disappointment to me. The creator is so talented, and to see them be swayed by forces that are in our culture is sad.

Not only a disappointment, but it has shown me how important it is to stay committed to awareness of historical biases and the humble acknowledgment that we can’t talk in absolutes when it comes to interpretation. We have to be open to exploring the sources from many points of view and not let ourselves be mouthpieces of modernity, with the clever out of “victors write history” so what is the point of going deeper.

Victors certainly change history and can try to control its narrative, but history is the story of humanity and is bigger than one group’s manipulation.

For example, in my wheelhouse, I am the descendant of Irish immigrants who were potato farmers in Cork. The Potato Famine was discussed historically as just a blight. Bad luck. Not a big deal. Oh well. The crisis was met with such apathy that Irish clergyman Jonathan Swift, wrote “A Modest Proposal” to draw attention to the British attitude towards the Irish was not unlike the absurdity of his proposal.

But now, we know that this event can be classified as a genocide because the British colonized Ireland for centuries. There was enough food in Ireland until the British stole it and imported it out of their colony of Ireland. The “victors” affect history but their version is not the guaranteed final version forever. They inflict death and destruction but this will not stay in the shadows forever, the light is greater than the dark.

My point is that this summation, “The victors write history” is paltry.

So what started this ramble of historical bias?

A video essay about the history of the Goth aesthetic which had random political bias inserted as fact and a lack of nuance to the conclusions based on a clearly preconceived thesis where evidence was cherry-picked to fill out a video that wasn’t really about Goth style. It was about our Nov 5, 2024 election and unnecessarily put a lot of negativity out into the world instead of talking about the Goth aesthetic.

I believe it’s time that we as a society stop stirring up dissension and casual hate in the name of the political savior. These candidates never save anything. They try their best but they are just humans. Is it worth hating an entire group of people because they hold different views? Never.

No human is perfect, so how can human government create a perfect society? It’s a straw man.

I hope in time, the strong political biases I see swaying storytelling in my culture will sour. Instead, I hope an appetite for deep discussion to understand each side of the coin will spring forth. For truth, for the sake of truth, warts and all. For deeper connection. To understand what people believe and why they believe, with mutual respect, and respect for the biases we hold so that we don’t let our biases keep us from true understanding and continue to fertilize this culture of casual hate I am seeing in 2024.

I hope this post is not too convoluted. I wanted to discuss this without saying what creator I am referring to because it is not them I want to critique but the fallacy they have fallen under and the way they are approaching history, politics, and interpretation of these things without the awareness of their personal bias. It’s creating foolish and unuseful content that reads more as pop press propaganda than well-researched discussion, which is what I think they excel at doing. I believe they are amazing and I want to see their talent shine once again!

Bias is such a difficult thing to wrestle with and I acknowledge that no matter how I tried to check mine at the door, it still persists. I try to hold it loosely and pursue the truth, but I am an imperfect human. 

Thank you, reader, for being here and I hope this was an interesting ramble if nothing else. If I have offended you, I humbly ask for your grace and willingness to love others – enemy or friend, because that is how we will make this world a better place.

Reclaiming the Calm

As I mentioned in The Rewards and Scars of Setting Healthy Boundaries, I am on a journey to let go of the cortisol and tension I have unknowingly stored in my body. I didn’t realize I was doing this, possibly for decades now, because I don’t feel my feelings I bury them, which I’m working on. The only time I think I wasn’t doing this was during my sophomore and junior years in college when I was doing yoga practice, deep breathing, and trying to get to know myself. Which sounds odd, but was a great way to get through a broken heart.

Emotional Unintelligence

The hows and whys of the broken heart are a bit complicated but I was muddling through the after-effects of a situation ship. Why a situation ship? Well, I believe I was doing anything and everything to feel something, because I buried the heartbreak I felt at the end of high school, realizing my dad had missed my entire childhood and turning 18 meant that child support, the only string connecting us was severed. I didn’t know where he was and if I would see him again. It turns out I did see him again and would be moving to the same town as him five years later, another story for another day. Life is wild.

Anyways, coming out of high school the weight of that broken heart was so much I didn’t know what to do with it. There was so much emotion, so much tension and confusion, in my mind and body that I didn’t understand so my brain freaked out and gave me my first taste of anxiety, depression, and panic. It was a lot. During this time I also lost my ability to cry. I went totally numb which was unnerving, but at the time I was happy at least I wasn’t overwhelmed by my emotions anymore. The downside was that I felt nothing.

I’m Chuck Bass

I didn’t like that. I’m a highly sensitive person, an artistic soul, and feeling is how I understand the world around me. I wanted to feel like myself again. Here’s where the mess began – I decided to go into dating in college in this incredibly unhealthy mindset. These casual relationships were doomed from the start. It couldn’t grow into something real because I wasn’t emotionally available. Which opened the door for the worst relationship type in my opinion the situationship. It was the exact opposite of what my personality needs or wants but hey, I couldn’t feel anything so how hurt could I get?

Blown Up Life

Yeah, this blew up in my face. Once I came out of this situationship and this time of emotional numbness, I realized that I had completely blown up my life. Close relationships that I had from high school were not there. I had not invested in good friendships and community in my college life either by not seeking it out or ditching out on friends who could have been healthy supportive people, because I was scared of these friendships. It was a mess. I was so lonely. I had to get to know myself because there was no one else. I also didn’t know myself anymore. Who was this numb person I had been? Who is this new person who feels, but also feels lost and lonely?

There was so much I needed to understand about myself before I could be a good friend again or try dating once more. I didn’t know where I was going, or who I wanted to be as an adult. There was so much change in a short time. It was time to pause, slow down, and spend time doing the work to find this new person within the closed-off shell.

Meeting A Healthier Me

During this time I became independent for the time. I started going to the coffee shop by myself and learned to be okay on my own, which was wild. This is a skill I’ve forgotten how to do. I let myself be alone with my thoughts, it was a rough road to get there. This time alone started with a season of insomnia, where there was no choice but to be by myself, and now I realize spent time alone with God even though I wasn’t focused on this at the time. I discovered new shows like Fruits Basket, Trigun, Firefly, and Vikings. I also began thinking seriously about what I wanted in life with this new scenario. I didn’t end up going to fashion school or doing the Fashion Business major I was supposed to create with my advisor. I found myself drawn to fashion history through the creative sandbox of one cool professor who gave us the freedom to explore our interests.

I also started doing yoga and learning to train my mind and my breathing to keep going when my body and mind were tangled up in knots from the stress and trauma of life. It was the first time I think I was doing exercise for exercise itself not for a job like paint crew or campus mail delivery for the mailroom, which were both pretty physical. My campus was old and full of hills and stairs, so many stairs.

2020s Version of Numb

As life goes on, things repeat. Life changed again and I got busy. I stopped practicing these healthy habits into post-grad and getting married which was dumb on my part. I got healthier but I don’t think I got wiser. So I find myself now relearning how to find healthy balance and healthy habits to rid myself of the tension and wild mind that has trapped me in a prison of my own making.

How do I find my way out? My plan is to reflect and discuss that process here as I go through this journey of self-discovery again because I think this is something we all face and I wish I had known more about emotional health when I was younger. There are a lot of things that kept that from being something I understood. We don’t always have the most emotionally mature parents and I think it’s hard to talk about. I hope you’ll join me on this little adventure.

Letters of Healing – #1

Dear Grandma and Papa,

How are you doing? I know you guys are doing well. You’re together, and you’re not in pain anymore. You guys are not separate and are feeling the healing of that yourself.

It’s been a journey here without you guys. It got a bit scary for a while. Things got weird and frightening, but after four years, things are feeling familiar and more like usual. I didn’t think it could be possible, but I guess deep down I knew it could be, because you both found a new normal after losing your parents. I guess I felt guilty and strange letting my life go on without you for myself. It wasn’t what I wanted and I resisted healing for a season because I was in denial.

I found this composer, a fellow I think you with the proper introduction to his music, would be a person you guys would enjoy. He has the emotion and the beautiful storytelling in his music that I remember you both liking. His name is Joe Hisaishi. He composed the music for several films from a company called Studio Ghibli which I think you would prefer to Disney in this current moment. It took me a while to appreciate Hayao Miyazaki’s storytelling because it was so different from what the Disney formula is. The cultural parts, I think took the longest.

I know Japan was a bit of a mystery to you guys just based on your generation. You grew up with a different version – the Imperial Japan bombing of Pearl Harbor and the War in the Pacific were your first introduction as kids, growing up during WWII. It was a cultural relationship that did not have a chance to bloom.

My generation had a different introduction to their culture – sushi, ramen, Hello Kitty, anime, Studio Ghibli, Ninja Warrior, Harajuku fashion, and Nintendo. It was a different side of Japan. In college a professor you would know, Doyle, hosted a class about East Asian Film and Literature. It was quite the overview for one semester mind you, but in that short time he showed us some pieces of storytelling I still remember like Hero, Red Wall, and Princess Mononoke.

The last one, Princess Mononoke was a Ghibli film, my first one. The illustrations were incredible and the message felt so familar because of the region we all lived in – the rust belt. But what captured my admiration the most was the music. It was stirring, haunting, sad and hopeful, a courageous melody that swept over me in its beauty.

A few years later, Kyle and I watched My Neighbor Totoro which is such a heartwarming tale. This one set me on a new goal – I need to see Japan before I die so I can see those rural vistas captured in the illustrations of Totoro. I started learning Japanese since you’ve gone, which is a story for another time, but this probably sparked that journey.

This image from Totoro makes me think of the times we would go puddle jumping together, Papa, when I was a little kid. You made life so magical, both of you.

Anyways, there’s a song in particular, Grandma, that I think you would love. Actually I think you would love to play. The one recording of it on the album I was listening to has a piano solo by Hisaishi that has the same fervor and candence of the style you played in. I can close my eyes and pretend we’re in your piano room, you’re talking away as your playing it, and the room is filled the sound of the keys. This song is called the Merry-Go-Round of Life from the film Howl’s Moving Castle. (One I still need to watch.)

I wish I could play it for you. I wish I could play all of his songs for you. I wish we could listen to them on the boom box in the kitchen as Papa and I sat on the stools along the counter and tried to coax you, Grandma to just settle in and listen instead of tidying or cooking, or wandering around the way you used to.

I miss you. But I’m trying to not dwell on what I cannot change.

Love,

Magzie

#63 – Apple Picking

We did something incredibly comforting this past weekend that gave us both a small delight. We went apple picking at our favorite orchard – Heagy’s Orchard in Northwestern Pennsylvania. It was the first time going back in four years and everything felt shinier, and happier, like the slump of the 2020s had shed and the area we used to haunt had come back to life, and so did I.

The interesting thing is I think now we instinctively felt like it was apple season at Heagy’s Orchard because these photos were taken on the same weekend, years apart, picking the same varieties of apples. None of it was planned. The pictures of my husband in the yellow plaid are from our first fall in Meadville in 2019, taken on Sept 5. The ones of me in a flannel and him in a hoodie are from Sept 7, 2020. And the first grouping, above, is from this past weekend, Sept 7, 2024.

How weird is that? I didn’t know we had a family tradition, him and I, but apparently we do and it was special to go back after such a long hiatus. Leaving Meadville-Erie area, a place that became home to us both after feeling like nowhere was home no matter how far we moved or how hard we tried in familiar places, was such a relief. Having to leave our home under the unfortunate circumstances of a dangerous living situation sucked.

It was frustrating that it was because drug dealers moved into the bottom unit of the house we were renting, with a considerable amount of domestic violence going on with them too, and the police doing little to nothing about it, which was despicable! There was so much pain and suffering in that situation. It only got worse when it became a squatting situation, the air was tense, and there was a gun. Not something you want to mess with. But not being able to fix the situation was a heartbreak that I shoved down in a box, to be left until I was ready.

Our new neighborhood in our new town where we lived from 2021 to the beginning of 2024, was like a high-strung Bailey Downs from Orphan Black, it never felt like home and so I had to keep that box shut and therefore couldn’t go to Erie or Meadville without feeling this rogue frustration, that until I returned there this past weekend, I couldn’t figure out why I was so frustrated and scared of the big emotion, But now I understand, it was a lack of acceptance compounded with the confusion of the dumpster fire that was 2020.

It was a lot of change in quick succession and my neurodivergent brain didn’t know what to do with in the moment, so I shut down. I was afraid I made a mistake leaving although I felt isolated and lonely after 2020, moving closer to family felt like oxygen. I’m glad in buying a house we are still able to go back up to the Meadville and Erie areas, because I realized I’m not done with that area, I just needed to be done with that living situation, and in turn, I really needed to get out of that suburban hell I fled to afterward to go back and see the place that made me feel home again.

The nature is just too pretty to be away from it for too long. There are these incredible ridges that stretch out in every direction. Fields, forests, creeks, ponds, marshes, and the closer you get to the lake it gets flatter until the big blue horizon meets you. It’s incredible. Is there a place or a tradition that helped you feel at home again after going through a tough time?

Kindness in a Heatwave: Light of Life

Today we’re having one of those, I hope, last big temperature swings up into the 90 degrees Fahrenheit for the season. I’ve always struggled in the heat, I get heat-sick pretty easily and feel like I’m in a fog. This is why living in coastal Georgia was never going to work no matter how cool the people were or how beautiful the scenery. But it wasn’t until this summer that I considered what would I do without access to a shower, or a steady supply of clean water to drink?

Light of Life Rescue Mission has opened my eyes to this. This summer the mission, through the leadership of Rev. Jerrel T. Gilliam, has been working to draw attention to the homeless community in Pittsburgh and what they are experiencing in the waves of heat without having the amenities and resources many of us, me included take for granted.

Hope and Love Transform Communities

This mission is based in Pittsburgh, PA. I first learned of the mission through my teachers at school who would lead drives to collect hygiene items and socks to distribute to men experiencing homelessness in our nearby city of Pittsburgh. The mission has now expanded to offer assistance to men, women, and children experiencing homelessness through their Street Outreach Team and shelter locations within the city. The mission started in 1952 as a soup kitchen and has expanded to include a men’s shelter, a food pantry, a women’s and children’s shelter, a recovery place, and a free clothing store.

The mission came again on my radar while watching the Kindness Diaries when host Leon is hosted by a man who is experiencing homelessness, who offers him a place to stay at the mission. How incredible is that? It’s like the widow’s offering.

At the time I was experiencing a time of financial insecurity. I was about to go through a season that could have led to being without a roof over my head. Without the privilege of family members to help me until I could get back on my feet, I’m not sure where I would have been. This season of life changed me dramatically. It changed how I saw the world.

It broke my heart for the members of my community who are not as fortunate to have family and need people to step up into the gap and help. I was determined, that once I got through this period I wanted to support this mission through financial contribution and I have done this. And by supporting this mission, I’ve continued to learn how much kindness and generosity change everything.

Of course, because I am a flawed human I got distracted by work once I was back to being employed and lost a few years in my own world, but thankfully God was relentless in putting this on my heart. I’m grateful for His willingness to not give up on us even when we are unfaithful workers.

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Mark 12:41-44 NIV

The simple yet impactful work of the Street Outreach Team to go out daily conduct wellness checks, and distribute water, food, and hygiene items within the homeless encampments in Pittsburgh makes a huge difference. Inviting people back to the mission and doing this every day – this is how we make a difference.

It’s about remembering people who go unseen in our individualistic and capitalist society and showing up for them every day. It shirks the standard, the lie that if you don’t have financial means or stuff you don’t matter.

Yeah, it’s sick. But it is modern society. Actually, it’s always been a part of our societies from Victorian workhouses to the beggars at the gates in the Bible, it’s a human problem to ignore those in our world who need community the most.

We Will Not Be Shaken

When the city of Pittsburgh decided to clear out homeless encampments by force, Light of Life stood up to challenge the approach of the city officials and make them consider the root cause of the problem, the systemic problem, instead of ignoring the problem.

Like many cities around the United States, Pittsburgh is experiencing rising homelessness within the population. Some of this is due to the housing crisis, but also the affordability of housing is changing within the city, and there is an unaddressed drug problem on the rise that is not being dealt with. Addiction and homelessness can go hand in hand, so why not address the addiction problem too?

This is what Light of Life offers at their rescue mission in addition to dignity, community, and a way forward for families and individuals who are struggling to uplift them and equip them for the bright and secure futures they can have. It’s about hope.

I think too often we overlook how much mental health can wreck our lives.

When I was struggling to find steady employment after college, I felt depressed and anxious because I was working hard to find a job but the jobs simply didn’t exist. I was living frugally but I still had to give up my apartment and move back in with my mom because I ran out of money.

I was incredibly depressed during this season and I isolated myself due to my embarrassment when I really needed people to talk to about these feelings to be able to move forward. This is what the work of the Light of Life Rescue Mission aims to do, by challenging the culture, to show up for our neighbors instead of ignoring them in their time of need.

I believe this mindset is what we need in our world, more than ever after the worldwide trauma of 2020, and how that disconnected us all. We need to bring our sense of community back instead of isolating ourselves behind technology or accumulating things to feel little hints of joy. We need each other. We need true joy, hope, love, and peace.

Most importantly, we need to remember that people deserve dignity. To think beyond our little spheres. It’s a daily challenge for me, I get so wrapped up in my stuff, and that’s not what is important. Like remembering that heat waves or cold weather can have severe consequences for those in our communities who are living without. So as the summer sizzles on and we look to the cold ahead, how can we all make a difference for those around us who need support?

#62 – Lightning, Meeting the Neighborhood & Wallabies

This weekend started off a little bit wild. At first, it was a normal Saturday, a day we decided to run errands and do normal things we had been unable to get done during the week. Nothing crazy, just the normal chaos of navigating the stores in our town that was feeling extra Stars Hollow-y that day.

Then four o’clock hit and things got wild. It started with some gray clouds rolling in from the northwest. Nothing too crazy, a bit dark, but they seemed like rain clouds, not a grand thunderhead. We had plans to go to Keystone Safari towards the end of the day, which is all outside, a little rain wouldn’t ruin it.

Strike One

But then the dark clouds began to produce lightning and thunder rumbles, so we checked the radar, nothing big just a passing shower. So I continued to get ready to leave and that’s when the rain began to come down in a deluge, the wind kicked up and the lighting put on a grand finale. We were engulfed in a full-on banger of a storm with the culmination crescendoing in a palpable strike and immediate thunder so loud it felt like it happened on our street.

In fact, it did. The lighting struck the transformer up the road and we were now in the middle of a storm with our power gone. My first thought was the fridge and the freezer, and the dinner I was really hungry for. Downright hangry. We had built a fire pit earlier in the day with bricks and I had passed on getting a snack at Sheetz because I was excited about the dinner I would cook. I opted for Mt. Dew and that caffeine was hitting hard.

My mind was moving a mile a minute because I was genuinely surprised. There had been no forecast of storms, barely any rain on the radar. There had been no warning from our local college’s severe storm alert system or even a lightning or severe storm alert from the weather apps. Actually, before the big bolt of lightning hit the transformer, I was ready to get in the car. I’m really glad I decided to wait for the rain to slow down or we would’ve been outside for that and that would’ve been sketchy. This just furthers my frustration with those tornado and storm sirens, this may have been a good time to use them!

Community Matters

What turned into an unexpected evening of silence, the neighborhood I learned is downright silent without air conditioners running, it was actually a time of fellowship. It reminded me of what would happen after a big storm in the neighborhood I lived in as a kid, the neighbors would head outside and check on each other. So this storm which in my hanger felt like a big slap in the face, became a way to meet and bond with my neighbors.

They’re all so nice and warm. Especially compared to the neighborhood we lived in before we bought this house, which was cold. Our neighbors called the power company immediately to report the issue and started checking on people. I met people all around us and had a blast doing it. I even learned more about the property we bought and its history. It truly was turning lemons into lemonade.

Thankfully the power connection was able to be fixed twice. After an hour in a half, which was incredibly fast, the workers were able to repair our line for a few minutes until we heard a loud pop. It was out again, but it didn’t last and they were able to replace all the necessary parts. Most importantly, no one was hurt.

Wallaby, Pygmy Hippo, and a Cloud Leopard

The rest of the weekend, including the two days of vacation my husband took at the beginning of the week were blissfully uneventful and we got to catch up on some things we hadn’t done yet this year because of the move and other distractions. We finally got to Living Treasures to see the Cloud Leopard, the Pygmy Hippotamus, and the sweetest little wallabies and juvenile kangaroos. Walking around the park and getting to be around animals brings me so much joy. Same with Keystone Safari, it is such a calming place to reset and unplug.

The weather after that storm has been spectacular. There has been a coolness, a crispness that feels like autumn is closer than we think. Some of the leaves are already changing. The sky has been spooky and rainy, like a mist that only happens in October. Autumn and spooky season is the time of the year I crave so it has been a wonderful surprise to see highs in the low 60s Fahrenheit and lows in the upper 40s Fahrenheit in August! I can’t wait for all the fall things! 🙂

I’d say overall this little staycation was a great way to reset but most importantly, by losing power and having to lean on the kindness of strangers, I feel like I have settled into this place. It’s starting to feel like home. I also learned to trust my observation skills, and really be skeptical of the meteorologist. I know they have made huge advances lately in technology but dang, they dropped the ball this weekend for me. I think education on how storms work and how to be safe is better than these apps because they fail and there’s really nothing we can do about it. Aside from petting baby goats, that really seemed to lift my spirits this weekend. 10/10 recommend.

Gotta Work? Got To Surrender First.

Since we settled in here, I’ve had a rough time. I’m not sleeping well consistently. It’s been a challenge to let down after a season of being on guard, on point, agile, and ready to work. I’ve felt behind on my own timelines after my workroom was boxed up and put into storage for a few weeks.

It was just a few weeks, but it felt longer, and I know why. I’ve been convicted of this as I’ve been reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan. My timeline and my plan were interrupted and that frustrated me. I am struggling with both control and pride. Woah, goosebumps. My grandma would be so pleased that I am talking about this.

Pride and Control

In the scary moments, God took over and directed my life and my steps from April 27 to June 7. In the meantime, I had to fully surrender my time and my trust to Him. I did and everything did turn out fine, better than expected. It was a big moment of growth for me, as a member of a little club called ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ instead of trusting in faith. This was a big step.

But as human nature and sin go, as soon as things got easier I began to slack off. I have been a huge slacker in my quiet time with the Lord, in both prayer and consistently reading His word and dwelling on its meaning. We are called as believers to meditate on His word, instead I’ve been filling my head with other things. My focus shifted from God’s plan back to my desires.

I’ve felt this intense pressure to not let myself rest. To work, work harder, and don’t stop. I’ve been obsessing about how to make money with skills to provide again. How to feel validation and success in this big life step that has made me feel out of control. I’ve been craving the ability to make money, build our savings back up, quickly pay back the mortgage, and “feel safe” after such a big financial step.

How am I “unsafe” or in danger now though? This sentiment has been marinating in my brain for too long. I know why. I have not been properly nourishing my soul, nor have I been renewing my mind.

Wake Up Call

God provided everything and more when I was in danger of my life falling apart. This happened because I humbled myself and did it His way. I let Him lead. I’ve been convicted by the truth that Francis Chan points to in his chapter, Profile of the Obsessed. I woke me up to what I’m working towards and what I’m obsessed with and neither of those aligns with where my life was oriented towards through giving up control and letting God lead. I can’t just wrangle the control back because I’m scared. I have no idea where I’m headed, but God does so it is a lot safer to let Him lead.

I’ve been convicted by Chan’s words of truth that my actions since the house purchase and move-in have not been in my best interest, because I’ve given into my need for control. Sadly this demonstrates my lack of trust and faith, like a” micromanaging boss. I’ve told myself that I “know” better. This is too much to take on with the resources God has provided. The math is not mathing. I need to “fix” this on my own.

Oof, I sound like a rude, self-centered jerk.

The worst part? I am treating my Creator like this. I am ashamed.

Acceptance and Second Chances

Every time I think I’ve matured past my pride and need to control my life, this behavior rears its ugly head. But thankfully this past week, I’ve had to slow down and log off. My allergies went from 0-60 as ragweed pollen bloomed, my lack of sleep caught up to me and I began to feel worn out. Our internet has gone out twice and in those times I got my head out of Instagram, out of my to-do list, and away from blog posts and knitting deadlines, to read Crazy Love. Crazy Love is a book I started reading in the Spring, that I completely abandoned this summer because I was busy with other things. But without videos or music or scrolling to distract me, I found the quiet moment to get back to what was important. My relationship with my Saviour and getting nourished through God’s truth, this time by the encouragement and theology of Crazy Love.

In every page I’ve read in the past week, I’ve felt humbled and challenged to consider where my focus lies and where it should be. It has shifted to myself and my own wants, instead of God and his Kingdom. Safety and success I’ve put above what brings Him glory for my own. How can I ever expect to succeed without Him? Especially when everything good in my life comes from Him and at the end of the day is His.

The worst part is that my generous hand, who was fulfilled and rejoiced in giving, has been too scared about money to give with the same abandon and joy that I used to do. Because I’ve been worrying about money, seeing it with a scarcity mindset instead of abundance and gratitude for what I have. I am not talking about manifesting here, I’m talking about true gratitude and recognition for the provision of God. I’ve been doing this and not trusting in God to provide for my needs.

It happens so quick. I feel like Peter after the rooster crowed the third time. Or like the Israelites asking to go back to Egypt after God parted the Red Sea and delivered them from their captors because freedom was unfamiliar so they were afraid and would rather go back to the bondage they knew.

There’s a line in the song ‘Looking for a Place to Happen’ by the Tragically Hip that says, “Where they’d stamp on burning bags of sh*t.” Yeah, I feel like my efforts this summer, pushing instead of trusting, worrying instead of praying have been as useful as stomping on burning bags of poop.

Thankfully God is a God of agape love and second chances for those who humble themselves, repent, and follow Him. So that’s what I need to be doing this month. Resetting back to what sustains me, that is God, not my own effort. It’s humbling and freeing.

#61 – Tornado Sirens and Big Emotions

Before I start, I wanted to add this disclaimer. I’m not against things that are good for the community. Even if they may not be my cup of tea in the moment. I’ve been struggling with all these big emotions swirling in my mind and these weather sirens were like my fear personified. I’m still working through coping tools for my neurodivergent traits and on the tricky days, loud noises are something I really struggle with. They scare me on a bright sunny day, even more so in the middle of impending doom. But I don’t believe for a second that the world should stop everything to address my needs. I am one person that is part of a bigger whole.

As I browsed Behr’s wall of paint colors, I picked up two paint chips one called Tornado Season and another Thundercloud. They are these two vibrant, moody blues. Bold, dark, striking. I took them home, and I even ordered Thundercloud for a project. Bold, impressive blues. Striking. I was struck by the realism on Tuesday as I was staring at the color in the sky. Coming for me. Enveloping me in the deep, dark blue. It was a blue that would permeate and color my skies longer than the storm would.

Tuesday was a complicated day. It began sunny, cooler, just fine. Mid-morning brought gentle rumbles of thunder that growled across the sky. The clouds darkened and night became day. It reminded me of the eclipse. Rain poured and the wind blew like a tropical depression that came through on our OBX vacation in 2012. The rain was endless, relentless. No big crashing thunder and no violent storms, just the relentless power of water-like waves breaking up on the coastline. You can’t control the tide and you can’t stop the rain.

The morning rain was the most intense rainstorm of the day, yet as thunder rolled again in the afternoon and the skies were brighter with lighter rain and gentler thunder, the local college in town sounded their emergency broadcast sirens. They either sound after the storm is upon us and it is too late to seek shelter or after the big storm has gone through, or my favorite after the storm has been downgraded so that you begin to question your sanity. I live ten blocks away at least from this college and I heard the siren and broadcaster over my headphones in my sewing room. These sirens are loud, intrusive, and in my opinion, are not helping when they go off at the wrong time.

As a person that is sensitive to loud noises, I struggle with these alert systems. The sirens go on and on and create a sense of panic in my brain from the cadence and noise. The storm was over but the alert kept going on. I appreciate the purpose and message of what they are trying to do with these alerts but they are so poorly managed that they are a nuisance. But the cherry on top of the cake was what came at 5 pm. My phone and older phone, which I use for music, along with my husband’s phone began to emit their own sirens. Three sirens went on and on as we had a severe storm alert, a tornado warning, and a tornado watch. Each time a small change was made to the watch or warning, being extended by 5 minutes, they would go off again.

The radar showed nothing. The skies were fine. Then the radar showed the storm clearly going in the opposite direction of our location. Yet the sirens continued from the phones. Next the warning expired and then our town’s tornado sirens began to ring out. It was over the concerning storm cell was going north, yet they carried on with the tornado siren. I held my hands to my ears and tried not to cry from the cacophony of noise that was building with no clear end. I understand they were trying to save lives, and I am not against the good of the community, but again the application of the tornado sirens after it was over, was distressing and confusing. There was so much confusion.

The sirens rang their final call and silence settled in. The sky to the north and the sky to the south were striking. The south was sunny and partly cloudy with white and silver puffy clouds. The sky to the north was a color I remembered. Thundercloud. It was dark but it was passing us by. I began to make dinner now that we were being told everything was fine. The water bubbled on the stove with pasta. Tornado Season. The sky to the north became as dark as the night with an eerie green tinge. The air was still, eerily still. I asked my husband if we were back in a tornado watch or warning. He said there was no new alert. Nothing. Nada.

No tornado sirens. Nothing. No emergency alert from my phone or the college. Tornado Season and Ocean Abyss clear as day in the clouds coming in like the tide. I began to make pesto uncertain if dinner would be served or if the alerts, the broadcasts, and the forecasting, were all about to serve us a surprise like none other. That deep gut feeling of something being wrong came. The clouds painted the sky above a color closer the Midnight Blue and the rain surged down. Thunder, lightning, wind. Power flickering. Big emotions flooding my mind. The alerts sounding in the quiet moments made everything scarier, there had been no pressure let off and instead it heightened the sensations like a horror movie frames a jump scare. The uncertainty of the sirens saying one thing and the sky another.

I’ve never experienced a day like that before. I’m so grateful that no one got hurt. No funnel touched down. Personally, I know I was overstimulated, and panicked by my own issues with the sirens, but more importantly, overwhelmed by the alarm sounds echoing throughout my personal life at the same time.

This year has been a series of big alarm bells. It started with my landlord telling us to purchase the house we were renting over appraisal price or get out of the hoops of buying a house impromptu. We’ve had some bumps along the road like car issues, a fridge dying, an air conditioner breaking, our homeowner’s insurance dropping us on the age of our house, etc. There’s been a lot of change and a lot of new financial responsibilities that are a privilege and an adjustment. But what is expressly weighing on me is my mom’s health right now. Some strange things are going on that the doctors can’t seem to prescribe a treatment plan for. Until we get to the bottom of this, I’m pretty scared. Like a constant tornado siren is hovering in the back of my mind. I’m not sleeping well because of it and all the change in general, and my fuse is short. So the well-meaning chaos of those weather alerts and emergency broadcasts ringing through the air, piled on top of the internal maelstrom I’m sailing through.

I’m thinking about my grandparents and their passing. Family history and health problems are creeping in my mind making large shadow monsters of worry. My mom and I have always been a thing. The divorce really bonded us together and the thought of her being really sick and the doctors not knowing how to fix it is freaking me out. I haven’t worried like this before. There has always been a simple explanation for any health issues she’s had. The way it makes me feel out of control and terrified. My mind is so loud right now. I miss my mind being quiet. That’s what I wish for amid those storms. To not feel impending doom from every level. It was quite a chaotic day. But who knew Behr’s paint was spot on?

#60 – Two Red-Crowned Cranes

Recently I was sitting on my back porch on a warm July evening, watching the clouds shift and shape with the dance of the sun as their leader. They began the descent of sunset. The sky was painted with the colors of nightly splendor. A hint of pink and purple with the rays of light bending towards slumber with wide swaths of bright blue, white fluffy clouds, and trailing puffs of gray and slate.

It was one of those sights that change before your eyes without your eyes perceiving a change has happened. All of a sudden the sky was different, a variation of beauty next as the clouds drifted across its heavenly path.

A sudden change in the air pulled me out of the scene. A sound. A ruffle of wings. The pure speed of the flight. Usually, a fast-moving shape in the sky means a single goose or a group of Canadian Geese. You can hear them from their honking call. This was silent aside from the wings as they flapped in stride.

It was a pair of red-crowned cranes flying low across my yard onward back to their home, the open-air aviary of Keystone Safari in the next town over. These cranes are native to the Korean peninsula. I recognized them firstly, from viewing them at the wildlife park, but from the cover of the ‘ATE’ album.

I learned that they are a popular motif in Korean art, symbolizing longevity, purity, and peace. In Korean, they are called durumi or hak. Interestingly, they are found often in the DMZ between North and South Korea’s borders. They are a stunningly elegant bird to watch in flight, and fast! In an instant, they were a few yards from me and then they were gone.

The red-crowned cranes are native to Korea but that is not the only place they are found, their range continues into East Russia, into China, and has been found in Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see them in my little corner of the world on that peaceful night but what an honor it was to see such a beautiful animal so close.

That’s becoming one of my favorite features of my house, the backyard is so quiet and peaceful. I can sit there throughout the day and depending on what time of day I see rabbits, birds, chipmunks, squirrels, bats, etc just doing their thing. I feel such peace and contentment. It’s like a reset of my mind.

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