Tag: life

Strawberry Blossoms

A perk of being on this small holiday of sorts from my life, and staying at my mom’s house means endless inspiration from her garden. Around Mother’s Day we went to a local greenhouse and found this hanging strawberry plant which beautifully displays its growing phases in lovely hanging tendrils.

I’ve been fascinated by the way strawberries grow, from blossom to fuzz ball, to fruit. I chose this little vignette as my first sketch because I liked how it displayed the life phases from new bud, to blossom, to fruiting, to baby berry, to unripe strawberry.

#55 – Where I’ve Been

On April 27, 2024, I was thrown a massive curve ball that set life in a bit of a tail spin that to be honest I’m not sure if I have still recovered from mentally. It was a lot!

In March I contacted my landlord to renew our lease for the next year, I like to do it two months ahead of the renewal date to make things go smoothly. In writing, she said yes, great. I thought, wonderful! Everything is settled for another year. At this point it was our third year living in the house and we were quite settled in, our landlord seemed pretty chill, and the house felt like home. I had set up a studio finally in one of the spare bedrooms, Kyle had a woodshop in the garage, everything was organized just right and the place gave me such a sense of normalcy where other rentals had not.

Shuffling the Deck

In April, my landlord had acted a little weird. She never followed up to sign a lease, which she is incredibly type A so I thought maybe she was busy? Then she asked if we wanted to buy the house, without any context if this was a serious request or a passing fancy. It was not the first time she asked, she did that in our first year and followed with she had no plans to sell. Odd, right? Well, on April 27 at 8pm she announced to me that she was not renewing our lease and we had three days to decide if we were buying the house from her at $210k USD or she was putting in on the market immediately, even though we had one more month on our lease.

We were flabbergasted to be honest. What? What! How did we get here? And who is this new pushy person trying to rip the rug out from under me? We took the three days to pray and consider if this was even possible, could we really afford that much? And why was the price so high for this small house, on a small yard that honestly needed some TLC after years of being used as a rental not a cared for home.

I think as humans we crave security, steadiness. The day before I felt incredibly steady. We had a place to live that was safe, with running water, heat, electricity, privacy. It wasn’t ours but as a steady tennant that paid rent and took care of it, I really didn’t see why they would want to lose that? I was clearly playing checkers when she was playing chess.

We decided to move forward with buying it in hopes that if we walked forward in faith that God would provide. Either the door would continue to close or it would slam shut. But another door would open. It may not be what I wanted but it would be according to His plan and He would provide an alternative. I clung to that as my stomach filled with butterflies that never really left. All month long.

Fact Check

That Monday I began the intimidating and confusing process of applying for a mortgage, and after what happened with taxes this year that became a little tricky. Those new tax penatlies for not filing quarterly had took a bite out of the downpayment we had been saving for and it was looking grim. I think those pre-approval forms are grim and confusing even if you are planning to do this, it’s just endless numbers, questions, terms, word vomit of legalese and bank jargon. With my head spinning as Rocket Mortgage said nada, my friend suggested I check out my bank and this is where things began turning around!

Irony of irony, I was matched with mortgage officer who grew up in the town the rental was in and he was friendly, knowledgeable and began to kick the tires on these unexpected shenanigans from the landlord. I learned it was going to be tight but possible if we wanted to buy it but that $210k was a ridiculous amount for what the house was and I was recommended by the bank to proceed with caution because on their end the math was not mathing on that price.

Things got a bit more interesting when the landlord began laying out the terms of how this was going to go. It began with stating that we were not using a realtor but a settlement company she knew with a number that didn’t work when I tried to call them. Next there was the timeline. She wanted me to write up a sellers agreement, until I began requesting an inspection and contingencies in case the value wasn’t as high as she insisted it was. She was giving us a deal you know, at $210k USD. It was a steal! She could get way more if she wasn’t doing this favor out of the kindness of her heart!

There was also the interesting niggle of the hand money, a concept I learned about this process which is where the buyer gives 1% of the list price to be held by the real estate company until closing. After the sale is final, the seller receives the money but not before. The landlord insisted that I give her a check for $5k USD to hold the house made out to her. Um, sketchy. Very sketchy. I told her several times that I couldn’t make contact with the settlement company and she wouldn’t give me the accurate contact info. Oh so sketchy.

But that’s not the end of the suspcious behavior. When I inquired what would happen if closing took longer than the lease, she promised she would never kick me and my husband out, we would just pay rent until the closing, pro-rated of course. This is where things changed though. I raised concerns over not being able to make contact with the settlement company, along with things about the house I knew were broken that the landlord had dodged fixing over the years. With her permission I had an inspection done, which she was quite disgruntled about when he found $40k plus of things that needed to be fixed that were now on the record. She began to get aggressive with me. I raised the need for things to be put in writing because under Pennsylvania law landlords are required to give a tenant 60 days written notice to figure everything out before a landlord can sell or remove a tenant. This enraged her, and she told me I was lying and her lease was above the law.

An hour later she showed up at the house and threw documents at our door which were quite interesting. There were some things that are not up to code in the house that she had acknowledged in the past and yet she seemed to get a very sudden case of amnesia. She gave us a “sellers agreement” that was just a disclosure saying that there was nothing wrong with the house, specifically lying about things she knew were broken. She signed and dated it. Next was a piece of paper saying that we were buying the house and were paying them rent for June until we closed on the 30th. This was also signed and dated.

We were told in an attached note to sign, date, and write a check that either she could hand deliver to the settlement or we could drop them off to the company (that I couldn’t make contact with) telling me of course she would get me the number. By this point, it was beginning to feel like harassment. From April 27 to this point it had been fortnight of her calling me and texting me almost daily with nagging about getting this settled as quick as possible or else. It was incredibly unprofessional and rude. I felt like a child instead of being respected as an adult with responsibilities and work I had to do. This lady’s only job is landlording and she had all day to contact me which was really frustrating because everything in my life was beginning to revolve around her wants and demands so that she could move to Florida, asap with a big chunk of my change in her pocket.

Door Shutting

Thankfully, I began to learn more about this situation from friends who are professionals in the real estate business and people in the community. I learned this house she bought with cash in 2010 for $105k that she flipped into a rental. Her number was $210k because she wanted to double her money plus a little extra from her $5k finder’s fee. There was no mortgage so all rent was icing on the cake. In the three years we rented from her, where she raised the rent, plus the hefty security deposit, she made $36,400 off us alone. This is where I could clearly see what made her tick. Greed. Because we could have easily done a rent to own, or figured this out in January, but the element of surprise was going to make her more money like a shakedown.

At this point it was pretty clear that any negotiation or talk was useless. This was a fools errand that I wanted no part of. Thankfully there was a new door opening a very exciting new door. But one part of it still remained, how would we transition from this place to our new home without drama? This ate me up for weeks. I am quite scared of confrontation and pushy people. My dad is a narcissist and uses the same tactics. Each conversation with her felt like it ripping up old wounds causing me emotional distress. My appetite was gone and restful sleep drifting beyond my reach.

But as all foolish people do, give them enough time and they will self destruct. That she did. On May 22, we received some very expensive mail. Mail from a lawyer on her behalf pressuring us to buy the house immediately, to pay her rent for June, and to send her the hand money. If not we had to get out on May 31. Even though the lease said we could continue paying her rent until we figured something out. She sent us four copies of that letter with postage at $8 USD a pop, I’d assume his hourly fee is quite steep as well. It was petty and it made us feel incredibly defeated. How were we going to do this when our new home would be settled in June? Do I need a lawyer? I knew she had no real power here because of PA tenant laws but this was beyond what I was comfortable with.

Sometimes the cost of standing your ground is too much for the mental toll it will take. I had stood my ground with my dad, and other narcists but this time there was too much at stake for someone who is who she is. Nothing was going to change her mind, it would only get worse. It makes me sad when peacemaking is not possible. I really think we could have had a different outcome here and brought this chapter to a close with mutual respect in place. I truly thought she was a nice person for most of our time renting. It was shocking to see how it all changed overnight.

Was she seriously going to make us move everything into a storage unit for a few days instead of working with us? The answer was yes. So we moved it all with the help of family and the provision of God we got it all done before May 31. I’m not even sure how we got it all done!

Now as I write this I am still waiting for my new house to close, but I sit here in the safety of family who generously gave us a place to crash until we can move in. I don’t know where I would be without people who love me and I hope that I will have the chance to pay it forward in the future.

Love Makes the World Go Round

What can I take away from this wild month? Well I’d say it has proved to me things I already knew were true. Money is the root of all evil. Foolish behavior and greed are good friends. Impatience and haste get us no where. Wisdom and love are worth more than money. Community is what makes life rich. God never drops us, His faithfulness prevails over the plans of man. Family and friendship are priceless. The United States house crisis is real and without God’s provision this story would have a different ending, which has made my commitment to donating to Light of Life even stronger in my mind because no one should fall through the cracks in the system because of someone else’s greed.

I’m sorry this was a bit of a long winded one, it was a long, chaotic story that I have been wanting to talk about since it started but didn’t feel comfortable until l was out of there. I hope wherever you are you know that you are loved, worthy, and have more value than all the gold in the world. ❤

#53 – Lemon Curd

In Portal 2, Cave Johnson has an iconic rant about lemons that may have been the inspiration for my Saturday plan – to make dairy-free lemon curd from scratch.

To clarify, no lemons were exploded. But they were zested, juiced, and combined into a luscious lemon sauce and baked into lemon bars. Tart, sweet, buttery, lemon bars.

“All right, I’ve been thinking, when life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade! Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don’t want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life’s manager!
Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I’m the man whose gonna burn your house down – with the lemons! I’m gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!”

-Cave Johnson, Aperture Laboratories

But why did Cave Johnson speak so deeply to my mood on Saturday morning, one of the best times of the week? Well my dysfunctional family, of course. Communication is truly an art form, and for some relationships, healthy communication seems as easy as replicating a Michelangelo masterpiece with a butter knife. I am a member of that club. I feel like sometimes a conversation with my mom is doomed from the start. I call her and there is something in the air. A mistaken tone she finds in me, a lack of matching her extroverted, neurotypical energy.

The inability to recognize drama or harshness in her tone. My anxiety and frustration at being accosted by questions, picking remarks, or in general still not living up to whatever I was supposed to. It’s a mess, a mess that continues to respawn after numerous attempts to get rid of this and live a drama-free life with the mom that I do deeply love even if sometimes I get exasperated at her. This was one of those conversations, I did something and the verbal missiles were locking on me, which was really disappointing because it was supposed to be a simple conversation – what time are you coming up to celebrate my husband’s birthday?

Instead, there was chaos, my confusion at why there was chaos with questions followed by accusations of trying to fight and being told I was being a problem, gaslit into the aggressor when I held my temper in check and just asked questions. There seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. I was being baited into a fight and it sucked. It was a conversational sucker punch. Some weeks I don’t even want to pick up the phone, I yearn to move far away from the possibility of hanging out with her, because I just want to be loved not picked at. Being lonely but happy feels better than being close and miserable. I feel like she brings all the drama-ma-ma-ma-ma and then runs away from me after her work is done.

In the screaming silence that followed the nasty encounter, I felt confusion, anger, hurt, sadness, failure, shame, disappointment, a building pressure of anxiety and depression, and the complex childhood trauma memories flooding back of her gaslighting me into thinking I was a kid with an un-teachable spirit, a stubborn child who spirit needed to be broken because seeing things differently from her was a sin.

I feel sorry for my mom because none of those things are true, and keeping me at arm’s length hurts both of us. We only have so much time on this earth, wouldn’t it be better to be laughing instead of arguing, smiling instead of crying?

I’ve learned there is nothing wrong with me. I’m neuro-divergent and God made me this way for a reason. There is beauty in being different, but she can’t see that. She sees me as difficult, and I in turn see her as small-minded.

Recently, I’ve turned to baking when I feel down in the dumps. For a while, baking was quite painful for me, after Grandma passed away in 2020. She was the one who taught me how to bake and that void made baking a chore. Since watching the Great British Bake Off, I’ve found my baking delight once again. We had a bunch of lemons on hand for a separate recipe, and since the rest needed to be used, I decided to make something I’d never made from scratch before. Lemon curd.

They make it on Bake-Off and I used to love eating lemon bars and lemon meringue pie as a kid, it was Papa’s favorite pie. We had it each year on his birthday. It was the bomb. The tart, lemony sharpness of the filling with the pillowy sweet clouds of meringue on top, slightly browned like a marshmallow with a flakey crust. Scrumptious.

Fun fact: My grandma dressed, acted, and looked a lot like Mary Berry. Watching Bake Off is like a hug.

And you know what, baking helped. I felt the tension melt from my shoulders as I zested the lemons and squeezed the juice into the bowl. The delicacy of separating yolks from egg whites required me to slow down, to breathe through the emotional stress. I made a cup of herbal tea and began work on the sugar and butter. After combining it came time to use the bain-marie to slowly temper the eggs and cook until thickened. The result was a dreamy curd that I was hoping for!

Out of pain, something beautiful came, and the next day I made shortbread for the lemon bars and layered the golden yellow lemon sauce into the pan for a delight I hadn’t had since childhood. Next time we’ll make that lemon meringue pie.

I’m glad I’ve learned coping mechanisms like baking, cleaning, stimming, etc so that I am not tempted to rage at my mom, clench my jaw, get drunk, or go on a shopping spree to fill the pain with stuff. It’s been a journey but through my tumultuous twenties, I learned that the dysfunction is never going away but who I am and how I respond to it are not beholden to other people and their poor behavior. And that is true freedom.

Have you ever made lemon curd? Do you like lemon meringue pie or lemon bars? What’s your go-to way to calm down after a stressful encounter? Thank you, dear reader, for coming along on this blogging journey with me. I’m incredibly thankful for you.

Finding Peace in Tax Season

In the United States, April 15th is our tax deadline. This is a date for me that has a lot of uncertainty. For most of my adult working life I have been a contractor which means your taxes are not taken out by your employer but instead you are responsible for setting aside the money in your savings that is paid out in a lump sum at the tax deadline. Now even though my job has changed, my husband and I are still navigating this setup and it has given us some uncertainty about how things are going to work moving forward in life, like how one saves for a down payment for a house when we aren’t sure how much we will be paying in taxes at the end of year, because our tax rates and tax laws seem to be shifting. It did this year for sure!

We were unaware that the laws had changed for all contractors, not just content creators, etc that you have to pay quarterly. I’m not sure how we were supposed to know to be honest because no information was shared although they advertise the tax deadline and tax services heavily from December to the deadline the next year. It’s been a stinging mistake because we learned there was a hefty penalty and a brand new tax rate that we were placed into, that we will not soon forget.

I think as humans, those big structures looming over us, like the government, cause a lot of anxiety in us because we want to believe that the social contract of Rousseau is what we are getting, but sometimes in those confusing moments like new laws and penalties without proper communication about it, it feels worrying. It took a lot of maturity and prayer this weekend to just accept that my frustration at myself and the lack of transparency was out of my control and that was okay. Like letting sand fall from my hands. As we paid our taxes for 2023 and then also unexpectedly had to pay for 2024’s first quarter, I had to accept that the money that felt like security was no longer mine, it was Caesar’s, and that’s the only answer.

And they sent to him some of the Pharisees and some of the Herodians, to trap him in his talk. And they came and said to him, “Teacher, we know that you are true and do not care about anyone’s opinion. For you are not swayed by appearances, but truly teach the way of God. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Should we pay them, or should we not?” But, knowing their hypocrisy, he said to them, “Why put me to the test? Bring me a denarius and let me look at it.” And they brought one. And he said to them, “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” They said to him, “Caesar’s.” Jesus said to them, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” And they marveled at him.

Mark 12:13-17 ESV

The timing sucked and the surprise of paying both 2023 and the first quarter of 2024 in this economy felt like a bit of a free fall. I mean in life, I don’t love surprises. The good ones for sure are fun but those bad surprises can hang over us like a cloud and that’s what I didn’t want to have hanging over me. My husband’s birthday is coming up, and there are charities we support that I don’t want to let down. I’d like to continue dreaming about future plans, have extra money to be generous if someone needs help, or just not be worried about finances. To have that feeling of serenity in the changing sea of life.

Two promises repeated in my mind as we made our payments that helped me regain my peace, which honestly made no sense aside from God and his peace that surpasses all understanding.

“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.”

Romans 8:28 NLT

 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?

Matthew 6:26-30 NIV

I started thinking about the jokes people made on the day of the eclipse about going back to 2017, and where I was in 2017 with less than 100 USD to my name and no stable living situation, looking for a job as a new college grad and newlywed. It felt like my life was spiraling but then a year later I was stable with a job and a new life in Savannah. I think back to April 2020, newly laid off and with my husband’s employer looking at a complete NHL shutdown, none of it made sense, we just got back to normal and a savings, were we going back to square one three years later? And now in April 2024, I felt those same fears bubbling up.

Were we going back to that scary place? Was the rug pulled out from under me? How was God going to work this all for good? It’s funny to me now that this is the perspective I chose to focus on instead of thinking about how quickly God turns things around. In 2017, I went from rock bottom to a stable job and was ready for a big move in less than a year. In 2020, less than a year later, we were in a better situation than we left. If a big change happens, I need to remember to leave room for God to work instead of shutting down in fear and worry.

I find it to be no coincidence that I read a commentary days before that discussed the promise God makes in Romans 8:28. He works everything together for good, but He doesn’t promise it will make sense at the time, that’s where faith and leaning on His promises come in. We either choose to trust or we don’t, just like how we face trust issues with human relationships, we either trust people or we don’t. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but it’s honest.

As the dust settled and we processed the tax situation, I realized that although the way things happened didn’t make sense as it was happening, it was going to transform our future for the good. I will never again have to dread that lump sum at the end of the year. With quarterly taxes, it’s manageable chunks, which will help us figure out a down payment for a house and what I experienced this time will never happen again. This was it and now I’m free. I also remembered that after these big financial “losses” happen God does something amazing with the smaller amount in ways that only He can. It’s happened over and over in these years since 2017.

Giving to Caesar what is Caesar’s and God what is God’s is also an important part of this process. Giving back what God has given us to serve His kingdom according to what Jesus says in Matthew 25 and remembering His promise in Matthew 6 is how we plan for the future, on His promises. Being greedy and being unwilling to share my blessings with others is a one-way street to unhappiness. So how will this all play out? I don’t know yet but I do know it helped me find peace in this moment of uncertainty and being released from the dread of tax season is the answer to my prayers even though the process wasn’t how I would have chosen it to be, it will be okay.

 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,  I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Matthew 25:35-40 NIV

I hope that by sharing this story, of my worries and my journey to peace that I will encourage you, reader in whatever you are facing right now. Life is such a rollercoaster and it is tricky in the tough days to remember it will get better. There will be brighter days. Financial stress is a tough adversary and I am still working through how to keep calm when it feels overwhelming.

Just remember you got this! 💪  Or in K-Pop speak, fighting!

#51 – Forsythia, Thumb Print Cookies and Rain

Driving home on a cloudy, rainy Sunday a wash of bright, sunshine-yellow that burst upon the landscape once I got within my hometown’s county. A golden, almost firey shrubbery that dotted the yards of homes near and far. But what is this? This long-forgotten friend that signals spring, the forsythia.

At first, I thought this was a local plant, potentially a Pennsylvanian cherry blossom? But actually, I learned that forsythia originates from Eastern Asia and Eastern Europe. I wonder what brought them here? Maybe the simple beauty or immigrant communities from Eastern Europe who came to Beaver County brought a sense of home? That would be cool.

Since I moved from home, I think my springs have been colored with different shades of spring. The crocus, the daffodil, and when May creeps in, the rhododendron (a tongue twister). I look at photos and videos with wanderlust of the Sakura and forget my local splendor, the forsythia.

I didn’t realize how much I missed those beautiful golden blossoms until I saw them again. It was a welcome call, a return to normalcy to a world of childhood that felt like a warm hug. As I mentioned before in Easter Traditions and Celebrating the Resurrection there isn’t a lot of familiarity in my holidays anymore, but this, it felt like a moment stuck in time.

This wasn’t the only familiar sight of the weekend. I went home and got to give my parents hugs, and my family dog snuggles, and ate a new little tradition – thumbprint cookies from My Sweet Lily. My mom and Scott (who I’m referring to when I say my parents) travel down to Pittsburgh’s Strip District each Easter season to get a ham at Wholey’s Market and make another stop. To a bakery that sells dairy-free confections of creme-filled pastries called lady locks and these cookies called thumbprints, rolled in sprinkles with a dollop of icing on top.

This variety with the frosting, is incredibly sweet, vibrantly colored, and sort of stomach ache-inducing but I love them and choose to indulge in their sweetness once a year. I’ve had these cookies with jam and with a chocolate ganache, which is splendidly rich. I was curious where these cookies originated from and they are an Americanized version of the Swedish hallongrotta cookie. The name hallongrottor translates to raspberry cave, as these cookies are traditionally served with raspberry jam filling the depression in the top of the cookie.

Today we have a familiar friend visiting our basement, rainwater. Oh rainwater, flowing into the basement and making the journey to the washing machine an adventure of tiny stream crossings. I’m trying to be patient and accept that this Spring is going to be a rainy one, just like the rainy winter we had and it will pass. The basement will dry out.

Meanwhile, the rain is kind of calming, gentle, and cozy on this April day. I can’t believe it’s April already and I’m so excited. I’ve been designing up a storm for summer and I can’t wait to share it with you. ❤

Easter Traditions and Celebrating the Resurrection

For a while now, during Easter Week, I feel a bit like Charlie Brown, and like unsatisfied Chuck, I’ve been doing some thinking. Why does it feel like however I’m celebrating Easter that year, it’s just not exactly enough or appropriate for the gravity of what Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Resurrection Sunday truly represent?

Tradition!

Some of this feeling is my fault as I have changed churches a lot and gone through big moves and stretches of not knowing where to attend for a complex of reasons. That being said, I remember as a kid the feeling of joy and exaltation that filled the house from Palm Sunday on when I lived my grandparents. There was the music, a 1995 Easter cantata that my Grandma would play while baking tea rings, a Swedish wreath shaped pastry, for us and the whole neighborhood. It was a tea ring factory filled with music that told the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry, his walk to the Cross, his death and Resurrection, as told from different perspectives of witnesses.

My grandparents, I see now as an adult, gave me an example of balance for this holiday, because it wasn’t somber and it wasn’t trivialized into a holiday about bunnies and chocolate with a splash of Jesus. There was genuine joy, faith, and love for others expressed. Grandma would usually play piano at church on one of the Sunday services and Papa would help serve communion as part of his duties as a church Elder. He and I would enjoy the Easter chocolate after service and my extended family and friends would come over after church for a meal. There was usually a small candy egg hunt for me and my cousins too.

Since then two things have changed in my experience of Easter – the absence of family for those traditions and the absence of faith in our Easter celebrations.

When my mom got remarried I experienced my first Easter holiday where believing Easter was about Jesus was weird. My new family were and are some of the nicest people I’ve met and yet, this day was so weird because I’m not exactly sure what we were celebrating? As they grew up in the church but had moved away from the faith into adulthood and raised my cousins without any context of Jesus, it was an odd day, full of love and great memories, but a bit hollow? It was eye opening in a good way of the bigger context of the world and how not everyone believes the exact same things as you but you can still get along. It was a point of maturity for sure and put this ache in my heart for the old holidays with my grandparents.

The weirdest of these experiences for sure has been the holiday with traditions but without family. Do traditions matter if there is no one to share them with? It’s a weird place to think through because you don’t want to lose your family traditions, but like, you can’t help feeling like its dead without the rest of the family to share with. And this is not because my family all died, no just my grandparents did, and my extended family on that side lives within a 10 mile drive of each other. They simply have no interest in getting along anymore and have just dropped our family connection because of silly disagreements and its sad. Being on the receiving end of it it honestly feels like crap. There have been holidays I have absolutely dreaded because of this and its taken time to start to be okay with the new normal of being an island.

Love Your Neighbor as Yourself

Something that has helped me move forward to a new normal has been to focus on what the holiday is actually about – Jesus’s death and resurrection so that we can have salvation from our sins and become a new creation in Him. In doing this I found myself ironically back at the same problem, no matter how I celebrate this day it doesn’t feel like enough. Until yesterday while I was doing dishes and was daydreaming, I thought about something I think is profound.

I think the reason this holiday in the United States feels a bit flat is because this day represents a moment in humanity that is a bit bigger than just a day of remembrance. It’s a day where I want to give thanks to God for sending his son to do this amazing work of redemption. It was the ultimate gift that I have received. It symbolizes a new start and also a day of freedom and independence from my sin. It is essentially four of our major holidays rolled into one – Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and the Juneteenth/4th of July. Because of this I’m not sure if I will ever feel truly satisfactory with how I celebrate this holiday. I don’t think its possible and that’s okay. And potentially how the Reformed Presbyterian church (as much as my Wesleyan mind grumbles giving Calvinism the nod here) is right and celebrating the resurrection every Sunday is the most satisfactory.

So I guess my point here from all my rambling is that I miss my family, I wish they would come back but if they don’t its okay because there are others who love me that may not share my beliefs and the ultimate point of this holiday is not ham, candy, or pastry, it’s the resurrection and what we do with this fresh start. Giving in love of our time and our resources to bless others with what we have to continue what Jesus started almost 2000 years ago. He is risen! He is risen, indeed.

A Cup of Wisdom Warms the Heart

“Whoever ignores instruction despises himself, but he who listens to reproof gains intelligence. The fear of the LORD is instruction in wisdom, and humility comes before honor.”

Proverbs 15:32-33 ESV

Doesn’t that sound like something Uncle Iroh would tell Prince Zuko in their quest to catch the Avatar? That’s what I thought of when I read it. A lot of my reading through Proverbs so far has similarly struck me. I will be reading a chapter, line after line of little tidbits of wisdom in the style of literature Solomon seemed to favor, that at times feels sing-songy like a bit of Shakespeare, and then “BAM!” I’m caught in my tracks by the profoundness of what the line of poetry just said. In those moments, I think of Uncle Iroh. I think anyone who is a fan of Avatar the Last Airbender, wishes they had an Uncle Iroh in their life because people like Uncle Iroh seem few and far between.

I think that’s why the loss of my grandparents feels like such a hole in my life, a vacuum of wisdom. I love my mom but it isn’t the same kind of relationship, there isn’t that well of wisdom that flows into our conversations because there is a different approach to life she follows. It’s a well-developed, rich, sort of wisdom that can only come with hard work and deep study of wisdom itself. They had that and they shared it willingly, sometimes to my chagrin as like young Zuko, I didn’t want to hear it.

And like Zuko of season two learns, the echo chamber of losing the voice of reason in your life is way more frustrating than hearing hard truths that mirror your own folly. It is irreplaceable. I miss their wisdom. I miss the surrounding of elders and wise people who seemed to be around me in childhood but seem harder to find with age. I think there is a passing of the torch so to speak whereby aging you are supposed to grow, change, and dwell with the wisdom of life to pass on to others and that transition can sometimes feel like you are treading water.

“If you look for the light you can often find it. If you look for the dark it is all you will ever see.”

Uncle Iroh

Growing older is odd. I never thought I would miss reproof and instruction but I do.

In the spirit of both the verses from Proverbs and the quote from Avatar the Last Airbender, the only way to fix this void is to look deeper and further to continue to seek out good influences in my life, and ways to be challenged to never settle who and where I am now, but to push further to find the well of wisdom and in turn be a well of wisdom to others.

Where do you go to find wisdom? Is it a person? A belief system? A text? Have you continued to seek after it, even crave it as you have gotten older? Have you been able to be an Uncle Iroh to someone in your life?

#49 – Deactivating Facebook

In 2011, my senior year of high school, one of my close friends opted to not come back to our school for his final year and instead chose to do cyber school which meant, because of how much time he already spent working and playing a little game called war of warcraft, I was going to lose contact with him. Now, at the time, I had known this friend since we were toddlers, through church and later on school, it seemed too important to let that friendship fade into nothingness just because of change of life. I knew there was one modern way to stay connected, a way I dreaded and had put off as long as possible – Facebook. And so in 2011, I bit the bullet and got one.

I instantly regretted my decision.

All of a sudden my feed was filled with information overload in the way only social media can with details that honestly make you feel a bit insecure, like realizing, I knew I was a bit of an outsider at school but oh my, a lot of parties and social events were happening that weren’t on my radar that were now showcased page after page. Suddenly, the peace and tranquility of my quiet introverted life, one connected to people outside classmates, was gone. Poof. I felt a comparison. I felt lacking. I felt lame. A person missing the plot that everyone else got. Who were these people I thought I knew?

Was I doing this all wrong? Should I have more friends? The friend count, the status symbol of ye olde Facebook, some of my fellow friends had 1000s of friends and I was struggling to think of 100 people I knew well enough to add. The profile picture, the clever status updates, the albums upon albums of photos of normal days and things. What was this weird and aspirational world? And where did my feeling of contentment go? In an instant, it left me like a hat on a windy day.

I look back on this feeling and wish I had rolled the dice on keeping in touch through email or text because that friendship didn’t last once we entered college and went our separate ways, but those feelings of insecurity and comparison, they took root. Not just me, but I think all of us are waking up to this and how social media is stealing our joy and our world from what it can be.

After all, we know now that Facebook is a terrible way to keep friendships going, except we didn’t know that yet. I mean I think everyone over the age of 60 at the time knew it was not a replacement for having a social life, but we like intrepid explorers too cocky to listen to the warning that the river was going to turn into a waterfall went tally-ho onward into the mist and went over the waterfall. And now with our broken bits of boat and sputtering of water in our lungs, we see our friends float by us in the river and yet just like the metaphor, we are unable to link arms because the current of the algorithm is taking us where it wants to. Unhappy and alone, we arrived in 2024 and it was time for me to climb ashore.

I was watching the first season of the Great British Bake Off with Mary Berry, Paul Hollywood, Sue Perkins, and Mel Giedroyc, circa 2010 and I felt this overwhelming yearning to go back, back to 2010. Like this scene in Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice where Elizabeth sees Mr. Darcy appear in the fading mist of dawn.

I thought about this, why did I feel such a strong pull toward this time? I don’t particularly love the fashion of this period nor was it the most exciting time of my life, it was high school for goodness sake with the season of SATs and college applications. But it was strung together with moments of deep authenticity, real connections, and life spent living in real life instead of online. I spent my days with real people, not a screen with someone behind the screen talking to me. It was real and my world, with my people. I wasn’t worrying about FOMO or what other people were doing, I didn’t consider what other people were doing if I wasn’t there or how I should be spending my time compared to what other people were doing. I was just living. It was before social media had its claws into me and the world.

I remember the world being less performative, less homogenous, and more authentic. If someone was cool it was usually because they were doing their own thing and owning it. If someone was pursuing a hobby or a career it was because they had a passion for it, not for social media clout or to be like everyone else. Phones were for texts and phone calls, sometimes photos. At social events, particularly family events and meals, they stayed in your pocket.

If you were using your phone you were actively talking to someone. People knew things and retained information because Google wasn’t at the ready. You had to discuss and determine things through research, using a book or a computer. Photos existed in physical albums, in frames, on fridges, and in wallets. Body dysmorphia existed, but was less of a constant because in person you can’t Photoshop and filter, you have to accept who you are enough to be in person. Trips were shared through home movies, photos, and stories around a table with food and drink.

At that moment, I realized I was done. Done with pretending I like this fake world of connection. I separated my Instagram from my Facebook so that I could continue sharing photos to my Instagram sewing portfolio account, because that is for exposure not connecting, and deactivated my Facebook. I kept Messenger so that three specific people could still reach me and I hit that deactivate button. And I have to say, it felt like a fake haze lifted from my world. That chapter was done and I feel a peace washing over me again.

If it was as easy as leaving one social media platform, what other little swaps could I do to find those things that made the world feel so real and connected before the social media age? That is my next quest. Onward into normal, human connections!

Making Art From A Nightmare

I was inspired to explore my feelings about this dream and nightmare from a YouTube video I watched by Electra Dashwood. You should check it out!

Tropical Travel Vlogger Trunk

This Fashion Polly-esque playset-looking trunk may look cute and fantastical, but in my dream, it was full of pure nightmares. This dream sequence was so vivid I woke feeling like my life was falling apart, all because of this Pandora’s box. Definitely the effect of some stressful personal situations I had in my life at the time. I’ve been feeling waves of anxiety lately. Although I deeply disliked this trunk in my dream, in art form I wish I had this little gem to store my fabric because it is delightfully bright and vivid. This was drawn in chalk pastel in February 2024.

Cloud Drawing Messenger

This was another odd dream, with my dad, whom I don’t often dream about because I honestly don’t have that many memories with him. After a big boundary breakthrough, I had this dream in which my dad would only communicate with me through watercolor clouds expressing his emotions about what I shared. This was such a cool dream because usually all my dad and I do if we have an emotional conversation, it is in anger and yelling. But this dream was delicate and uplifting. We communicated, and I wish this dream had been real life. The clouds were recreated in chalk pastel in December 2023.

#47 – Goodbye February

This month has straight up stunk. It was a pinball of coming off those allergic reactions I mentioned in #45 – Allergy and Winter Winds, coming down with a cold or a cold, getting better, having an allergic reaction to my eyeshadow, getting another cold, discovering my body wash and loofah combo was giving me irritation, in the form of friction hives, and having to stop drinking camomille to get the hives to go away. I was stuck in this loop of discouragement and I definitely let it live in my mind leading to worry and feeling stuck, basically, like this gif when Kim and Ron switch bodies because of Drakken’s body-switching machine. It was one flip to another flop, nothing progressing, just stuck.

That is life, it kicks our butts, leaves us discouraged, and some days feel like a bunch of little things going wrong are going to give us death by a thousand paper cuts. But honestly, that’s part of the journey of existence. Life does not give us any guarantees that each day is going to be sunshine and rainbows, some days are like a tsunami, and other days are like tripping, repeatedly. I’m thankful that it was only a bunch of small little things breaking my focus, instead of one of those big things that shake us to our core. As a highly sensitive person, I can let the little things swirl around in my head until they are big, shakeable problems that tower over me. These little setbacks taught me something pretty important, I need people in my life. I crave it more than my introverted nature is willing to admit.

On those days, when I felt frustrated and down, lost in the worry of my own head, the thing that pulled me back to the light were people. They helped me remember that I wasn’t alone, but instead that I am loved and needed by others in return. There is purpose and worth in the person I am in being there for others in my life.

It was the small things, Kyle taking care of me when I was feeling really crumby, like asking if I had taken medicine or refilling my water bottle before I realized it was empty. Him doing the dishes, cooking dinner, and making me tea in the morning as I was super slow pulling myself out of bed. Those are huge when you are feeling sick and he is so patient with me. Or my neighbor, who texted me one morning because our Amazon packages got mixed up, remembering she is next door and always there if I need a friend. A phone conversation with a friend, talking about anything or nothing, but the connection of catching up after a while and spending time in that bubble together is such a refreshing reset. Having one of those low-maintenance friendships where she texts me out of the blue and we spend time catching up writing digital letters to each other until the conversation fades, knowing we’ll pick it back up later on. Admitting to my mom that I was scared because she was having complications from her surgery this past summer, saying the fear aloud and facing that I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. A quick chat with my stepdad, talking nonsense but having a blast doing it. My brother-in-law video calling me out of the blue to catch up as we both cook dinner.

Those little moments of community, pull me out of the funk I was in faster than I realized. We really need people. This modern life is lonely. If nothing else, from this month, I learned how dissatisfied I am with the digital barriers there are to the community and how I don’t want to settle anymore. Because people matter and we need them even if we get peopled out easily. Goodbye, February, my relentless gremlin and ironically, the frank teacher I needed.

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