The Swing of Things

I've noticed before that transitioning between school and home and back is weird, not because it feels unnatural or off, but because it doesn't. Rather, when I get to the other place, the things that happened before feel oddly distant. The new reality is prevalent. In theory, this should smooth the transition, but it doesn't mean I snap back into good school habits the minute I set foot in my dorm.

Here, for your education and enjoyment, is a comparative study of instincts while at home and habits necessary for school.

Home instinct: Wake up in time for Good Eats at 10 a.m. (Too bad Cupcake Wars is on half the time.)
School habit: Be awake at 7:15 to be ready for class and start functioning immediately.

Home instinct: Talk gibberish to pets in high-pitched voices.
School habit: Have actual conversations with roommates, who prefer a normal tone of voice.

Home instinct: Crochet. All. The. THINGS!
School habit: Homework first. All craft projects second, or even third.

Home instinct: Eat when hungry -- which results in not eating till 2 in the afternoon, thus not being hungry for dinner, thus requiring extensive snacking before bed to not end up ravenous in the morning.
School habit: Eat meals at regular times, because the dining commons will close and then you'll have to buy food from somewhere.

Home instinct: Take life at a slow pace. Prioritize naturally, based on what opportunities come up.
School habit: Work according to deadline, or be woefully underprepared.

Home instinct: Get around to projects long abandoned and things left untried, because there is finally time and space for them.
School habit: Do what is necessary, and in down time, rest. Exploration into new territory is too much work.

I miss the openness of being home at a time when I don't have many responsibilities. I like the focus of being at school at a time when I do. The hard part is reconciling my mind from one to the other. It doesn't feel like a big mental adjustment, but the things required of me do change enough that I have to be intentional.

Time to get back into the swing of things.

Fighting Myself

This is the second year I've been home for J-term, and I hope it's the last. Not because I don't love being with my family or just being sacked out on the couch with my cat, but I miss Taylor. I know someday I'm going to graduate and go on to other things, but right now, I miss the environment. I miss trying to balance classes with theater and noveling and friends. I miss the challenge, going to chapel, and having random theological discussions. The truth is, I feel a lot more removed from God when I'm at home.

This is stupid. Nothing can separate us from the love of God, etc. My problem is I know this -- I've learned it and experienced it in many ways -- but I currently have a hard time "feeling" it. Spiritual dry spells aren't new to any Christian, and I can't say that this is a particular low point in my life. But it's frustrating.

I'm a very strongly emotional person.  Because I can easily fall prey to feelings, I also have an exceptionally high regard for sincerity. (Lying to or manipulating people is one of the few things that can really make me unwilling to forgive.) I hate manufactured emotion, and I have a very hard time being cheerful when I'm not.

Is this a good thing because it makes me want to be sincere with God? I dunno. Is this a bad thing because I'm less willing to praise God when I don't feel like it? Almost certainly. I've heard this point argued a dozen times before. I believe emotions are useful and enhance our relationship with God, but things purely emotional are transient.

For now, I'm fighting myself. I guess it's just good to know that God always wins.

Thoughts on Moving

For many and varied reasons, my family has moved a lot. I remember living in eight different houses, and there were a couple more when I was little. Most of it was for financial reasons, including this upcoming move, but now there is another, more hopeful reason.

We love this house.

Well, actually, we've spent the last couple weeks ripping out old nasty carpet and old nasty plaster and drywall and flooring so we don't have to do it once we move in. It's a big old farmhouse, the kind that is white and square with a porch. We still need to finish the bathroom -- drywall, pipes, tile, the works -- before we can get in. And we want to be in at the end of this week, which is when I go back to Taylor. As in many things this year, I feel unprepared. Unlike some other changes, though, I'm not panicked. Before we're fully moved in, I'll be two states away again, but this new house holds something for me: the promise of a home.

Because we've moved so much, I've adjusted to living in different houses pretty quickly. But home has some different, more comforting connotations. Any house can become home, but I've loved some homes more than others. I lived in Wyoming for two years, and it never really felt like home. However, Taylor University felt like home very quickly. Wyoming for me was not a peaceful environment. Going to college wasn't exactly peaceful, but I settled in right away because there are so many great people and things I love there.

Especially for my mom and me, this house is full of things we love and has potential for even more. It has a two-story screened-in porch -- we just have to replace a lot of windows. It has room for pasture -- we just have to put up the fence. There are all sorts of trees for a rope swing -- we just have to tie it up. It has sturdy old wooden floors -- we just have to refinish them. And I'm already planning what flowers I'm going to plant this summer.

For some of the reasons I gave earlier, I also feel like I've never really had a home church. Maybe houses would have felt more like home if we had one. Maybe one reason Taylor feels like home is that I like my church out there. Our current Iowa church is a good one, but no one from my high school went there, so I didn't make any close friends. But this past weekend, I was overwhelmed by the dedication of this church. About twenty people came to help tear down plaster, clean, and get junk out of the house. For their care for us, I am very grateful. They helped encourage my family. They helped make my home.

I'm eager to go back to Taylor, but I'm also eager to get back home in the summer so I can help my family fix up our dreamhouse. I finally feel like it's the place we're supposed to be. I finally feel like God's bringing us to a permanent home.

And how lovely is it to think that this home is the predecessor of a better one in Heaven?