Forsaking the American Dream

The transition time from one semester to another is an interesting stage full of nostalgia, yet ripe with the tidings of opportunity. This semester as I prepare myself for my internship, I’m trying to also appreciate the days between now and then. Even though I have an adventure to look forward to, I don’t want to waste away the days by living ahead of myself. I am doing what I can to live in “the now,” but it’s funny that when you look around, it seems like everyone is living for the future. Theatre/philosophy nerds like me might say it’s like Beckett’s Waiting For Gadot. We all seem to be waiting on something, though some of us don’t even know what that may be.

All around me, people are advancing in life and creating these vast futures for themselves that look nothing like my own. Does that bother me? Not necessarily, but while I’ve been attempting a steady pace to make sure the minutes don’t escape me, I’m noticing how everyone else seems to be running a marathon. It’s like one of Jason Bateman’s movie characters speculates,  “running around, always rushed, always late. I guess that’s why they call it the human race.”

Don’t get me wrong. I love my life, and I love where I am in life. The days might seem mundane, full of classes and meetings and the occasional migraine, and they are. But God is preparing me for a future that is better than I could ask for or imagine. I’m a single college student with a full course load, a job that I love, and a campus community that I love even more. It may sound cliche, but now is a time in life where I have very few attachments. I’m pursuing my calling in life, a calling that makes me feel more alive than a boy or a mansion or a picket fence ever could. Others my age and generation running this vast human race are getting married, settling down, preparing for careers or grad school or life in general. And I’m darn beaming proud of all of them and they’re going to be great wives, husbands, professionals, CEOs, scientists, ministers, teachers, or whatever the case may be.

In my case, it has really been dawning on me how “abnormal” my dream for my life is. Yes, I’d love to get married someday. I’d love to be a mother and wife, and I know somewhere deep within me is the capability to do so; I really hope sometime the opportunity presents itself. But honestly, I’m ready to adventure. I want to go to places I’ve never been and take in the beauty of all that is this world and share the hope that I have and just….live. It’s not that I don’t want a house or a dog or a 2 door garage or a husband to go with it, but in so many ways my call to the mission field is also a call to forsake the American dream. I am not on the path of the Pinterest worthy life. I’m pursuing a lifestyle that is calling me to surrender comfort and routine, to surrender a sense of normalcy.

I’m starting to realize that not every college kid takes 6 weeks of their summer to go to Asia. I’m realizing that what I’m doing is not typical. And in some ways it stings a little and I feel like I’m walking while everyone else is running, or that I’m running the opposite direction. In other ways it is freeing and fantastic and I can’t wait to venture into the great unknown with just God and my not-so-American dreams.

Coping with my inadequacy.

I’ll be honest, I’m one of those people who likes to have their life all put together–or at least make it feel that way. I love the sense of control I have when everything is organized, my bed is made, my planner is updated, my schedule is full (but not too full,) and I am accessorized stylishly. You know, the typical “Type B+” college girl way of living. I’m not Type A, but there are times I wish that I were.

The reality is that my dorm room looks like a laundry train ran through it and Office Depot threw up on my desk. The suite-style bathroom has hair in the shower drain and I found a bug in the sink last week. Two of my bags from Christmas Break are still not unpacked. In summary, even just sitting in my room makes my head spin because it is nowhere close to the way I would like it to be. And that is why I’m in the dorm lobby, in my PJs, typing at you instead of doing my homework.

Aside from the less than ideal current condition of my dorm room, there are many other uncertainties in my life right now as well. In fact, the cold weather takes such a toll on my body that there are days where I am uncertain if I will even be able to make it out of bed. At this rate, my physical training goals are seeming farther and farther away as Jack Frost constricts every muscle fiber, rattles my joints, and triples my pain levels. There are smaller uncertainties too, like whether my textbooks will ever get here or waiting on the washers to be fixed so that I can curb that laundry train. Choo-choo! There isn’t much left for me to be certain about. As fulfilling as it may be to have life put together all nice and neat, I know it will be even more fulfilling when God reaches out his hand to bring His great provision to my mess.

I can tell that He is preparing my heart for my time in Cambodia, among other things. When it comes to mission work, I have always considered myself to be fairly flexible. But God is showing me just how flexible I must become, and how much I really must rely on Him. I love that this internship is going to be one great, unpredictable adventure. And it will definitely be an adventure over which I have little control, and that’s fine with me.

God’s getting me used to not having it all together. And it’s not that I had it all together before, but He is teaching me to be at peace with the unmade bed, bugs in the sink, less than pristine planner, and imperfect outfits. Cambodia will be great, but He wants to provide in the nooks and crannies of my life, in each minute of the days leading up to my departure.

It is difficult, and at times over the past week He has pulled me through kicking and screaming. My joints hurt, I am tired, and my life simply doesn’t make much sense. But the one thing I can be certain of is that I serve a God who is preparing me for things beyond what I can ask or imagine, and He calls me to a life to the full regardless of what that may look like on the outside.

CPnot-so-3PO aka CPJ93

Since a new year has begun, I decided to review my journal entries from the past year. And I came across one in particular that I’m confident needs to be shared. Most of you that read my blog have met me before, and so the impending subject matter is something I don’t address often because I don’t want it to define me, even though it accounts for much of who I have become. So here’s my preface.

Deep breaths. Ready?

I have Cerebral Palsy (CP for short). It’s super difficult to explain, but basically I did a little somersault in-utero and ended up landing on the umbilical cord. CP is used to describe a lot of different conditions, so every case is unique. In my case, it means that somewhere between my brain and my legs, signals get messed up. My leg muscles are in a constant state of partial contraction, which makes for a lot of trouble being human.

And because CP is a condition of the brain, and not the muscles, some other signals can get mixed up too. My hands can be clumsy at times. Muscle spasms are frequent. Hell for me is cold weather, not fire and brimstone. With exercise and regular stretching I’m a pretty darn functional human, and my capable upper half and cognitive function often compensates for my weaknesses. As I’ve grown older and begun to enter the adult world, I’m realizing the true implications of that little blue and white label. I think the following journal entry really exposes the emotions that can lie behind the “I may have CP but that doesn’t mean anything” facade. So here, a piece of my heart:

“One of the things I’m struggling with is looking my CP straight in the face. I know that it obviously impacts the way I live my life, but I think until recently I’ve been able to tuck it in my back pocket and pretend it doesn’t affect me at all; as though it’s just a different lifestyle choice like jogging, riding a bike to work, or eating insects because it’s good for the complexion. But as I’ve gotten older, CP becomes harder to just gloss over. Every day there are frequent reminders that this world was not made for me. Buildings aren’t built for me, and people aren’t educated about disabilities. Misunderstandings and mishaps on a minute-by-minute basis are a part of my every day experience. Even though this is America, opportunity is not always equal and quite frankly, I am never treated the same way as an “able bodied” person. “Normalcy” is never an option. I will always have to explain my weaknesses and prove my strengths, and that breaks my heart in so many ways. I don’t know life without CP, but college is the first time in a long time I’ve had to actively fight the implications of CP whether they are social, physical, mental, etc. The big kid world is cruel to me often, even when it tries not to be. And some days I just want to cry out. I want a time without chronic pain, a day without a spasm or a spill. I want to stand at my real height. I want knees that aren’t akin to a camel. I want to be able to really dance and run and feel both feet flat on the ground. I’m tired of getting to that point in relationships where CP has to be worked around. I’m tired of being expected to be strong and inspiring while also being expected not to succeed in my life. I want my right to be upset. I want to be able to confide in people about my pain without serving the purpose of making people feel guilty. I’m tired of the assumptions and questions and being society’s responsibility. Today is one of those days where I want out of my body, I want out of the uncertainty. I know God created me, and loves me, and calls me his own, and right now I just want to curl up in His arms. His grace is sufficient, even when my body is not”

And as I prepare for another semester of school and further preparation for my internship, I continue to remind myself of what Jesus said in John chapter 9. “This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in [her]”