In writing this year in review, I am tempted to say that 2015 did not treat me well, and that it shorted me, and it owes me a soda and quite possibly a better year. But my resources indicate a need for positive self-talk, which basically means that according to the findings of cognitive behavioral therapy, a bad attitude gets you nowhere in life. That includes demanding that marks on a calendar collectively pitch in to purchase your pity prize, even if a Pepsi only averages $1.50.
The running theme this year, which I imagine will remain prevalent the rest of my life, is grace. As with most years, days, lives, and elaborate films, the theme doesn’t become noticeable until close to the end. Until you’re shouting and throwing popcorn and demanding that things go your way.
Last January, I thought things were going my way. I’d only gotten a 30% on my “things to do in 2014” list, so for 2015 I made myself a shorter list–only 75 items–and was already mentally and financially packing for a summer in Cambodia. A dream internship that couldn’t possibly go wrong, because it was a missions internship, for Jesus and everything! Church-family funded and God-approved, what more could I need?
Meanwhile I was striving to fix some of the gaping holes in my life emotionally and socially. Some episodes in that comedy included the First Pleasant Valentine’s Day since 1st grade, as well as my personal favorite ShiPOOPi: when a musical is thrown in your lap. (That one turned out surprisingly well.) There were some shining moments among the plates I was spinning, like that time I stumbled across a piece of Disney World in Shelby, NC and a new friend to go with it. Friends were a recurring motif, as I’m great at making them but not great at keeping them, because people scare me. Thus, God has to continually remind me that not everyone will ruin my life, and I am indeed liked by some people.
2015 could be called the year nothing is what you think it is. The “is” could be turned into a 15 to make it trendy, even though that would be a long hashtag. I threw myself deeper into the professional theatre scene, attending conferences with some of the coolest cats I know in order to make it with the big-wigs–even classes on how to take care of those big wigs. Then, there was that time I made a campaign speech to the tune of TSwift’s Blank Space, which made me Yik-Yak famous for at least an hour, I think. So basically, by this point in 2015, I thought I could have taken over the world as long as I had a headset, the right words, and some glow tape.
However, such personal strides were interspersed with breakdowns, featuring me sobbing on the dorm floor. My roommate at the time responded accordingly, by making me pop-tarts and then letting me cry, like a goat put in time-out for head-butting things who just needs to sit in his or her own remorse for a while. In return, I did my best not to be angry with her for getting engaged and being more put-together than me.
By April I couldn’t seem to get my head above water, so summer was looking to be 2015’s redeeming feature. But when you’re drowning, it’s hard to see, not to mention that nothing 15 what you think it 15. Intern training camp in May was promising, finding I wasn’t the only crazy dreamer with a global vision of God’s Kingdom. Maybe people weren’t so bad after all.
And then I crossed an ocean, although part of me is still convinced that the world just turned upside-down underneath me. Asia is remarkable; but it is not all Buddhas and lotus flowers, and if you feel so called to its blood-stained but beautiful Southeast region (a wonderful picture of redemption,) I suggest you invest in thicker skin and thinner pants, because it’s pretty roasty-toasty.
Two weeks in and supervisors, ableism, my own body, and God decided that Cambodia didn’t need me, but Cherokee, NC did. Which at that point felt like getting picked last for the kickball team, and even though I should be used to that by this age I lamented heavily, David-style, and accepted my placement while vowing never to expect anything ever again. Expectations are fragile, but we keep them around anyway, and the more we play with them the more likely they are to break.
So I took my suitcase of shattered expectations with me to the reservation, where all I had were bits and pieces, but at least life felt a little simpler. Mornings were cool, days were hot, and most of the time I felt useful, which was refreshing. Little kids reminded me what life was about, and other folks reminded me that there are problems to solve in the world, so we’d best get over ourselves and be the hands and feet of Jesus. Oh, and God said, “missionaries need Jesus, too” and “oh by the way, that includes you.”
And this Dr. Suess-sounding God gave me lots of new friends that I sure hope I can keep. There are a lot of places I could visit where I know there will be brothers and sisters to welcome me, whether its nestled in the suburbs of Peachtree, GA, or Korean church in Memphis, or folks in my own backyard(s) of NC and east Tennessee. Cherokee took shattered ‘ol me and used me anyway, and for that I am extremely grateful.
God then provided me with a way back to Knoxville early, so that I could comfort a friend in the wake of death. Consequently, I realized the significance of death to life and added GWU’s seminar class about death and dying to my schedule for fall, my toughest semester yet. The rest of 2015 has been God turning my world right side up again, which has basically been a lot of God saying “I have something else in mind,” kind of like what he said to Samuel when Jesse brought forth all of his important sons and God chose the shepherd instead. I’ve had to wrestle humility and confidence, sucking it up and returning to physical therapy because there are better things to do than surgery, like saving the world. Also, I’ve learned more theological humility after my summer with the Presbyterians, and decided the life of a church-hopping college student was not worth perfection I wouldn’t find.
God even took all of that professionalism and business I was so proud of and said “that’s not life.” And he pointed out the theatre’s environment of competition and said “that’s not grace,” and then he pointed to seminary and said “this needs you,” and next thing I know I’m over here googling the pre-requisites for a dual degree in Divinity and social work, where rubber meets the road.
My list of things to do in 2016 has only 14 items, the last being to let grace prevail. So I started by giving myself grace and stopping at 14 things. And in accordance with this world’s need for grace, I guess I can let 2015 off the hook too.
Rev. Bekah Rhea, MDiv. 