If you're looking for a way to give a little of your time during the Christmas season, please allow me to make a recommendation. Last night, I spent a wonderful 90 minutes (after determining which door was actually facing west!) behind a red kettle, hymnal or bell in hand, with friends on either side.
The chilly breeze out of the north made for cold fingers and toes, but what does that matter when you're singing with friends? When 1 person walks by with a smile on their face? When you finally find the sweet alto notes of Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming? When two strangers join the singing in perfect harmony?
Give me a brisk Minnesota evening, surrounded by friends singing praise, and I will be a happy woman.
Joy to the world, indeed.
Want to do something? Go ring a bell yourself (http://www.registertoring.com/TwinCities/Search.aspx) or donate online (http://www.onlineredkettle.org/heidehosen).
December 18, 2011
December 14, 2011
Bottle It Up
While I was steering my red shopping cart through Target's grocery aisles last week, I couldn't help noticing the distress of another customer. It wasn't the medical attention sort of distress; rather, it involved some foot-stomping, loud grumbling, and a curse or two under her breath. As I steered my cart around her, I saw she was attempting to remove the battery from her phone. "Well if it's just her battery, I might be able to help," I thought. After inquiring, I found out that her phone, containing her entire grocery list, had stopped working. My rudimentary troubleshooting was not helpful, so I offered a few positive words and continued my shopping.
As I reflected on this encounter later, I realized how different this woman and I are. When she encountered trouble she dealt with it externally, in a way that was obvious to observers. When trouble comes my way, I take everything in and keep it inside, in a place where I can deal with it without being observed. For reasons I don't quite understand, I am more comfortable dealing with my emotions in private. If they are out in the open for all to see, then I feel vulnerable.
In processing the emotional side of recent events, I buried many of my feelings as deep down as possible. It's much easier to put on a face that says "I'll be fine," saving the real emotions for later. Sometimes, the emotions that I have worked so hard to keep under my control burst forth. The revelation that came with one unintended moment of honesty broke the hastily constructed dam, letting the full weight of those emotions settle in on me.
While searching for relief in the midst of the flood of emotion, I remembered a verse of one of my favorite hymns:
Help me then in every tribulation
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till I reach the promised land.
As I reflected on this encounter later, I realized how different this woman and I are. When she encountered trouble she dealt with it externally, in a way that was obvious to observers. When trouble comes my way, I take everything in and keep it inside, in a place where I can deal with it without being observed. For reasons I don't quite understand, I am more comfortable dealing with my emotions in private. If they are out in the open for all to see, then I feel vulnerable.
In processing the emotional side of recent events, I buried many of my feelings as deep down as possible. It's much easier to put on a face that says "I'll be fine," saving the real emotions for later. Sometimes, the emotions that I have worked so hard to keep under my control burst forth. The revelation that came with one unintended moment of honesty broke the hastily constructed dam, letting the full weight of those emotions settle in on me.
While searching for relief in the midst of the flood of emotion, I remembered a verse of one of my favorite hymns:
Help me then in every tribulation
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till I reach the promised land.
October 23, 2011
Nesting
My name is Heather, and I am a sporadic nester.
This is closely linked to my penchant for never unpacking everything. These unfortunate habits are likely rooted in my childhood and the multiple addresses I associate with "home."
When my roommates and I moved a few months ago, it took me a minimum of one week to put any nails in the wall. Nails bring with them a sense of permanence - once I hang that picture up, it's not coming down until I pack it up.
It's been 2 months since I put two nails in the wall. Tonight I added 3 more.
I'm not sure why it feels so significant. I do know that tonight, my house just became a little more of a home.
Baby steps, Heather. Baby steps.
This is closely linked to my penchant for never unpacking everything. These unfortunate habits are likely rooted in my childhood and the multiple addresses I associate with "home."
When my roommates and I moved a few months ago, it took me a minimum of one week to put any nails in the wall. Nails bring with them a sense of permanence - once I hang that picture up, it's not coming down until I pack it up.
It's been 2 months since I put two nails in the wall. Tonight I added 3 more.
I'm not sure why it feels so significant. I do know that tonight, my house just became a little more of a home.
Baby steps, Heather. Baby steps.
October 21, 2011
The Consequences of the Profession Which I Chose
The following conversation took place between myself and the grandma of the boy I nanny:
G: "Were there a lot of women at the conference?"
H: "Well, I thought there were a lot of women there, but then I saw how many women were at the conference next door. That was A LOT of women."
G: "How are you ever supposed to meet men?"
Is it just me, or are all grandmas the same?
G: "Were there a lot of women at the conference?"
H: "Well, I thought there were a lot of women there, but then I saw how many women were at the conference next door. That was A LOT of women."
G: "How are you ever supposed to meet men?"
Is it just me, or are all grandmas the same?
June 29, 2011
Contradictions
Sometimes, I feel like a bundle of contradictions.
From far away, my hair looks light brown. Look close enough and you will see dark brown, light brown, blonde, and red hairs...and even a gray or two. I blame it on the stress.
I often have ideas of grand adventures around Minnesota and the world, but any hankering for spontaneity is almost always overtaken by routine.
I also have a desire to sunbathe my skin out of the "pasty white European" stage. This desire is countered by my epidermis' dislike for ultraviolet rays. Just an hour in partly cloudy conditions gets me hives, sun poisoning, or both.
The first and third contradictions are largely on the surface and ultimately not that important in the long run. However, the second coincides with one of the biggest contradictions I have been mulling over for the past months:
I am an introvert who wants to be an extrovert.
Our society values extroversion, the ability to go out conquer the world head-on all while maintaining handfuls of professional and personal relationships. I want to fit into this society, to be able to function as boisterous, fearless go-getter. As I mature and gain further understanding into how I function, how God designed me, I am more aware of the challenge in being true to myself and functioning successfully in America. How do I reconcile my desire for a mostly quiet, personal, introspective existence with the desire to be more?
In the past few days I have found a multiple blog posts and articles on this topic. While they don't provide answers, they provide a certain affirmation and a much clearer direction for my inner turmoil. As I read some of these I wanted to get up an do a happy dance - there are other people out there who are like me, who understand what it is like and are reaching out with the knowledge they have!
10 Myths About Introverts - the blog post that started this phenomenon for me. I followed the link in Adam Young's tweet and haven't looked back since.
Is Shyness an Evolutionary Tactic - an article written by Susan Cain (the author of blog below) for the New York Times. It challenges our society's rejection of introversion as normal, especially in the medical, education and business realms, while highlighting influential historical figures who were introverts.
QUIET: The Power of Introverts - a blog that I have been devouring ever since I discovered it yesterday. Every post gives me so much to think about and strives to make introversion just as valuable as extroversion.
I still face the challenge every day of deciding when and where I get to be my introverted self and when it is time to push myself beyond any self-imposed boundaries. I don't want my penchant for being quiet and shy to be an excuse for spending too much time at home as it was for so many years. There are adventures to be had, people to meet, new things to discover - but there will always be time for quiet as well.
From far away, my hair looks light brown. Look close enough and you will see dark brown, light brown, blonde, and red hairs...and even a gray or two. I blame it on the stress.
I often have ideas of grand adventures around Minnesota and the world, but any hankering for spontaneity is almost always overtaken by routine.
I also have a desire to sunbathe my skin out of the "pasty white European" stage. This desire is countered by my epidermis' dislike for ultraviolet rays. Just an hour in partly cloudy conditions gets me hives, sun poisoning, or both.
The first and third contradictions are largely on the surface and ultimately not that important in the long run. However, the second coincides with one of the biggest contradictions I have been mulling over for the past months:
I am an introvert who wants to be an extrovert.
Our society values extroversion, the ability to go out conquer the world head-on all while maintaining handfuls of professional and personal relationships. I want to fit into this society, to be able to function as boisterous, fearless go-getter. As I mature and gain further understanding into how I function, how God designed me, I am more aware of the challenge in being true to myself and functioning successfully in America. How do I reconcile my desire for a mostly quiet, personal, introspective existence with the desire to be more?
In the past few days I have found a multiple blog posts and articles on this topic. While they don't provide answers, they provide a certain affirmation and a much clearer direction for my inner turmoil. As I read some of these I wanted to get up an do a happy dance - there are other people out there who are like me, who understand what it is like and are reaching out with the knowledge they have!
10 Myths About Introverts - the blog post that started this phenomenon for me. I followed the link in Adam Young's tweet and haven't looked back since.
Is Shyness an Evolutionary Tactic - an article written by Susan Cain (the author of blog below) for the New York Times. It challenges our society's rejection of introversion as normal, especially in the medical, education and business realms, while highlighting influential historical figures who were introverts.
QUIET: The Power of Introverts - a blog that I have been devouring ever since I discovered it yesterday. Every post gives me so much to think about and strives to make introversion just as valuable as extroversion.
I still face the challenge every day of deciding when and where I get to be my introverted self and when it is time to push myself beyond any self-imposed boundaries. I don't want my penchant for being quiet and shy to be an excuse for spending too much time at home as it was for so many years. There are adventures to be had, people to meet, new things to discover - but there will always be time for quiet as well.
May 20, 2011
My Heart Was Home Again
The concept of "home" has come up frequently in discussions with family, friends, and this box I type my thoughts into. I've mentioned before that home, for me, is the two houses my grandparents have inhabited for my entire life. Realizing what home is to me is one thing, but now I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that, this weekend, I am losing one of those homes. People get older, health slowly declines, plans are made - before you know it, one of the most stable parts of your childhood is crumbling before your eyes.
The house on Johnson Lane was not just a house. It was the house where Grandma and Grandpa lived, where there was always an open bed, homemade goodies in the freezer, where shelves and walls were lined with cherished keepsakes and tokens of our heritage. It was the house where Larsons, Ericksons, and Becks gathered for shared meals, favorite songs, Ole & Lena jokes, silly string wars. It was the house where we worked together to make lefse, donuts, and pies. It was the house filled with outdated wallpaper, carpet, and light fixtures that I will always remember.
Those 4 walls contain more than just a house. It was a home - not just to me, but to an entire family. And while I may get teary at the thought of saying goodbye to that home forever, I know that my treasure is not here on earth, "where moth and rust destroy" (Matthew 6), but in heaven. I will keep clinging to that truth while I allow myself to mourn this loss. I think that letting this material thing go will be one important step in the process of eventually saying goodbye to one of the people who made that home so significant.
The house on Johnson Lane was not just a house. It was the house where Grandma and Grandpa lived, where there was always an open bed, homemade goodies in the freezer, where shelves and walls were lined with cherished keepsakes and tokens of our heritage. It was the house where Larsons, Ericksons, and Becks gathered for shared meals, favorite songs, Ole & Lena jokes, silly string wars. It was the house where we worked together to make lefse, donuts, and pies. It was the house filled with outdated wallpaper, carpet, and light fixtures that I will always remember.
Those 4 walls contain more than just a house. It was a home - not just to me, but to an entire family. And while I may get teary at the thought of saying goodbye to that home forever, I know that my treasure is not here on earth, "where moth and rust destroy" (Matthew 6), but in heaven. I will keep clinging to that truth while I allow myself to mourn this loss. I think that letting this material thing go will be one important step in the process of eventually saying goodbye to one of the people who made that home so significant.
February 21, 2011
Snuggles, Anticipation, and Choices
After one week away from work, I sat on the couch this afternoon savoring my snuggle time with the sweet, sleeping baby boy in my arms. As I thought about the next few days of my life, I realized that I am stumbling headfirst into an incredibly agonizing unknown. I like knowing what is going to happen. I like having all of the answers. That is when I feel safe.
In the past few weeks and months I have learned (and re-learned) a few lessons:
Tomorrow, I will be spending the day at the hospital with my parents while we await answers and relief for my mom. Wednesday, I will be helpless to do anything but pray while baby M has surgery to repair the hole in his heart. I cannot stop, fix, or prevent any of the hardships that have or will come. I cannot promise myself happy endings without some struggles along the way.
I can choose to hope that God will be with those I love as well as myself. I can choose to remember that "the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end" (Lamentations 3:22).
In the past few weeks and months I have learned (and re-learned) a few lessons:
- My feelings are a legitimate part of my existence that need to be acknowledged, not bottled up. Not so easy when the first 20 or so years of your life were spent mastering the art of buried feelings.
- I am not self-sufficient. The introvert in me wishes I could travel the rough patches of life on my own without having to rely on anyone else. If I don't have to rely on anyone else, then I can't be disappointed, right? Then the voice of Truth cuts through my pride, usually via the Psalms, and reminds me that I need hope, strength, counsel, love that does not come from myself but from God and the friends he has blessed me with.
Tomorrow, I will be spending the day at the hospital with my parents while we await answers and relief for my mom. Wednesday, I will be helpless to do anything but pray while baby M has surgery to repair the hole in his heart. I cannot stop, fix, or prevent any of the hardships that have or will come. I cannot promise myself happy endings without some struggles along the way.
I can choose to hope that God will be with those I love as well as myself. I can choose to remember that "the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end" (Lamentations 3:22).
January 15, 2011
A Synopsis of My Life Consisting of Varied and Succinct Thoughts
You know you live in Minnesota when you walk a mile over snow-packed sidewalks on a brisk winter evening...and LIKE IT.
Status symbols have a frustratingly overwhelming influence on Americans, myself included. Sometimes it seems like the only way to really break free would be to move far, far away. Who's with me?
Our lives have been built around the ability to drive anywhere in our own vehicles. Get a nice house in the suburbs, take the freeways to work, go to a church half an hour away, buy a month's worth of groceries at once...you get my point. This makes my desire to become a bicycle commuter slightly more challenging.
During my annual crocheting binge, I discovered that I have been crocheting the wrong way. Probably explains why my previous projects have been so difficult.
Someday, I want to dive off a cliff into a beautiful blue ocean. One thing stands in my way: I am almost 24 years old and I don't know how to swim.
My taxes are more complicated than ever before this year, but I think I'm going to do them myself just to show the people that charge too much money to do it for you.
Saturday Night Live makes me laugh. Laughter is good.
Baby M got an awesome new toy...if you press all 6 of the instrument buttons then it plays each instruments' part of a classical song! Unfortunately, I am more entertained by this than the baby.
An hour of my morning was spent studying for book club at Panera with a cup of coffee. It was like being in college again - I loved studying in coffee shops!
For some reason, Roseville never gave Victoria Street sidewalks. Combine a lack of sidewalks with poorly plowed snow and fast cars and you get my slightly unnerving one block walk from the bus stop to work. Drivers of Roseville, thank you for not running me over...yet.
Status symbols have a frustratingly overwhelming influence on Americans, myself included. Sometimes it seems like the only way to really break free would be to move far, far away. Who's with me?
Our lives have been built around the ability to drive anywhere in our own vehicles. Get a nice house in the suburbs, take the freeways to work, go to a church half an hour away, buy a month's worth of groceries at once...you get my point. This makes my desire to become a bicycle commuter slightly more challenging.
During my annual crocheting binge, I discovered that I have been crocheting the wrong way. Probably explains why my previous projects have been so difficult.
Someday, I want to dive off a cliff into a beautiful blue ocean. One thing stands in my way: I am almost 24 years old and I don't know how to swim.
My taxes are more complicated than ever before this year, but I think I'm going to do them myself just to show the people that charge too much money to do it for you.
Saturday Night Live makes me laugh. Laughter is good.
Baby M got an awesome new toy...if you press all 6 of the instrument buttons then it plays each instruments' part of a classical song! Unfortunately, I am more entertained by this than the baby.
An hour of my morning was spent studying for book club at Panera with a cup of coffee. It was like being in college again - I loved studying in coffee shops!
For some reason, Roseville never gave Victoria Street sidewalks. Combine a lack of sidewalks with poorly plowed snow and fast cars and you get my slightly unnerving one block walk from the bus stop to work. Drivers of Roseville, thank you for not running me over...yet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)