From the living word...

“We who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.”
-Hebrews 6:18b-20

Wow. That’s really good stuff, eh?

Bjerkaas Buffet

So, I went to Eric’s family’s thing in Ohio for Thanksgiving. (See previous post about being rejected by my own family.)

You can imagine, with my tendency to be a bit neurotic and socially awkward, that this did present itself as a bit of a reason to absolutely freak out.

(Eric pointed out that I say oxymoronic things like that—“a bit of a reason to absolutely freak out”—a lot. Huh. I’m just really funny like that, sort of. I guess.)

But I survived our Ohio adventure.

It actually was a really good time. I was surprised by how not uncomfortable I was, most of the time. Weird.

Meeting Eric’s brothers, sisters-in-law and parents was cool and all, but the best part was getting to know Eric better as I got to know them and watch them all interact.

You should know—all three Bjerkaas boys are sharp. They’ve got all these degrees and life experiences that far outnumber and outshine any of mine. I was the loser with just a bachelor’s. Not a masters. Or two masters. I felt rather boring and bland and basic, not to mention inarticulate. (Oh, and, don’t fret—the boys’ wives and parents were equally extraordinary… whimper.)

But, yeah, I got to learn more and more about how cool Eric is. Oh, yeah, which reminds me—not to brag or anything, but… I’ve got a pretty cool boyfriend.

Now you know.

And it’s hard to know, because he’s all humble and (in my conspiracy-theory-esque opinion) actually keeps his coolness secret. But secrets don’t last through a dozen or so hours in the car and five full-on days of togetherness. And they especially don’t last when family is around.

His mom was talking about all this hardcore stuff he did in the Army—stuff I’d never heard about before. (I do believe I have a regular John Wayne on my hands.) And his brothers would reminisce about visiting him when he was stationed in Germany, and about their gallivanting around Europe. And then Eric himself would do things like offhandedly mention his history of jumping out of planes.

And, even cooler, I began to see the unique strengths and… things… Eric brings to the family picture. (“Things” is my attempt to define some certain indefinable traits...)

And the biggest E-revealing moment?

When the brothers broke out this insanely nerdy Star Wars trivia game and Eric started to absolutely destroy them in it. I just sat there slack-jawed—stunned, really—as he pulled out all this ultra-geeky knowledge about movies I’ve never had the slightest bit of interest in. I’m talking obscure, obscure stuff. Wow. There just weren’t words to describe the shock/wonder that induced…

So, yeah, my boyfriend is a bit of a nerd. More than I even knew, apparently. But we both are nerds when it comes right down to it.

And, in some circles, that is also cool.

So… win, win.

And win, again—by having a really great Thanksgiving.

Thanks(giving) for the slight...

Did I tell you my parents didn’t invite me to Thanksgiving?

Yup, that happened.

A few weeks back, we were sitting in the kitchen with my brother Kev and sister-in-law Riss, and they established that Riss was hosting the big day at their house in Wisconsin, and my parents were invited. And the—my parents, brother and sisters, that is—went on to talk about details… and left me sitting there, befuddled.

I mean, hello? Not to take on a princess complex or anything, but—umm?—this is my first Thanksgiving back stateside and you’re not even going to acknowledge that I’m around? I wasn’t expecting fanfare or a throne or confetti, but at least an invite? Hilarious.

I intend to keep telling this story—with a growing theme of “poor me”—for years to come.

But, even though my parents ditched me, I knew Thanksgiving had to be better than last year’s. I made the mistake of opening up some of my posts from last year this time. Wow. What a different world. You can go back and read them yourself if you want, and remember with me what was going on in Lopitland then. But I can spare you the work by simply saying, compared to last year, the holidays have nowhere to go but up… ;)

 

Summon the Hedgehog....

(I actually wrote this little ditty a week or two ago, but then it got lost in the recesses of my computer... So you're getting it now... And, fyi, I'm still not really sure what this settling business should look like.)

If you know me (or, I guess, if you've been reading this blog long enough), you know I don't like to do things halfway.

In a leadership book I read, the author called it the "hedgehog approach" (or something very much like that). I like that word picture. It suits me. Basically, it's focusing on a certain thing and going after it with all your energy.

Right now, I'm hedgehogging on settling into La Salle-Peru.

My deal is, though, what does settling into a place look like? I've never really done it before. It was college—a new place each year and summer—then a quick stop in Decatur, then a whirlwind handful of months at home preparing to leave, then a mud/dung house (maybe the very definition of impermanent?) in Sudan. And then, bam, I'm here. And staying. (Yeah, still funny…)

So, what is settling in, exactly? I mean, outside of hanging picture frames. Or buying an area rug. Or stocking up on stuff in bulk.

'Cause that's all I can think of, and none of that is really an option. My mother sat looking at me mournfully the other day, when I dared to set up a little table for my computer in my nephew's room, which is what they call what is really my room—the nomenclature pointedly and purposefully unwelcoming. So picture frames are certainly out of the question.

I'm suddenly wide open to take responsibilities and make on-going commitments. To get involved. Yea even to get employed (Lord willing!). To belong—whether it is at a church or in a group of friends or at the Y or a Scrabble club.

And that's exciting. That's big. That's something to hedgehog toward.

But it's also a bit overwhelming and I don't know what it should look like here.

And that might be reason enough to concede to something as simple as picture frames and area rugs and jumbo-sized boxes of… whatever.