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Back in the archaic days of landline phones, we used to get a lot of solicitors at my house. Unlike most people trying to eat their dinner in peace, I found great joy after spotting company’s name on the caller id. “Wallside Windows” it read. “Hello, this is Wallside Windows, how may I help you?” I chirped into the phone. The confused salesman would mutter something about an extension problem and then hang up on me. Reverse prank calling was my favorite.Going to a Christian college, the word “vocation” was thrown around like candy at a small-town parade. You don’t need a job, you need a calling. A divine purpose. Which is great and definitely makes the job search process just as painful. 4 months out of college, and I’ve started to wonder. Did God just prank call me?
It’s the only logical answer to our little carefully laid plans starting to crumble. The 5 year-plan just became the plan for only 5 days and the dreams might be clearer but the steps to achieving them just disappeared.
But I just can’t believe that. I don’t think God calls us to one place or job just as a joke. I don’t think that we know our final “vocation” or “calling” at 21 or 22. It doesn’t mean that the stints before figuring that out (shout out to my non-peers: do you ever figure that out?) are any less valuable, purposeful, or ordained by God.
The next time we’re tempted to slam down the phone when it feels like “calling” just slid through our fingers again, think again. God has us here (or in your case, there) for a reason which we may or may not figure out and our God does not want to know if your refrigerator is running.
Category: God
The very first word that I spoke as a 9-month-old wasn’t so much a word as it was a phrase:
“Hi there.”
Evidently, I skipped over the basics of “Mom” “Dad” “Sis” and “ball” and went straight to informal greetings. And I’ve been introducing myself every since.
I met my wonderful and recently wedded friend by randomly introducing myself at a Swing Club because she vaguely looked like a girl from high school that I didn’t even know that well but the “soul rejoices in the familiar.”
I met my recently wedded husband by introducing myself in line for a freshman informational meeting because, hey, he was cute, in my Old Testament class, and clearly interested in leadership. Can you say spiritual leader spouse material?
Don’t worry, I just thought he was cute at the time.
A few weekends ago, I headed back east to see that dear friend get married. Waves of nostalgia 
and longing rushed over me as I gazed over neat fields of Lancaster corn and farms. Was it really last summer that I lived and loved here? Why did we move to California?
I was caught between two Lands of Lonely. In Pennsylvania, I was with friends and families and humidity and all things home reminiscent. Yet I was separated from my forever love. At the same time, I dreaded returning to So Cal with all work and very little play and no friends. I started regretting all our decisions–except the marriage one.
But as I re-crossed the country for the 3rd time in two months, I realized that I’ve been looking for the wrong things. I’m searching for my childhood and college friends amidst strangers.
I’m going to stop searching for my past in the present.
Since May 15th at 7:00 pm, when I triumphantly handed in my last final of my Junior year, I’ve slept in 8 different beds with 2 more to go before I return to my bright raspberry creamsicle room.
I never expected to stay in (multiple) strangers homes, co-author and self-publish a childrens’ book, go to Boston, or take up kickboxing during this past 3 months span.
Through a series of conversations, packing up and moving out, getting caught in the rain (always), making friends at the Y, learning how to write (again), learning about what makes a family, Skyping Siberia, and waiting tables at barn weddings, I finally picked up on God’s creative ways of teaching me to love better by:
Loving Myself Less
I’ve always had a surplus of confidence, allowing me to walk into almost any situation with the assumption that I will not only learn quickly the necessary skills to thrive, but that I would come up with a better way of doing things. Being an intern for HOPE International, an excellently run organization with competent leadership and a vision way beyond my overly confident self, was incredibly humbling and refreshing. I was valued for my skills but expected to stretch myself and learn from those around me. Not hard to do, when surrounded by some of the most intelligent and faithful servants of God I have ever had the pleasure of working alongside.
Loving Change More
Even though I’m leaving the summer with more to-do lists than I came in with, I’ve learned that plans not only can change on a dime–they will. It’s part of life and being able to embrace the unpredictability of not having the world under my control (who knew?) has released me from the impossible burden of always arranging everything just so.
[This book helped immensely.]
Loving Others Better
It’s only because I am a mere 4 days from seeing my fiance again that I can say that this summer has been a wonderfully growing experience in learning how to one day (soon!) be a godly wife and in the meantime, love and serve to the best of my ability. Of course, a month ago, I would have just whined about time zones and distance. Thank you to all who have showed me examples of Christ-centered marriages and shared their candid advice. More on this to come.
Loving Life Fully
Its a crazy adventure, but it’s worth living.
When I was young and foolish, I could not get my mind around traffic jams. Why were we just sitting there? Why don’t the first cars just move already?
Nowadays, I still don’t understand all the dynamics of a highway, other than a slight decrease in mph
creates disproportionately high increases in road rage. But I realize it isn’t as simple as a large block of cars, moving at the same speed. There are entrances and exits, merging highways, adverse weather, the occasional deer.
Not to mention drivers’ personalities and motives. While some are perfectly content to putt along, 10 mph under the speed limit, others seem to see driving on the highway as a real-life version of Frogger and get sick thrills from merging at dangerously fast rates, for no apparent reason. Some are rushing to an important meeting, others are dragging their feet in getting into the office. One has a sick spouse at home that they can’t wait to get back to, others have a sick spouse at home that they are trying to avoid for as long as possible.
I’m none of those. I’m a copy cat driver. I slow down when others do, speed when everyone else is, take the detour that the majority of cars are taking. This works decently well on the highway.
But I have a tendency to do so in real life too. We’ve been talking a lot about abiding in Christ lately at my internship. One of my key take-aways was the foolishness of comparing ourselves to other branches (believers) instead of the vine (Christ). I don’t know where they are going. I don’t know there personality, motive, experiences. I definitely don’t know what God has planned for them. So why do I spend more time trying to mimic the growth or avoid the pitfalls I see in others rather than nourishing myself?
Driving like that would end me up in Houston instead of Lancaster. Living like that means I miss out on my own journey and end up exhausting myself just spinning my wheels.
I have officially written as many drafts here as I have actual blog posts. The fact that this blog has has over 10,000 views also seems remarkable. Yet what really caught me off guard when looking back through this blog’s history, was that I started scribbling thoughts here 5 years ago.
I don’t feel like I am old enough to have been doing something for 5 years. I’m sure some hobbies can claim that longevity, but in my mind, I started blogging when I thought I had something worthwhile to say which is when I thought I had achieved some standard level of maturity and adulthood.
5 years ago, I was a freshman in high school. I knew nothing. But I also knew that I knew nothing, which helped a lot. I knew that I was the product of society and my school system and The Town and my family. I didn’t do much about it, yet I knew it.
But there were a lot of things I had no idea about.
I didn’t know that I wasn’t going to be an engineer. I didn’t know that I was much weaker in some ways than I thought. I didn’t know how many people that I would see die. I didn’t know how much brokenness there was in this world and how little I could do about it.
But I also didn’t know how much of a help I could be if I looked beyond myself. I didn’t know about the sleepless nights and tired days. I didn’t know how writing would simultaneously save me and destroy me. I didn’t know that God was truly my only Savior. I didn’t know that I would go to a Christian college, or even that I would still be a Christian at this point. I didn’t know about the incredible friends and memories I would find here. I couldn’t have anticipated the amount of mental strain I would have to learn to overcome. I didn’t know that I would see lives fall apart and God piece me together.
While I’ve never put much stock in who I am, I have an inexhaustible source of confidence of what can I can do. Even so, alone, I am nothing. With God, I am still nothing but I am with God. Being able to say that is more astounding than 5, 10, or 15 years of life-changing experiences.
To my rationalist mind, the worst judgement that I could pass on anything or anyone is: “That doesn’t make sense.” I’ve caught myself saying that a lot lately. For something to be good, it must be logical. Unfortunately, this rules out a lot of the best things in life.
Like love, for instance. Love doesn’t make sense. It is irrational to put someone else’s needs in front of your own. Likewise, emotions don’t make sense. They are messy and pointless, but they are what make people real.
War doesn’t make sense. Fighting with swords instead of words doesn’t make sense. Unfounded hatred doesn’t make sense. I don’t make sense.
I contradict myself daily, whether in word or in deed. I have unrealistically high expectations for myself and circumstances beyond my control and expect the world to fall into my preset categories and calendars and it never does. Some days I want to smile for no reason at all, and other nights I feel like crying into my pasta salad. And that doesn’t make sense at all, because according to my calculations, happiness is supposed to be circumstantial and pasta salad doesn’t need anymore salt and it really isn’t sad at all.
The world doesn’t make sense. It never has, and the stubborn desire of one 19 year-old girl won’t change that. The world is broken, which doesn’t help this confusion, but so am I. We must learn to live in this broken, senseless world regardless. Stomping my feet and scowling at the surrounding nonsense doesn’t help anything.
You know what also doesn’t make sense? Friends that love you when you are unlovable. Loyalty that lasts through the test of time and trials. A perfect God that loves an imperfect people. Beautiful sunsets that fall every night on a world that doesn’t deserve them.
No climax is reached in an instant. This choice to start living again wasn’t an arbitrary decision, although it felt like it at the time.
It was being questioned about my faith and the novel concept of reading a book for edification and the Friendly Freshman and a homework assignment about vocation, and walking in physical and verbal circles with a friend, and remembering that I do actually love people and want to spend time with them as a result.
It was the devotions at SGA and calling sin what it is and a new insight into the relating of our time here and finally getting tired of hiding in my sleep.
It was a decision to grow and a few too many times of getting taken away by a mysterious train and finally getting the control of the plane off of auto-pilot. It was a screeching door alarm and exams getting moved and inconsistencies and someone always waking me up and realizing that none of that mattered at all. It was the decision to be happy when I truly was and the relief of not having to pretend to be happy to cover up the stress I wasn’t experiencing.
It was the realization that not only can I change, that I should be changing and mere survival has never been my preferred mode of life. It was recognizing that I have failed the people that I love the most but they are still here with me regardless. That I have so many improvements to make to be the person I could and should be by God’s directive and standards.
It was running until I thought I was going to die and listening to the same three songs over and over again and finding a healthy apathy about the things that don’t matter and an equally nutritional passion for the things that actually do.
It was changing the overwhelming need to be anywhere else to the desire to be here. It was a failure of cognitive dissonance and no longer having the patience to wait for my thoughts to catch up with my behavior.
It is mind over matter and living again.
A case study was done in the basement of the psychology department at Stanford University where 24 mentally stable participants pretend to be prisoners or guards in a mock prison setting. The simulation was meant to last two weeks but was ended after 8 days due to concerns about the prisoners’ psychological health who lost touch with reality.
This might be an extreme example, but if there is anything we are good at, it is playing roles. Even when we know that the role is completely false, it is only a matter of time before it becomes our identity.
Your role in life is shaped by the people you grew up with, the stories you were read as a child, the dreams that inspire you, your peers who surround you, the mentors that guide you, those that try to derail you, the culture that shapes us, and hopefully, the God that created you.
I’ve spent a great deal of time and energy trying to fight this reality. In my mind, there must be some way to rise above this scenario where everyone typecasts me into a character and expects a performance that follows their script. I hope you have the complete awareness of self and external influences with the strength to view life from the clouds with your feet on the ground. I certainly don’t.
If I could be anywhere else or do anything else with my life than attend college in Western PA and run this race, I don’t think I would. I believe that we experience life in the way we perceive it be. Our location and surroundings are secondary to internal perspective. I can live life fully here, in Michigan, or across the ocean.
Even though life can easily become a game of make-believe, I am willing to live within that structure. I could waste my time trying to be completely independent from my situations and circumstances. I’d rather be aware of what is shaping the roles that I chase and make sure those sources line up with who God instructs me to be.
I’d rather know who I am becoming than fight an impossible battle.
I am consistently astounded by the friendliness of people I don’t know. Today, I have pinpointed why a smile from a stranger can make my day when nothing else can.
That person I passed on the sidewalk had no obligation to smile when they saw me. I wasn’t making awkward eye contact, I didn’t initiate the smile, and they didn’t feel a need to greet me because I’m their lab partner’s sister’s roommate’s neighbor. We were strangers until the smile.
I am consistently delighted by Sundays. Some of my friends have dedicated themselves to doing no work on Sundays in honor of the Lord’s day, and I respect them very much for it. For me, Sunday is a wonderful day to not have the pressure of five meetings in the afternoon and two exams and one quiz during the day. It is a wonderful day to start with church and allow myself to be by myself or with others or spend a few minutes doing nothing or getting work done so I can thrive and not just survive during the next week. Rest is highly underrated. I always insist on wearing a sweater on Sundays.
Sweaters mean comfort and peace and contentment. Sundays are a good reminder of what every day should contain.
There are some words that I consistently get mixed up. Depends and matters. Affect and effect. (does anyone get that one right?) 11 o’clock and 1’oclock. (I might alone on this one…)
Thermostat and thermometer.
It’s not that I don’t know that there is a difference between a thermostat and a thermometer, I just can’t remember which one is which at a moment’s notice. The difference is huge though. One sets the temperature to what you want it to be, the other just records things “as is”. The same goes for joy and happiness.
Joy is not conditional on the test you just received, if someone looked at you funny, or if the weather is nice outside. Happiness can be a conditional emotion. It’s too variable and easily affected to be depended on for any type of self-evaluation.
Joy is a conscious decision. It goes hand in hand in contentment but steps up the game a bit.
Joy is rejoicing in the things that don’t change (i.e. God’s love for us, salvation, undeserved grace,etc…)
Joy is built on a peace that is derived from God, not simply an absence of troubles or drama.
Joy is a gift and a goal. It is not earned. You don’t have to buy 32 boxes of cereal and mail in box tops to receive it. It also isn’t going to be parachuted from a magical Joy Jet and land in your lap. It must be pursued and sought after and protected, because joy is easily stolen.
It can be a daily struggle to be consistent in joy. It’s far easier to keep checking the thermometer because there is nothing you can do about the weather. Choosing joy takes intentionality and effort.
For me, consistency is more of a curse than a struggle. There is always a large part of me that stays the same no matter what is going on around me. This works greatly for me in my favor as it tends to neutralize the possibility for anger or disappointment or frustration or stress. Yet being consistently apathetic is like setting your thermostat to 60 degrees and never changing it. There is no value in that, unless you like wearing three sweaters at the same time all the time.
Today could have been a lukewarm day. There was no reason for it to be a bad day, however. Mediocre didn’t seem like a favorable option either. Sticking with a good day felt like settling since I am alive today and have a God that loves me and am surrounded by so much beauty. Today, I have decided to set my thermostat to 80 degrees and leave it there.
If I can be consistently unconcerned, than I may as well be consistently joyful.
Chloe J Sayers 