Let It Go, Let It Go!

Never have I ever been one to shy away from shamelessly singing Disney songs.  Anywhere.  At any time.  In a crowd.  Alone.  It matters not.  

And this Frozen theme song has kinda become my life theme lately.  

Within the last month…

I chopped off 11 inches of my hair, and colored it for the first time in 7 years.

I was involved in a car accident, in which my poor little Adventure-Mobile was tragically sandwiched and smushed (on the way home from cutting my hair, funnily enough).  

In the weeks leading up to the start of this rollercoaster, I had begun to think about how silly much of what I hold dear is.  

Why did I want to hold on to much of what was lurking around in the ominous, dark corners of my room?  

To wait for a rainy day, when I would have nothing better to do, than to organize those thousands of scraps of colored cardstock stuffed in a bag?  

For the possible happenstance of one of those incredibly rare days when I would magically transform into one of those crafty girls, who are Pinterest incarnate?  

Waiting for that one day when I would wake up incredibly motivated, with a suddenly creative mind, to begin to plan and assemble that adorable scrap book given to me when I was 10 years old?

I was lying to myself.  And I knew it.

I am not crafty.

I am not originally creative.

I follow and copy crafty things that other people have done.

And pretend that it didn't drive my perfectionist brain absolutely mad in the process.

I could live this lie no longer.

Too melodramatic?

The babbling thing again?

Sorry.

Refocus.

Continue.

I had begun to clean out, to "purge", a lot of what I had been unnecessarily holding on to for a while.  I had such a great feeling about finally simplifying my room, and my life, that I began to think about how distracting all the clutter had been.  

Now, taking things to a slightly deeper level, because I've finally had my coffee, and can mentally do so.

Do you ever think about how even the most valuable things in our lives, will one day hold no value?

I think that applies both to material, and sentimental things.

Things like pictures, little figurines, stuffed animals, birthday cards, lunchbox notes written on napkins, and old diaries, hold a priceless amount of sentimental value.  

But then there's the old phone cases that at one time you thought would be cool to hold on to, because it's proof that you did at one time own a flip phone, then graduated to a slider, the first phone that had a texting keypad….I'm shaking my head as I write this.

The nearly full box of old teenage magazines, that you thought would be hilarious to hold on to have proof for your children one day, that you were, in fact, obsessed with the Jonas Brothers.  

Don't dwell on it too long.  Just judge me quickly, and move on.

Scripturally, I always have known that it's wrong to hold on too tightly to material things, because in the long run, I'll leave the earth, and they won't come with me.  I think, maybe I always assumed this wouldn't be a particularly large problem for me, since I've never had an excessive amount of money in my possession at one time to buy and store up excessive stuffs.  

In the days leading up to the accident, I had had a conversations with my mom about how much I loved my car.  It's reliability, good gas mileage, and over cute-ness, were "perfect for me".  Then it got smushed.  Under a Hummer.  Cars ran over it's shattered remains, as they passed by the crash.  

Over a month later, I'm still not 100% sure why the Lord decided that I needed a new car, but the wise council I've been given from my mommy tells me that He's got something else new and exciting in the mix for me.  

My car was a good car.  And though it was unexpectedly taken from me, I am grateful.  Through all the happenings following the accident, i have been shown an excessive amount of love, and incredible kindness from my friends.  To say that I was touched, and blessed, is a gross understatement.  As tough as the last year has been for me, God has come through and shown me that I am loved, and I do have people looking out for me and my family.  

I felt so guilty for whining to the Lord, about how "lonely, and uncared for" I was feeling.  The Lord showed me how very wrong I was.  How even when I didn't feel like I was important or worth something, that He was still looking out for me, by gifting me with people in my life who would come through for me when I needed them mostest.  

Corny enough?

Thank you.

(Does a curtsy).

My short-lived feeling of renewal from my new haircut/attitude on life, was picked back up after the day of the accident.  It made me realize how much of an impact a compliment can make on someone's day.  Words, obviously, have the power to build someone up so high that they soar, or smash their smiles to the ground in a flurry of sadness (I think coffee makes me dramatic).  Words of Affirmation is my Love Language.  I take to heart, and internalize, and yes, excessively over-analyze, absolutely everything that people say to me; both positive and negative.  As a result of my preoccupation with words, I've always tried to be careful of my words.  And then, I wondered…Why don't we compliment more?  Each day at the shop has provided new opportunities to compliment, to build up, customers, both new and the usuals.  Maybe I'm just more aware of the opportunities.  

What a privilege.  

Compliment a stranger.  

Encourage a friend.  

To say nothing, and just offer a hug, when words can't do the job.

The lesson to "let it go" that I've been learning, is tough for me to apply to the negative words that I've had said to/about me in the last year.  But, since realizing the fact that I pay too much attention to negativity, and seeing the effect that it can have on my life (only if I let it, mind you), I've realized that lots of the people I interact with on a daily basis, are experiencing the same feelings.  But not many people take the time, or opportunity, to make them feel better.

So, why not try a little harder?  

Why not make it a habit to truly mean it, when you ask someone "How are you today"?  

As easy as it is to tune out when that question is asked as a greeting, what kind of difference would it make if we were to actually listen, and genuinely care, about what kind of day that person is having?  

I can remember on several occasions, when people have done that towards me, and the feeling of haven someone actually care enough to dig a little deeper than surface level, made enough of an impact on me to be memorable.

And for those few, "special", cases when your efforts seem to be rejected by a particular someone who is unaccustomed to sharing much about themselves, what do you really lose by still asking them, with the same genuine interest, about their day/lives/work/families?  

Maybe all you get in response to your "How are you today?", is a quick, habitual "Good, thanks" before they proceed to order their large, nonfat, no foam latte.  

At least you asked.  

Maybe eventually one of these days, you'll actually get a decent, slightly more lengthy, response.  Maybe they'll have a day coming soon, when all they really want/need, is someone to ask with true concern, how they are doing.  

Then again, maybe not.

But you've lost nothing, except the small amount of oxygen it took to ask the question.

In my daily interactions with the oh so wide range of people coming through these finger-smudged double doors, there have been quite a variety of personalities approach my register.  A select bunch, I've decided to adopt as my personal "projects".  

They will ignore my smiling greeting no longer.  

No more could I simply let them get away with rattling off their usual order, without at least truthfully telling me how their weekend was.  

I had had enough.

We simply had to become friends.

A few of these "projects" have, in time, given up on trying to avoid my questions with short answers, and in turn, have become some of my favorite customers.  

Now that I have strayed far, far, far and away off track of where I started, I shall now attempt to tie together these two ends of a very confusing, rambling, string of words.

For me, at least, I feel that the less clutter I have in my life (both emotional and material), the less I have around me to distract from where my time, and efforts, would be better spent:  investing in the people that I have been gifted to encounter, in my day to day goings on.  

So, basically, the new life moral I've learned:

Don't be so distracted by complicated clutter around me, that I miss the simple interactions placed directly in front of me.  

I'm out of words to ramble.  I shall say no more. 

Single Is The Song I Sing

So, Valentine's Day just passed. 

Yeah.

The coffee shop was quite bedazzled with pink, and hearts, more pink, and little cupid babies with deadly weapons.  My once comforting little espresso-scented home-away-from-home was now love-smothered by hearts aplenty, and contained a plethora of snuggly, starry-eyed customers, who thought cuddling while ordering was exactly what I came to work to see…obviously.  

Before I sound too bitterly cynical, let me back up a few days.

Actually, I'll probably still sound slightly bitter, but at least you'll have a better understanding/idea of where I was coming from, going into this Day of Decked-Out Hearts, and perhaps find some humor in the tale I'm about to share.

In the week leading up to Valentine's Day…

I found out my ex is planning on proposing to his girlfriend (who happens to be an ex-roommate of mine) in the not-so-distant future.

My co-worker began to share details about her upcoming wedding, and received several lovely littles from her "bae" that were delivered in-person to the shop, every other day or so.

Another co-worker just began a beautiful relationship with an amazing, grounded, godly guy…who happens to be a regular customer of ours, and he comes in to see her often.

My younger sister has not one, or two, but several young specimens of the male species, blowing up her phone daily (but she keeps her cool, is polite, and doesn't lead any of them on…they just don't get the hint. Gosh, I want to be like her when I grow up).

And then, this happened:

I thought I had met my soul mate.

Yes, he who loves Jesus, and coffee, and (eventually) me.  

In he sauntered through those finger-smudged glass double doors, selected a table, and opened his well-worn Bible to a bookmarked page.  After setting the rest of his books down, he took a brief glance at the menu, and walked to the register.  

Tall, with dark wavy hair, blue-ish sort of close to sea green eyes that were smiling as nicely as those perfectly aligned pearly whites he was flashing as he ordered his in-house latte with an added double shot.  He settled himself back in at his table, and proceeded to dive deep into spiritual, godly ponderings, and other things of a holy nature.  

Obviously, I assumed one of those deep considerings would be about how to properly "woo" me.  

I silently saluted him, and cheered him on in his efforts.

Then…it happened.  

His girlfriend walked in.  And joined him.

The end.

Tell me you heard the record warp, too?  I hadn't even noticed the singing angels, until "she" walked in and silenced them.

Oh, well.

But, it got me thinking.  Not about how to pray her away, or anything…those thoughts came later.  

But about how sad it must make the Lord that my immediate reaction when I saw a good guy come in, was to think of him as a "potential".  A "maybe".  

As if I'm constantly "on the hunt" for a "potential", and once I see something worth hoping for, my first response is to think of how to "catch" his special attentions.  Instead of looking at him as my brother in the Lord, someone to be admired and respected for his efforts towards godliness, I begin to think of how he can be made to notice MY godly qualities (which, obviously are few and even those need working on), so he can talk to God about marrying me ASAP.  

Where did this idea of a strict "marriage time-line" come from, anyways?

Is it society, as everyone says it is?  That "social norm" that's referenced so often, and looked on with such distain, by our Christian peers?

Is it really a "social norm", though?  

What does that term even really mean?

I don't exactly blame society in itself.  I think society, our "social" surroundings, may set a certain stride for things they want to be viewed as "right" and "normal", but do they really FORCE those norms on us?  

Isn't the choice to conform, or stand out, really still ours?  

Us, our own INDEPENDENT selves, with our own opinion-generating minds.  Don't we still have the ultimate say-so in what we think, believe, stand for, say, and how we portray those opinions through the way we live our lives?  

We have control over that, don't we?  

When did we forget that?  

When did it become so hard, and hurt so much, to be "different"?  

And why?

Because life is hard when you live in an imperfect world.  Yet, there is hope in that we are loved no matter what our struggles are.  

We are loved for who we are.  

How we think.  

What we believe.  

We have an amazing example to follow, of a life beautifully lived, purposed to be "different".  Thank goodness for Jesus, coming to be that physical example of spiritual perfection.  We can never repay Him for what He did & gave to us, but we can honor Him by modeling ourselves, our lives, in a way that would bring Him glory.

For me, that starts with not trying so hard to be like everybody else.

Do you ever think about what it would do to your psyche, if you were able to side-by-side yourself with "one-year-ago-to-the-day" self, and put it next to "today-you're-thinking-back-to-one-year-ago" self?  

What would seeing the difference make you feel, or think?  

Would there even be a difference?  

Would you be happy with your year, and the way you've changed (or not) the way you view being single?  

Would Last Year You, who was griping about still not having a significant other, be singing the same song as This Year You?  

Or would current you still have the usual complaints, and snarky little wise cracks, about singleness and how sappy and pitiful your Hearts Day would be as you watched The Notebook, ate ice cream straight from the container, while cuddling with your dog, who just happens to be the only "significant other" currently in your life.

I know I want to say that I'm one of those oober holy 20-somethings, who are still single and "just living their life for the Lord", doing all things right and spiritual, during this "waiting period" or "season of singleness".  But I'm not.

I wish I could truthfully say that I'm always "completely happy and content with where God has me right now".  But I struggle with that satisfied state of mind, daily.

It would be false to say "I'm so busy doing what God has set before me, that I no longer dwell on the thought of my future husband walking through the door at any second".  Because I definitely do think about it nearly every time a young, attractive, godly guy wanders into the coffee shop.

Do I wish I could be just like those girls my age, who are so caught up in doing God's work, that they hardly notice when Mr. Hubby-To-Be saunters into the picture?  Yeah, I really do.

Do I know that it's spiritually unhealthy to think about things that God hasn't given me yet, while I am simultaneously busy with the things He has gifted to me right now?  Yes, and that knowledge helps keep me in check.  

Do I know that God is a loving God, who forgives and continues to adore me each and every time I slip up and begin to idolize marriage and the thought of being loved by a man who treasures me and thinks I'm something special?  Oh  yes, and that is what gives me peace, calms me down, and motivates me to refocus on Him and do better each day.

God know the desires of my heart.

That's it.

That's the verse I quote to myself countless times a day, when I catch my thoughts drifting towards too much marriage-mindedness.  

And you know what?

It helps.

It helps so much.

The closing scene of the movie "Gladiator" shows one half of a close, and dear, friendship between two gladiators once imprisoned together, who is now processing the separation from his friend by saying to himself "I will see you again…but not yet.  Not yet".  

I will find myself loved in the way I long to be loved.  But not yet.

Lord willing, I'll have the family I long to invest in, love on, pour into, and raise to be good stewards of the life gifted to them.  But not yet.

I'll get to that point of peaceful contentment that I admire in those girls I so desire and strive to be like.  But, unfortunately, I'm not there yet.  

But I'm trying.  

God knows, I'm trying my darndest.  

And I have full faith, confidence, and assurance from scripture, that He rewards a heart that models (or at least tries really hard to resemble) His own.  In that, I find security.  In that, I feel loved more than I deserve to be.  In that, I trust my heart's girlish dreams to.  

In that, I place my hope.  

And so, I carry on.

Time for my second cup of coffee.

Introducing...Wait, What Am I Doing Here?

Well, I guess a cheesy, typical, girlie blog would befittingly open with a quote from a cheesy, typical, girlie movie…

"I am no one special.  Just a common man [woman!] with common thoughts.  I've led a common life.  There are no monuments dedicated to me, and my name will soon be forgotten.  But in one respect, I've succeeded as gloriously as anyone who ever lived.  I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and for me, that has always been enough." ("The Notebook" by Nicholas Sparks)

Now, although that last line doesn't quite apply to me yet (seeing as I'm still waiting for Tall, Dark, and Handsome to saunter into my life), the majority of those words just about sums me up.  I'm not really anything exceptionally special or important.  My occupation is nothing world-changing; I make coffee for a living.  And while I still have yet to find that one particular mate to my soul, I'd like to think that I've given a good portion of my heart to loving on, and investing in, those people who come in and out of my life on a daily basis.  To make a life-changing impact on every human I encounter is a stretch, but nonetheless I make it my mini-mission everyday, to make at least one grumpy person smile, say something happy, or talk to me before they leave the shop.  Since I'm a barista and taking a few hours to individually dive into the life happenings of each customer that comes through the line is a bit unrealistic and impractical (though some un-thwarted, determined souls still try), the opportunity to make those few connections with "the usuals" has proved to be a daily treat.  I look forward to their day-to-day updates on how their kids are doing in school, or about the family vacation they'll be taking next month, or hear the tale of the impatient person who cut them off of the road that morning.  

I love people.  

They fascinate me.  

In a totally  non-creepy way.  

I just find people interesting.

I'm rambling again.

Maybe the BABBLING Barista pseudo wasn't such a reach, after all.

Anyways, to circle back around, I suppose proper introductions are the usual way to start a conversation with someone new.  And since I'm a new person to you, and you're new to me, I reach out my virtual hand to you, and say "Hey".  Like my mini-bio says, I truly don't know what I'm doing here.  Maybe curiosity finally got the better of me.  Maybe my New Year's resolution to do things that I wouldn't typically see myself doing has finally decided to launch…a month after the year began.  Maybe I'd just to like to see if I'm any good at this blog stuff, or if I enjoy it at all.  So far, I have found myself smiling and slightly shaking my head at myself 4 times during this opening paragraph.  

What am I doing?  

I don't like to write.  

Like at all.  

As in zero amount of fun was ever a factor involved in my past writing experiences.

And yet, I'm still here.  Cue the eye-roll.

Like many other things in my life thus far, I wanted to try this on for size, until I don't like the way it fits, then I'll change my style and try on something new.  Something better suited for little, indecisive me.  

Similar to when I thought I was going to go to college and earn my BA in Music, only to realize a year into it, that I hate studying, testing, and spending time on things unrelated to music, and that I truly just want to be a mom when I grow up.  

Like when I taught piano for 2-ish years.  

Or when I got to play dress-up every night, and masquerade as a dance teacher for 10 months.  

Then, when I worked administrative at a different dance studio, for about as long as a pregnancy, that was cool.  

There was also that 6 month time frame when I up and moved to the mountains to teach an outdoor science program for all those awesome 5th/6th graders.  

I currently find myself back in the city, 20-something years old, living with my adorably entertaining family, working at a local coffee shop where I get to meet and talk with new and familiar faces all day, experiment with flavors to no end, learn the ins and outs of how a small business functions and can make an impact in the community, and at the end of the day, come home smelling of espresso and dish sanitizer.  

It's quite the glamorous life I live.  I have no complaints.

About that adorable and entertaining family of mine, they're basically the bestest group of peoples ever, and I plan on mentioning them often.  

Little Sis (The Kid, as she shall henceforth be referred to) is 4 years behind me, but in age only.  This petite little spitfire is going to take the world by storm, and has quite the jump on me already, though she's barely old enough to drive without an older, experienced driver in the car with her.  

Then there's Mama Bird, who is, and has been, all things a mama should be: godly example of a woman grounded in her faith, fixer of wounds (both physical and emotional), cheerleader, chauffeur, cook, teacher, therapist, friend, mentor, and secret leader of a leather-clad biker gang (but only when back-up is absolutely necessary).  Ok, maybe she's never admitted to the biker gang story…but I have my suspicions.  

And to complete the picture of my little family four-some, the Dad Man.  I have yet to meet a guy who comes remotely close to the level of amazing that this guy is at.  Which is also probably a factor in why I'm still single.  Anyways.  He is kind.  He is generous.  He is genuine.  He is self-sacrificing.  He is hard-working.  He is godly.  He is loving.  He is strong.  He is caring.  He is a provider.  He is a leader.  He's my dad.  And boy am I lucky.  

Add a couple poodle-ish dogs, and a random bird, into the mix, and that finishes up my family summary.  

I suppose that's all the introductions I've got for now.  It's the end of my first blog post…and I'm still not sure of what I'm doing here.  Maybe this blog will end up being more diary-esque than I originally planned.  Maybe it will, in fact, have some semi-important words said...or typed, rather.  Maybe we can just discuss books, or movies, favorite coffee flavors, fascinating people which sparked a certain thought, or the meaning of life.  The possibilities truly are endless.  There will be grammatical errors.  Many wordy sentences.  Foolish rambles are guaranteed.  But, I raise my decorated, in-house latte to you, and say, "Here's to you", for joining me on this virtual excursion I now find myself on.  Cheers!