What’s My Age Again? (A thought dump)

An adage to the thoughts bouncing around in my brain right now.

LET’S GO FOR A RIIIIIIDE PEOPLE.

 

I’m 25 as of this last May. Every so often I have to do a little mental reset regarding what EXACTLY my age means.

What did I THINK 25 meant when I was 10? What about 18? What about 21? What about 23?

I’ll be blunt, I didn’t really believe I’d be one of the ones who had it figured out by then and HEY look at me now! I don’t lol and it’s honestly fine. For the most part. At this point in my life, I really don’t know WHERE the idea of stability and success by mid 20’s came from because no one really ever told us that as children? (at least, not anyone I knew) Just an assumed reality and social pressure we accepted as normal and strived to put in stock for these “leveling up” years? Someone knows the right answer to that question but it’s not me (:

 

LEADING INTO THE NEXT WAVE OF THOUGHT…

God has been inviting me to explore the word Integrity with Him. In that, He’s also been asking me to explore my vocabulary and examine word choices. Beyond singular words as well, but phrases, ideas, concepts. Basically God is inviting me to THINK more. Who would have known.

 

OKAY ANOTHER WAVE, KEEP RIDING, IT ALL COMES TOGETHER AT THE END…

I identify with a 4w3 on the enneagram and an ENFP on the Meyers Briggs and a hard hard external processor, if you’re into that personality stuff that’s a solid snapshot of some of my cogs and gears. But it’s definitely not everything. 

What it HAS been, and by “it” I mean the idea and concept of exploring the inner workings of your mind based on outside influence, behavioral patterns, etc., is a big help for me to find the roots of some lies I’ve been believing about myself for, like, EVER.

From the time I can remember being truly aware that other people have thoughts and opinions, I’ve felt INCREDIBLY socially awkward. I am so afraid of saying the wrong thing, not loving someone well enough or being rejected that when I meet people the first couple of times I have no idea who the person is that speaks or moves. Even people I’ve known for almost a year can still fall under this category.

WHAT THE HECK?!

You know those weird little tics we all have when we’re nervous? Mine, sitting down at least, is constantly moving the things in front of me or repeatedly drinking a drink after every thought to gain some semblance of control over my nerves. Look for it next time, it’s honestly painfully hilarious. 

I have been gifted an acute sense of awareness of other peoples feelings, so much so that it will leak into my feeling center and I’ll get a little notification bubble telling me there’s a strange emotion and I have to quickly discern if it’s mine or from someone else. Whether it’s a spiritual gift or just an insanely quick read of micro expressions, it’s still something that happens whether or not I want it to. This is relevant because it plays into my consistent social fears. If I can read emotions, then I can tell what someone is feeling, presumably, about me, and when that person may not be comfortable in being honest about thoughts or emotions, I’m now aware that words and body language may not be a true reflection. So, mentally, I’m faced with two options – try to fix the emotions, understand where I rubbed them wrong or maybe showed too much interest OR ignore the signals and try to move on and hope it happens naturally.

You can guess which of the two I go for. Healthy? Definitely not how I use it.

 

Here’s where age plays in, I have a story (: 

Setting: Hostel in Kutaisi, Georgia mainly run by men, probably in their 30’s

I’m sitting down with our SQL Brandon and we’re just chatting about embarrassing photos, you know, just typical things. We’re in a common area of the hostel, pretty central and we get told that it is now sleep time for the room we are closest to (the door is open…) So we shirk it off, lower our voices and continue on. Time passes and a new guest arrives and the workers all emerge from the same room, disheveled, and tend to the guest. As they are returning they tell us it’s time for bed, turn off the lights and ask us to go to our respective bunks. I didn’t even bat an eye, I barely even made a joke to Brandon about continuing whatever conversation was in play. 

As I was on my bed, I thought about all the times since January I have willingly obeyed, willingly followed, shied away, nervously waited and acted like a little baby duckling. Earlier in the day I had just got through explaining how fortunate I had been in most of my adventures that someone always takes the reigns with directions and the not so fun parts of logistics so I never have to really try when the situation calls for it. 

How old was I?!

This morning, more like afternoon, I stepped out of my bunk, stretched and came to the common area to grab tea from a large thermos. It was empty, a worker points me to the back and tells me the hot water kettle was in the kitchen. I give thanks and go back to start the hot water. 

I place a tea bag from a shared shelf in a double handled mug and I wait for the kettle to heat up. We are in the wildest of cultural mixes in between Central Asia, the caucuses, Europe and the Middle East. Kitchens are muddles with western cookware and foreign pots and pans that look like they have unique uses but far beyond my knowledge. 

The worker slips back into the kitchen, most likely to check on me, and He starts asking me about the tea bag I chose. 

I felt 15. I was a 25 year old American woman, with a man from Turkey in his late 20’s or early 30’s having a conversation in a hostel kitchen in Georgia as I’m snooping and talking with God. I didn’t have adult conversation topics, I wasn’t even sure how to ask a question. What could I ask that would show interest in conversation? Where were all the adults?! Where were my buffers?! 

This man was kind, He had done nothing for me to question his motives, but I suddenly became very aware of how young I had felt and how much thinking I hadn’t really done a lot of my life. 

We talked about gun control, and American media and views on terrorism. But briefly, neither of us really educated on the topics, just the only shared thought we probably could have had in the moment. He offers to make me Turkish pistachio coffee and I accept. He pulls out one of the strange small pots and places it on the flame and I watch as the coffee heats up.

“Do I stand in the kitchen?”

“Do I ask him more questions?”

“Will he think I’m only being friendly to get a free cup of coffee?” 

The moment passes, I come back to the common area to type my blog. And I meet my friend again. 

“Hey American girl!”

“Hello!”

He asks for my name once more then asks what it is I am doing. I tell him I’m writing and He asks if I also read. He then asks if I read people and I was taken aback. I’m alarmed considering what I’m typing about on here being just on that same concept, essentially.  He then asks me if I’m writing about him. Blank stare. Nothing weird behind the question but honesty. 

Then He asks me some more questions and as I half-heartedly laugh and give BS answers and he translates what I actually mean. I feel 7 again. Social constructs are different everywhere and here people are blunt. Yikes. My fears and insecurities and inability to be in control of a social setting resurface and here we are. Why am I so embarrassed that people are able to see what I really mean even when I’m just trying to be kind?!

I nervously look over my shoulder at my teammate working out behind the window I’m seated in front of for reassurance that I have someone nearby.

Now I feel 3.

My new friend then sat down to show me a funny video about a man doing a “wiggle wine” from America’s Got Talent and suddenly we have an inside joke.

We talk about politics and I’m agreeing with random things and disagreeing with random things and it all comes into focus.

My new friend is also 3 and 7 and 16. He is just a little kid like me, his opinions are a reflection of what he believe is wrong with the world and how he wants to fix it. How he wants to be in control of a social setting. He. just wants to seek the heart of matters without human frivolity. 

 

Ahhhhhh new perspective, yeah?

 

God is asking me to watch my words, my thoughts and to be honest and patient and step away from sarcasm. He’s asking me to look at phrasing and body language and knock down the wordly image I’ve tried to mold around who He created me to be over the years. He has been using every single social interaction I have been placed in ESPECIALLY the last two weeks to teach me something.

Molly, my teammate, and I are doing gut checks –  a moment or a thought or a question to check what we are really saying, doing or meaning instead of just letting things fly by because we don’t want to challenge ourselves or others. 

 

God doesn’t care about my age. He doesn’t care about what the world says I should be doing by my age. He cares about me following His path. But that doesn’t dispute the lack of safety I feel in the presence of only myself. 

This ties into the journey of this year because all of this impacts how I feel comfortable sharing the gospel to people.

 

Last month, I didn’t go a single day without telling someone about Jesus or without encouraging members of the body with a word, an image or a notion from Holy Spirit. It felt so normal, so natural and so RIGHT to be walking in step with everything God has placed on my heart. We had a host and translator that was saying yes to everything we were saying yes to it was BEAUTIFUL.

 

Now we are in a country where I have no translator, and I’m back to fearing how I should communicate the gospel at times when I can’t read the room, when I can’t figure out how to be calm or be communicative regardless of whatever emotions I’m picking up. If you want to know what to pray for and to know what my biggest struggle of this race has been it is confidence that the Lord will use me when I’m alone. That I don’t truly reflect Jesus the way I should and everyone knows it. 

 

Bringing those fears to the light every time they come up again now. It’s much less frequent than before, but when it hits it really hits.

I don’t feel 25. I feel about 16 right now. God is so loving and so patient in this lesson. 

Psalm 23 is our motto this month:

 

The Lord is my Shepherd [to feed, to guide and to shield me],

I shall not want.

He lets me lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside the still and quiet waters.

He refreshes and restores my soul;

He leads me in the paths of righteousness

for His name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the [sunless]

valley of the shadow of death,

I fear no evil, for You are with me;

Your rod [to protect] and Your staff [to guide]

they comfort and console me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

You have anointed and refreshed my head with oil;

My cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy and

unfailing love shall follow me

all the days of my life,

And I shall dwell forever

 [throughout all my days]

 

 

I KNOW there is something in there He will use to help me get a grasp on why I’m 16 in the kingdom lol until then I’ll just keep on wrestling with Him on what a life sold out for Christ truly looks like.

Just like we learned in our first couple of months, wrestling is just a different kind of embrace with the Father (: 

He is still good.

 

 

UPDATE: Now that I’m posting this about exactly a month after typing it, God showed up, Showed OUT and used that mantra to guide me through so so many things.

But, now you’re up to speed with what INNER workings are happening.

Stay tuned for one about the EXTERNAL portions of the race lol

 

Thanks for reading.

Christ is truly the answer.

 

My NEW team is currently in Yerevan, Armenia and we are experiencing quite a new style of ministry. Be praying for our energy and focus to remain as spritely as it was in the beginning, we’re all more on fire for Christ than ever before but our bodies have been lagging a little at times. 

I love you all (: