Reconnecting

One of the sweetest comforts after saying goodbyes is shortly thereafter reuniting with someone else. In the past two days I've had three little bubbles of happiness from reconnecting with people. Yesterday I made a couple of cards to send ahead of me to the Near East for a couple of my friends there, both with the promise of meeting again soon. Ironically, the drawings on the cards were based off of memories with my roommate who will be moving to Texas next week. 

Then this morning while randomly scrolling through my organization's list of contacts I came across a familiar name. Two years ago I attended a two week long conference in Germany before beginning my internship in the Near East. I was one of many Americans and she was the only representative from Finland.  We bonded over card games like Mamma Mia and Bohnanza, staying up late with the Swedish and Dutch girls. After the conference we both went to our separate destinations and didn't hear much from each other until I spied her name this morning. Needless to say, I excitedly sent off an email as soon as I spotted her name, only to find in her response this afternoon that she had been thinking of me this week. It made both our days.


This evening ended with a long conversation with a previous roommate who recently got married. It is good to know in the face of goodbyes that the best relationships will rekindle when reunited. It doesn't always stay the same as before and yet, my return to Minnesota has proved that sometimes it actually become stronger the second time around. These are the bubbles of joy that help buoy me these days.

Being Useful

I really enjoy being useful. I think most people do. This is one reason why I have earned the reputation in my house as the vacuum fixer. Now before you give me too much credit, the only problem our vacuums have had so far are snapped belts which is a pretty easy fix. (Thank goodness for that too because when you have five women living in one house the amount of hair that winds itself around the vacuum brush is ridiculous.) However, there is no denying that I get a definite feeling of satisfaction as I unfasten the bottom of the vacuum (all the while humming "Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy" from Once), decipher the issue, and come up with a ready solution. I like the fact that the way my brain works can be of use to those around me.

I think that is one reason why I love teaching oboe lessons. This week was the start of fall lessons for two of my students and it was actually bittersweet for me, which came as a bit of a surprise. Not so much surprise that I felt a little sad -- it will be my last semester teaching them so that part makes sense -- but more that this out of anything in my life right now would bring that emotion out of me. I think it comes from the thought that I will be replaced, which is a bit of a pathetic commentary on my pride, and the feeling is especially keen because I have invested so much personally into my students. As their teacher I have adapted to each different personality and level so that I can be of most use and help to them while they learn. I will certainly miss them as people (one bright & talkative, another blunt & sarcastic, and still another a sweet & intuitive) but I think the sting comes that in a few months I will no longer be of practical significance to them.

Incidentally, my initial journey to the Middle East two years ago was due to an online posting from a missions organization asking for people with a background in ethnomusicology. It of course caught my attention because, believe it or not, there really aren't that many postings from organizations looking for my particular set of specialized & obscure skills and training. Despite that tantalizing hook, my first feeling was actually one of "Really, God?" since in all the previous months of praying and searching for an internship I had quite deliberately steered clear of missions organizations (for reasons it would take too long to explain in this post). Yet obediently I went and one of my greatest joys during those three months was that of finding my skills useful in a foreign setting. Needless to say, last winter when I saw that the same organization was looking for ethnomusicologists again, there was much less hesitation before I began my pursuit.

...well, this post rambled a little longer than I originally intended...

Georgy

Well, there is only so much I can talk about transition and change when it doesn't factor largely in my life right now. Instead, I decided I would post a little bit about the other areas of my life.


This is Georgy. (Yes, I named my bike.)

Georgy and I met one afternoon in Illinois at a police auction three years ago. He wasn't the best of the bikes there, but we cast our bid and a mere $30 bucks later he became mine. We've had quite the history now (snow, thunderstorms, a car accident...) but what I think I enjoy the most about Georgy is how he helps me to enjoy the little things. Riding a bike to and from work slows me down to a pace where I can observe my surroundings. 

For instance, just the other day I cycled past a sporty car with glittery red paint. Perhaps I should clarify: the car glittered because there were actual sparkles embedded in the paint. It made me smile because the sparkles reminded me of a My Little Pony, or perhaps a car for Barbie & Ken or something. There was also the extremely large turtle that just sat by the side of the road (not to be confused with the medium-sized turtle that was smashed on the side of the road for weeks.) And finally, I cannot neglect to mention the old man on the sidewalk that suddenly swerved in front of me yelling "Yee-HAW!"


These are the little things I would miss without my friend Georgy. I'm actually not one to bike for fun much, but for that short span of minutes between my house and my office, it's nice to take a break from the quandaries of life and enjoy the quirks. (And she awkwardly works in the blog title...)

My hypothetical lawn chair

Nothing makes me forget that I'm leaving easier than having others move before me. The following situation has occurred several times now: I will be standing with one of my roommates as she chats with someone else (let's call them Friend 1) about her upcoming move. Friend 1 then cracks a joke about either forcing her to stay or teasingly pretends to guilt her into staying. I innocently laugh along and join in the fun. Friend 1 doesn't realize my blunder. But then my other roommate, the one whom I will be leaving, gives me a look and reminds me that yes, I am also one of Them--one of the ones moving away.


However, when I am counting months and my roommates are counting days, my perspective gets a little skewed. I feel like pulling out a hypothetical lawn chair and just basking in the time. This is not entirely an accurate representation of my reality, but without a sense of urgency the few lasts that happen slip by rather like a slow stream than a torrent of immediacy. To be honest, other than the logistical side of support raising and preparation, it seems odd to focus on my upcoming departure. There is still a lot I can do where I'm at now.