Blogging Fail

I clearly am not good at blogging, and definitely can't use time as an excuse because I have plenty of it right about now. I'm back home in the OC and still jobless, which means long hours at home knitting, reading, cooking with mom, doing chores, etc., as well as occasionally excursions to the grocery store and other exciting locales.

Not to say that life is uneventful - Europe certainly gave me a lot to think about. So much in fact, that I really felt unable to write anything about it while there, because it was all a jumble in my head, and is just now beginning to be somewhat sorted. It wasn't a dream vacation filled with beautiful old cities, wine, cheese, and chocolate - though the components were present - because life rolled on even in that context. I thought my culture shock going to Europe would be minimal compared to say, Fiji. But it was not. Europe is different from America, especially the Midwest (and California): it looks different, smells different, sounds different (I did get to practice my french though, which was fun), values different types of people and thinking, and sees life differently. And all these things combined to implode my world just a little bit. I started to think for myself about my priorities in life and how i spend my time, energy, and (albeit limited) financial resources). Suburban Christian life isn't always easy - those who know me can attest to the fact that I've had some relatively difficult times this past year - but I am becoming more convinced that our priorities are a wee bit scrambled. Why is the incidence of eating disorder and body dysmorphic disorder so high among women at Wheaton? (Disclaimer: I do love Wheaton, and think it's a great place filled with flawed individuals just like anywhere else in the world) Why the preoccupation with body image? What about the idols of academic success and showy spirituality? Is it just me, or are there more important things in the world? And I'm not just talking about social justice (which is important, when placed in its greater context of Christianity), I'm talking about the actual Gospel. It's been a paradoxical mix of depression and a huge amount of personal/mental/spiritual stretching and growth. It's hard to get out of bed every morning in my safe, clean home in Orange County to a day of pretty much nothing when all my priorities seemingly point in other directions. But it seems like paradoxes are always bundled together - why else would Christians, including myself, be asked to die in order to live? That's what it feels like I'm doing, in many ways.

Today I got to chat with a couple dear old friends who encouraged me, mostly unknowingly, to continue grappling with these thoughts and questions while remaining secure in the things that are secure: God loves me, even when I don't understand many, many things about him. I have only to look around, at the tiniest flower or the blazing sunset unfurled behind my house last night, to see that God is Creator, and has taken care with the tiniest details and moments and fine-tuned them to perfection, aesthetically and mechanically. My family and friends love me, and I love them. And our Creator is a gracious One, who knows humanity intimately, because He became human for our sake. So, to quote one of my favorite songwriters, Phil Wickham, because while I appreciate good writing, I am not myself a good writer:

"With every storm I face, I find a greater grace."