Faith
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Like Yarn Unraveling…
I seem to go through writing spurts. Times when I feel like I could write everyday and times when I feel like I have nothing to say that even I would want to read. This has been one of those times when I pretty convinced even my mom would not want to read my writing, and she reads everything! So the question becomes- how do I get out of this slump? For today, I decided I would just write. I am not going to worry about writing a post that will attract multiple readers or even impress my mom, instead I am going to write. Because writing is my soul-food. It is my outlet. This blog is a corner of the world that is mine. It is my canvas, my therapist, and my anti-depressant. (Especially as the weather lately has been less than conducive for running) So here goes..
Life, I am convinced, is the greatest teacher. I have learned more from simply living life then I ever learned in my textbooks or from my professors. The day in, day out decision-making processes that direct our every move are often the greatest teachers. However, those day in, day out decisions can also be the source of the biggest mistakes and the deepest hurts. One simple conversation, one wrong yes or no, one misplaced affection and all of a sudden it feels as though life is spinning out of control and unraveling faster than you can roll up the yarn. Sadly, sometimes it is not even our fault, sometimes it is the result of another person’s wrong yes or no, their misplaced trust, or careless words. So what do you do? How do you pick up the pieces? And perhaps how do you even determine which pieces to pick up? I am convinced sometimes things are best left in the past. Sometimes the yarn is best left unraveled for now. And sometimes in those moments, we see life most clearly and learn the biggest lessons.
As I have spent the past few months processing and transitioning, I have surely made my fair share of mistakes. I have hurt people I did not mean to hurt and surely left a wave of careless words and perhaps poor decisions in the wake. The thing is, going from living on a 14×5 mile island to living in a city way bigger then that, in a state even bigger has left me feeling a bit lost and out-of-place. Perhaps even a bit voiceless. Sometimes I think my attempt to be heard, to be known, to be included got lost in translation. And in the midst, I have been left feeling lost in the translation. And in that I lost some of my footing, lost the solid ground on which I was so sure of two months ago. Lost the motivation, determination, and discretion that I usually hold so strong to. With any such feelings, there comes a point when action must be taken. When I have to stand up, dust off the dirt, and move forward. It may be easier to sit in the dirt and cry, but really all I am doing then is making mud. And mud doesn’t really do anyone any good.
Where do you start? I vote at the end of the yarn. Perhaps first you need to cut off some of it, but then with each step forward, each decision made, each lesson learned, slowly the yarn starts to become a shape. It starts to be more than a pile of yarn. It becomes the thread of our life. Because each mistake, each hurt, each season of feeling lost is not in vain. They build you, grow you, and bring wisdom with them that ensures next time, you will attempt to handle the situation differently. That next time you will go with your gut or pray harder or ask for counsel. I know that my season on my island has ended. And now a new season of a job, graduate school, and a settled life has begun. And each new season brings new challenges, new experiences, and new memories. Therefore, I will pick up the pieces that should be picked up, leave the ones behind that are better left in the past, and move forward where I am. It is all part of growing up and as I leave my early 20’s and enter my mid 20’s, I am learning that sometimes growth hurts and sometimes life spinning out of control can be the exact thing that brings everything back into focus.
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Being Brave Everyday
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Just a typical Saturday spent jumping out of a plane
Yep, that’s right.
I jumped out of a plane. At 10,000 feet in the air.
This girl who still does not like to ride in an elevator. Who still will not ride a roller coaster that involves standing up. And who still gets scared of the dark sometimes rode in a perfectly good airplane up to 10,000 feet and then jumped out. Not to worry, I did not jump out alone. The guy strapped to my back had done this oh around 3800 times. I had nothing to worry about. And quite frankly, I was not really that scared. There was a moment when I was sitting in the plane that I was thinking, “what did I get myself into???” But then we got to the edge of plane, he said “Ready, Set, God,” and that was it. I was flying through the air.
UMMM.. COOLEST THING EVER!
60 seconds of free fall which felt like a lot longer and then whoosh.. the parachute went up and it was smooth sailing. It really felt like you were flying. And I love looking down from an airplane and seeing all the tiny houses and cars-odd I guess, but it is one of my favorite parts of flying. Even cooler to not have a huge plane enveloping you. As we slowly floated back to earth, I was relaxed and enjoying the view, totally not ready for it to end and as I landed safely back to earth, I was instantly envious of the birds. Being able to fly must be the coolest thing.
Jumping out of a plane 10,000 feet up in the air also causes you to reflect. Well, ok, most anything I do causes me to reflect because I tend to live a crazy life and jumping out of planes is just not something that everyone does. Nor even wants to do. Kinda like moving to an island or running a half-marathon. But as I landed safely back on the ground, I was reminded once again of the importance of walking by faith. I had to trust that the parachute had been correctly packaged, that the jump instructor knew was he was doing, and that he would land us smoothly so as to avoid a broken leg (ironically my biggest fear as I am currently without insurance)! And then once I was assured of all those things, I had to actually jump out of the plane. Sure most people believe that the parachute will deploy and the guy strapped to you probably does know what he is doing. But how many people actually put faith in that and jump of the plane? How many people get past watching videos or saying someday and actually do it? Maybe it is not jumping out of a plane. But what other obstacles in life are you staring at believing that everything is safe, but not putting it to the ultimate test by jumping. I can live my life as though I have faith, but until I act on that faith. Until I give beyond my means, live beyond what I believe possible, or pray bigger then I can see, am I truly living by faith? I can trust that God will do what He says, but until I jump, am I really trusting at all? Normally, I just stand there, on the edge, staring over, too scared to jump. But no more. I jumped out of a perfectly safe, decent plane with another human strapped to my back and I 100% trusted that I would land safely back on earth. How much more should I be able to trust that God has my best interests in mind?
What about you? What “planes” do you need to jump off of? What areas do you need to acting on the faith you claim to have?
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Communion as a Community
Somewhere along the line in church history we started to treat communion as a solemn, individual thing to be done in church services with soft music playing in the background to provide an atmosphere of silence and introspection. Many well-meaning churches still practice communion in this way and while there may be evidence for them to change, status quo says many will not ever give second thought to this practice. However, as I have spent some time studying church practices and the history behind them, this was one that always bothered me. When you look back at the early church, you never see them practicing communion this way. It was always reverent. It was always solemn and holy. But it was also always surrounded by a meal and the church and community and praising. It was not this individual thing done in five minutes at the end of a church service. It was a celebration and a remembrance of the body of Christ that was broken for them.
As one author writes, “Communion is not an individualistic matter; it is a body matter. We commune as a body; we come to the Lord’s table as a family. This truth is bound up in the biblical symbol of the one loaf and the one cup. “Because there is one loaf,” Paul writes, “we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf” (1 Cor. 10:17, NIV). This body dimension of communion tells us something about the mood of the meal as well. Communion is often taken in a somber mood of dismal introspection as we focus on the death of Christ. But could the proper context be one of celebration? If a shared meal were part of our communion together, it would seem so. We read in Acts that the first Christians “broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts” (Acts 2:46). Communion was an occasion of sharing with the saints and celebrating the forgiveness found in Christ.” (Mattison*)
Last time I checked, a sip of grape juice and small cracker did not constitute a meal. And rarely does the practice of communion spark excitement in me. Usually I am annoyed because it means church is going to go longer than normal. I know this is not the right response, but I am probably not alone in this feeling. However, I went along because who am I to challenge age-old church traditions. Even if those traditions may be based not in scripture, but in simply that-tradition. Until last night.
My small group and several other small groups part of my church got together for a meal and….communion. Instead of doing it on Sunday mornings, the church philosophy is to do in communal settings. Such as last night. Let me tell you, it was probably the least silent communion I have ever had. It seemed like there was at least one kid for every adult in the room. But we gathered, ate, sang, and shared communion in community. With babies, kids, and people from all different walks of life. We worshipped together and broke bread and spent the evening remembering the precious blood spilled for us on Calvary. You can argue it was against tradition or that it is un-biblical, but I will tell you, that communion had more meaning than any I have partaken in over the past several years. As I looked around the room, I saw a group of people devoted to Christ and devoted to each other. It was a family. They are the people who have your back, that encourage you, that help you grow, and that push you to a more intimate relationship with Christ. And they are the people who will share a meal and communion with you in the same breath and view as a holy intimate event.
I believe this is one thing that sets my little community apart. That makes it feel like a little more of a community and a little less like a church. While I am thankful for the Sunday morning worship and teaching, I was humbled and convicted over the heart of the people I saw last night. The heart that says “I am here for you” and the heart that desires to see God reach people who may not have ever given Him a chance. It’s part of why we do communion as a community and not as a part of our service. And its part of why I have become so instantly drawn into a group of people on the surface I have little in common with. I may not be married with kids, I may not be a long time resident of the west side, and I may be years younger, but when you meet at the cross, those things simply do not matter. The things that do were evident last night. And perhaps now I may argue that this is how communion should really happen. In community. At the level ground of the cross. Beside people you live life with. Not strangers you sit by on Sunday morning.
*http://www.auburn.edu/~allenkc/openhse/communion.html
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Skydiving
It’s official.. in the next month I will get to check two things off my bucket list.
The first, run a half marathon. Training is going great and I will for sure cross the finish line!! (More on this later)
The second thing and point of this post is….. SKYDIVING! Yes, you read that right. I am going skydiving.
This is a true test to the fact that I am an adrenaline/adventure junkie as I really do not like heights. However, the thought of jumping out of an airplane 12,000 feet up in the air makes me so excited I want to squeal!! It is my early birthday gift to myself. In celebration of living 25 years and because from the looks of it, year 25 will be rang in single, I am embracing life to its fullest and doing something I have always wanted to do. I mean, I have to keep life exciting as I am no longer planning trips to Bali to ride elephants or snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef on my Spring break. Ahh.. the life I have lived!
Life is great and I am so in love with it!! 🙂
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Lemon Shake-Ups, A Harley, and Jesus
Some dear friends of mine just bought a new house so Saturday night I went over to see it and see them. I hadn’t seen them in over a year, but we used to be neighbors and they are amazing people. Not to mention, she is an awesome cook! After chatting for a bit, we decided to head down to the riverfront where a friend of theirs has a little lemon-shake up stand. First of all, lemon shake-ups are quite possibly my favorite things in the entire world. That is the only thing that will ever entice me to go to a fair or street festival. And I love supporting people doing out-of-the box type of things. Like starting a lemon-shake-ups stand.
We got down there and bought our lemon shake-ups (which were amazing) and were standing there chatting. I am increasingly amazed at how blessed I am to have such wonderful friends in my life. Not only that, I am thankful for how uniting Christ can be. After chatting for a few minutes, one of my best friends walks by with a group of her friends from church. Our little party turned into a much bigger party. I have not ever seen a group of peopel so instantly mesh. It was like we had all been friends for years. We laughed, cried, prayed, and sang together for a long time. If you looked at our little group, we were as different as they come. In just about every way. Single, married, young, old, and a wide range of church affiliations involved. On top of that, we ran into a Harley rider who was one of the most on fire people I have met in a long time. He preached Jesus like it was his job. (which ironically it is all of our jobs, but still) I remember sitting there at one point thinking, this is how it is supposed to be. A group of seemingly random, un-related, and drastically different people coming together to encourage and support each other. In the middle of downtown. I made some amazing new friends. I connected with some amazing older friends. And in it all, realized that I am increasingly growing weary of so much of the bickering and agruing that goes on within the church. Christ commanded us to love our brothers and sisters in Christ and yet we pick fights, get involved in sticky and prideful church splits, and judge people because they don’t do this or do that. No wonder its so hard to get people interested in Jesus. We act nothing like Him most of the time. And yet, for two hours I saw Jesus. I saw him in a girl ministering through selling lemon shake-ups. I saw him in my friends who used to cook for me and who welcomed me home with excitement. I heard him in prayers, laughter, and conversations held between people that have little in common. And I saw him in the way in a few short minutes people lives’ were exposed to the gospel and to a group of people who lived like it was truly the best news you could ever hear.
This is how the body of Christ should function. This is how I want to function. I want to be a life that allows other people to see Jesus. Not see a church, a ministry, a brand. But one that displays the love and compassion of Christ. Because really, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters anyways.
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Spend and Satisfy
And if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. Isaiah 58:10
Darkness cannot overtake light. Only light can overtake darkness. Think about it. When you walk into a dark room, you turn on a light and the light rids the room of darkness. The only way for the darkness to return is to remove the light-it cannot automatically return. We are living in a dark world. Poverty. Injustice. Death. Trafficking. The numbers are overwhelming. The statistics numbing. The stories heartbreaking. And in the midst of that darkness, we are called to be the light. Did you hear that?? We are called. WE. US. You and Me.
God is continually breaking my heart for the things that break His heart. The things that used to be so important are fading in the light of what God views as important. And last night, as I sat in a concert focused on fighting for the freedom of the captives, I realized once again how broken my heart truly is. And how quickly life gets busy and we get caught up in this or that and forget the passions inside. I have been so wrapped up in transitioning home and now moving again, I pushed aside the things that I am so passionate about. Partly because I didn’t know what I could do. I know God has a specific purpose for giving me the heart that He has given me. It is not a burden many can bear. It is not a heaviness that many share. And yet, I cannot imagine being wrapped up in anything less then the heart of God and His passion for the world. It is a broken place. It is dark. And in that, I am called to be the light. For now, that calling is not exactly playing out how I thought it would. I want to be on the front lines, fighting the oppressor and loving the opppressed. But right now, God has me in the background. And it is here that I am growing. That I am learning how to love. I am learning how to be loved. I am learning that freedom is given to me and that I need it just as desperately as the truly captive. And I am being ever reminded that God uses normal, everyday people to accomplish His plan. I do not have to be anything but willing. And willing am I ever. Isaiah 58 is my chapter. It is the chapter in the Bible that I have clung to the past two years of my life. Everytime I am discouraged or frustrated, I remind myself that this is my calling. To spend myself on behalf of the hungry. To satisfy the needs of the oppressed. To break the chains. To tear down walls. To love. And I don’t have to travel to Africa or Asia to do that. I can do that today, right now, with the people I normally see. I will never be the same. I have seen and I have been changed. But because of that, I feel God is calling me. And I don’t know how He will use it, but I am praying daily that He will use me. That I be counted worthy to carry His cross and message to a dying and broken world.
I truly believe that everyone should be free to live. Free to walk in the light. Free to eat and free to run and free to dance. I cannot and will not ever be content in a world where so many are robbed of life. In that, I have found that sometimes the only way I can contribute is to pray and give. While my heart is longing to go, I feel God calling me to patience. However in that waiting, I am not sitting still. And whether you are called to go or not, do something. Anything. Donate your money or your time. Shop more consciously. Love louder. Live bolder. Be the light that so many are seeking. Pray for your kingdom assignment. Pray for those in slavery. Pray for your heart. Pray for the church. Give hugs. Hang out with the homeless.
Lord, may we open our eyes to the things that break your heart. Give us boldness in our walk. May we spend our lives on behalf of the hungry. May we satisfy the needs of the oppressed. It is for freedom we were set free. Help us to live and walk in that freedom. Help us to extend grace and forgiveness to those around us. Help us to be freedom to those who need it. Help us to the light to a broken world. A world that desperately needs light. May darkness never have the final say. May children be able to laugh, run, and be kids. May we be aware. Change us. Change our hearts. May we be spent on behalf of the hungry, oppressed, trafficked, and poverty-stricken.
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The Next Step Is…
I should know to never get too settled or make too many long term plans. God always seems to keep me in limbo just long enough to doubt Him and then BOOM! There is a plan that happens so fast my head is spinning and my emotions are trying hard to keep up. Thus the past week of my life. One big whirlwind of emotions. I went from having no plan to having a very defined, long term plan. And the craziest part-its not one iota of what I thought the plan would be.
Go back 1o days ago or so. Its a Thursday night. Always on the lookout for the next step and a planner to the core, a friend randomly posted a job opening on his Facebook so I sent him a message. I honestly didn’t think anything would happen with it. Surely I was not qualifed, they had already filled it, or some other excuse would keep me from landing the job. However, within an hour he had sent me a reply and called me the next morning to set up an interview ASAP. Let me tell you something. The job was the exact type of job I was looking for. An administrative assistant. Yes, I realize that most young girls do not grow up dreaming to be admistrative assistants, but after a year as a teacher I knew that one, I was not cut out to work with kids, and two, I love numbers, details, and paperwork. I don’t plan on staying an assistant forever; eventually I want to move up the ranks in administration. But you have to start somewhere. Problem is with little experience working in an office, I was not the top candidate for any job I had thus far applied for. Especially in this market. After I hung up the phone with him, I danced down the hall, jumping and pumping my hands in the air. When I realized my co-workers were watching, I felt a little silly, but still I had an interview. And that’s all I needed. However, immediately after my victory dance, I realized that I had absolutely nothing to wear to this interview. Teaching on an island did not exactly expand my business professional wardrobe. So that night it was off to the mall I went in search of a business suit. This was Friday. My interview was Wednesday.
Tuesday night, business suit in tow, I packed up and drove to the interview. The job is located in Evansville. Not my ideal location, but I figured no harm in interviewing and it was a good excuse to go visit two of my best friends! I got up Wednesday morning, had breakfast with a girlfriend, donned my suit and pearls, and headed off for lunch with my friend and then the interview. I was super nervous. Although I don’t know why because at that point I wasn’t so sure I really wanted the job. See, the job was perfect, moving back to Evansville, on the other hand, was NOT in my plans. When I left there a year ago, it was for good. (or so I thought..) The interview started and about half-way through when I had only answered two questions, my potential boss goes, “Don’t worry, Caleb already talked you up so that’s why I am not asking a lot of questions.” We chatted a few more minutes and before I left the room, he offered me the job! Just like that. I was in shock. I was seriously speechless for a minute. I figured they would interview a few people and get back to me in a few days. To head home with an offer in tow was not what I was prepared for.
So now came the deliberation. This was not another short-term prospect. This was a full-time, 8-5, salaried position. And he wanted me to start ASAP. My initial enthusiasm was hampered by the thought that I was going to have to give up my adventurous spirit and settle down. Thank goodness I have some great friends and an awesome family that listened to me and utlimately talked me into the job. Although really, I had already decided I wanted to do it, I just needed a little extra confirmation that is was the right next step. Everything had worked out so perfectly; there is no way this not the hand of God. And I had been praying so hard for direction and peace and a job that I thought I could do for awhile. Ironically, while settling down was my biggest fear, it was also something I was craving. I have moved at least twice a year for the past six years. I am ready to stop doing that. And I not married or getting married or even dating so there was no limit to what I could do with my life. I could literally go anywhere and do anything, but when it came down it, this was perfect. And ironically, since then the few things that I had been pursuing have since gone cold and I haven’t heard anything from anyone.
So today is Wednesday. It was been exactly one week since I was offered a job, accepted a job, and changed the entire direction I thought my life was going. It has been a very emotional seven days. I am not sure if I am excited, nervous, sad, or happy. In six days, I will be back in Evansville, starting a brand new job, and looking for a place to live! What an adventure right? 🙂 Never a dull moment in my life, and of course, I had just finally gotten my last box unpacked from Saipan!
In one week, I will be an administrative assistant with Northwestern Mutual. I will have a desk, a business card, and an e-mail address. Its scary, overwhelming, sad, and exciting all in one breath. Saying good bye to my dear friends at home when I just said hello is certaintly not easy, but I know that this is the next step in life. And plus, I don’t intend on giving up any chance for some extra adventure and will have plenty to learn with my new job!
What about you? What’s new in your life? Any exciting changes coming up soon?
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Brutal, but Beautiful
Crash. Burn. Flounder. Flail.
That most accurately describes my transition back to life here in America. I don’t say home because well, I am not sure where home is anymore. More appropriately, I am realizing that home is not a place, but an idea and a sense of belonging to wherever you are. And of course, this world is only my temporary home thus it will never truly feel like home. But back to the transition.
I have learned a lot about myself over the past six weeks or so. Starting with, no matter how hard I try, I just do not transition well. I was determined after the fiasco of returning from Africa that this time would be different. This time I would come back perfect and normal and smoothly transition back to life. Ha Ha Ha. The only success I can say is that it has only taken me six weeks to get to this place whereas last time it took me six months. The only other previous major transition in my life was a cross-country move and that took me a year to get over so I am making progress. I am growing as a person and each transition has helped to shape me into the person I am today.
Unfortuately, the biggest hurdle to transition, I believe, is finding someone, anyone who is willing to let you flounder a little and realize that it is part of the process, and not a direct reflection of your feelings towards them. That my irriating habits are simply an outward expression a deeper inner struggle. That my clinging to random and odd things, my inability to explain myself, and my quiet silence is simply part of the process. It is part of the transition. Not the fun part, not the easy part, but the part that is often biggest. My family was gracious for the most part and I do not fault them for their inability to understand. In fact I am so very thankful for them and can say that they are one of the few reasons it has only taken me six weeks to finally feel like my feet are back underneath me. They have been there and have forgiven me and loved me despite it all. They are my family. Outside of my family I am very thankful for my few close girlfriends that listened to me, cried with me, laughed with me, and let me vent when I just needed an ear. Throughout the past six weeks, I have learned a lot about who I am as a person, what is important to me, and the value of forgiveness, love, and grace in relationships.
Life changes when you leave. People move forward and make new friends and establish new traditions and memories. And you do the same. I made new friends, experienced new things, made new memories, and spent a lot of time at the beach. Then all of a sudden you come back. And you aren’t the same and no one else is the same and relationships change. I believe it is then that you discover the true meaning of friendship. That you discover the people in your life that are permanement fixtures and the ones who were temporary. You find that some relationships you thought you could count on are the ones that leave you the most broken in your vulnerability and the ones that perhaps faded while you were apart are now back, stronger then ever. That you pick up the phone and it seems like you talked yesterday. Or that you pick up the phone and realize that you no longer have anything to talk about. That life has taken you different directions. In those moments, transition can be the most brutal and can also be the most beautiful. I got both ends of the spectrum. Less then a week after arriving, I lost the one relationship I thought I could count on. The one person that had been there throughout the last few months and who I felt I desperately needed in this time of transition. They, on the other hand, decided that indeed this was the time to break ties and leave me to my own. I was heartbroken, depressed, and felt more alone than I should have. For in the losing of one, I gained far more. I reconnected with several friends that I love more dearly then words can express. I was able to spend more time with my family and I learned that sometimes it is only through brokenness that we are truly made whole. It is often only in our darkest hour that we cry out Abba and we learn the love and tenderness only He can offer. I also learned that only in forgiveness can we ever move forward. I spent a lot of time assessing the relationships in my life and realized that the ones I truly valued were still right there and that I simply needed to forgive them and love them. That while my transition was difficult on myself, it was not easy on those around me either. So I placed all the pieces of a broken heart in the arms of the One who sees me as no one else does and let Him heal me. I forgave those around me who I felt had hurt me and decided to love and trust that God had a plan in all this. And I can say that today, the plan is starting to take shape. It scares me. Its new and unknown and nothing that I ever thought would happen, but it has all fallen into place so perfectly, I have to trust that it is right. And ironically, I knew that is how it would happen. I would settle in only to be unsettled again. God is teaching me the value of learning to accept and process change rather then fight, run, and argue with its necessity to life.
I will write more later on the specfics of the changes I have gone through, but for now I am thankful for the process. At times it was brutal, at times it was beautiful. And its not over. It is still a daily process. But each day gets easier and each day I am increasingly overwhelmed at the love and joy that surrounds me.
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See Ya Later
I HATE saying good-bye and I have done my fair share of it lately.
And I promised I would blog this week so while I am not sure how many people read this, I figured I should follow through.
Sadly this is not the post most were hoping for.
In the past two and a half weeks, my life has changed in almost every way imaginable. Some of those changes were anticipated, but some caught me completely off guard. They have all left me feeling very frustrated, overwhelmed, depressed, lonely, and often like an utter and complete failure. While I realize this is hard to understand, as I have been trying to process through all of it, I just haven’t felt like myself or like writing.
Thus for the time being I am saying see ya. Not good-bye, just see ya later! If you want to be the first to know when I am back at blogging sign up to get my updates or find me on Twitter. Until then best of luck and enjoy your summer. (although I hope to be back at writing long before summer is over!)
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The Longest Monday of My Life
Literally.
Thanks to the world being round, my Monday will officially last 38 hours. That is almost how much people work in a week, but instead of working 5 days, I will spend one very very long day traveling.
Here is how my 38 hour Monday will look:
Wake up 3:30am. Take quick shower and say good-bye to Anna. (probably a very tearful one!)
4:00am. Head to Saipan Airport. It will take me about 5 minutes to check in which leaves me 1 hr and 55 mins to sit in a tiny airport. Dumb airport regulations.
I will then spend the next 30 hours flying/sitting in airports to reach my final destination-Indiana!!
My stops will include Tokyo, San Francisco, and Minneapolis.
It will not be night for the entire 30 hours. Talk about weird. 30 hours of daytime.
Finally arrive home at 10:15 pm Monday. Same day that I left and by the clock only 16 hours later.
Waiting for me-my amazingly wonderful parents and my super awesome boyfriend 😉
Three words: BRING IT ON!