Not. Okay.

I'm 29. Single. I live a fairly independent life, and I feel confident enough where it hasn't stopped me from traveling to new places and cities unaccompanied, Even so, I prepare myself for battle every time I go somewhere alone.

I used to dial 911 and keep my finger poised on the green "send" button. Now I have a phone app that tracks my GPS and will send my location to the police for an immediate response if I let go of my finger on my phone. I am angry I have to even have that app, an app I pay a monthly fee for.

I recently was walking a few short blocks to where I parked my car. Along the way, a man asked me if I knew if he was at the right bus stop and when the next bus would be coming. I took the time to look it up. He then asked me if I was single. I told him I was, but wasn't looking for anything. He said "it doesn't have to be anything, just something fun." I walked away. I am angry that just stopping to be helpful meant he could suggest sex.

When I was 13, I wore a baseball style shirt with the number 69 on it. I didn't know what that referenced. People in my grade did. I got made fun of. I never wore the shirt again.

I am scared to go for a walk or running around my safe neighborhood at dark. I still do it, but I try to be prepared. I am angry that I have to be scared, worried, and always prepared.

When I was 16, I was asked by a guy in my grade if I wanted to have sex with him. I told him no. He asked me why not? I told him because I didn't want to. I'm thankful it stopped there. That same year my prom date made it very obvious he was angry I wouldn't have sex with him that night. I am angry that at 16, sex is demanded from girls like good service at a five star restaurant.

I once wanted to see a favorite indie artist perform. She never tours, so this one time was basically it. She was playing at a bar in a not so great area of St. Paul. I was determined to go, but practically no one was available to go with me, and I didn't want to go to a bar alone. (Thankfully, my friend Flip joined me.) I am angry I was worried about going alone to a bar to see a favorite artist.
A former employer's wife sent her husband a "singing telegram" for my boss' birthday during our staff lunch. The telegram was a slutty nurse who gave him a lap dance and blew up penis balloons..and deflated them. They laughed. I left. I was angry that I felt awkward, and that I had to leave that behavior at a workplace.

I gave away my keychain alarm that screams with the pitch of a soprano and the loudness of a 747 jet to my sister, who is in college. I am probably the MOST ANGRY angry that I have to worry about HER safety.

I am grateful to guys like my old roommate's Navy-man husband, who taught me how I could defend myself if I were attacked. I am angry I should have to ask him in the first place. One of my old roommates brought home a young man she had been mentoring that was recently released from jail because he had "nowhere else to go," even though he was choosing not to live at the halfway house. I felt unsafe in my own home. She chose to ignore that and was angry to think that I felt unsafe. My other roommate sided with her. I felt unprotected, angry and betrayed. I left. I then moved out the next week.

I have been catcalled at from boys in trucks. I am angry because I know they only are young boys being taught that it's funny.

I shared the same name as a supermodel, and was tagged in MANY explicit photos of her on instagram. And if you read their comments talking about her, you'd be disgusted. I was angry because I saw the filthy way men talk about women. Even if she was a model. (And that model? She was invited and attended the White House Corespondents Dinner. That made me jealous. And angry.)

I have been told I was pregnant by a doctor when I knew that wasn't possible. The doctor didn't believe me. "Immaculate conceptions are pretty rare," he said. He then strongly suggested that if I didn't remember getting pregnant, I must've been raped. I spent the next half hour in uncontrollable shakes thinking "What if this is true?" and if it was, "What was I going to do?" I am angry that was even a possibility, but I'm MOST angry for the thousands of women who have choices like this to face. I'm glad mine wasn't real.

I am lucky I haven't even experienced half of these situations in the article. But I'm angry that things like this exist.

#ItsNotOkay #notokay #sexualassault #donaldtrump

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Dutch Blitz, Coffee and Friendships.

A cup of peach tea steamed from the mug that warmed my hands as I sat at my dining room table. Across from me sat a dear of mine whom I've known since kindergarten. I don't have many of these friends I still talk to, but she was one that stuck.
We'd spent the majority of our teenage years through young adulthood in separate states, and for the first time in a long while, we were now living in the same state again... practically even the same city.
We sat there talking about how our lives had brought us so far apart from each other at times, yet now we were both living within 10 miles of each other. She moved back to the state after graduating college 4 years ago and I had just moved back from a 2-year stint in Southern California. As we were catching up on each other's lives, she asked a question I was frequently asked:
"How are you doing with the move back to Minnesota?"
Usually I just brushed off the question with a "It's taking some getting used to again, but it's where I know I'm supposed to be." Which really is the truth. But every time I said that, I cringed at the hidden truth I wasn't telling anyone.

But I was tired of hiding that truth. So I looked at her and said,
"Honestly? I'm lonely. I have pockets of friends I see when I have the time, but I feel like I have no friend group, no community that I can count on."

There it was. My big fat lie I wasn't telling anyone.

I was lonely. And I wasn't the only one. 

"I've lived here for 4 years and I still feel like I don't have a friend group," she replied.

"Really?" I asked, shocked.
"Yeah. I mean, I had my roommates, now two of whom have gotten married. I have my roommate now and my boyfriend. But I still don't feel like I have a community."


Here we are, living in a city of half a million people, with its sister city and suburbs offering up half a million more, yet she's lived here for FOUR YEARS and still doesn't have a sense of community?
And here I was, someone who actually had a past in this city. I still had friends I remained in contact with. Yet when I thought about it, only a small handful I now make it a point to see on a regular basis and an even smaller handful I feel comfortable telling them my heart.

Fast forward another couple weeks and a few more conversations with other friends.
I heard the same thing. Over. And Over.

And I kept thinking: "How can this be? We're living in a city of a million people. Yet none of us feel a part of something, a part of a true group of friends that do life together?"

We think we have friendships, but we don't. 
There is a difference between friends and friendships. We all know those friends in our lives. The ones that we like and if we actually made it a point to spend time with them, we probably would really like them. But because of time, geographical differences, and maybe the chasm created by time apart, they're the friends you see every once in a while, and that's really ok. Then you have people like your roommates, who you are probably either really close with or not close with at all.

A friendship is a true relationship that takes work.

It takes the bearing of souls, the forgiving of mistakes, the time (we could be binge-watching Netflix) we are so protective of, and the caring for each other by simultaneously encouraging and pushing each other towards something greater.

Those are the relationships I craved so desperately. A community of friends that makes it a point to not only just spend time with you and work to get to know you, but to see to it that you're becoming the best you can be, even when you don't want it.

And that work isn't easy. But you know what?

It's addicting.

Really, truly, honestly, it wasn't until I had found that group of friends who pushed me to better myself in every way and love me through it that I realized how much I needed it. After leaving that group of friends behind in California, I craved having those partners in life who pushed me beyond the small-talk topics, pushed me to be healthier, pushed me to work harder and came along side of me through the nitty gritty of life.

Building a community takes time and effort.

After thinking through these conversations I'd had with my friends about missing a community, I realized I couldn't sit back and complain about the struggles of my lack of true friendships. I needed to act, I needed to create, I needed to build. I kept thinking of the quote from Field of Dreams, "If you build it, they will come."

And so I began talking to my friends. What would it take for them to build a community with me?
A few decided not to participate, basically because of geographical and scheduling reasons. But they all supported the idea and wanted to start their own community night. 

So I ended up with a group of 3 friends that have committed to starting building a community with me every Tuesday night.  Then the question was begged, what was I going to do? And I realized I had the answer back in California: game night at a coffee shop. Every Wednesday night was game night at Starbucks. It was just always there. We all knew we'd be there, we all knew that's what we'd be doing. Oh sure, there were times we each couldn't be there, sometimes a few weeks would pass before we could return. And some left our group, but we always somehow found more by accident. And this was the way we started our friendships, the place we grew our relationships and laughed, talked, and grew our community.

So here it goes! An open invite to anyone who wants to join!


What are we doing?It's simple: We are playing games at a favorite local coffeshop, Spyhouse NE, every Tuesday night from 8-11 pm.
Why Spyhouse?
People can come and go as they please. It's a pressure-free area for newbies to come join us. And it gives us a public space which allows us to be visible and inviting for anyone who sees and wishes to join in!
Why at all?

My main purpose in starting game night is to create a community where people can come and get to know one another in a fun atmosphere. My ultimate goal is that those friendships that we create around the table will grow into the deep friendships that I mentioned above. Game night is a vehicle for that to happen. 

And at the end of the day, if nobody shows up, I'm in a coffee shop for a few hours working on projects. Not so bad for me.

Is it going to take work? yes. Am I going to have weeks where I wish I didn't have to show up? Yes. (But I'll be there!) Is it worth it to see God hopefully take this and build this into a community of true friendships? Yes.

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A Conversation with God on Trust

Imagine with me a hypothetical conversation between me and my dear Father, Jesus Christ. 

God: "So you want a husband and 2.5 kids... soon? Perhaps a lake cabin and a boat later on. And maybe you'd like to go back to school to get a degree in education? You want to get a good paying job to pay off all your student loans, buy a house, and become financially set? Or go get that training to be a volunteer physical therapist working with those suffering from Parkinsons disease?"
Me: "Yes, God."

God: "What if I told you that you will be a missionary in West Africa? Would you follow me there?"

Me: "Ok, God. It would be very hard to leave my dear family and my beloved Minnesota, but moving to California for two years taught me that following you to a new location is something I can do if it's your will and your leading. I will follow you wherever you lead."

God: "What if I told you that the best work you can do for me isn't in education or isn't working with Parkinsons patients necessarily, but is simply spreading my story to share what grace and abundant life I've given you by loving people and doing life with people and sharing your heart for me? Will you follow me?"

Me: "Yes, God. Still, whatever you lead me to do..."

God: "What if I told you that I don't want you to go back to school to get a degree in education, that many people will look down on your so-called blue-collar work, but that's what I want you to be doing...and that instead you'll be working odd jobs the rest of your life?"

Me: "As long as I am following your leading for my life, your direction is what's best, and I will follow."

God: "What if I were to tell you that you will be scraping by financially for the rest of your life... Will you still follow me then?"

Me: ".....*sigh* this is so hard, God. I need money to live. I need money to sustain my health, pay my bills..."

God: "I will sustain you."

Me: "But God, how?"

God: "I will provide. Sometimes it will be through gifts. Sometimes it will be through a family offering to include you in their dinner or giving you vegetables from their garden. Sometimes it will be my provision through employment. But it is all my provisions, and I will provide for you your needs and sustain you."

Me: "There's no stability in that."

God: "Not in those things, no. But there is stability in me, that I will always provide for your needs. Will you still follow me?"

Me: "Ok. I trust you. I will follow you. Provide for me how you will."

God: "Now what if I was to tell you that you will never get married. Never have children."

Me: "Really God? Now you're telling me that I'm not going to have the bond and companionship of a spouse and the blessings of motherhood and raising children...even for the glory of your name?"

God: "What if? What if I were to tell you, no, you won't. Will you still follow me?"

Me: .............

God: "So....???"

Me: "Yes, God. You are all I need. I will still follow you, even if it means giving up the things I want for the sake of your name, your glory. You can put me through the fires. You can destroy my world around me and bring me to my knees with nothing else, and though it will be the hardest thing, I will still follow you. For a life without serving your name and following your will is a life not worth living. I am yours. However you choose to shape my life, I am yours."

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What if we trusted God's will completely?

This is something I am honestly working on. These things are some of the hardest issues in my heart that I have yet to deal with. This conversation with God is a near representation of some of the things he's been working on in my life.
And though letting this out into the blogosphere terrifies me to my soul, opening up some very deep wounds and fears, I can't help but think that maybe others will read this and be moved to also follow Christ - whatever the sacrifice.

                

(I admit, this is the first photo I've used that is most likely copyrighted, which is something I never do. As a rule, I am always very careful about using other's work, making sure it's not copyrighted and available for public use. But this blog is for personal use and has never made any money, so just for the one instance, I am going to use it anyway. There's just something about the idea of this conversation happening over coffee...specifically *my* favorite - a vanilla chai latte from Caribou Coffee, that I couldn't resist including on here.
It's not to garner attention, nor to drive traffic here. Nor is it to discredit and take advantage of the great photography here.
Regardless, far be it from me to not give credit where credit is due and I most certainly want to respect the work they do and certainly don't want to take credit for something I did not help create (save the text.) I found this on Caribou Coffee's facebook page. So whoever's work it is, whatever company created this beautiful image that perfectly 
captured what I needed... I hope you don't mind.

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The winds of change

Ahhh, it's been far too long since I've sat down to write anything.
Some of that's due to an incredibly busy schedule leading up to my departure of the west coast (best coast.) Lately it's been due to, well, not wanting to be open and write what I'm thinking and feeling.

The winds of change blow constant in my life, whether they're 100 mph storm winds or a 15 mph breeze. Sometimes I face the wind in my stubbornness, reluctant to resist to its pushing, and sometimes I let it carry me, eager to see where it will take me.

Since my return to Minnesota from SoCal, my heart has been filled with a peace and joy. There really is no place like home. I've wandered among the trees, smelled the pines and the recent rains that soak into the earth. I've sat by the lakes, my heart so content to sit by still waters and watch as it reflects the sunset painted sky. I've followed the clouds filled with thunder and lightening that spark an adventurous spirit in my soul. I've shared drinks and food and laughter with dear old friends I've missed while I was away.

On the return side, all these things are just ever-so-slightly tainted by the pinch in my heart, aching for the friends and life I shared in Camarillo. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the ocean (who wouldn't?), and of course the outer-suburb life, given how far away from Camarillo was to the city, as I am now in a very hustling and bustling area of Minneapolis. But mostly, my heart aches for the friendships and the relationships I built there. My dear Camarillo friends, please know that you are all one of a kind and I miss you all more than I can express.

But, alas, change brings me here.
I'm adjusting.

It's taking time and space.

There are things I find that make me ache to return to Camarillo. And there are things I find that make me breath in a deep breath and say "I love Minnesota and am so glad I am back."

My life has changed immeasurably in the past several years.

I am finding my new footing. Sometimes my grip underneath my feet is much faultier than others.

In all of these adjustments and changes, there is one thing I need to say.

I am confident and at peace with where God has me right now. He deserves the glory for what he is doing in and through my life, and whatever comes my way, I will follow him.

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Redwoods Relaxation and Santa Cruzin' PCH

The countdown is on to just over 4 weeks before I start my trek back to the homeland. Knowing that countdown will soon be over, I took the Purdy's up on their offer to join them in their home in the redwoods of California. Like, literally in the redwoods.

Thanks to the Purdy's for their warm and gracious hospitality. 

It was by far the most relaxing vacation I've had in a long time, and though it was only for an extended weekend, it was exactly what I needed. I spent my mornings waking up by lounging on the deck, in the quiet wilderness of the woods. It was the kind of vacation you dream about, where you can take your time waking up and enjoying the wilderness as you sip a cup of tea and getting lost in a new book.


I also took one afternoon to explore (very) nearby Henry Cowell State Park and took a great 3 mile hike to a beautiful look-out point that overlooks the boardwalk.

L: One of the giant redwoods of Henry Cowell; Top: hundreds of years displayed by the size of my hand. Bottom: A banana-slug, the mascot of UCSC. No I did not kiss it. R: REDWOODS!!!

L: Me in front of a Santa Cruz Redwood, which is relatively average sized. Top: Me in front of the Chinese tree, transplanted to Henry Cowell after discovering this species still existed. Bottom: The view from the lookout point. The lowest dip was the view of the boardwalk.

The next day, after a father's day lunch (where I filled in for the day as daughter), the Purdy's played tour guides and took me  all over Santa Cruz, adventuring downtown and along the wharf. Those two days in the mountains of Santa Cruz were surreal, beautiful, and soul-refreshing.

Left: The Santa Cruz Lighthouse. Top: The Santa Cruz Boardwalk/amusement park. Bottom: Momma Purdy and I at the wharf with the chardonnay behind us. Right: A sea lion camping out beneath the wharf.

I have a suspicion that I might not ever get to drive the PCH again from this far north, so I took off Monday morning for a full day of driving. Though only half of it was actual driving as the rest was all spent pulling off randomly on the side of the road to absorb the picturesque and utterly breathtaking views. I still can't believe I've had the opportunity to make this drive twice now.
After a stop along the Monterey Bay, I headed south through Big Sur, past Morro Bay and into SLO, where I caught the 101 back home.
It was an unbelievable journey and adventure.

The Bixby Bridge, built in 1932, by Big Sur. 

This is the Big Creek Bridge, build back in 1937.

Monterey Bay Aquatic Life.

Another view of the Big Creek Bridge

 From the morning marine layer that hadn't quite burned off yet in Monterey to the blue skies past Big Sur, the entire day was just perfect. If I could do it again, I'd go today....But I'd hire a trusted driver instead as those hours of hairpin turns definitely gave me a bit of anxiety, though it was very worth it. 

Left: Morro Rock. By this point, I was more interested in doing drive-by's and getting home. Top: one of the first stunning views I came upon after the highway left Monterey and condensed down to 2 lanes.
Bottom Pictures: Me, enjoying picturesque views as I stopped randomly and frequently to enjoy the scenery.
Right: Elephant Seal Beach nearing SLO. 

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There and back again - a Hannah's Tale

2 years ago I sat on the shore of a lake, earnestly praying for God's will to open up to me. And as I scribbled scripture and thoughts into my journal at that picnic table, I listed out three cities. Three places I could move to. What I heard was, “Go west young (wo)man.”  That decision quickly became the biggest leap of faith I’d ever taken. It was 1500 miles away from family, friends, and most of everything I’ve ever known, and though I wasn’t moving to a completely unknown area, I was still terrified. And with only a short bit of change in my pocket and a car held together by duct-tape and a prayer, I moved west. 

El Matador Beach | Malibu, CA

And what an adventure it’s been! It’s been the scariest, most-exciting, gratifying, terrifying, exhilarating, and faith-building two years.  I’ve had some of the most breathtaking beaches and views at my fingertips and have ventured into new and really cool places. I’ve taken dance classes from the best dance teachers with the best dancers in the country, and some might even argue, the world. God has placed some incredible people in my life to help me grow, to encourage me when I needed it, and to just be the friends I needed. But most importantly, God grew my faith. He required me to hang onto him in blind trust and lean into his comfort instead of relying on what normally had comforted me before.

When I moved here, I already felt comfortable in Camarillo. It was a town that simply was an immediate fit and I sank right into it. My neighborhood, my church, my friends, the familiar drives along the PCH…it all just seemed so easily like home. 

But no matter how at home I already felt in Camarillo, there were some major adjustments. A lack of true seasons, a lack of lakes, my family 1500 miles away from me, no Caribou coffee, no random trips up north to Grandma and Grandpa’s farm…and that caused some major homesickness. There were times I was ready to pack up and move home. I remember just a bit past my 1 year mark here I was having one of those fits. And I wanted so desperately to move home no later than 6 months later, because I simply couldn’t imagine being here another year. I didn’t want to commit. I didn’t want to stay. But I also knew that if I moved home because I was so homesick, I would regret it. I needed to move home because it was the right decision and that’s where God was calling me, not because I wanted to go back. Little did I know God had plans for me to stay a whole year more. And it was totally worth it. This past year has actually given me more trials that have opened my eyes to discovering who God created me to be. It’s given me time to really become dear friends to people I probably wouldn’t have as much, ESPECIALLY my roommates. And again, God gave me more opportunities to grow my faith, and it’s hard to say I would want it any different, though at times it was incredibly hard.

Back to the 651. Or close to it, at least. ;)

But, as they all say, all good things must come to an end. God has been closing the door on my adventure here and opening opportunities for me to move back to the Twin Cities. 

So, after a 3-year-hiatus from the TC, I am excited to be heading back! I will be moving into a house in uptown with a good friend of mine I’ve known for many years. I will (hopefully) have a full-time job nannying, as I’m in that process right now with a family and an agency. And I couldn’t be more excited to come home again. I will have an actual autumn and winter (though I’m sure I’ll be begrudging it come February/March) and a spring and a summer. I’ll be back near some of my favorite restaurants again, like Caribou and Annie’s (I can’t wait for an andes mint shake!). I can’t wait to take the canoe out onto the lake, head to Taylors Falls - or better yet, up the North Shore, - in the autumn or go ice-skating on a pond followed by sipping a cup of hot chai next to a fireplace at Caribou in the winter. (Yes, I am that excited for Caribou to mention it twice.) I get to reconnect with old friends and make new ones. And one of the biggest things I’m excited for - I’ll have family close enough by I can take a weekend trip, or if needed, just a day-trip. (I can actually see them more than just once a year!)

And so on July 21st, I will watch as one home passes by in the rearview mirror and then look onward to home again. 

To all my friends here in SoCal. It’s been a true pleasure. Thank you for everything. 

And to all my friends back in the cities…I’ll be seeing you soon!

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30 Years

My incredible parents have been married 30 years today. They've spent their entire marriage devoted to ministry in one way or another. It's been a struggle sometimes to be a part of a "ministry family," but I honestly am so grateful God placed me in this family. I really would not be who I am today without the parents I was blessed with.

In honor of 30 years of marriage and 27 years of parenting, I thought I'd give you some of my favorite stories a couple of their past anniversaries.

It was the spring of my 7th grade year. They had made plans for a weekend getaway at a bed and breakfast less than a couple hours away. My dear sister, who was only 2 at the time, had a babysitter, and I had the freedom to spend the night with my friend Lydia (who lived down the street) camping out in her backyard. But the perfect child in me got away that night, because we thought it'd be fun to go running around town at 2 in the morning with boys. God must've thought that was a dumb idea, because he stopped that escapade short about 2 minutes into it when I fell down a hill and went hands first into the pavement of the street. The fall was so jarring that it dislocated my left elbow. I, as a 12 year old, was simply in pain, but the boys (ironically) thought it was really gross. After a call to my parents (whom I'm sure really appreciated that call) Lydia's mom was driving us to the hospital (after she had just gotten off her shift as a nurse at another hospital). And another few hours after that I woke up from the anesthesia and had an elbow wrapped in a sling. Nearly 15 years later and I still have a click in that elbow when I bend it sometimes. 

A number of years later when I was in college, I had come home for the summer. I had just finished finals and was home for the summer, with a few bonus perks. After a year working on the newspaper, I acquired some Chanhassen Dinner Theater tickets that we never used. So I gave those to my parents for them to use for their anniversary trip, which was meant to be a lovely full-weekend getaway to the Twin Cities. And sometimes, as a parent, you just have to laugh about plans. The day before they were to leave, my sister discovered several spots. A family friend who is a pediatrician came to check on her and found they were, indeed, chicken-pox. I was to babysit my sister at this time, and though my parents were apprehensive to leave, they did. So in order to try to make my sister as comfortable as possible and keeping her quarantined away from my grandmother (who was living with us after her stroke, and was at risk of getting shingles), I brought in the 13 inch TV with the DVD player so she could stay in bed and watch her favorite movie at the time, Flicka. 

So that night while they were enjoying a great show (I think it was "Oklahoma!") with dinner, I was up with my sister watching Flicka. And then watching Flicka again. And again. She was uncomfortable and couldn't sleep and really had a hard time doing just about anything, including any movement of any kind. Just when I thought she had fallen asleep, I'd go to my room next door to try to catch a few zzz's. A few minutes later she would prove me wrong and I would again be up. At one point I tried putting in another movie. We got about 15 minutes into it and she was complaining that she wanted Flicka, still. So Flicka it was. All. Night. Long.

The next morning after a phone chat with my parents, they decided to finish off the rest of their day plans then come home early. After getting in late that evening, my sister learned they still had a piece of their cake left, which she immediately asked for. And my parents decided to appease her. So I grabbed the slice with a fork and brought it up to her. And as I walked into the door I saw her trying to sit up with obvious pain on her face, since it hurt because of the shifting of cloth on her chicken pox. She groaned, "oh, this is the part that hurts." And as soon as she saw the cake in my hand, her face turned to a puppy-dog and partially stuck out her tongue in a pathetic, half-hearted attempt to get me to feed her, which, by the way, did not work. And although the description might not be as the real-life event, it was truly one of the funniest sister moments I've ever experienced. 

My childhood was filled with many great memories of camping, going on trips, dinners and picnics, family evenings at home, but mostly, unconditional love. 

I pray, mom & dad, that God would bless you with 30 more…and then some more after that.

If you know my parents, please comment and tell them an encouragement, a funny story about the two of them, or a simple congratulations! 

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