I can tell by the sweat
marks. And by sweat marks I mean the pool of sweat I get when driving to work in
my un-air-conditioned car.
^ Two exciting things
about that sentence (unless you find my sweat exciting... and then that's
three).
One, I'm driving! Successfully still with no problems (other
then the fact my car is leaking fuel and has a broken something in the engine
and shakes when it drives...). Very occasionally I turn on my windscreen wipers
instead of my indicators, but most of the time I'm a success. Mostly thanks to
Gamin, my American accented GPS.
Most exciting, I finally
got her registered! Which means new plates. And not just new plates.
BUT THE BEST NEW PLATES
OF ALL TIME.
just what you wanted to see right?
wasn't sure what to do with my hands...
The 365. Which is
awesome because:
1. It accidentally
spells a word. Awesome. And
2. My visa is 365 days,
one year. I am the 365. It's so perfect sometimes I cry about it.
And two, I started work!
FINALLY.
hot.
I've been in training
for two days with my final day today. I'm making a giant $2.13 an hour. And
while in training? No tips. There's nothing like working for 5 hours and
earning $10.65; which is less then a half hours work at home, and all of which
I burn in petrol just getting there. And next week I start paying rent, oh dear.
It's been.... kind of overwhelming.
It's tough, working for your money and there is just so much to remember. But
on the plus side during the first three days of training I get to try every
single thing on the menu. There's 100 items on that menu. Let's just stop for a
second and bask in the fact of how awesome that is.
The reaction to my
accent so far has been mixed. One table was OBSESSED with me. To the point where I
tried to avoid making eye contact for the barrage of questions. Every time I
left they made bets amongst themselves about Australian facts.
Does it snow in
Australia? Does "the bush" mean "a bush" or "the
wilderness"? Do kangaroos eat people? And on and on and on.
Everytime I passed they
would ask me to clarify, and then the victor would do a few fist pumps. So
there's that.
Then the other reaction
is just general annoyance as they can't understand me, I'm foreign and I say
everything just plain wrong. Like apricot. And my new favourite word,
leinenkugel.
Week four in this
strange town.
I saw a beaver crossing
the road, which made my life officially successful. And, I genuinely had
this conversation:
Her: so did you drive
here?
Me: to... work?
Her: no, to America.
Me: from Australia?
no... uh, I flew.
I celebrated Mothers
Day, made a lasagne, worked out, went to a centre with a floor made of
trampolines, drank a tonne of coffee, found my new favourite store (the
Goodwill!), discovered my new favourite place (lake Zksfhdgjbkyaghfhg), saw the
Grat Gatsby, tried a thing called Puppy Chow (delicious), moved houses, went to
a Bachelorette party, made a new four legged friend, got a tour of the University of Nebraska campus; and had some truly wonderful time with God.
I can't believe it's really been four weeks, and as I slowly come down off my "I'm on holidays" high and get into the nitty gritty of life here.. like working, having responsibility, paying bills and watching my stomach expand, it's been a little bit emotional. Sometimes good emotional, and sometimes challenging emotional.
But truth be told I'm a lot more adaptable then I give myself credit for. There is definently at least a small part of me which was made to cruise down interstates, with my windows rolled down, country music blaring; as I marvel at the tractors which plough the empty fields across the sunset.
Like some sort of hill-billy moss; Nebraska sure is growing on me.
Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast
love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up
my soul.
PSALM 143:8
A psalm is a song, a hymn, a
prayer or a poem. Or something along those lines (let's be honest I googled it.. trustworthy).
And so, the Psalms in the
Bible are filled with rejoicing, lament, beautiful verse, deep seeded
sorrow; and what seems to be an uncountable and persistent praise for
God. Like a pretzel, all rolled up into one.
Right now, I feel like rejoicing in an uncountable and persistent praise
of God, as well as weeping in deep seeded sorrow.
Call me a Psalmist. Maybe. Call
me Maybe.
Let's not talk about last Friday.
Okay, let's do.
In a matter of one day, I failed
my driving test and found out I would have to wait a minimum of two extra weeks
before I could start working. And not only did I fail my drivers test, but I
absolutely flunked it.
You had to get under 15 points to pass, and I got 32.
For speeding. Twice. And turning into the wrong lane. And not flicking on my
blinkers in an emergency stop.
I’ve been driving for six years,
right?
At the beginning of the test I
also was not able to open the door for the instructor, and so stood there for
five minutes jiggling the key. And I also put my car into drive instead of
reverse. Okay, so I was nervous. I also cried.
And then, I took my menu test.
Passed! And found out I had to wait for social security to come in, in another
two weeks.
14 days. A month of being in
Omaha.
I literally have a mixed bag of life here, I
don’t even know where to begin. With Walmart, because my goodness it’s a
wonderful place.
This week has been a week of new experiences,
some wonderful, some horrible.
For one, Alejandro my fish died. Devastating. I know.
But second, Nebraska weather is bipolar, it’ snowing one day and 30
degrees the next. It’s wearing-my-one-pair-of-jeans for five days straight kind
of weather one week, and then a having to change part way through the day
because of outrageous sweat marks (too much information? no) kind of day the
next.
But really, like the weather, my week has
been filled with so much good, and so much challenge.
Let’s start with the good? Bagels and cream
cheese. Oh how I’ve missed you, bagels and cream cheese. So good.
Also on the good, it’s been a trip of new
experiences.
For example, Sunday night I went country
swing dancing, just like this:
It was one of the greatest times of my
entire life. It was seriously the funnest thing ever, and although I’m truly
terrible, I’m also incredibly enthusiastic. And in my book enthusiasm trumps
talent, so swing dancing wins.
It just reaffirms my deep love for all things
cowboy, rodeo, boots and southern American accents. People say “ya’ll”, it’s
awesome.
Speaking of people saying things, the word “roof”
is hilarious in an American accent. And I am now adopting three phrases into my
vocabulary:
1. Bless her heart (can also be applied to “bless
his heart” (although less frequently))
2. Good night! (used in replacement of ‘oh my
gosh!’ or ‘no way!’ or ‘are you kidding me?’ For example: “In Australia there
are spiders as big as your hand”. “GOODNIGHT!”)
And finally,
3. “What’s his bucket” used in replace of “what’s
his face” when trying to remember the name of somebody.
Oh America.
Yesterday I went to a bakery for dogs. There
were cupcakes and treats, and all sorts of delicious things. Me and two new and
incredibly attractive American friends literally stood in there for five
minutes whispering amongst each other, “no you ask if they’re for dogs and for
humans”. We didn’t ask. But either way you’re feeding your dog human food, or
eating dog food yourself. It was ridiculous.
Transitioning from the ‘good’ to the ‘bad’
section of this bipolar post, here’s a happy medium. Both one of the best, and
one of the worst experiences of my entire life.
They call it bikram yoga.
found this on the internet. it was not like this at all.
You know you’re in trouble when the
instructor begins the class with directions to the toilet, for when you need to vomit.
Now although I used to be gymnast, I’m now
about as flexible as a frozen pencil, and having never done yoga before – and
jumping straight into an hour and a half class – it was a whole new experience.
And let’s be honest, I wasn’t very good at it.
The room was 45 degrees, with 50% humidity and we watched
ourselves in the mirror, as we contorted, balanced, reached, stretched and did
some very strange child-birth-esque breathing techniques.
Some of the regulars were all flipping their
feet over the heads, and I had my knee to my chest as I tried to touch my toes.
I have literally never sweat so much in my life, and during one exercise – where
we had to reach around our knees and grab hold of them with our arms –I couldn’t
hold on. To my own arms or hands. Why? Because they were dripping with sweat. I’m
talking pools of it, cascading off my body like some disgusting waterfall, a
mass of salty water on my mat. I made a new ocean. Creatures live there.
During the experience I felt like I was going
to faint, and vomit, and fall asleep; all at the same time and at the end of
the class it took forever to be able to get up off the floor and leave the
room.
It was horrible. And it was awesome.
Going home and afterwards I felt… I can’t
even describe the level of amazing. It was like all the bad had been extracted
from my body and I felt good, and clean. And so dayum relaxed.
Which was good, because that afternoon I took
my driving test. Again. And passed! With an amazing 2 points. I aced it.
Was am/ forever will remain SO excited. I can
now legally drive my insured and licensed car! To places like Walmart. Life is
good.
And you know why else life is good? My social
security number came in yesterday. After four days. They said “two to six weeks”
and it became four days. That’s awesome, thank you Jesus.
I’m going in to take my drinks test in a
little bit.
10 points for independence.
And here we are, I guess it’s time for the
bad.
Bad is probably not the right word, challenging would be better.
For last night I saw this movie:
It was challenging. I feel lazy and
complacent in my attitude toward the human trafficking industry. .
I would highly recommend seeing the documentary. It
was all about the issue of human trafficking and sexual abuse in the USA. 100
000 children per year. Trafficked within this country, from this country.
1 in 2 Americans will use food assistance at
some point in their lives.
1 in 4 women are sexually abused.
I’m still trying to process it, and take it
all in and figure out what my role is in all of this.
I’m reminded this world we live in is so
fallen. There is so much hurt and so much devastation and sometimes it’s so
overwhelming.
I am the canvas not the artist, I need to be
reminded of that. It’s about faithfulness and not greatness, I need to start
pursuing that.
God showed me something kind of neat this
week. {kind of neat? Who am I?}
I was reading through the Psalms and there
are so many references to God defending, protecting, being with and loving the brokenhearted.
He heals the brokenhearted,
And binds up their wounds (Ps 147:3).
And it got me thinking, who are these
brokenhearted? In our culture and our cities and our media, the brokenhearted
are usually pre-teen girls,
getting out of six month highschool relationships, with tissues, texting and tequila.
And although Jesus loves these ones, I know
there’s more to it then that.
I am brokenhearted about a lot of things.
Global poverty, health care inequality,
preventable disease spread, malnutrition, war and closed countries to name a
few.
Hurt in my own past, and the hurt of missing
people, and my home.
Watching the film last night, and trying to
process what that means and the undeserved and ABUNDANT blessing in my own
life, I was, I am brokenhearted for
the people of this world. For the victims, the trafficked, the abused, the
defenseless. But also for the perpetrators, for the extent of human evil, human
greed, addiction; the deception and the lies and the devastation.
This world I think is brokenhearted.
It makes me dwell on how much more God is
brokenhearted for this world. Beyond I’m sure anything I can comprehend or
understand.
People were designed by God to love, worship
and be in perfect relationship with Him and one another.
Sin destroyed that. Sin destroys that.
We are a brokenhearted
people. Longing for completion, for saving, for Him.
It’s so clear to me and remember the Pslams. God
heals the brokenhearted, and those
who are crushed in spirit.
God healed, through Jesus, the brokenhearted.
We are the brokenhearted, but through Jesus – He healed us. Once for all, forever..
What hope that is for this world! For the
suffering, we have completion. We have grace.
So many times in the Bible, when Jesus or
angels appear (like for example in John 6 where Jesus walked on water over to
His disciples, or in Matthew 28 where He appears to them post death); people fear Him. They are terrified, afraid.
Fear of the Lord is the appropriate and correct response to the man of Jesus,
to who He is, and yet you know what He says? You know what He always invites?
Do not be
afraid.
We should fear, but instead we receive an
invitation of undeserved grace, and love.
