Tag Archives: moving

Askant, askew, and coddiwompling about

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A friend posted this to Facebook this morning.

And this week  (and probably all weeks), I’ve been teaching my students about the power of words–especially the ways in which words are coded with hidden cultural meanings, with gender, class, and race.  There is always more than meets the eye, metaphor dripping and resonating with import, value and privilege connoted in simple turns of phrase.

What’s funny to me about coddiwomple is that it doesn’t sound the least bit purposeful; it sounds more the stuff of vague wanderings, trodding, trudging, even.  For me it comes too close to the catawampus or the cattywampus, the awkward, askew positioning that some prefer to catty-cornered.

Over the past few days, we’ve discovered that things are a bit cattywampus in a 200+ year old house.  Stairs, floors, windows, closets, joints, gutters–give it 200 years and everything is a bit askant, askew, and disheveled.

And so are we.  

There’s been the stress of moving from place to place for months and finally into this home, and then the rains from this weekend flooded our department, some offices, and classrooms, and so even at work now I feel a bit aimless and displaced.  These are small inconveniences, ones that have lended much needed perspective for me to the challenges many in this world face on a much grander scale.

But they’ve also reminded me that we human beings need purpose.

When all else fails, even when we press on toward a vague destination, we crave clarity, connection, conviction.  What I thought this house might yield along those lines, though, I realize now, is only the beginning.  When we purchased this house, I prayed that it would be a gathering place for family, friends, and strangers, that it would be a place that blessed many and not just us.

But that purpose is still unfolding, amidst boxes and all that is askew, and I’m often impatient to discern the future.  What I’m recognizing and perhaps disappointed by is that although we seem to be home finally, we’re still traveling, always traveling, making our way though the way now be paved with local negotiations, leaky faucets, and neighborhoods.

When it comes to words, coddiwomple might be a nice mantra, a beginning, rather than end point, in order that I don’t lose sight that purpose, in so many ways in my own life and probably yours, is also still unfolding.  What I’m won’t to do in moments like these, is harvest the simple purposes in the everyday–in the fact that this area is crawling with amazing butterflies, in the serene walks atop the cemetery, in the union of struggle and working together that has to happen but also can and does happen when we meet challenges with patience.  

Maybe it’s possible to live purposefully even when you’re a bit disheveled, or at least I’d like to think so.  I’d like to be a bit coddiwomple in a world that is often askew.  I’d like to glean purpose, like a forager, a harvester, a woman who doesn’t let a little rains or floods or follies deter her…

But we’ll see, won’t we?

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We bought an old house…and some Sunday links

We’ve spent the weekend moving into our new (but I really should say old) house!

Here it is and it’s older than the constitution!

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My husband and I in front of our new house.

The house was built circa 1785 and is part of this teeny crossroads historic town in the NJ countryside.  It’s been a huge ordeal just getting here as the move-in date was pushed back months and months due to repairs and negotiations.  Despite it being built so long ago, from all accounts it’s actually in great shape.  I can’t decide if it’s the best decision we’ve ever made or if we’re bats**t crazy, but a friend who knows us well and is pretty truthful grinned when I said that and replied, probably a little bit of both!

The best news is that Lucia really seems to love her big, light-filled room, there’s views of a gorgeous, historic church across the street, and I’ve already seen tons of butterflies, birds, and bunnies out here.  We’ve been really thankful not to be in a flood zone this weekend and for all the help from friends with meals and unpacking.  Can’t wait to get out and explore the area when things dry and would love to hear all your favorite links for home knick knacks and furniture!

But we’re settling in on this torrential downpour of a weekend, and with internet and a morning off from church, I thought I’d post some links, too.  Hope you’re staying dry and hanging in!

God can see in the dark!  Love this little reflection on one of my favorite psalms.

The story behind Michelle Obama’s DNC dress.

This cartoon by a man on becoming a father of a child with special needs was really powerful.

“Could Women Be Trusted with Their Own Pregnancy Tests?” The surprising history of the drug store variety!

23 Maps that explain how Democrats went from the party of racism to the party of Obama

I’m so excited for the Olympics, especially the gymnastics, but I couldn’t agree more with this blogger!

An issue that’s very important to me, and it’s vital that we recognize we’re not hearing much of the truth these days.

Ex-pat parenting in Jordan: I love this series!

My aunt who lives in Plymouth took it very seriously to teach me the ropes at young age; Still yearning to eat a lobster before the summer is over!

What are you up to in August?

 

 

 

 

Virtual coffee date

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Main gates at Princeton University. All photos by Evan Schneider.

If we were having coffee today, I’d tell you that it’s been a thrilling week teaching in the Freshman Scholars Institute program at Princeton, talking with my new students (about Plato, Freire, Hitchcock, and Du Bois), and also hearing some of their stories and their passions.  When I sat with them on Sunday evening during dinner, I noticed that while they were saddened by the violence in their country, they were not defeated by it–their hope for the future is inspiring.

I’d tell you how challenging I think it may be for me to keep a handle on my writing projects and professional goals with this busy summer semester course.  A month ago at the Frederick Buechner Writer’s Workshop Institute at Princeton Theological Seminary, several workshop presenters talked about the efficacy of collaborative writing partnerships.  In one pair, two academics set quarterly writing goals and checked in with each other on writing schedules once a week, also exchanging work, and talking about writing over a weekly call.  I’m striving to set and keep writing goals myself and considering such a partnership as one possibility.

How do you keep your writing goals?  What are your best tips? Would love to hear from you!

Finally, I’d talk to you about all the excitement and anticipation my family and I have about moving into a new house in the coming weeks.  As you know, we’ve been living in other people’s apartments, and God’s been providing for us so effortlessly, but at this last stage, I feel the anxiety creeping over me.  It’s been easier, I think, to be faithful with little, and I struggle with the grandeur and responsibility of moving into a bigger place.  Also moving is just the worst, and the thought of that upheaval leaves me weak.

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Unconventional view of the Brooklyn Bridge.

But I’m going to do my best to continue with my summer strokes, taking in all the blessing along with the challenges, finding beauty and promise and goodness in each stage of life.

What about you?  What’s on your mind these days?

 

Forgoing security for faith

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Inside Notre Dame, Paris. Photo by Evan Schneider.

A few months ago I stood in the sanctuary of our church on Good Friday and held a rock in my hand on which I had scrawled the word, “security.”  In my adult life, I have found it consistently difficult to live amidst uncertainty, but I don’t know what in that particular moment compelled me to pray to let go in that holy season of Lent of my preoccupation with security.

But I did.  And the journey forth from that point has been anything but smooth.

In March I was offered a very good tenure-track job at an elite Christian institution–a dream job on paper–but one I ended up turning down because the social services in the Midwest couldn’t accommodate my daughter with special needs, there’d be no job for my husband there, and I couldn’t imagine leaving behind my church ministry for a full time academic job.  Then in the following months as we began to look for houses in New Jersey, we lost a bid on a particularly promising house.  When our offer was finally accepted on another, the negotiation proved so arduous that the deal looked to be off any second.  Even now as we are poised to close on the house, the date has been so far shifted back due to repairs that we find ourselves with a month and a half gap in housing, with a special needs baby and a slew of nurses in tow!

As it looked less and less likely that we’d settle with the sellers on this house, my usually dogged, meticulous husband became strangely calm.  At first I mistook his stoicism for resignation, fearing him despondent, assuming he’d given up.  Perhaps he had given up in  a way, but as he described his feelings I realized he’d found solace in either outcome–he wasn’t complacent but rather his perspective had been remarkably altered by our circumstances.  He’d given up on the ideal of the house, but in so doing he’d found a certain measure of security.

A week or so later, knowing we had very little money for his birthday presents this year, I looked at him with tears in my eyes and told him that I’d discovered that a house would be lovely, but he and Lucia are my real home.

Facing a few months of being a nomad is relatively moderate when we are seeing some of the greatest refugee crises unfold around the world.  In fact, just a few prior, I preached on the trite act of tidying up amidst such forced evacuations.  But I also have rather wanted to shake God for so dramatically “answering” my prayer these past few months.  What do you want me to learn here, Lord, I find myself puzzling.  Why must it all be such a struggle, I wonder, exasperated.

And then I wonder how I would have arrived at these conclusions, this notion of home, without wandering a bit in the wilderness, and I realize that I, like my husband, am also dogged and obstinate.  Sure, I am deeply intellectual, thought-filled, and intricate, yet, even I could not think myself through these insecurities, but rather had to ultimately feel my way to faith.  In the poverty of my thoughts, my own excruciating inability to provide for myself and my family I have found, perhaps, the greatest provisions–the gifts of family that God has so graciously given.  I have found in God not comfort but a depth of security that though practically confounding is deeply needed.  I am learning, I think, how to struggle less and live a bit more, to hold life’s riches close to and let the rest fall away.  

I am learning, I think, to live by faith.

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Lucia on the porch enjoying the sun.  My photo.