It's strange for a California girl to call a snowy world home, but this morning I awoke to a light dusting of white powder on trees and cars and raked leaves. At work, I admired the snowflakes dancing between the high rise office buildings from our fourteenth floor vantage. When I abandoned the shelter of the Eastern Market metro station for my twenty-minute walk home, I rolled up my suit pants, thanked God for my snow boots, wrapped my scarf around my head and hid under my umbrella.
Though this first snow rings in the beginning of a colder winter than I have ever experienced, I adore it. I adore the fresh boot prints I leave behind—boot prints that are quickly filled in with a white fluff working to make all things fresh and new. The brightly-painted row houses are muted to pale reds and blues and greens and yellows in the street-lit evening. They seem to glow, as if on the set of an old Christmas movie, perfectly placed trees—with snowy leaves still clinging to autumn—bring drama to the scene.
Across the street from my boot-print path, an ancient, grey-stone Episcopal church stands regally as the snow flirts around the white lights in the courtyard, caking the bushes and leafless trees with a layer of thick frosting.
Despite the cold, this walk home through the first snow of the season ranks as one of my favorite Washington, DC, moments; I was easily taken in by the magic of snowfall.
Safely home, the snowflakes outside my window thicken and sparkle, further whitening my new Capitol Hill neighborhood. A sight of new beginnings. My roommate Kate and I moved last Saturday into our two-story, three-bedroom row house, yellow with a red door and an adorable backyard where we plan to grow a vegetable and herb garden in Spring. We loved my cousin's house in Maryland where we've been house sitting, but this is a place of more permanence. Our home for at least a year.
It truly is a time of new beginnings—I never dreamed I'd live in Washington, DC, but now that I'm here, I can't dream of being anywhere else in this time of my life. The organization I work for—International Justice Mission ( www.ijm.org)—has a lot to do with it. IJM is a human rights organization that works like a law firm, seeking rescue, restoration and justice in third-world countries for victims of violent oppression. Fighting to change flawed public justice systems that do not work for the poor.
While my actual job running the reception desk is not glamorous, I still feel a part of the mission. To participate in any capacity is an honor to me, and I do enjoy the tasks—I get to talk to people all day, and I ensure the details of the front office run smoothly. I know it contributes to the work of seeking justice for trafficked children forced to work as prostitutes, families bonded as slaves for generations in back-breaking brick kilns, and widows and orphans whose rightful land has been wrenched from their hands by more powerful relatives and neighbors.
These people, while their quality of life has been horrific, are valuable. The beauty outside my window reminds me of that—God's creation is gorgeous. I see it in the glory of nature and in the faces of people around me and of friends far away. I think of IJM's clients and I am grateful to be where I am—to have the opportunity to hear and pray every morning about raids, rescues and prosecutions happening all over the world. To learn of modern-day slaves finding freedom and victory, and to work with people I consider true heroes.
I don't know what's next in my life, but I'm using this time to be open and learn about everything that inspires me—including the Foreign Service, which is still a future option. For now, I am thrilled to be at IJM, and I hope to stay with the organization a long time. After about three months of working there, I feel at home, I've grown more professionally than in any previous job, and I'm hopeful I will someday get to be more hands-on involved in seeking justice with IJM. Did I mention I wear a suit every day?
While I feel nostalgic about Africa and long to live there again, I know I am where I need to be in this stage of life. I am grateful to be here now.
]]>At first, I thought the metro was my solution to reader's block. (Ok, ok, FIRST I thought the last Harry Potter book would be... well, it was while I was reading it, but it didn't launch me back into my typical hungry devouring of books one after another.) I DID read a little on the metro, but I was easily distracted by other people's one-sided phone conversations, muffled and poorly pronounced station declarations over the loud speaker ("This is the red line to Shady Grove. Next stop, jew-dih-shoe-ary square" ...Judiciary Square...), and the irritating buzz that mysteriously fills train cars on occasion.
During this week at International Justice Mission (IJM), learning so much and rekindling my passion for the oppressed, I picked up Terrify No More, a book by Gary Haugen, IJM's founder and CEO. Since it describes the people, work, and clients of IJM, I was hooked immediately. Now, while the red or yellow line take me past L'Enfant or Union Station, I pay no attention to anything other than the story of preparation and rescue of young sex slaves in Southeast Asia. I have come extremely close to missing my stations on a few occasions.
I hope this consumption of words and concepts and stories doesn't stop with this amazing book. Like a chain smoker, I hope to light into a new book the moment I finish this one, using the enthusiasm of the last to push me into the next.
I apologize for the lack of blogs. I am in a state of general writer’s block. In fact, I also have reader’s block. I love reading; I love writing. I have lots of free time while I live by myself in a place I don’t know many people… I had even more time before I started my job at International Justice Mission (which I am greatly enjoying, by the way). So why don’t I use this outpouring of time—something so many people are short on—for anything productive? (Well, unless you call developing and feeding an addiction to the show Veronica Mars productive)
The reason is simple: I need structure. When my time is structured, and when I am busy, I make time to do all sorts of things I want to do. Not only that, but my mind tends to be more creative. Sadly, my mind is not creative on command. It needs material! It needs life.
My productivity has been limited to exercise, shopping for my new business-formal wardrobe, and—as often as possible—making new friends. Oh! One day I even did a really poor job of mowing the backyard lawn with a push mower (no gas, no electricity, just the power of me).
Everyone says, “Oh, if only I had time, I’d ________________.” I’ve had time! What did I do? Activities that did not involve creativity. Not things I would have inserted into the fill-in-the-blank section above.
I need to use the time within my busyness for creativity. To keep a journal/notebook on hand for the random moments of inspiration. To enjoy the busyness when it comes to me (which, as I look at my calendar for the rest of September, will be coming soon) rather than bemoaning my lack of time.
I also need people. In college, my best days of studying—especially writing—were those I spent sitting in the closest It’s a Grind with Tasha, drinking that month’s specialty ice blended coffee beverage, rocking out to the Garden State soundtrack through my headphones, and working. It helps to know I can just look up and make a random comment whenever something comes to mind I want to share.
Productivity and creativity also involve just starting. Like this blog, for example. I didn’t think about what I’d write before it burst onto the page at 60 words per minute, but suddenly it’s here. What happened to my ability to simply write? To let words flow out of me I didn’t know were there? Now, when I try, I think. I think, I plan, I scheme, I type, I delete, I close the document and insert the next disk of Veronica Mars or Scrubs or Arrested Development.
Here’s hoping my upcoming busyness will distract me from the evil of overthinking, and my creative side will return from hibernation so when "writing" is one of my answers to the infamous “what do you like to do?” I won't be lying.