Balance

Today marks 1 year since I was invited to become a Peace Corps Volunteer, and 5 months since I arrived in Moldova. When you have concrete markers like this, it seems to require reflection. 

I have been putting off writing about this topic for several weeks, but I suppose today is as good a time as any. Given the amount of change in my life and hometown over the past few years, I’ve been thinking a lot about why we look forward to change or dread it. As I was searching through my phone photos for the screen shot of my Peace Corps invitation letter that I took a year ago, I spent probably an hour scrolling through photos from the past 4 years. So many wonderful memories, and also some really terrible ones. Beautiful sights, good friends, yummy food, as well as the loss of a dear mentor, the loss of my job and home, career disappointment, and nostalgia for a hometown that no longer exists in the way I wish it did. Coincidentally, today I wore a pair of socks I bought when I worked at a retail clothing store for a few months in high school. I remember I bought them on sale and also got the employee discount. And for whatever reason, they have lasted this long and here I sit wearing them in Moldova nearly 20 years later. It made me remember the neighborhood I grew up in, my parents still married, the schools I attended, and the activities that made up my life back then. Scrolling through more recent photos reminded me of how much has changed, both in my personal life and in the area I called home for so long. Sometimes when I think about all the changes I want to cry for what has been lost. Then again, I have had so many wonderful experiences and made some amazing friends who I would not know if it weren’t for all of the changes. 

So, I wonder again, as I have so often in the past few years as I sorted through my family’s history: How do I embrace the present and simultaneously appreciate the past, without letting the loss become a burden? Why am I so afraid of change? Why do I try to cling to what was? I’m really trying to understand this on a personal level because so much of my life and hometown(s) have changed so quickly recently that I am trying to find some solid ground to stand on, a way to comprehend how to understand my own place in the change, a way to feel settled amid the upheaval, a way to find balance in looking forward and looking back.

Among all the things in my camera roll, I found a screenshot of this quote:

Everything has seasons, and we have to be able to recognize when something’s time has passed and be able to move to the next season.
- Dr Henry Cloud, The Global Leadership Summit

It’s true. Over the 11 years it took me to sort through boxes of family heirlooms, assorted papers, and belongings I navigated feelings of sadness at what was lost and things I chose to get rid of, and excitement for being less encumbered by things I don’t need or want. In that same time, I also navigated the ups and downs of loss and gain I didn’t have control over: new light rail, new restaurants, new people (friends!) moving to town, old favorite places closing and being demolished, etc. I guess it comes down to my desire for stability and self-determination. When I make a choice to change something, I feel excited about it. But when things just happen to me or around me, it makes me want to cling harder to something that is being taken away. By the end of 11 years of sorting, it was much easier to get rid of an item without feeling loss or guilt. But it took me a long time to get to that point. I wonder if there will be a point at which I won’t feel sad about a favorite place being demolished and replaced by something else? I wonder if there will be a day when I’m excited for the new and not constantly remembering the things that no longer are? Or better yet, I wonder if there will be a point at which I will fondly remember the things of the past that I loved, but only with joy at having experienced them and not with sorrow that they are gone? I think that is my goal. Because the reason I miss the things that are gone is because they were wonderful, and I don’t want to forget that. But life is too short to dwell in the past. I don’t want to be stuck back there wishing for what will never exist again. I want to be able to love new things and new places, and to enjoy new experiences. 

How do I learn to let go of the past without feeling like my foundation is cracking? How do I welcome the new, remember the past, and not fear loss? If anything, all the loss has taught me that life is too short to worry about things I have no control over, and I don’t want to miss out on the good things to come because I am fretting over things that are gone. 

Had you told me when I bought this pair of socks – when I was still in high school, living at home with my parents who were still married, planning to be an orthodontist, and had never left North America or lived anywhere but the house I was born in – that I’d be wearing them nearly 20 years later while serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Moldova, having travelled to 43 countries, experienced my parents’ divorce and my mom’s death, earned a Master’s in International Development, and no longer calling Seattle my home, I don’t know what I would have thought. I’m certain that there is a reason why we learn information when we do. Knowing ahead of time everything that would be coming would probably have scared me. Maybe it would have made me afraid to move forward.

Life experience has taught me that I usually end up where I need to be right when I need to be there. Maybe all the loss and change precipitated me coming to Moldova at just this time. Maybe being here is necessary for whatever will come next. For now, I am trying to learn how to gracefully embrace the past, present, and future. I'm grateful for what I've experienced, and despite missing things of the past, I'm optimistic about what the future holds and trying my best to appreciate today for what it is. Hopefully, I'll look back at today with fond memories. 

These are the moments

Yesterday, I watched the video for the new Macklemore song, Good Old Days. I love these lyrics: 

Never thought we'd get old, maybe we're still young
Maybe you always look back and think it was better than it was
Maybe these are the moments
Maybe I've been missin' what it's about
Been scared of the future, thinkin' about the past
While missin' out on now
We've come so far, I guess I'm proud
And I ain't worried 'bout the wrinkles 'round my smile
I've got some scars, I've been around
I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now
Those good old days

He and I are very different in a lot of ways. But in some ways we are alike. Seattle isn't that big of a city, and we are the same age and have mutual friends. Maybe these are reasons his music resonates with me despite our very different paths in life. Or maybe there is just a point in life where you start looking back.

Maybe.

Maybe 30 is old enough to finally be taken seriously, and also old enough to have enough memories to look back on.

I've been doing a lot of looking back lately, as part of my process of intentionally moving forward. Look back, remember, take stock of where I have come from, decide what to hold on to and what to let go of. Take a few photos of things I find in storage, pack some away again, put the rest in boxes and send them out into the universe.

Today I find myself listening to Counting Crows' Long December. I have so many memories of this song. The primary is singing an alternate version of it in Tijuana, Mexico, during a church trip to build houses during spring break in high school. That version of myself was so insecure. She worried far too much about what other people thought. I've got some scars now, and wrinkles around my smile, and frankly I'm not who or where I expected to be at 34. But I hope I'm better than the person I had once hoped to become. I hope that the scars have made me more compassionate, and the wrinkles have made me wiser.

I decided after mom died that I would never look back at my life with regrets: I would make sure not to miss opportunities because they may never come again, and I would make the best decisions I could and never second guess myself later. Sure, hindsight is 20/20, but you can't judge a decision based on information you didn't have at the time you made it.

While I'm on the subject of West Coast musicians I have been influenced by, Jon Foreman is absolutely the person whose music has shaped my theology, my social justice bent, and my view of relationships the most. Nearly every song he writes has lyrics I want to turn into art. Here are a few from The Wonderlands EPs that I've scrawled on many sheets of paper over the past year: 

Don't let your spirit die before your body does 
- Terminal

I wanna be rich in memories, not money 
- Inheritance

And of course, these Switchfoot lyrics: 

I wanna sing with all my heart a lifelong song
Even if some notes come out right and some come out wrong
Cause I can't take none of that through the door
Yeah, I'm living for more than just a funeral
I wanna burn brighter than the dawn
Life is short; I wanna live it well
- Live It Well


I might not know what I want from this life
But I know I want more than the starting line...
Left it all behind us
What we need will find us...
I got everything I need, everything I need
There's a fire coming that we all will go through
You possess your possessions or they possess you
- If the House Burns Down Tonight


I close my eyes and go back in time...
And life was just happening
(Nothing lasts, nothing lasts forever)
I wouldn't trade it for anything
My souvenirs
- Souvenirs


All this to say I'm glad I took the time before moved away from Seattle to remember where I came from and make intentional decisions about how to move forward. I'll remove the "maybe." These are the moments. Each decision, each experience, each day lived have shaped who I am now. Some I miss, for sure, and will forever be grateful for and probably always wish I could live again. I truly have been so blessed to have had wonderful experiences in my life that are rightfully things I should miss. And I've had days I would never wish to live again. I'm trying now more than I ever have to live each day fully, to be present and not stuck in the past or in the future. Of course where I have been and where I think I want to go are important, but not at the expense of where I am today. I want to appreciate the moments as I live them. 

This was in an email from Peace Corps several weeks ago, and I saved it because it reminds me about my resolution to have no regrets, and to appreciate where I am now:

Mossback in Moldova

I suppose it's time I posted to this blog. It's somewhat amazing to me what the past year has held. Around this time a year ago, my layoff from my employer of 7.5 years was finalized. I had a few months to move several times, recover, search for work, and spend time with friends enjoying my hometown of Seattle. I learned and worked two new jobs, lived on a dear friend's couch, and finished sorting through all the stuff in storage (an emotionally draining endeavor). Attended to a myriad of tasks related to Peace Corps preparation. Managed to pay off my credit card. Packed my bags. And now I've been in Moldova for nearly 4 months. These have been months of struggle, loss, perseverance, confusion, challenge, discovery, and ultimately joy. Despite the struggle, I'm so much healthier and happier than I have been in years. I feel more alive, more like myself. Some days, I am so exhausted it's hard to get out of bed, but I'm exhausted because of things I am happy to be doing: learning a new language, living in a new culture, participating in events, teaching English, making new friends.

And I'm blogging about Moldova here:
mossbackinmoldova.blogspot.com