Way Out There

So much is changing in my world. In the next thirty days so much more will change. Currently, we are in the middle of boxing up and giving away and sorting and cleaning. Every day is filled with activity as we anticipate our move in only a couple of weeks.

If you missed the news, Chris and I are leaving the Upper East Side of Manhattan for a barn apartment in the farm country of upstate New York. It's no Texas, but it is a wonderful opportunity. My daily routine is going to change. My attire and lifestyle and habits will all become completely different. Oh, and we bought a car!

Reading Jen Hatmaker's "7" combined with this huge life change we are in the midst of making has really got me thinking about simplifying and how I spend my time on so many trivial things. We are a country of consumers. We are a generation of people who don't know where avocados come from, or how to change a car battery, or have the ability to label every state in the US. World Geography: forget about it. It's pathetic. We are forever dissatisfied and have the attention span of a fruit fly. But we know everything and "we are the best."

...

Saturday Chris and I boxed up all of our books, most of our kitchen items, and about half of our closet. About halfway into the day our landlord called and wanted to show our apartment to about five prospects. And we were about to head out the door to go look at a car that was in Staten Island. Staten Island is further than New Jersey. And there is very limited public transportation. It's the pits. There is a reason neither of us had ever been there prior to Saturday.

The landlord was warned about the condition of our little space and agreed to come on Sunday. Not that this helped any.... But we were able to push everything to the sides, piling it high, and make a little valley for possible tenants to walk through. (We really really want our place to rent soon. We've never had such a vested interest. Our landlord agreed to let us pay two more months rent, instead of four. Our lease isn't up until July BUT, if Mr. & Mrs. Smith want to rent in April 1st- yes! YES! All the better!!)

Oh, and we did get a car. Not the one we look at on Staten Island on Saturday, although it was tempting. After making the commute via train and taxi and ferry and car service, we sort of wanted to drive away from the place in a new vehicle. Unfortunately, we got to do the the same commute again in reverse and got home after 8:00pm.

During times like this Chris and I just laugh and are thankful to at least be together. Walking in snow flurries and 20mph winds, under-dressed, in the middle of freaking Staten Island we found a smallish bodega to wait for a car to come pick us up. This is what you do in NYC, call strangers in town cars to drive you to and from the closest public transit stop. Standing in the bodega we shared a beer and a bag of pretzels and laughed at our situation. Grateful that this sort of living is almost behind us.

On Sunday we bought a car from a friend at church who was selling his recently deceased father's 1999 Buick Century. It's no farm truck or old jeep, but it'll do. It's a blessing to us and to him- so, Thank you God, we'll take it.

...

In between the cardboard boxes and last days in my button up blouses and final dinners at our favorite places I'm thinking about how much slower my days will be on the farm. Living in a barn apartment for eight months, wearing the same work pants and boots everyday (yes, I ordered some), doing hard, physical labor --- while exciting, these things are completely opposite of the life I now lead. And that makes me a little nervous.

I finally shared the news with my office and today someone says to me, "How are you going to survive out there?" (I'm thinking... oh, we have a stipend and our housing and food are provided...) Then he adds, "Just live off the land or what?" I am pretty sure he meant, How are you going to survive? What are you going to do without cable TV and bars and restaurants and yoga studios and bakeries and Thai food that can be brought to your door at midnight and lots and lots of people? I'm pretty sure that is what he meant.

Bless his heart.

...

Hang with me hear- I read this in "7" and found it so powerful. I read it aloud to Chris and made my co-worker read it today. It is my heartbeat in this season of life, so please, indulge me:

"What I know now is this: less. I don't need to have the most, be the best, or reach the top. It is okay to pursue a life marked by obscurity and simplicity. It doesn't matter what I own or how I'm perceived. Whether I succeed in the market or land hopelessly in the middle is irrelevant, although this used to keep me up at night.

I'm just beginning to embrace the liberation that only exists at the bottom where I have nothing to defend, nothing to protect. Where it doesn't matter if I'm right or esteemed or positioned well. I wonder if that's the freedom Jesus meant when He said, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 5:3). In order for Jesus' kingdom to come, my kingdom to come, my kingdom will have to go, and for the first time in I think I'm okay with that."

Good Lenten reading, y'all!