Its been a while: Lessons I learned this week

I love Nashville for about a billion reasons.  Pretty much, name something about the South and this city, and it is why I love it here so much.  But I also know that I love this city for the memories that I made here, the person that I was when I lived here, and the potential that it represented to me.  

When Daniel and I landed on Wednesday, I looked at him and asked him, "what if I just start weeping?"  He looked at me and cocked his head a little funny, and said, "you mean, because you are here?"  I nodded.  While part of me was joking, and laughed it off afterwards, part of me was also serious.  

I've never really liked the fact that I feel like I've been a million different people in a million different lives.  Sometimes those lives intersect cleanly, and blend from one to another, and sometimes they seem entirely disjoint and non sequitor.  And I feel that I bear no resemblance to the eager girl, full of dreams and hopes, who moved to this city 7 years ago.  

Don't get me wrong.  I love my life.  I love my husband, and our home.  I love that I'm getting to finish my education.  I love our friends, and the fact that we see them pretty much every day when we are home.  I love our apartment, and our garden, and our church.  And I love the dreams that Daniel and I share together, and the hope of the family that we will God-willing raise someday.  

Thats the problem.  I love all of those things.  I just don't love who I am anymore.  18-year old Noelle had dreams, and a clear vision, and wouldn't let anything stand in her path.  In the last seven years though, I have learned that things do not go according to plan, ever, and it makes sense not to hold on too tightly to the things we want.  18-year old Noelle was fearless, with endless possibilities ahead of her.  Now I am terrified of myself, of not being enough, or not being good enough, pretty enough or smart enough.  I may never have thought of myself as pretty before, but I was much more comfortable in my skin 7 years ago than I am today.  

Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

But being back in Nashville is like a breathe of fresh air.  I feel no pressure here to be the best, to prove to others that I am competent.  It doesn't feel like it matters here.  I can be me here, without mentally attacking myself like I do every day in the Bay Area, simply for the fact that I am not an engineer.  I enjoyed math up until Trig, but barely passed calculus and business stats, and I will never ever understand exactly what it is Daniel does at work every day.  He may be able to speak another language, a language that most of the rest of Silicon Valley also speaks, but I never will.

But instead of acknowledging the fact that everyone is gifted in different ways, I have berated myself on a daily basis, for not being "smart" in the ways that particularly San Jose recognizes or values.  

On our first night here, we met up with our friends Daniel and Sammy and their family at basically a home group filled with other couples and families, for a time of fellowship and worship.  During worship Daniel was self conscious about singing in a room with what we knew were at least 4 professional musicians, but during a song about surrender I felt particularly convicted.  While others were raising their arms and asking God to take away their unbelief, I was once again, but in a new light, recognizing the lack of gratitude with which I live every day, in the way I berate myself.  

God has made me who I am.  And He has made me that way for a reason.  He also chose to not bless me the same as Daniel; He knew that I would be better at writing than at working algebraic equations, and more comfortable in the kitchen than on a soccer field.  He has made me exactly who I am, with the strengths that I have, for a purpose.  And just as I've struggled with feeling ungrateful for the face that God has put on my body in my self esteem and body image issues, I realized that I am every day telling God that He got it wrong when he didn't make me an analytical engineer, when He didn't choose to give me an IQ of 250.  

But He got it right.

In Nashville, where the major industries are health care, music, and education, I don't feel inferior.  No one has asked me what I do, or how much money I make (or hope to make some day).  There is not the same importance or sense of urgency placed on one's career here.  And sitting in Cafe Coco last night, I told Daniel that I think part of the reason that this city means so much to me is that not only did I have dreams and aspirations when I was here, but I also felt competent.  I knew I had talent, and the skills (or ability to learn them) to be really good in the music industry.    But in San Jose, I don't feel competent.  The things that matter to me don't seem to matter much to other people, and what I have to offer doesn't seem relevant in our community.

Doesn't seem.

But God got it right.

This trip has been a major wake-up call.  I am who I am, for a reason.  I am gifted and not gifted for equally valid reasons.  And God has brought me to this place at this time, for a purpose.  

But at least for tonight, I will rest.

My Tennessee

Tennessee is a lovely place. It's got awesome people, great weather, and massive hydrangeas. It's way more wooded than I would have expected. I now understand on a much deeper level why Noelle thought this would be a great place to raise a family, before God radically changed her (and now our) plans. It really is fantastic.

I've always loved the mountains; more specifically the Coast Range, especially in the Santa Cruz area. You won't find trees and forests like that so close to the ocean with beautiful weather all year long anywhere else. I've always wanted a home in those mountains. Not just any home, though. My dream has always been to have a place where we can host people, where we and others can get away from it all and rest.

As of late, though, I've had a really hard time with that thought. I'm not sure it's what God wants.

The problem with the thought is that it's very isolating. As much as I dream of having people over and cooking massive amounts of food for them, it'd be so difficult to maintain a longstanding community when living out in the boonies. When we have kids, who will they play with? Will we want to go to church every Sunday when it's such a long drive to civilization?

Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have a large garden and a house with room to cook and feed lots of people, but the details seem to be the killer bit. I think God needs to show me what's up.

In which I am less of an idiot

As I was sitting contemplating my angsty post previous (oh what lovely angst it was), I realized I was doing a disservice to the community. Our pastor has been preaching unity, and unity was not what that last post inspired. For those of you who didn't read it, I'm half-sorry. For this reason, I'm going to restate the constructive portion of it below:

You are hereby commanded to give God glory through the things you do. Go and do things that give God glory, and serve each other. If you see a need in the church, go and ask "how can I help?" If things are changing and you are scared, you should take comfort that God is still in control, and He may be using you for His glory.

That's a much less abrasive and divisive version of what I wrote earlier. To all my brethren at the church, I love you. While none of you may have had the opportunity to read my diatribe, I do look forward to the day in which I can offend you in some other way, before I think better of it.

Much love,

Daniel