Another Friday night in. I got home earlier than expected from work, ate some left over dinner and curled up with a book. I couldn't be happier to be a hermit for awhile. As I lay low, trying to spend the least amount of money as possible, I can hear the drizzle of non-existing rain. I can hear my long,lost Irish sister's voice, and maybe a wee one or three. I can picture 9 Quakers in a van, (Boy, that's a bad joke waiting to happen isn't it?) exploring new places, and meeting new people. Exploring more about my faith, and the connection with a culture I feel so drawn to.
I've decided after I say goodbye to my new friends, that I'm renting a car for a few days and doing some genealogy work. That's right Ladies and Gents, Once again Abbi hits the tiny back roads of Ireland. Except this time, I don't have Dion to guide me. Or Rinny and Karisa freaking out in the back seat. Just me. And possibly Sleepytime Pooh. He hasn't decided if he wishes to stay behind or not. Its a more grown up adventure this time. A little more than a rucksack and a journal. A little less than all my earthly possessions preparing for the inevitable move. Yes, I promise I'll be back. This time.
My return trip will be 4 years almost on the dot that I was last there. Four years of dreams where I'm headed toward the airplane... but always wake before we actually take off. Four years of me saying to friends "Maybe in the spring/fall". A part of me longing, always.
Someone was snide with me two weeks ago and chastised me for referring to my trips to Ireland as "going home". Calling it a silly romantic ideal. Its such a strange thing to feel like you belong to two cultures at once; and never once have I expected anyone to understand. I love Maryland. I love my room. The furry creatures that make up the delightful zoo I reside in. I love my roommate, my co-workers and even the eternally aggravating red line. But not a day goes by where a part of me doesn't long to be on a tiny little cloudy island, so far from, and yet at the same time- the very essence of- home.
I visited the Smithsonian Native American museum this week. While exploring I found this quote by Jolene Rickard & Gabrielle Tayac that sums it up pretty well.
What part of you is Native? Is it your head? Your heart? Maybe it's your thoughts.
But it is not just your blood. We are the sum of all our parts. All human.
One hundred percent. And fully Native.
I found myself identifying with that quote on many different levels. By blood, I'm part Native American. I'm also biologically Swedish (Shuttup Lucie), English, and Irish. In one corner of my family tree, I am can name and possibly put a face to it, of revolutionary war soldiers. I could be a D.A.R candidate if I felt the need to be that pretentious. A small part of me, biologically is directly connected to what Ms. Rickard and Ms. Tayac are speaking of. But it resonates to me in a completely different manner. Why don't I feel as connected to the other cultures that make up my heritage? Interesting thought.
On a completely unrelated note- before drifting off to sleep a few nights ago, I came up with this question that I'll pose to you all for conversation. Say you have the opportunity to have an immediate, complete and utter understanding of a topic of your choice. Within 10 minutes you could be fluent in another language, know how to fly a plane, play any musical instrument, know the history of the roman empire etc. But had to endure 10 minutes of the worst pain imaginable in order to obtain it. would you do it? If so, what would you choose to know?
Friday, January 31, 2014
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Are you there Bridget? It's me Abbi.
I believe I am channeling Bridget Jones. Yes, I know she's a fictional character. But in my brain, characters are people too. So are cars. And Sleepytime Pooh. In fact, as a kid I use to feel guilty if I got a new toy that I liked more than all the others because good Mommies don't have favorites. I thought they'd all get sad! Then Toy Story debuted... and I was validated in said feelings. Before you ask, yes I've spent a lot of time in therapy.
I promise I have a point.
I am 27. I will be 28 in May. I was totally cool with this until someone at worked said "Oh! You are almost 30!" AHH! What?? Who? Me? No, I'm not. Dirty word. I cannot be "almost 30" since an "almost 30" year old would not have the evening I had last night. Okay, here goes.
I worked a double yesterday. No problem I am waitress extraordinaire by now! Busy morning, race home, walk dog, have a coffee and go back. I totally got this right?? Wrong. I could tell right away that this was gonna be a long night. I was clinging to my intelligence, but I could almost see it waving as it slipped from my grasp. "Good luck Abbi! You still have your looks!!" Thankfully I was cut early, because the very last of my brain cells left with my last table, and I successfully portrayed Lisa Kudro's character in Mad About You. I'm sorry blonde girls everywhere. I let you down. I blindly figure out my last minute duties, and then begin the process of bundling so I might not lose any fingers on the way to my car. I put my favorite turquoise hoody on with the hood up and tied under my neck. Mittens come next, so that there is no gap with my jacket. (No drafts for this girl!) Then, I zipped up my coat, buttoned on top of it, grabbed my bag, keys, parking ticket, and whatever else useless crap I have in my hands and out the door! I was daydreaming about how I was going to eat something more than a bag of frozen peas and a vegi burger. (Friday Night's Dinner) and how I might even go without the glass of wine, because really- who needs the calories?
5 minutes later I arrive at the house and realize my house key is in my inside breast pocket of my coat. Dammit. I get one mitten off, fumble with my buttons, yank on the zipper and- the zipper won't budge. I'm standing outside my front door at 10pm on a Saturday night in 10 degree weather and my zipper is stuck! "Okay, don't panic. Panic solves nothing" I tell myself. I get back in the car, take off my other mitten and proceed to pull. Nothing. When I turn my dome light on, I can see that I had zippered the coat straight up through the stupid bow I tied at my neck and got the ribbon jammed in the teeth. This was me: "thutk. Thutk. THUTK!!!!!! AHAHAHAHAHA" *rip*. So much for not freaking out.
It was too harrowing an experience. So rather than dinner I had a very large glass of wine and a king sized package of Reese's cups, then passed the f*ck out. On a Saturday night, I was asleep by midnight after dosing myself in a sugar coma. Ms. Tibbs understands but Pooh was judging me I could feel it. Now its the morning after, and I feel that shame and guilt. I mean, sure... i had a little too much to drink... I could claim the chocolate seduced me... but in the end- there is only myself to blame. I told myself I would go for a very long walk this morning before work, and maybe do some damage control for my poor tortured body... but now I realize my coat is broken. So instead, I'm gonna go do that walk of shame to Macy's and buy myself a new coat.
I promise I have a point.
I am 27. I will be 28 in May. I was totally cool with this until someone at worked said "Oh! You are almost 30!" AHH! What?? Who? Me? No, I'm not. Dirty word. I cannot be "almost 30" since an "almost 30" year old would not have the evening I had last night. Okay, here goes.
I worked a double yesterday. No problem I am waitress extraordinaire by now! Busy morning, race home, walk dog, have a coffee and go back. I totally got this right?? Wrong. I could tell right away that this was gonna be a long night. I was clinging to my intelligence, but I could almost see it waving as it slipped from my grasp. "Good luck Abbi! You still have your looks!!" Thankfully I was cut early, because the very last of my brain cells left with my last table, and I successfully portrayed Lisa Kudro's character in Mad About You. I'm sorry blonde girls everywhere. I let you down. I blindly figure out my last minute duties, and then begin the process of bundling so I might not lose any fingers on the way to my car. I put my favorite turquoise hoody on with the hood up and tied under my neck. Mittens come next, so that there is no gap with my jacket. (No drafts for this girl!) Then, I zipped up my coat, buttoned on top of it, grabbed my bag, keys, parking ticket, and whatever else useless crap I have in my hands and out the door! I was daydreaming about how I was going to eat something more than a bag of frozen peas and a vegi burger. (Friday Night's Dinner) and how I might even go without the glass of wine, because really- who needs the calories?
5 minutes later I arrive at the house and realize my house key is in my inside breast pocket of my coat. Dammit. I get one mitten off, fumble with my buttons, yank on the zipper and- the zipper won't budge. I'm standing outside my front door at 10pm on a Saturday night in 10 degree weather and my zipper is stuck! "Okay, don't panic. Panic solves nothing" I tell myself. I get back in the car, take off my other mitten and proceed to pull. Nothing. When I turn my dome light on, I can see that I had zippered the coat straight up through the stupid bow I tied at my neck and got the ribbon jammed in the teeth. This was me: "thutk. Thutk. THUTK!!!!!! AHAHAHAHAHA" *rip*. So much for not freaking out.
It was too harrowing an experience. So rather than dinner I had a very large glass of wine and a king sized package of Reese's cups, then passed the f*ck out. On a Saturday night, I was asleep by midnight after dosing myself in a sugar coma. Ms. Tibbs understands but Pooh was judging me I could feel it. Now its the morning after, and I feel that shame and guilt. I mean, sure... i had a little too much to drink... I could claim the chocolate seduced me... but in the end- there is only myself to blame. I told myself I would go for a very long walk this morning before work, and maybe do some damage control for my poor tortured body... but now I realize my coat is broken. So instead, I'm gonna go do that walk of shame to Macy's and buy myself a new coat.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
2014 Priorities Talk
For most of you, this won't make much sense. But I've had some requests to post the talk I wrote for my recent Search 4th day retreat. ( Search 4th day: A lot of 20/30somethings hanging out in a cabin talking and singing about God.) Below you'll see the transcripts. *Note* It says I wrote it four days before, in reality I woke up at 3am that Friday deciding I didn't like it, and rewrote pretty much the whole thing. Please excuse typos and enjoy!
" So I’d like to start off by fessing up. Its four days before this weekend, and I’m finally sitting down to write this. Mind you, I’ve THOUGHT about it for months. Its just when I sit down to write it, I notice how messy the apartment is, or that I’ve been meaning to pay my bills, Or most importantly- I’ve whittled away my time on Facebook stalking people I don’t know until its nap- thirty and then time to go to work! Sound familiar? Yea. That's right ladies and gentleman- priorities. Our lives are guided by the decisions we make. Who, or what comes first in our lives? You’ve got your easy stuff. When packing for fourth day after a ginormous snow storm- do I pack my flip flips or do I wear snow boots? Slightly harder- Will I really need that extra hoody or will I regret not bringing my own supply of cheese puffs? Kidding aside, I bet it was easier for some of us to decide to come here this weekend than it was for others.
This year for me, it was a no brainer. But last year, even though I reached out to come- I still sat in that chair Friday night with my arms crossed and my fingernails chewed wondering loudly in my head “What was I thinking? I love my friends, but why am I here?” The truth was, 11 years after my candidate weekend, I found myself searching again. “Why are you here?” was answered with “because I’m lost.” I didn’t know who I was anymore. I had recently figured out who I wasn’t, but I didn’t really know where to go from there. I’d looked in a mirror a few months back, having polished off a quarter of a bottle of vodka straight from the bottle the night before and realized I was so far off track that I couldn’t even see the station. It was worse than not recognizing the person in the mirror. I knew who I was, I just didn’t LIKE the person staring back. She was manipulative, and selfish. Physically, emotionally and mentally unhealthy. Not at all who I wanted to be. So I started going back to worship. Started going to therapy, exercising, working toward a goal. Making positive decisions and getting in control of my mess of a life. That’s what brought me here. But when I actually got here- I was scared out of my mind. I had to face the decisions I had made that got me to that vodka infused state to begin with.
See, my relationship with God was like that one friend you had as a kid who you never actually had a falling out with.. its just your lives went in opposite directions. You’d run into each other in the halls or God forbid at the pharmacy and awkwardly “catch up” and promising to “get together soon for coffee or something”. There wasn’t a definitive moment. Its just... I got too busy to call, or write and then before I knew it... my faith wasn’t a priority. By not consciously choosing to make time for God, I made a decision. I turned my back on my faith and didn’t even realize it.
Once while Jesus was praying away from the crowds alone with his disciples, He asked them, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and still others, that one of the prophets of long ago has come back to life.’ Then Jesus asked them, ‘But what about YOU? Who do YOU say that I am?
For years before, aside from a tattoo on my hip, there wasn’t an ounce of myself that would tell you what my answer to that question would be. I wasn’t saying anything at all! Sundays came along and I chose to do other things rather than make time for worship. My friends made cracks at God and I chose to stay silent, and not acknowledge I was at least a little offended. I took out my anger and frustration about my job, on my family and my boyfriend. I had no patience. There was no way I was living a Christ centered life. How could I when my priorities didn’t include him?
I have another confession. I hope you don’t see me differently- but my name is Abbi Parker and I am not a Methodist. Instead, I’m a Quaker. (No, I don’t wear funny hats, and I’m not sure who the guy on the cereal box is. No, its nothing like being Amish). We put great importance with silence. We believe when we can quiet our minds, the holy spirit will speak through us. We strive to create peace around us. As a Quaker, our way of sharing our Christianity with the world is through our actions, not our words. A foundation of my faith is the belief that God is in Everyone. Somehow, I’d forgotten that. I wasn’t honoring that within myself, and therefor, was not honoring that in others. I wasn’t treating others with the care and love that Christians are called to share. Lucky for me, God never left. In facing the decisions I had made, I learned that no matter how far we’ve strayed, no matter what we’ve done, God never judges.
'Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling. Ye who are weary come home.'
'But What about you? Who do YOU say that I am?' Jesus‘ question to his disciples seems like an easy one. But do your actions support your beliefs? Is your heart accepting what your head believes is true? When you don’t make God your priority, your bags get really really heavy. Remembering you are not in this alone, making time for faith, helps you put down that baggage for awhile and take deep breaths. Staying centered. Staying focused on what is important. For me, that’s sitting quietly, opening myself to listen. I don’t always make it to meeting every week. Currently I’m a waitress and sometimes I have to work on Sundays. But I will find time through out the week, to listen. I will make sure to make eye contact with people and use kind words. To remember that God is in everyone. (This is especially important in DC rush hour traffic.) Everyone here tonight is on their own faith journey. None of us are in the same place but we are here to support each other on the way. Do the priorities in your life, and decisions you make or don’t make profess to others your faith? If you looked in a mirror- who would you see? Only you can make that decision.
Today when I look in the mirror I see someone who is independent, honest, and driven. I’m actively pursuing my goals, and doing my best to live my faith. To be a beacon of light to those who need it, as I feel I am called to do. Most importantly: someone who is loved. Unconditionally, no matter what."
" So I’d like to start off by fessing up. Its four days before this weekend, and I’m finally sitting down to write this. Mind you, I’ve THOUGHT about it for months. Its just when I sit down to write it, I notice how messy the apartment is, or that I’ve been meaning to pay my bills, Or most importantly- I’ve whittled away my time on Facebook stalking people I don’t know until its nap- thirty and then time to go to work! Sound familiar? Yea. That's right ladies and gentleman- priorities. Our lives are guided by the decisions we make. Who, or what comes first in our lives? You’ve got your easy stuff. When packing for fourth day after a ginormous snow storm- do I pack my flip flips or do I wear snow boots? Slightly harder- Will I really need that extra hoody or will I regret not bringing my own supply of cheese puffs? Kidding aside, I bet it was easier for some of us to decide to come here this weekend than it was for others.
This year for me, it was a no brainer. But last year, even though I reached out to come- I still sat in that chair Friday night with my arms crossed and my fingernails chewed wondering loudly in my head “What was I thinking? I love my friends, but why am I here?” The truth was, 11 years after my candidate weekend, I found myself searching again. “Why are you here?” was answered with “because I’m lost.” I didn’t know who I was anymore. I had recently figured out who I wasn’t, but I didn’t really know where to go from there. I’d looked in a mirror a few months back, having polished off a quarter of a bottle of vodka straight from the bottle the night before and realized I was so far off track that I couldn’t even see the station. It was worse than not recognizing the person in the mirror. I knew who I was, I just didn’t LIKE the person staring back. She was manipulative, and selfish. Physically, emotionally and mentally unhealthy. Not at all who I wanted to be. So I started going back to worship. Started going to therapy, exercising, working toward a goal. Making positive decisions and getting in control of my mess of a life. That’s what brought me here. But when I actually got here- I was scared out of my mind. I had to face the decisions I had made that got me to that vodka infused state to begin with.
See, my relationship with God was like that one friend you had as a kid who you never actually had a falling out with.. its just your lives went in opposite directions. You’d run into each other in the halls or God forbid at the pharmacy and awkwardly “catch up” and promising to “get together soon for coffee or something”. There wasn’t a definitive moment. Its just... I got too busy to call, or write and then before I knew it... my faith wasn’t a priority. By not consciously choosing to make time for God, I made a decision. I turned my back on my faith and didn’t even realize it.
Once while Jesus was praying away from the crowds alone with his disciples, He asked them, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and still others, that one of the prophets of long ago has come back to life.’ Then Jesus asked them, ‘But what about YOU? Who do YOU say that I am?
For years before, aside from a tattoo on my hip, there wasn’t an ounce of myself that would tell you what my answer to that question would be. I wasn’t saying anything at all! Sundays came along and I chose to do other things rather than make time for worship. My friends made cracks at God and I chose to stay silent, and not acknowledge I was at least a little offended. I took out my anger and frustration about my job, on my family and my boyfriend. I had no patience. There was no way I was living a Christ centered life. How could I when my priorities didn’t include him?
I have another confession. I hope you don’t see me differently- but my name is Abbi Parker and I am not a Methodist. Instead, I’m a Quaker. (No, I don’t wear funny hats, and I’m not sure who the guy on the cereal box is. No, its nothing like being Amish). We put great importance with silence. We believe when we can quiet our minds, the holy spirit will speak through us. We strive to create peace around us. As a Quaker, our way of sharing our Christianity with the world is through our actions, not our words. A foundation of my faith is the belief that God is in Everyone. Somehow, I’d forgotten that. I wasn’t honoring that within myself, and therefor, was not honoring that in others. I wasn’t treating others with the care and love that Christians are called to share. Lucky for me, God never left. In facing the decisions I had made, I learned that no matter how far we’ve strayed, no matter what we’ve done, God never judges.
'Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling. Ye who are weary come home.'
'But What about you? Who do YOU say that I am?' Jesus‘ question to his disciples seems like an easy one. But do your actions support your beliefs? Is your heart accepting what your head believes is true? When you don’t make God your priority, your bags get really really heavy. Remembering you are not in this alone, making time for faith, helps you put down that baggage for awhile and take deep breaths. Staying centered. Staying focused on what is important. For me, that’s sitting quietly, opening myself to listen. I don’t always make it to meeting every week. Currently I’m a waitress and sometimes I have to work on Sundays. But I will find time through out the week, to listen. I will make sure to make eye contact with people and use kind words. To remember that God is in everyone. (This is especially important in DC rush hour traffic.) Everyone here tonight is on their own faith journey. None of us are in the same place but we are here to support each other on the way. Do the priorities in your life, and decisions you make or don’t make profess to others your faith? If you looked in a mirror- who would you see? Only you can make that decision.
Today when I look in the mirror I see someone who is independent, honest, and driven. I’m actively pursuing my goals, and doing my best to live my faith. To be a beacon of light to those who need it, as I feel I am called to do. Most importantly: someone who is loved. Unconditionally, no matter what."
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