Feeling comfortable in your own skin

So even though I'm now in a job that fits my sleep schedule & lets me work around books all day, I still work at Old Navy on the weekends. As much as I complain over the holidays about the crazy schedules, I love it there. The people I work with and the managers I work under more than make up for some of the less than pleasant customers. But sometimes it IS the customer that makes my job worth it. 
Last night I was working in the fitting room, which I hardly ever do any more. Remember all those posts about how much I hate ringing register when I first started? Yeah...that's where they put me most of the time. Anyway, last night (and really the last two months) we were really busy. People coming in and out of fitting rooms, tons of processing to do to keep me busy and just a whole lot of crazy. I had a mother & daughter in trying things on, like you do in a fitting room. At one point the daughter came out wearing a pair of almost electric blue capris (it was a bit lighter than that, but definitely NOT powder blue. You do the math.) with green anchors on them. They are part of our summer/beach collection. The girl steps outside of her dressing room and looks in the mirror. I see in her face what I've so often experienced. The pressure to love what you are trying on because your mom wants you to like it/you picked it out because you thought it would work/you WANT to like it but you just don't. No one had asked for my opinion (which actually does happen. I break out in nervous sweats and finish whatever advice I give with, "But, bottom line, if you feel comfortable in it, go for it." Which, incidentially, is always true.) so I kept processing, but still kept a eye on the scene unfolding. The mom came over and started commenting on how cute the pants were, but I could see in the girls eyes some misgivings. I must have been paying too much attention, unintentionally, and I got called over for opinion time. The mom was very verbal and very insistent about these pants and I really wanted to just send her away so I could talk to the girl. I didn't. Don't worry. But when I went over, my main conversation was with the daughter. 
"Tell me what you love best abut these pants." It is always good to start with the positive.
"They are really soft! Really soft. And comfortable too." 
Here the mom interrupts with, "She picked them out herself! She liked them when she first saw them and even though she walked past them at first, she went back to pick up a pair."
Ah. The Indecisive Shopper. This has me written all over it. No one understands this girl like me at this point in the shopping experience. So I asked the question I know I need to be asked.
"What is your biggest problem with them?" I asked. 
The girl paused and out came a half truth. "I don't know what color shirts to wear with them."
Easily solved. We talked about summer brights, coordinating colors and neutral tops. 
"Do you feel comfortable in them? Because no matter how well they fit or what kind of sale they are on, if you don't like them and you don't feel comfortable in them, you aren't going to wear them." This one I know from too much experience.
The girl hesitated and the next thing she said broke my heart. We were more alike than I realized: I'm afraid of what other people will say at school.
The mom starts spouting things like, "If it wasn't in style, Old Navy wouldn't be selling it! Girls at school will see you wearing them and I bet the very next week will be wearing them too!"
To me, that wasn't the important bit. I looked at the girl and said, "Hon, do you like them?" She nodded. "Then that is all that matters. I know it seems really important to have others like what you wear, but I promise that it really isn't so important. If you like them, then it doesn't matter what they think."
She laughed a little and, I don't know, maybe for a moment she believed me. Maybe she didn't. If I had someone tell me that in a fitting room at her age, would it have made a difference in the way I see myself? Again, I don't know. Maybe. 
For her though, I hope it did. 

Movie Nights

I've been in my new place for well over a month now. Yay! 
And while everything looks basically moved in, I have boxes in every room that still have stuff in them that need to find a home. I'm getting better at ignoring it, but every now and then, in a quiet moment, when I'm sitting with my tea watching a movie or reading a book or just existing in my place, the boxes start to get loud. Insisting they need to be put away. 
They are extra loud recently because, as I am in my place longer, the more I realize its just me in this place. It isn't bad. Not at all. But when I was living at home I had built in community, if you will. Days could pass before I saw my mom, due to our schedules, but we would leave notes, things would be moved--something to let me know that another person inhabited the space with me. I don't have that any more and it sometimes makes me lonely. 
To combat that feeling, and cause I love her, my friend Rachel and I started a weekly movie night. Ish. She's in Massachusetts and I'm here. Using Skype makes the distance feel not so far. (I mean it still is, and nothing quite is the same as real person interaction, but I'll take what I can get right now...) We did it last week, and again last night. When we started, with cult classic Shaun of the Dead staring the hilarious Simon Pegg, I don't think we planned that it would become a thing. I hope I'm not jinxing it by writing about it here, but I love that we do it. This week it was Sliding Doors. It was a movie that she brought with her to London. I think her opinion of me went down a little when she found out I'd never seen it before. We fixed that and I now own it. And love it. For me, it is as much about London as it is about friendship and love. Rachel and I love the same bits, loathe the same bits and laugh at pretty much the whole movie. It would have been ten times better if she had actually been here, sitting on the couch with me, but ya know? Watching it with her, laughing with her, making sad faces at the not so happy parts? It felt like she was here. 
Now I'm off to get ready for work. There is an AED training today...I think those are the right initials. I have no idea, really. I do know that I have all kinds of feels from the latest Lizzie Bennet Diaries (can we just get those two crazy kids together?! Also, I need to see Darcy. Not just hear his voice...grr...) and the coffee is just starting to hit me in the best way possible. It's not spring yet, but I have the window cracked to let some fresh air in the place and it is making me feel kinda happy. 

A Perfect Day

I don't think I call days "perfect" very often, but if I was pressed to pick a word for yesterday, "perfect" is the word I would pick. 

It wasn't perfect because I was finally at church on time. Come on, guys. Some things never change. 
And it wasn't because work was great (which doesn't mean that it wasn't) or because my car didn't flash me the 'check engine' light (because it did). 

It was perfect in that way you notice when you step back and say, "I felt loved. I felt cared for. I felt challenged, in all the good ways." 

I got so see one of my "families" yesterday. We talked about life, reminisced about when I first met them (they had 2 children then; now they have 4), and made tentative plans to get together.  This is one family that has the uncanny ability to look at me, love me and no matter what is going on with them or me, sit down and say, "So how are things?" and I know I'm expected to answer truthfully. Not just for their benefit, but for mine as well. And with the complete understanding that they actually care. It's not just a conversation piece. It's the truth.  

I got to see my little boy who I haven't seen for months. Since like Christmas. Well, it feels like that long anyway. I got to hug and snuggle, tickle and kiss him and just be with him. He's 2 and of course, too cool for most things. I'm so thankful he isn't too cool to be snuggled and kissed by this girl. Of all the people I miss, and I miss a lot on my new schedule, he is the one I think I miss the most. I've been with him, watching him, taking care of him, playing with him since he was born. I spent almost the first year of his life with him, a few times a week. And then some. And I really really miss seeing him grow up. 

And work was work. It's spring break for the kids so the campus is pretty quiet. The library is less busy than normal, but we still see a lot of traffic. Graduate classes are still in session so students still need a place to study. It was a nice quiet day, though. 

I had all these grand plans for last night after work. Cook. Clean. Attempt to get my life in some kind of order after the weekend. Not much of that happened. I put a few books away. (Which will continue to be the story of my life for months. I still have about 5 boxes of books that need to find homes...) I rewatched some of The Lizzie Bennet Diaries. I sat down and finished a movie. I ate some chocolate. I just had a nice night. And even though I'm still a little exhausted today, it's a good exhausted. 


And even though I'm getting a bit of a late start to the day, I'm a little excited about today. No special reason. But it's like those brilliant Relient K guys said: It's funny how you find you enjoy your life when you're happy to be alive. 

Today is one of those days. 

Thoughts about my job tonight

My last post high-lighted some of the more amusing anecdotes from my new job working in the library. There are so many more than the two I shared, and sometimes one right after the other. 
I hesitate to share my frustrating experiences for many reasons. They are numerous too. Problems that staff are not made aware of until well after the fact. Papers that are printed, and left to die on the printer. Empty plates & cups from the dinning commons left on desks, their previous users long gone. 
Seriously, these are just a select few of the issues I could tell you about. But I'm not going to tell you any more. 
Why? 
Because there are also awesome things about the students here and about the time I get to spend with them. 
I love learning my student's names and what they are studying for/why they are in the library. I love listening to them talk about their classes, even if the classes are hard and their professors are less than helpful. I love asking, "Did you get all your homework done?" when they return a keyboard for one of the study rooms. I love hearing, "Yes", "Most of it" and "Well, for tonight, yes." I love telling them, "Please make sure you get some sleep tonight!" even though I know they won't. 
And when they need a break, I love asking them about the TV shows they are watching (The Bachelor, Downton Abbey) and the movies  they are checking out for the night. 

And at the end of the day when I really just want to go home, I know that they need the library to have a quiet place to do their work. And that because the evening staff is there, they are able to have that space. And honestly that is what keeps me coming back.  Okay, also, the paycheck factors into that as well. But mostly, it is for the students. 

All in a day's work

I forgot how fun and how funny it can be working in a library. Some of my favorite moments are the most face-palm-worthy questions from students. And when I say favorite, I of course mean my favorite stories to share with others. I like watching their faces go slack as they realize the craziness of the question and ask themselves, "Can someone really not know the answer to that question?!" 

The other day I had just such an encounter, of the funny variety that is. A student brought two books to the circulation desk. It was like pulling teeth to figure out what he intended to do with the books: returning, checking out, renewing? When we finally landed on "checking out" I got his ID and scanned it and the books he wanted to check out. 
"Your books are due back on March 8th," I told him. It wasn't just him--I tell everyone the due date. 
He gives me a blank look and asks, "Uh, can I bring them back before then?"
I hope my face didn't look too confused. I replied, "Oh. Of course you can." 


It was almost as good as that time in Gettysburg when a student came up to the reference desk and said, "This is a really dumb question but,..."
Ever the encourager, I interrupted with, "There is no such thing! What can I help you with?"
"Can I check books out of the library?"
I don't remember what my face did, but I really hope it was kind and not mocking when I answered, "Yes. Yes you can."

As amusing as these situations are, they are few and far between. A typical question is, "Can you help me find this book?" or "Can I get some staples for the stapler?" or the increasingly common one, "Can you come look at the printer? I think it is broken."
And course, my favorite moments aren't just ones that I can turn into amusing anecdotes later. There was one last night: a group of 6 athletes came into the library to study musical theatre history. Granted, they were a bit boisterous and a teensy bit loud, but I mean come on. Hearing deep voices talk about and listening to musical clips? Hilarious! And adorable! 

I know I haven't been posting a lot here...but I have been super busy at my book blog over the last few months! So if you want, go on over and check it out. I'm attempting to play catch up with my reviews. So far, it is the only drawback I have found to reading so many books so quickly! 

Cry for help

Do you ever have a week (or month...or year...) where you just say to God, "Look, I don't know what's going on here so you HAVE to help? I mean, I really don't know how all of this stuff is gonna work out." 
It's really easy for me to get caught up in the issues of every day life, trying to take care of "small things." You know, taking care of the easy things that God shouldn't have to worry about. Silly me for thinking I'm helping God out. And then, the little problems become big problems and, I don't know about you, but those moments of desperation are what snap me back to reality. 

I've had two in the last week. 

Last Monday, I dropped my car off at the garage. The water pump had started leaking and it needed to be replaced. By Tuesday afternoon (right, and I mean exactly right before work), I was $400 poorer with a new water pump and thermostat. Did I mention that my car had been inspected (and passed) just a few weeks ago? Anyway...from the inspection I knew I needed new tires. On my way to work on Tuesday I said, "God, I don't know how I'm gonna swing inspection AND the new water pump AND new tires, especially with all the other stuff going on right now. I just don't think I can do this." 

On Thursday I finally made an appointment. I knew tires, good tires, would run me just about another $400. I figured they would probably last me for the rest of the life of my sad old 1995 Jetta. I get home, exhausted and ready for my weekend. There, on the kitchen counter, was a card addressed to me. In it was a check that would end up more than covering my tires. I stood in the kitchen with tears running down my face. How in the world...but then I stopped. Because I knew. I knew. "Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I." Isaiah 58:9.

And then...there was the epic Sunday. Due to circumstances way outside of my control (and comfort zone) my work schedule got shifted. So instead of the usual noon to 8:30pm (getting me home in time to watch Downton Abbey with my mom), I was working 3:30 to midnight. Not a huge deal, just not my usual Sunday. Everything went like clockwork, despite my slight whinging about it the previous week, and I was home shortly after 12:30am. I was up, sending emails and watching White Collar when I hear my mom get out of bed. I pause everything and put on my listening ears, just in case we've got a case of illness that I need to hide from. I'm not proud but my exact thought was "If mom has The Sickness, I'm packing up my stuff and living out of my car until she is better." Hey, I'm only human. I don't like being sick. I'll take a wild guess and say you don't like it either! Anyway, it's not The Sickness, but she is in an incredible amount of pain. Dad crawls out of bed about 30 minutes later, in pain and slightly nauseous.  It's about 1:30am and I've herded everyone to the car: we are off to the emergency room! They are both checked in by 2:15am and are diagnosed and being treated by 3:15am. I take the keys out of my newly-medicated father's hands and drive the babies home. After seeing them tucked into bed, I finally crawl into bed sometime after 4:30am, not even sure where I am or what day it is. I think back on my 20 hour+ day and I think, "God, if I had worked my normal shift this would have been 10 times harder. And I can see it, so I'd better say it (even though I don't want to!!!) : thank you for making my schedule change so I would be better equipped to deal with this. Really."

And then I was finally able to go to sleep, realizing that maybe, just maybe, I don't have to have it all together.

Making Community Happen

As I was driving to church last week, I noticed that many of the trees I passed already had most of their fall colors going on. How did I miss one of my favorite parts of my favorite season?! I love noticing when leaves start turning yellow, red and orange. Just a hint here and there until the whole tree is a blaze of color.
I noticed even more leaves changing color this week on my weekly drive to church. My radio has been dead for, oh I don't know, maybe a year? Or almost. Something like that. Anyway, with the radio dead I have time to notice the trees and the colors. 
You know what else I had time to notice? Some of my flaws. 
Last week I had the great pleasure of seeing one of my friend's during Sunday morning activities. She is worship team leader, pastor's wife, and mother extraordinaire so she is always busy on Sunday. We caught a few moments to see each other and say hello between services and I was caught off guard by something she said to me, probably off hand. 
I'm backing up my own story to insert a bit of personal information that I think is the glue to the story. I have been reading a lot about community. Both in the church and out of it. I have been reading about how hard it is to create community and also how important it is to make community, no matter where you are. Community is supposed to be safe place you go, the place where you can lead a messy-real Christian life without fear of judgment or rejection. I have been talking to my friends about it. I've been talking to my co-workers about it. We talk about how important it is in the church and how important it is in the neighborhood you live in.
Anyway, I've been processing all of this information about community around the same time I've been feeling cut off from my community. Like I've mentioned, my schedule has changed so drastically over night. And with that change, my small circle of friends feels like it has been cut down to me. And sometimes, my mom. 
Ok back to the story. Remember? Sunday morning. I am chatting with my friend and I say something like, Oh I miss seeing you! I feel like I don't see you any more!" And she immediately says, "Well we are home in the morning! Stop by for coffee before you head to work!"
And for some reason, that caught me off guard. 
There I was, crying into my beer, as the expression goes, about my lack of community, my circle of friends feeling like it is shrinking and she says something so simple: YOU can visit us. 
Why yes, I can. I'm still getting used to my schedule and the weird sleeping schedule (like right now, I should be in bed. Obviously, I'm not.), but I do have some time in the mornings. Instead of using it to catch up on TV or sleep more than I need to, I can get my lazy butt out of bed and go see people! I'm still not a morning person, but my mornings feel more free and less stressful knowing I don't have to be anywhere until 3.30pm.
And isn't this what I was looking for? Yes! Community! But--oh, it really is hard. And it really will require an effort on my part. And I can whine and complain all I want about not having it...or I can go out there and make it happen.