I am driving up 85 in the
Kind of morning that lasts all afternoon
Just stuck inside the gloomJohn Mayer, "Why Georgia"
Today, in this dreary, weird, 50 degree weather day (the first day of Spring, interestingly), sandwiched between two 70 degree days, I've been thinking about how things become different. Change, I guess. Sometimes incredibly quickly, but so smoothly you hardly notice and sometimes, slowly, achingly so, but still come as a jolt.
When I first started this job, especially in the position I'm in now, I was terrified to go into the Director's office. Scared to death. I liken it to the same feeling when you stand to give a speech in front of a large crowd, that knee-knocking, quivery, swimmey kind of feeling. And now, well, I stepped in a few moments ago and cheekily asked if he had been promoted, that his authority level had changed in our purchasing system and was that a mistake? The question had been asked of me by someone who needed to know for business purposes, but I had no qualms going in there, and probably in someway, inapproriately, inquiring. Not long after I began, the girl who had this position before I did called to answer some question, and at the end of the conversation she said "Tell Victor I said...blah blah blah, insert some joke here..." I think the most I could relate was "She said hello." And that took all I had. Now, everyone would say that that is just natural, that my confidence and comfortableness where I am has obviously increased in the almost two years I've been here, and of course, you're right. But I am still suprised. Some days I walk going "Seriously. Did I just do that?"
Last night my husband (that word still feels perfectly right and incredibly foreign every time I say (write) it) and I went to a concert put on at the Seminary - Keith and Kristyn Getty. They are up and coming modern hymnwriters and the music was amazing. Even more so, the atmosphere of the chapel on campus. It is an immense building, with slanted wood floors and large columns dotted throughout the sanctuary. Pipes for the organ glimmering on the forward wall, and large floor to ceiling stained glass windows lining each side. Put a full house of seminary students, faculty, spouses, and local church members together in it and lead them in worship and WOW. At the end of the service, the Dean of Faculty, Dr. Nelson, who was in "charge" was understandably reluctant for it all to end. There was this air of waiting on behalf of the congregation, an unwilllingness to leave when the Spirit was moving so powerfully. So, after a moment of whispered discussion, during which Kristyn Getty made the tongue-in-cheek comment, "Oh, no, I don't care, you're the man, you decide" (that made me giggle), the question was posed to the congregation - what did we want to sing? And the unanimous answer was their song "The Power of the Cross". Amazing. So they sang as a special a personal song of theirs, and then the congregation joined in singing "The Power of the Cross". It was hard to leave. Especially when studying (for Josh) and cleaning (for me) awaited.
To tie this all into my theme... As we turned to leave the service, people several rows behind us started gesturing and calling Josh's name. I turned around and drew total blanks as to who they were - but Josh turned and began moving over and giving neck hugs. I stood there, I know, looking lost and dumb, until one woman reached her hand out to me and said "how are you, hon?" or something to that effect and Josh introduced me as his wife. She said something politely rude as "Oh, I had heard about that, but I didn't get an invitation..." as we moved down the pew. sidenote: I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THESE PEOPLE ARE. So no, she didn't get invited to my wedding. We had to leave out people I actually knew. Anyway, we get down to the end, and Josh reaches his hand out to a man who is vaguely familiar. My mind started quickly racing trying to place who exactly he was, when it clicked! Paul Brewster, pastor of the church Josh served as youth pastor at, oh, I don't know, about 4 years ago. He reached out his hand tomorrow, and actually remembered my name, I think, and as Josh introduced me as his wife, made some comment that "Oh, yes, you two were off and on when you left. And now you're married." Like four years later, that is some suprising feat. Josh replied, that yes, we were permanently on. And we graciously took our leave, you might say. All that (I am long-winded) more just to mention how running into someone you haven't seen at all in four years causes you to think about how much has changed since then. Josh and I both are very different people that we were then. Our relationship has morphed in ways I am still suprised about every day, and so I guess it's interesting to run into people who have no concept of the changes. Paul never knew me personally really, but I hope that last night, greeting him as a seminary wife/chemist/20 something I projected, at least in part, on the outside, some of the change that has taken place on the inside. Especially since the last time he probably saw me, and I have no idea when that was, I was probably a nighteen-ish, stressed-out Biology student, who had a boyfriend that lived too far away and who had probably driven forty-five minutes out to a Wednesday night service when she really felt like she should be at home studying, ministry being her only opportunity to spend time with the love of the life (that she would not have described as the love of her life at the time.) I was distracted, younger, and easily irritated I believe. Especially with Josh. It was all so precarious - I just hope that the stability I feel now (at least in Josh and I's relationship, if not in life) showed through, just a little bit.
That said, the whole meeting threw my husband off a bit too. For different reasons, I believe. He "walked" it off reading sports news on the internet, and I did the same strolling the aisles of the grocery store at 9 pm. The same but different. In this. And everything.
