Where Do I Go From Here

I am not an expert on ethology, but I do think despite our most civilized actions there is a little animal behavior in all of us.

Since natural selection is the process where heritable biological traits are examined to determine if they become more or less common in a population.  I can't help but think of my own behavioral adaptability. Natural selection loses me when the discussion turns into the theory of organisms turning into a completely different species, but I have found that our human lives are faced with a series of modification and our advanced heredity often does not define how we proceed. Sometimes our behavior is no better than our animal neighbors who live merely on their natural predispositions. There are two points I specifically want to focus on, instinct and design. As human beings we have a set of natural instincts that seem impossible for us to escape. We form habits, walk up-right, are territorial, and even possess opposable thumbs (unlike most animals). Instinctual behavior is mostly selfish and focuses on survival. When we adjust our behavior away from instinct we have freedom to be thoughtful, kind and free. I am confident that we were thoughtfully designed and because of this we are not left to the imaginary primordial ooze. We are not a part of the chemical evolution that is the belief system of most. We have been designed to love, live in community, dream, and feel emotion. We have been designed with the ability to act beyond our animal instincts.

Not all animal behavior is bad, as animals don’t judge, gossip, or lie. Perhaps there is something we can learn here. I also think animals genuinely know how to have a good time. They don’t worry about what everyone in the pack will think if their actions don’t mirror the others.

As rational human beings the ability to escape our instincts is something we should daily celebrate. We are not exclusively bound by the need to hunt or find shelter. We are people who have been made differently than all the mammals that roam this wild earth. We like to think that we evolve into better versions of ourselves and that our ability to act with love and compassion somehow just happens to us in nature. I see these abilities and our many more advanced traits of personal growth as the blueprint of the way we were designed. With the little animal in all of us being human may make us feel confined when all we want to do is run naked in an open field. That is the thing about how we were made – we were made with the need to be uncaged and free. That is how we were designed and that is exactly how we should live – free.

After three years of committing myself to Sign Language I drastically changed my major to Business Management. I made this decision for many reasons, I wanted to work in a more professional environment, and at the time I thought a broad degree would make me seem more appealing to future employers. It was also right for the transitional time my life was in. The course work seemed intriguing and manageable, but I had no real passion to be in any type of upper management. I blame this on my personality as I am the type of person who likes to live under a banner of avoidance when it comes to conflict and people problems. I figured I wasn’t management materiel. But perhaps I sell myself short.

For the preceding two years I took 58 credits worth of managerial classes. The scope at the time seemed expansive as I took classes on Marketing, Information Systems, International Business, Leadership, Sociology, Accounting, and of course Management. The manager needs to have a decent grasp on the entire picture of a business or company to successfully lead a team of individuals. In my current career I am not in position of management, but for the first time I am starting to aspire to it.

In a 2013 report only 12 percent of people in our society became a part of a professional management team. But that doesn’t mean there is not room for personal management in our own lives. And more specifically how we manage pain in our lives. At some point each individual has and will experience pain in some form of way. it might be physical, emotional, or both. But what we turn to in those moments of struggling is what will not only define our character but also the healing process.

We can all reflect on pain we have come through (or are experiencing) and the scars that remind us of it. but where do we go from here? I don't think pain is like any other obstacle that you have to navigate, it's so much deeper. And I don't intend to compare pain to any ordinary thing. The most painful things are felt on the inside and no amount of education, preparation, discipline, or personality type can restore deep wounds of the heart and mind.

Not that I am an expert on pain management, but I have experienced emotional pain that is so tangible to the core of who I am. I have also watched loved ones go through unimaginable pain including the deterioration of health, financial loss, death, division among friends and family members, disappointment of outcomes in life, and so on.  When I feel pain I enter into a state a self-protection, but I am finding that true healing does not come in the ways our subconscious tells us it will.

I am not in a position to tell anyone how to manage their pain, but I will tell you one thing that helps me. I need to believe in something/someone (who) is bigger than myself, bigger than my heart, and better than any state I was in prior to the occurrence of my pain. My natural self tends to live in a land of putting all the responsibility on myself but I have found that in this state of disillusion is not managing anything at all.

During my junior year of college at Idaho State University I was the busiest I had ever been. That year I took 18 credits and worked 20 hours a week each semester. On Mondays my first class began at 8 a.m. and my last class ended at 8 p.m. During the in-between time I went to other various classes, studied, and usually grabbed a coffee before heading into the office I worked in for the afternoon. After my last class I would walk home in conclusion to my long day. I also had a mountain of personal issues I dealt with daily. Most days I felt entirely exhausted and weary but occasionally I would feel a glimmer of accomplishment and hope. Having a certain methods during that busy time is what got me through with good grades, paid bills, and my sanity.

Everybody has daily methods attached to their lifestyles. Students, teachers, businessmen/women, engineers, stay-at-home moms/dads, pastors, scientist etc. We are all familiar with the six steps of the scientific method: ask a question, research, form a hypothesis, test hypothesis, document results, then form a conclusion. During my busy year I would test my calendar to see what the best use of time was. Lately I have been wondering how we can intentionally use methodology in our personal lives to make something easier or improved. Methodology means using a set of procedures and then analyzing the results. When the results have been analyzed you can form a discipline from your findings.

Clearly we all have methods to our lives but how well are those methods tested? Additionally, do we accept the results. I am discovering that we tend to follow the methods that have been handed to us by our families, peers, or culture. I am not trying to fault find, but simply trying to figure out how an individual can find their own vibe and their own voice in a progressive way with the understanding that even if you fail it beats the hell out of never trying. The thing about people is they try to resist change, instead they follow, but realizing change is the only constant thing in science will help us to rise beyond that.

My former roommate during my junior year had a busy schedule like mine. It was nice having someone who was also stressed out of her mind to be around. On Friday nights we would skip dinner and buy a bottle of wine and premade chocolate cake. It was our coping mechanism. It’s not a method that I would try to hand someone asking for my advice but that’s the thing about methods – they don’t have to work for everyone and they don’t have to work all the time. My definition of methodology may differ from Britannica’s but my experiences are what I have found to define my methods.

I am not talking about the grander questions in life such as faith, morality, and eternity. I am talking about the way we do stuff. There is no need to live in verbatim of someone else's methods and comparing your methods to anothers will hinder creativity. Let’s not feel pressure to do things the way our family, friends, and everyone else does. Test your own methods and do what works for you. What brings you hope and lets you feel accomplished at the end of a tiring day.

In September of 2007 the group I was with was preparing for a three day backpacking trip through the Bob Marshall Wilderness area. We were all instructed with what to pack including warm clothing, extra socks, and hiking boots. Enough food for the camping trip was divided among ten people to carry in their packs so needless to say my pack was heavy. Right before we left we heard a snow storm was expected in the area we would be hiking - we went anyway. The first day we hiked through The Bob the conditions were pristine. There is something about being in the bare and wild wilderness that makes you feel as if living is something you invented, as if you are really surviving on your own.

Then the weather turned. Our second day of hiking through this majestic terrain the well warned snow storm showed up. The wind and snow were blowing so hard my shaking hands could barely get the tent stakes in the ground. By the time we got our tents set up we were all soaking wet. It is interesting how that pioneer feeling of confidence and the pride of thinking you're the strongest among the group can easily be shattered in an instant, but in these occasions I feel that is when actual raw humanity kicks in. Survival has a new meaning: it is keeping the group safe, everyone dry, and fed in a mindset of 'we are surviving together.'

I wish we could approach more of life's battles with this attitude. I understand some people are competitive and others enjoy isolating themselves, so this idealism is not always possible. But I am talking about the issues we all face as a society. I rarely go camping anymore but when I do I love breathing in that wild air. Sometimes members of our society cower at the thought of wild and unknown social groups, but I think we need to learn to survive together with them. The rough and wild forest takes no regard on a persons diversity; it is harsh or lovely however you see the wilderness. But humanity doesn't need to be that way. Humanity can choose.

Naturally in a group that size there were certain individuals I didn't care for and others I prefered to be around. But in a crisis situation it is easy to forget about those meager biases and offer dry socks and a granola bar to someone who may be in need. I am not trying to promote the idea that individuals shouldn't have their own morals and belief systems, but in our society we are all in need of something. It may be material, mental, or spiritual but we all need something.

During my adolescent years if we weren't at home or running errands it was likely we were at church. Some of my best memories are getting there before others to set-up, staying late after services, and the community I had therein. But I had a struggle with the notions believed amoung most that education was sub-par, boys were bad, and we should avoid people who didn't share our "values". I admire my parents and the decisions they made for my upbringing. I have become rather fond of who I was and who I have become because of it. I haven't become who I am on my own though; there are a few very influential people I would like to share.

I have never felt more at ease in expressing hidden thoughts as I have with you. We became close in the winter months of 2009 where we constantly joked about getting a hair-cut and a real job. We laughed often, gave each other too many nicknames, and worked out with Bob and Jillian in our spare time. Somehow through these simple instances we became very close even though our backgrounds were entirely different. It seemed like a long cold winter at the time, but as I reflect, it was one of the warmest most endearing times of my young adulthood. We both left the summer after and I cried an embarrassing amount as your car pulled away. The least we could do for each other was marry people who both had parents in the same city, now our paths are bound to cross at least every other holiday season. I think you mostly taught me to just relax and not take myself so seriously. Even now, five years later, I can still count on your nonjudgmental nature to talk some sense into me.

You influenced me in a different way. I still remember the first serious conversation we had. You shared a part of your past that wasn’t a common topic of conversation. I didn’t believe you and persisted to joke about the matter. When you told me you were being serious I immediately felt embarrassed and apologized profusely. I am not sure at what point we became friends considering you made me angry countless times and I am sure I annoyed you equally. But regardless I could always count on you during the times I was in and out of Montana to change my car oil, fix something that had broken, and answer your phone when I needed a friend. You stood by me through my parent’s divorce, calling weekly to make sure I was alright and for that I will always have your back. You taught me a different perspective of grace through your unique past that I needed to learn. We had nothing in common, but you taught me to appreciate people who aren’t like me and friendships can form by the darnedest people. 

The last person is actually a team of two. I met you both in 2007 right upon my arrival in Montana; you weren't married yet but were soon to be. At this time of my life I knew I wanted a different existence than what I had been raised to be but I had no idea how to get there. It was through the both of you I learned I could go to college, drink a beer, I didn’t have to be in full time ministry to be a Christian, and that loving God and loving people was enough. For me these concepts were like a foreign language, and I didn’t recognize the syntax. In my prior surroundings it was normal to do things the way everyone else did. In the tight-knit religious atmosphere the fear of doing life wrong always seemed to be present. But as I worked through these misunderstandings for the first time I felt free to be me. 

I had just got home from a fun weekend trip to Boise. I had gone there with a few friends to see Joshua Radin in concert. The weather was showing signs of spring as the sun warmed the afternoons. The grass was dry across my college campus, and plans for Spring Break were underway. My studies were going well, I was making new friends, flirting with a guy who worked on the next floor up, and enjoying the season that was about to turn to summer.

I received an invitation to my parents house for dinner, having already made plans for the night, I prioritized the dinner invite around my busy schedule. "Ill be there at 6:30," I told my mom. Samantha and I rode there together both under the influence of the other that this should be a kind, yet quick visit.

We pulled into the driveway, got out of the car and proceeded up to the door that we had been so accustomed to walking through for many years. My dad must have cooked something that night that I cannot recall, but I do remember feeling hungry and excited to share a meal with my parents and soon to be married sister. We sat at the table and it was likely that I was sending a last minute text and looking through various magazines that lay around the house not realizing the significance of this dinner meeting and the conversation that was about to unfold.

As we began to eat my dad decided to cut the nonsense that everything was alright and proceeded to tell Samantha and I that he and my mom would be separating in the summer to re-evaluate their marriage. My mom was going to move to Boise and my dad planned on staying in Pocatello. I felt something like a shockwave hit my bloodstream that carried oxygen to my mind and heart and that moment still seems to stand still in time. I have many of these moments in my recollection of events that I have been through, but this one I do not relish nor is it easy for me to relinquish. Rather I hold this moment in my collection of instances past to keep me resilient. The meaning of the word resilient is returning to the original form or position after being bent, compressed, or stretched or recovering readily from illness, depression, or adversity. I can’t think of a more fitting word. 

As I paced the halls of the hospital from 2am-5am on May 6th, 2014 I leaned on my IV holder for strength. In too much pain to sit down I just kept walking, breathing, crying and repeating. Around 5am the nurse offered to administer pain relief and at 7am the Anesthesiologist arrived. By 7:30 I was able to sleep for a few hours. At 12:43pm my beautiful boy arrived and the world seemed like a better place. And my heart forever changed by such a tiny person.

The weeks and months after Hudson was born were followed with sleepless hours and celebrations when Hudson would pull “a first”. I can remember the first time he made a happy noise – a noise different than crying, the first time he reached to grab something, his first smile, and many more. This leads me to my first day back to work and Hudson being away from me, or family for the first time.

In my world prior to being Hudson’s mom a first day of work, school, or any other item I would consider my wardrobe, scheduling of the day ahead, lunch menu, or anything else that contributed to me having a smooth day. But going back to work as a mama the only items occupying my mind were how smoothly I wanted this transition to be for Hudson. I am truly beginning to understand the insanity that parents go through as they love their children and the pure madness of being afraid that your little one might be confused or curious at your absence. Not to mention the endless hope that they are completely comfortable and comforted at all times. 

In many family structures moms stay home with their babies and dads are the proverbial bread winner.  I believe that those who stay home in a traditional family structure have a beautiful way of life. But along with that I hope for the same respect for those of us who don’t; and please know it’s not because we love our children and husbands less but we are doing what we believe is best for our families. As Hudson’s mom I naturally feel better when he is in the care of a family member, Zach, or me. But as I journeyed back to work and found accommodations for my baby my prayer for him was that the Lord be with him and watch out for his little heart in my absence and bring him comfort when he is confused or just wants mommy.  

My life song has been in my belief of God’s sovereignty in my life and how I truly believe that if God was not the author of the events in my life they would not happen.  As a parent this worldview becomes increasingly more intense as I trust God everyday with what he gives and where he leads my family.

One of my most memorable childhood birthday parties is when I turned Eight years old. I especially remember this birthday because I was Eight on the Eighth. I insisted my mom put my hair in a side pony-tail, I had a Lion King cake, and two of my best friends came over - Madison (who went to heaven a few years ago) and Laura (who became a mamma this year). I also remember my grandparents coming over for cake and ice-cream and to open presents. I am unsure why this birthday is so vivid in my memory but I am happy it is.

I am naturally a reflective person so with the passing of another year my mind draws into itself for a little evaluation of the past and of course eyes steady on the future.

To be honest I was a little apprehensive of the days leading up to my big 25. Not because I think I am old, Twenty-five is still very young. I was hesitant because of the passing of seasons, days, and moments that I will never get back. I can confidently say that I am happy with each turn my life has taken and there is not a instance that I would re-do. But in that feeling of confidence there is a piece of me that considers the days of my life and it intrigues me. Life is so fascinating because we spend a large majority of our life wanting to build it with marriage, children, education, stable jobs, and the list goes on. All of these are wonderful gifts to have, but I feel that in the wanting process we forget to really live in the moment of what we have. For instance, when I was at Idaho State I would visit my Mimi and Papa on Sunday nights. We always had good conversations but I remember telling them all about my plans after college and where I would venture to, I now miss those Sunday night visits and dearly want them back. I guess the years are like that though. I think I used to wish the days to go by quick so I could go on to the next thing but now I find myself asking the Lord that the days be long and that I enjoy this season to its fullest potential.

I am completely ready for what the future holds and I welcome it with excitement. But it is important to keep in consideration that the years of our lives are a true reward to be thankful for and not something to be apprehensive about.

My favorite gift this year is all the memories I have of family get-together's, friendships made, and lessons learned. So cheers to the next 25 years!

Wanderlust has become a term in our modern culture used by people who have the constant desire to wander and see the world, or maybe just need a change of scenery. The term itself is actually derived from the German language simply meaning the enjoyment of hiking (yes I found this on wikipeida). Most words in the English language are adaptations of  ancient words from more mature cultures than our own; but everybody knows that. Wandering and enjoying it was not just a past time of the Germans but it has been in every culture since the beginning of time. People have always had to face an unexpected move or a well planned get away. Throughout Bible times starting with Adam and Eve having to leave the home that was custom made for them to modern man's motivation to migrate for the chance of a better life. 

Wandering is not just a privilege of some but should be a priority to all; being anonymous in a new city may be a thought not well developed in the reel of some minds but when the pictures of our imagination are printed in tangible motion there should be no stopping as to how far we could wander. 

Wandering has taken me to a few extravagant places like Red Square in Russia and dirty places like the streets of San Francisco. Although wandering is beautiful and bold I think there is no place like the place where you come from. Many loath where they were raised and others never leave their roots to plant their own which is fine also. But lately I have been in reflection of where I have been planted and also uprooted. Pocatello, where I was born and bred is where I know the streets, smells, what drives the economy, and who the mayor is. It is where my childhood friends are, who have remained faithful into adulthood. It is where my loving family is. In a way Pocatello raised me. It is also the place where I uprooted myself to Montana. Montana holds special love in my heart mainly because it changed me and gave me unique friendships I will always remember. The thing about wandering is we usually return from where we came from to just leave again, for me it was to Washington State. I was in the Evergreen State for only a short period of time but took away a very significant someone - rather, together we wandered to Utah. 

Utah is where I am stationed now, but not alone. The beautiful thing about wanderlust is you know you want to go but the when and where have not fallen into place and in this situation it is best to be content, make friends, find a new favorite restaurant and for me instead of wanting to belong in a certain place I belong with someone and when the time is right we will wander together.