To everything there is a season...

I remarked to a friend several months back that I felt like big changes were on the way in my life, but I didn't know what they would look like. And now I have a slightly better idea.

It's time for me to look for some new opportunities to serve. and for chances to bring my skills into a new position. I'm officially placing myself back on the market, so to speak.


Am I excited? Extremely.
 I don't know what's next, but I believe it will be good.

Am I scared? Absolutely.
Change is scary, period. But I've been reminded lately of something I wrote when I was at the coast--it was in the previous post:



Why settle for a river when the ocean is right next door? 



So this is me, stretching for the ocean. I am ready and open to accept any tips, help, suggestions. I'm happy to share my resume, glad to sit and chat over coffee about what motivates me, or what motivates you.

Expect more updates from this space, but please don't hesitate to reach out to me if you have questions or updates. I'll be here, and I'll be ready.

"I don't know what my type is...liars, maybe."

I have started reading Franny and Zooey and am absolutely loving it (though I am finding the effort to hold the old book in Eric's spine-saving fashion ridiculously difficult. I like letting books flop open in front of me, like setting them down, open to my place,). Like everybody else, I read The Catcher in the Rye in high school, and loved it, and read Nine Stories in college (but for fun, over a summer, because that's how I roll) and loved that even as it depressed the hell out of me. It's been a long time since I've read any Salinger, and it's a little like meeting a high school friend at the ten year reunion, only to discover that you still think they're great, but in a completely different way.

(In an unrelated, overly nerdy grammar-whore moment, I think all these book titles are technically supposed to be underlined, but I'm not certain AND I don't like the way that looks. And this is MY blog, dangit.)

The job hunting hasn't been quite as fruitful or a focused as I would hope it to be this week, but I did get several more applications off. And we'll start again, maybe as soon as tomorrow, but not before I have a wonderful visitor! My dear friend Laura, who graduated from the seminary with me in May, is in Portland as of tonight, and we're having (late) breakfast in the morning. So, so excited to see her.

I keep having a dream that's not exactly recurring, but the theme and motif are the same: there's some kind of robbery going on, in a bank or a home, and I show up late. Sometimes I know the robbers, sometimes I don't. but every time, I sneak in the midst of the chaos, grab some stuff, and then leave without anyone saying anything (when it was a bank robbery, I had three full sacks with big dollar signs on them, like in the cartoons, that I just picked up off the floor). I leave, and about five minutes later, I am overwhelmed with guilt, looking at my spoils. I have stolen these, I think. I'm officially a theif.

I never repent or return what I have taken, though, because that's always when I wake up. I view dream analysis with a very untrusting eye, but I'd be interested to hear thoughts.