Father's Day

I asked my blogger-extraordinaire friend, Erin, the other day how she kept herself so motivated in regards to her writing. Her advice? Write what you know. Write about anything, and eventually, you'll find your rhythm. I can only hope she's right because as dorky as I feel sometimes for being a "blogger," I've been writing for as long as I can remember. At the risk of sounding cliche, it really is a part of me. So I'm going to truly start writing about everything I know to be true, and hope that for the very few that read this, you can appreciate the inevitably random direction this blog is going to take.

Father's Day is both simultaneously a holiday that is a little awkward for me, and one that I only truly began to appreciate this year. For anyone who knows me, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that I've struggled with "Daddy issues" in the past. This year, however, I became exceedingly aware of just how blessed I am to have the privilege of experiencing life with more than one Dad. Each one has taught me something so different about what it means to be a father and a husband. Insight, that I imagine, most people may not be able to boast of.

When I was 10, my mom and biological father, Emmett, were divorced. However, there was no real grieving to be had by my sister and I for the end of our parent's marriage because about a month or so later, my Dad suffered from a massive stroke. The stroke paralyzed his right side and his speech took a huge hit. To this day, he must use a motorized scooter when traveling a large distance and walks with a serious limp, his right arm is completely useless and the only words he can clearly state are "I love you" and various obscenities. Perhaps, most upsetting for my sister and I were not the physical repercussions the stroke left in its wake, but the fact that it left him a complete shell of the man we grew up with. It was almost as if the day of the stroke, our Daddy died and a crippled, depressed old man took his place.

Enter Dad #2. About a year after the divorce, my mom was remarried to a 6'5" 300-lb biker by the name of Ed. To sum up, the consequent 6 years were the most terrifying and hellish years of all our lives. Ed suffered from a serious alcohol addiction and was one of the most genuinely mean people I've ever known. If a shirt was cut too low by his standards, I was deemed a slut. If Kelly's laundry wasn't put away when he wanted it done, she would be hit. Heaven forbid, an argument were to arise between he and my mother after he'd been drinking, she'd receive a black eye. We endured more verbal, physical and sexual abuse during those years than I think anyone should ever have to experience and I honestly struggle to this day to forgive him for the hurt and hopelessness he inflicted upon the two people I love the most in this world.

When we finally escaped the hell of the House of Pain, we had about a year or two of "just us girls." While we were grateful to have a life again, that time was no less difficult for us. We were incredibly poor, transitioning between homes, and mom was dealing with the inevitable depression that resulted from the dissolution of her abusive marriage. Not long after though, my mom found consolation in a friend she'd known for years. Enter Dad #3, Kenny. Now obviously, after what I'd endured with Ed, I was more than a little skeptical when the new boyfriend started showing up and for lack of a better word, was a lot bitchier than I should have been. But Kenny stuck it out, and eventually proved that there is no way he had it in him to ever hurt my mother or one of us girls. But more so, that he loved my mother with every ounce of his being. This one was here to stay.

My Daddy instilled in me an amazing ear for music. Through his talent as a musician, I've gained such an appreciation for the beauty in every genre of music. I also inherited his goofy, sarcastic sense of humor. There are very few people in the world who actually get my sense of humor, and I absolutely have him to thank for that. I have his eyes, his nose, his big noggin and his intelligence. I am 50% Emmett James Best and proud of it.

Ed helped mold me into an incredibly independent and strong woman. I am fearless, yet appreciative of every blessing I've had bestowed upon me. I am a survivor. He unintentionally taught me about the power of forgiveness and allowed me to have an even closer relationship with my two best friends: my mom and sister. Perhaps most profoundly, however, he led me to Dad #4, Jesus Christ. Because of his involvement with AA, I began attending Church and was saved from my sins, and saved from a violent home by the grace of God alone.

Kenny has illustrated what it means to be a balanced man. Looking at his tattoos, scruffy face and Harley apparrel, it would be easy to assume he was a gruff, stone-cold biker. He is possibly the most sensitive and warm-hearted man I've ever met. He tears up at every birthday card, hugs me the instant he sees me and tells me how beautiful I am when I visit home and seizes every opportunity to let his kids (biological and step) know how much he loves us.

Each one of these men has had such a profound impact on me and I truly am the woman I am today because of them.

To my Daddy, to Ed and to Kenny, I thank you and wish you a Happy Father's Day. I am blessed beyond belief.

changes, changes...

I have a paralyzing phobia. Yes, snakes will make me burst into hysterical tears and run like I'm preparing for the Olympic games, but perhaps my biggest fear of all, is my fear of mediocrity. When I was in 9th grade I decided that I wanted to try out for my high school's cheerleading team. I quickly learned that in order to be a cheerleader you should probably be able to yell, jump and touch your toes. I could do none of those things. The good news was that I had found something that I was passionate about and could commit myself to until I was the best I could be. By the time I graduated high school, I was one of the best girls on my team and boasted the title of captain for four consecutive seasons. I saw what I wanted, did everything in my power to achieve it and I refused to fail.

In everything I've done whether it be cheerleading, academia or even travel, I've set my sights high and refused to fail. In the job market however, I feel that I am failing. I feel that my life is destined to be simply mediocre, and this thought terrifies me to my very core.

I have always felt called to greatness. My Grandma was an inspiration to me- she taught me the value of literature and instilled in me a love of learning. She also instilled in me the idea that I was a woman of exceptional skill, moral standing and intellect. When I became a Christian my world was transformed, I knew that life for me was bigger than what Cato, NY had to offer and that I was being called to change the world. When I began attending Eastern, I was immersed in a justice-centered gospel and I knew that I was meant to serve the underserved and be a voice for the voiceless.

With this framework, coupled with my unstoppable ambition I began seeking internships, learning about new cultures and pursuing jobs that would ensure that I was met with success, but more importantly that I was making a difference. As my AmeriCorps* VISTA term with the Grow Food, Grow Hope Garden Initiative comes to a close and as I prepare to begin working a data entry/customer service representative position, I'm finding myself plagued with feelings of failure and unworthiness.

I do believe in paying your dues and I guess, I should've better prepared myself to enter a troubled economy in which I may not be offered my dream job as soon as I graduated college. I suppose my unrest lies in that with my VISTA position, while I was not making a legitimate income to cover the extent of all my financial obligations, I was working directly with people who needed my assistance. I was teaching people lifelong skills. I was making a difference. I was proud to tell people the job that I was devoting my life to. I can't help but feel that by sitting at a desk from 8:30-5, I am no longer someone of great and noble character. Or someone who is touching lives. I am simply an indispensable robot. I am a failure. And I am insignificant.

Now as much as I'd like to end this post on that lovely, uplifting note, I'm not going to. I am not going to be the person who mopes around feeling sorry for themselves. I've tried that, and it's not nearly as fun as it sounds. Rather, I am going to snap myself out of this destructive thinking by:

1. Counting my blessings. I have the love of the most wonderful family and friends. Not to mention a wonderful, generous, too-good-to-be-true man who I fully intend on spending the rest of my life with.

2. By accepting the fact that there are circumstances outside of my control. The economy sucks for EVERYONE right now. Everyone my age is lacking vast experience to attract potential employers. Neither of these things is a reflection on my work ethic, drive or potential.

3. By making a difference, regardless of where I'm at or what I'm doing from 9-5 every day. This job is not permanent, and someday I will be in a career that is rocking the world. Until then I need to find my way to serve as I'm called to serve and love as I'm called to love.

I hope that to anyone who is similarly frustrated with complacency in their life, or is experiencing that reminiscent sense of defeat automatically associated with job-hunting you can be encouraged that as 20-somethings, our lives are simply beginning and only God knows the amazing journey that is in store for us. Until then, our only responsibility should be to enjoy the ride :)

Love,

Kaity

In honor of my last week with Grow Food, Grow Hope. It's been an amazing year!

the job-hunting blues.

Two months. 10 weeks. 72 days. That’s how long I have before I am officially no longer an AmeriCorps VISTA. While I have enjoyed the experience my VISTA term has provided me, I’ve found myself pretty much in the same position I was, one year ago exactly- scrambling to figure out who in this crazy world would ever hire me. I received my rejection letter regarding my grad school application last week, as well as one from a summer job I had made it through two rounds of interviews with and my additional job hunting efforts appear to be fruitless.

Being the control freak that I am, of course, this current climate has found me feeling a lot of pressure. Pressure to find a stable paying job to be able to cover my impending student loan payments. Pressure to dedicate my life to something significant and world-changing. Pressure not to fail. In the midst of the job-hunting chaos, I took a step back and I realized some things.

First, the only person putting pressure on me, is me. My family is not only aware of how sucky the current economic climate is, but they’re incredibly supportive and whole-heartedly believe in my ability to succeed, regardless of the position I find myself in. Not only that, but if I look around at my friends and peers and examine where they find themselves on their career paths, I am by no means a failure. I am experiencing the same woes, disappointments and frustrations as virtually every other post-grad I know.

Second, I continue to catch myself failing to realign my thinking concerning what it means to live a life of significance. I am passionate about ending world hunger. I am passionate about revolutionizing the global food system, to allow for more equal access to nutritious food across the board. I am passionate about sustainable living. These are all things that I will continue to work toward for the rest of my life, but do I honestly expect to single-handedly lead the revolution toward a more proportionate and just global food system? Which is more significant- making it to the top of a corporate hierarchy or to live simply and gracefully, all the while reflecting the love of Jesus?

It is dismaying that this is something I must continually remind myself of. I can choose to ascribe to the world’s definition of success, or I can live in the Light and live successfully as a servant of Christ. While the job-hunting blues may get me down, I’m going to choose the latter of the two.

how to be?

I have a problem. I can’t sit still. No, really. It’s a problem.

I like to think of myself has a highly-driven and ambitious character; constantly working to create a legacy at my current post, regularly researching new articles and findings in food policy and international affairs and seeking out every school, volunteer and job opportunity to advance my career. Thus far, I think this self-motivation has served me well and will continue to do so.

However, I also believe that the constant push to “go” is becoming increasingly problematic for me. I’ve mentioned to a few friends and acquaintances that in the past few months, maybe even years I’ve become increasingly frustrated with Christianity and the Church as a whole and it has ultimately wreaked havoc on my relationship with Jesus. I love Jesus, really, I do. But if being a follower means I’m supposed to disregard the damage we’re continually causing in our environment, to tell my gay friends that who they are is sinful and wrong and ask God to bless my country and mine alone, this is not someone worth following at all.

Thankfully, I’ve only recently come to my senses and asked myself the question: would Jesus do any of the above? I came to the conclusion that, no, He probably wouldn’t. And bringing into question my own flawed character, how can I expect other people to perfectly exemplify the model Christ set out for us. We’re all broken and we’re all going to misinterpret God’s Word simply because it is so beyond our comprehension. But this is a piss-poor excuse to abandon my Savior.

Okay, so back to my point. It’s all well and good that I’m on the path to trying to figure out how to be a “believer” again, but what happens when I sit down to pray and all I can think about is my plans for the weekend? Or when I try to read some of Donald Miller, Shane Claiborne or Ron Sider’s advice for lost and confused souls such as myself and I’m transfixed by the incoming message alert on my cell phone? How can I expect to be present with God when I can’t even be?

I have yet to figure out how to be, but I like to think that acknowledging the fact that it may be time for me to slow down a little bit might be helpful. If anyone has any advice or suggestions I’d be more than appreciative. In the mean time, keep me in your prayers as I try to learn how to “silence my heart and prepare for worship.”

the power of positive thinking :)

About two weeks ago I sat on the couch on what I recall as a Sunday evening talking to my baby sister about absolutely nothing. As the conversation came to a momentary pause she decided to tell me, "So Mommy and I were talking about you the other day." At which point I sarcastically queried, "Okay. Was that the end of the story?" She preceded to tell me that both she and my mother had took note of the fact that I was becoming what could only be described as a "Negative Nelly" or "Debbie Downer." I was horrified as she continued on- not in a vindictive way, but in the honest and concerned way that only someone who has known me for the last 19 years of my life can do. I automatically became really upset, because I realized that what she was saying was absolutely true.

As we hung up the phone several minutes later, I remained on my couch and just wept. How did I let myself become such a miserable, unhappy person? How did I let it get to the point where I was actually affecting the lives of the people whom I love the most? And more importantly, how did it happen without me noticing? I started pondering the things that were making me so unhappy in my life, but realized soon after that my problem was not the fact that I needed to address the negative aspects of my life (I was doing enough of that already), but for whatever reason I had become completely oblivious to all the amazing, wonderful, positive gifts I was receiving.

I began telling my ex-boyfriend and currently one of my closest friends (and an example of one of the many blessings in my life) where I was at, and he shared that he was having similar troubles. I figured he was a good person to utilize in my goal of living more positively so I concocted a plan to make him my accountability partner and each day to share all the amazing things that were happening to me on a daily basis, that I had altogether been disregarding for the past few months. It was honestly, perhaps, one of the smartest things I've ever done. We've been going strong so far and not only is it an absolute pleasure to share the source of my happiness, but to rejoice in his as well.

Two weeks later and I'm high on life. I've begun meeting some fantastic people in Wilmington, and getting closer to existing friends. I'm determined to make the most of the next 6 months at my job and I'm plain and simple, an incredibly happy person. Perhaps the biggest reward has been the fact that my hyper-awareness of the blessings happening all around me has led me closer to God. I've been completely neglecting my spiritual relationship because of a petulant frustration with Christians as a whole. Last night was the first night I've prayed in a much longer time than I'd like to admit and I even began re-reading Blue Like Jazz to gain some more insight into my own faith. It would be an absolute understatement to say that I am incredibly blessed and happier than I've been in a very long time; and all because I decided to believe in the power of positive thinking :)