activity: write a letter to your future self

Have you been given an assignment asking you to write a letter to your younger self? I actually mentioned it in an earlier blog post.

I was organizing files on my computer today, when I found my portfolio from college. I found a letter that was supposed to be in my “about me” section, but I didn’t use it because it was too long and wordy.

It was kind of immature, but at the same time insightful and exactly something I needed to hear. Who would’ve thought that three years later, I would be taking advice from myself?

Writing letters to our younger selves is a creative way to make us reflect on what we’ve learned. It’s also a way to bring up all the “what ifs” and “I wish I would’ves” that don’t do any good.

I propose we write letters to our future selves. Growth comes in phases depending on where we are and what we’re going through.

We are taught in history class that we can learn from the past because history repeats itself. It’s true in our personal lives too. Three years ago I was at college, not knowing what to do next, or what God had in store for me. Now, I’m about to leave Ireland, not knowing what to do next, or what God has in store for me.

But my 22-year-old self has some advice.

“I’ve adopted the philosophy that I heard from a pastor: ‘God doesn’t care about the who, what, when, or where. He cares about the why and how.’ This is what I want you to know about me: I’m also not going to care about the who, what, when, or where. I’m going to care about why I’m making the choices I’m making, and how I’m getting there.”

What lessons are you learning that you want your future self to remember? 

10 things i haven't done in a year that the average american probably does every day

I haven't been home in the good ol' US of A since last Christmas. Since 'tis the season, I'm making preparations to go home. I was lying in bed today thinking of things that I'm looking forward to, and came up with a list. Most of these things I would have done on a weekly (if not daily) basis.

 1. Use a top sheet and a blanket.

Duvet pros: easy to change, cheap to replace covers. Cons: When you're hot, there's nothing underneath. 

2. Eat at a Mexican restaurant (sit down or fast food). 

Indian is to Ireland as Mexican is to America

3. Drive on the right side of the road. 

my brain this month 

4. Go to a church that has more than 50 people. 

This is my church in Ireland...

This is my church's (in America) atrium

5. Have someone bag my groceries for me. In bags that I didn't have to remember to bring. 

note: no place to put groceries except in your bags. that you brought. 

6. Immediately take a shower when I want. 

I have to press this button 30 minutes before each shower. You wouldn't think it makes a big difference, but you can't ever just take a "quick shower" 

7. Get free refills. Of a drink that has ICE in it.

AND ICED TEA! 

8. Use a coffee maker and/or our Keurig

french press is NOT the same. 

9. Flush public toilets with my feet.

typical flushers. unless i have some sweet karate skills, then i have to press it with my finger... 

10. Use traffic lights. 

Roundabouts are more efficient. I'm afraid I'm going to forget to look up. 

the misty mountains moor

Today I traveled to Downpatrick Head in county Mayo. I've never been out this way, and it is indeed incredible like the rest of Ireland. It was the kind of drive, the scenery, that inspires art - whether it be writing, painting or poetry. It had the familiarity of art you'd find on an old puzzle: the clouds were a heavy grey that only makes you think of a slow, long-burning fire with a rug on the floor and quilts draped over the chairs. A small nook of a room being kept warm by the hearth. The muted shades, yet vibrant colors of orange,  yellow and red trees contrasting with the dark green hills with the dark grey clouds, makes you think of apples and hay bales and last-minute outdoor activities before the early dark nights of winter.

When the sun behind the blanket of clouds sunk further into the grey sea, we climbed Downpatrick Head in a heavy grey mist with gusts of bitter wind that howled across the grass. My hair whipped in my face as I stood at the top of the cliff, and I could start to see lights from houses nestled into the hills flicker on like the first stars of the evening. The waves were crashing below - the loud foomph as the white cap hit the face of the cliff. I watched the silhouettes of two fisherman below, bending into the wind as they walked across the fields to take home the day's catch.

Even now as I write, I can hear the wind howling across the land outside my window.

st. paddy's day in Ireland

"What are YOU doing?"

I looked down to see a little African girl with one hand on her hip, green shamrocks bouncing off her headband and holding an Irish flag with a company logo on it.

"I'm looking at clothes." I replied, taking my hand off the rack of sweaters I was looking through. "What are you doing?"

-"Waitin' for my momma"
-"Did you go to the parade?"
-"Yes."

"Did YOU?" Out from behind another rack of clothing stepped another girl, identical to the one I was talking to.

-"Did you see that big red double decker bus?"
-"Yes.." They replied, sticking up and waving their flags uncomfortably close to my face.
-"Well, I was with them in the parade."
-"You were IN the parade?"
-"Yep."

They both looked behind them to see their momma coming, and took off. But I still felt like a celebrity.

I have a few bucket list items. I keep a list in the back of my journal of things I'd like to do or see, like visit all 7 continents and stuff like that. It only seems natural that spending St. Patrick's Day in Ireland would be one of those. I'm not into the whole drinking guinness and partying business, so I guess that's why it never crossed my mind.

But, March 17, 2012 I found myself not only in Ireland, but walking in a St. Patrick's Day parade in Athlone.

The weekend started out Friday night on the Big Red Bus in Athlone Town Centre. We offered free tea and coffee and conversation. At one point in the night, I was listening to a man who had come from the pub talk about his life and what he thought God was all about. His phone rang. "Hey, yeah... I'm ... sitting on a big red ...double decker bus outside the pub ... (pause) ... no I'm not joking around! ..(pause) ... well, I'm talking to this man about my life! ... (pause) ... I'm not! Here YOU talk to him!" And he handed the phone to one of our staff.

I was on a double decker bus at one o'clock in the morning serving tea and coffee in the middle of town. Even I had a hard time believing it and I was there.

The next day, St. Patrick's Day, we got in the parade line and blasted Christian music from the bus and passed out fliers. Or "Gospel tracts" as some people would call them. A part of my job as communications gave me the privilege of designing them.

(Front)                                                       (back)

I think the best comment I heard from someone was this: "Mommy, who's that?" "That's Jesus, honey."

You'd think it being St. Patrick's day and all ... 

The day after St. Patrick's Day (Sunday) we took the Big Red Bus to parade #2 in Ballinasloe. We carried the cross and handed out the same tracts. We ordered 5,000 tracts, and after the two parades were over, we had about a stack of 300 left. 

This parade, although less people, was more fun because I got to carry a giant Irish flag.

After the parade, my housemate Andrea and I went for a walk along the beach in Galway. I felt like I was in a movie... St. Patrick's Day parade... beach walk ... we saw a wedding on the beach, and crazy students jumping into the sea. 

We ended the weekend by going out on the Big Red Bus again that night. We didn't have too much activity, but a few people came back that have been there before, and one guy had read all the materials we had given him and said he wanted to pursue a faith, but he was afraid of what his friends would say. Please pray for him - he is so close! 

One of the biggest bonuses of working in Ireland is that St. Patrick's Day is a big deal. So we get today off! Yessss.

put a CORK in it.

Ah, Cork City, Ireland. The second largest city in the Republic of Ireland, and the first largest city for awkward moments.

It was friday night, and there were four of us, Ludie, Lee, Kala and me. There was a missions conference going on, and we went to represent OM Ireland by setting up a booth offering books and information about what we do. We traveled by green van - as you can see in this picture, is a beauty.

After a lot of traffic and a side-trip stop, four hours later we arrived in Cork. We needed to grab a bite to eat, so Ludie, remembering a takeaway from a previous trip to Cork, makes Lee lean out the window and ask someone "Can you tell me where KC's is?" The lady says "you mean, that KC's?" and turns around and points at the building behind her. There it is. We stopped right in front of it. Awkwardly saying "yep, that's the one," we got out.

KC's is big enough for a line (or, queue) to fit inside and that's it. It was delicious. I got a polynesian chicken pita and it was so good.

We then headed to the missions conference, where we set up our booth. The first night, there were about 50 people there and the crowd got progressively larger with each meeting.

Saturday morning, we had another meeting until 1pm and then didn't have to be back until 7pm. Ludie dropped us off in Cork city centre at the English Market and we had the day. We got some sandwiches in the market, and walked for ages trying to find a place to eat them. We ended up eating them at the entrance to the market - standing up. It was raining outside and inside there wasn't anywhere to sit down.

We spent the day exploring the streets, small shops, and back alleys. Cork didn't seem too much different from the rest of the cities in Ireland, but then again, there are only six in the Republic. We went into Dunnes, which is a major Irish department store, where i proceeded to spill my entire water bottle in my purse, leaving a nice water trail everywhere I went.

Like all of Ireland, shops started closing around 5:30, so we met Ludie and decided to hit up KC's again since it was so good. I guess we went at prime time because the queue was very long. And the best part about it is, it's away from the city centre, so not too many tourists know about it i guess, because we were the only non-locals in line.

We headed back to the last session of the conference, then packed our bags and headed home.

off key.

It didn't effect me too much when the Irish said the Christmas season didn't traditionally start for them until the 8th of December. I still put up my decorations and tried not to play Christmas music too loud in the office.

It didn't effect me (although throw my whole childhood off balance a little bit) when I found out families from the Netherlands claim St. Nicholas comes from Spain and his elves are all named Pete and are black.

Those are differences that can be lived with. I've come to find out today, there is one Christmas season difference that can't be celebrated differently. Somebody has to change the way they've done things for years. Well, I guess you don't have to, but if you're like me, you end up sounding really terrible singing Christmas carols. I had to work my way through worship today, and it wasn't pretty.

I give you two examples: Away in a Manger and O Little Town of Bethlehem.

First, Away in a Manger. Classic American version


Away in a Manger. Classic Irish version:


Second, O Little Town of Bethlehem. Classic American Version


O Little Town of Bethlehem. Classic Irish Version

It's Christmas time in the city..

Locations: London, Dublin, and my little humble town of Roscommon.

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks

dressed in holiday style

In the air, there's a feeling of Christmas

Children laughing

people passing 

meeting smile after smile

Strings of street lights

even stop lights, blink a bright red and green

as the shoppers rush home with their treasures

the small things.

When one travels, it's the big things that bring the most excitement and pleasure: the new scenery, the mixing of different cultures, the different accents, the different styles of buildings, the hustle and bustle of life outside of what you know it to be. I think for a place to become a home - to become no longer an extended vacation, it's the little things that count. In your hometowns I can guess you don't smell the air, take in a deep breath and say "ah! would you look at that skyline." or "ah! would you look at those trees!" What makes life your life is what you do with it. The people you become friends with, a special meal, the excitement of new clothes.

So, I give you a glimpse into those things for me. Little things that make a big difference.

bonfire with s'mores and music 

new autumn dress

my new car!

Korean night - such good food

enjoying that food.

strawberries and creme with a nice coffee

"fancy a coffee?"

boat tour on the river shannon

snapshots of home.

Each of these shots were taken in about a 20 minute radius of where I live. (don't forget you can click on them to make them bigger. :) 

Finally a picture of who I live with!
 Lisa is on the left, and Andrea is in the middle. 

Portrunny (a port of the river Shannon)

classic. 

Thatched-roof cottage

we had to pull over so he could get by. 

hopefully no one comes over that hill at full speed...

our post office

Sunsets on the drive home from work