Rediscovery

I remember being out in Berkeley and beginning the task of riding my bike. I say task because I didn't really want to bike to work. I didn't think it was safe with all the cars buzzing around me. And my legs felt like jelly after the slightly-small to small hills I rode up to get to First Pres. I would have thought I was a chain-smoker who never had a day of exercise. But with the encouragement of my host family and some minor revelations from God; I decided I would try to stick with it.

And I did.

I remember the first day I rediscovered how much I loved biking. I had huffed and puffed my way up past the Claremont Hotel, on one of those bright, clear Berkeley mornings (sometime in March, I think), and I was enjoying the ride downhill to what I began to affectionately call "My Toolshed" ('My' spot on Prince--thanks, Josh, for that one.). The wind was blowing through my helmet and against my shirt, and my tires were humming underneath me with a rhythmic click coming from. . .somewhere. I began to notice the turn-of-the-twentieth-century houses, the unexpected palm trees, the scent of orange blossoms, the bustle of College: and the world seemed reborn.

In that moment, I remembered my Huffy bike with the rose-stickered mud-flaps, the tassles hanging off the handle bars, the basket I got a year later. I remembered the thrill of peddling as fast as I could go, swooping down the driveway and around to the street, then back down again. I remembered attempting 'dangerous feats' of skill and gaining self-confidence with each new endeavor. . .and in that moment of rebirth and memory, I felt pure joy.

I love those moments, when the life I live and all that is truly me collide serendipitously, and the sun no longer has to beam in the sky because it beams from the depth of my soul. All is light, all is fair, all is filled.

And such the week has been here in Memphis--a poetry reading, a Scottish faire, a local dance--a rediscovery of the elements of joy.

Eclectic in Search of Identity

[Thanks for tuning back in after this time of silence. . .my internet access was restored this past Saturday.]

Memphis is an interesting town with fantastic character. I live in Midtown which can't quite decide if it is up-and-coming urban renewal, old money, rundown "downtown," or hip and happenin'. It has an appealing ecletic feel, and I've been surprised by its diversity (though nothing like the Bay Area).

My apartment was a God-send--found through an ad in the local paper during a two day 'housing wanted' trip. It's a duplex just within the borders of the Central Gardens Historic District. It has a nice ring, but a mugging took place a block or two down the road shortly after my arrival--eclectic in search of identity. When my mom and I took the tour of the place, on day two of our jaunt, I knew it was meant for me. The bedroom was spacious; the kitchen had a dishwasher, garbage disposal, and ice maker; a wide welcoming room greeted us as we came in the front door; and it was about 8 blocks from the hospital. It also happened to be one of the least expensive places I viewed, and I put my money down immediately. I moved in about 10 days later, and I have been settling in, mostly, ever since.

My job is stretching me already as any social phobia I may have had is exposed. CPE has the feel of in-person cold-calling--no one has asked for me to show up, but I do, and I knock and open the door and am greeted by a whole host of situations (sleeping, eating, bathing, residents-in-training). As I walk to my floor, I feel anxious, a tad queasy, and completely unprepared; but my supervisor assures me that by the end of November I'll feel at least some better. Until then, I get to embrace my incompetence, and I think, "I actually signed up for this???" Something about growth and integration of my whole self--right now it feels like lemon in a paper cut.

As for the rest: friends, church, community--I'm searching. It always takes a while, and given the nature of my job, I wonder just how long it may take this time. After spending each week introducing myself to strangers and talking with them about issues like entering a new stage of life tied to a machine, mortality, letting go, grieving, etc.; I'm going to love my little duplex with the wide welcoming room and the fact that it is only welcoming me. . .

which reminds me. . .

I have new contact info. If you want it, and you haven't received an e-mail from me, write me, and I'll send it along.

As always, let me know how you are!

Simple Information

I've told several of you by e-mail that I would be posting by the end of this week. YIKES!!! Didn't realize the end of the week would come so quickly! :) Sooooo. . .

. . .this will be a small update without the detail about leaving Berkeley and the amusements of traveling across country (off-roading; conversations picked up over the walkie-talkies Dad, Mom, and I bought for the trip; visiting the meteor crater in NM; eating my first bowl of grits in months; my encounter with Harry the Rest Area attendant who began by asking me if I needed help finding a map and ended by talking about sucking on his wife's toes and admonishing me to keep mine clean [I promptly left at that point.]; and a host of other incidents to relish).

Instead, it's simple information: I have decided to move to Memphis, TN for the next year. In truth, I have been leaning toward Memphis ever since it became obvious UCSF wasn't going to work out, but after a retreat day in Durham, NC it seemed the obvious choice.

This isn't without complications, of course. I e-mailed the folks in Memphis shortly after my return to Birmingham expressing my interest, and in the intervening days, it came to the attention of Ron (the assistant director of the program) that I had not filled out an employment application for the hospital--so much for the 8-10 page bloodletting of the CPE application. Without those bits of paper filled out, I could never officially be hired by the hospital, so I spent most of my morning Tuesday trying to remember all of my jobs over the past ten years and figuring out the fax machine at my parents church. Now, everyone has the information they need, and once my legal background check comes back *clean* (along with the drug tests and the MMPI results), they can offer me the position in earnest. What are those aliens in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that need the exact form filled out with the proper authorizations to begin or end any action and that can kill you by reading their poetry to you? Their name slips my memory, but I'm sure you understand the frustration.

I'll be going to Memphis next week to look at apartments, though they seem to be few and far between at the moment. This, of course, is because I want to begin a lease in the middle of the month. We'll see how it goes.

Until next time--kk

Another Year, Another City

I think it must be an answer to prayer. . .as an 19 year old fresh from the adventure and invigoration of an Alaskan summer, I prayed that I would see the world. At some point, the prayer was modified, because of experience, to request at least 6 months if not a year in each place of sojourn.

Well, it took a bit for the prayer to 'kick-in,' but now, 13 years later, I am in my sixth cycle of relocating to a new city, after approximately a year's stay in my last new city. And this is why I have finally succumbed to blogging. I want to stay connected to all the wonderful people that I have met along the paths of my life, and I hope this is one way to do it.

Most of you know that I am in Berkeley, CA. What you may not know is that I tried my best to actually stay here. It's an amazing city with amazing people, and I simply was not ready to move on. But it seems God has different plans for me. After a brief glimmer of hope, the position as a hospital chaplain at the Univ of Cal in San Fran Hospital was removed as an option (read, "They didn't offer me the job."). So, I am pursuing other CPE options closer to my roots. One is at a hospital in Tennessee, and the other is at a hospital in Virginia. Both are good options, but both mean that I will relocate to yet another new place--to learn about the shortcuts that avoid the interstates, the best places to get all my shopping done at once, the good restaurants, the special areas of town that are unique or praiseworthy in some way, the church that is the right part friendly and the right part worshipful, the people who will become confidantes and friends, the places that take my breath away, and the places that I will long to return to. . .someday.

All this because of a few phrases uttered in blissful ignorance by a wide-eyed, teenaged girl hungry for all that traveling would teach and offer. And all the traveling has brought me to you who read this page with kind eyes and warm thoughts and shared memory, and for all the grief moving brings, it is joy as I think of you.

Blessings and keep visiting,
kk