2,074 Miles

Note from months later - as I reviewed this post, and the pictures within it, I couldn't just discard it, or leave it in the drafts. Yet I could not finish the post either. Much has changed since then.


12:45 am: Car is packed, and we're pulling out of the driveway. I'm so tired that I am having a slightly hard time feeling excited for this road trip. Thirteen hours! That is an insanely long drive! But we'll make it.

The drive to Georgia was super long. I almost can't believe how long it took... it is all kind of a blur, with "Prince Caspian" and "The Magician's Nephew" keeping Donny and I awake. Donny did most of the driving, but I had a fair share, as well. Maybe a little too much, perchance. We were going to a friend's wedding in Georgia, then driving up by way of Knoxville, TN and Vienna, WV.

9:30 am: I can't believe what just happened. It's kind of the stuff of nightmares. I was the first car in a four car pile-up, on Interstate 85. The car ahead of me threw on his brakes, and so I threw on mine, and skidded in my lane, significantly slowing in order to keep from hitting the car ahead of me. I didn't hit the car ahead of me - he sped up. Then there was an unmistakable and indescribable sound as I felt a crushing shock hit us from behind. I was so shaken. 

Two hours later, we were back on our way, with five and a half hours ahead of us, still. Driving wasn't really the same after that, but except for all the times Donny used the brakes and tailgated, the accident didn't cause me any stress. By the time we reached the wedding, we had perhaps ten minutes to spare before the wedding began!

The Vacation ~ After Arriving in San Diego

The excitement of being in a new airport is a feeling so un-describable. I landed in San Diego a full day after I had planned, and it wasn't till I walked towards the airport exit that I realized how excited I was for my vacation. That evening passed in a blur of driving to my cousin's house, getting to know my cousin's two daughters, and talking.

It's been over a week since I've returned home, but there are quite a few great memories that have been lingering in my mind, causing me to wish to return to the west coast.

The day after I arrived, we went to a beautiful cove along the coast, and went snorkeling. I can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like that. Seeing documentaries about ocean life, and visiting aquariums simply cannot match up to the sights you can see as you lay face down in the middle of a sea of fish, seals, kelp and sea grass. Once two seals swam so close to us that I could've touched them. Although that was super cool, I nearly panicked at the idea of one of them touching me. I wish I had pictures of the snorkeling, but unfortunately I do not have a waterproof camera!

One thing about San Diego is that it has a lot of frozen yogurt shops! In Lancaster, I only know of one, but in San Diego we went to three different places, and there were so many others. One afternoon I took my two second cousins to a frozen yogurt place, then we walked next door to the bookstore. For the next hour we sat on the floor and read comic books. Oh, I'm so happy for all the little things that make my heart smile!

Like mochi on coconut frozen yogurt...

...and delightful people to eat it with...

...for Calvin & Hobbes, and people who are fully from the race of Joseph!

~apparently a must-have in San Diego - fish tacos!

~~~

A picture says a thousand words, and since I have a fair amount of pictures that show the beauty and happiness of my little vacation, I believe I'll do the remaining part of this post in pictures with captions.

~~~

~ mancala ~

~ sunsets at the beach ~

~

~ art galleries and gardens at Balboa Park ~

~

~ boogie boarding and more sunset-watching at the beach ~

~

~ breakfast with English muffins, and tree climbing at the park ~

~

~ ingenious ponytail holes ~

~ delicious, homemade Korean food ~

~ and the ride home ~

No Pictures. No Poetry. No Smiles.

Eli B. Smucker, 30, of 9 S**** Rd., New Providence, died Monday, August 8, 2016, of injuries sustained in an industrial accident....... and attended the Old Order Amish Church..... Besides his parents, he is survived by eleven siblings... all of New Providence.....

Eli was our neighbor. I didn't know him personally. I knew his face, knew he trained horses, knew he was friendly. He was one of our landlord's older sons. As far as I knew, he hadn't joined the Amish church yet, and he was unmarried. His family must feel so horrible. But I didn't know him. There's no reason for me to feel grief for this person. But I cried on the way home from work, today. Cried, because his family probably is hurting so, yet accepting it as is their way, and cried, because people aren't supposed to die. He should have only broke some bones... but not died. People shouldn't die - accidents shouldn't happen.

And yet it did.

14 year old dies after being pulled from eastern Lancaster County pond.

David Beiler. That was his name. I may have known his parents. When I heard of this horrible accident on the radio, I recognized his parents' names. I think they may have come to the clinic where I worked as secretary, a few years ago. Fourteen. Fourteen. He was swimming with a friend. Why did this happen? I had to listen to my Amish coworkers, talking about how horribly this affected David Beiler's sister. How she wouldn't talk to anybody. And I wanted to stop working, wanted to cry, wanted to shake my fist at the sky and scream, Why all this pain??

There was an episode of Dr. Who that I watched recently where the Doctor was unable to follow his rule of not altering fixed points in time. I think that he couldn't stand to be forced to stand back and watch while more great and important individuals died. So he saved the three remaining people who were previously going to die. He knew they were going to die, he had seen it in the future. But he snapped, couldn't take it, and saved them. Even though he knew he shouldn't. I understand why he wasn't supposed to... It always made total sense to me. And yet I've felt the struggle he always had to go through. I know how the Doctor wanted to save everyone, and how he believed everyone was important. Comparatively, somehow in my struggles with understanding why God allows horrid stuff to happen, and lets people die, seeing the Doctor in action helps me to see it so clearly.

Maybe, just maybe, like the Doctor, God won't change fixed points in time, because something so terrible might happen if He did... Maybe, just maybe, God is standing there, invisible, but in agony, like the Doctor, because He knows He shouldn't do anything, even though He so badly wants to. And maybe, just maybe, He has saved so many people already, and we simply have no idea.

Maybe He says something like this, that the Doctor said; "I’m the Doctor. I’m a Time Lord. I’m from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I’m 903 years old, and I’m the man who’s gonna save your lives and all six billion people on the planet below. You got a problem with that?"

And maybe He is always on the move, always saving, always helping.

I can handle a God like that.

“Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day. Not today. Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody dies at all. Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call, everybody lives.” 

— River Song

"Just this once, everybody lives!!"

— The Doctor

“We’re all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one..."

— The Doctor

En Route to San Diego, CA ~ The First Leg of the Journey

"Flight 496 is cancelled."

 I just want to tell you guys, I had an adventure. I am having an adventure right now, at this very minute. For a little over a month and a half I have been planning to fly to San Diego and have a super fun vacation with my cousin and his two children, and now I am in that very city, sitting cross-legged on a bed in a room in my cousin's house, in one of the nicest sections of San Diego. So, to be honest, this is all an adventure. But let me tell you how I got here, because the journey is so worth the telling!

"We are so often caught up in our destination that we forget to appreciate the journey, especially the goodness of the people we get to meet on the way."

 

 

We start off in a car who threatens to die. Poor Mr. Beaver splutters and passes out after backing out onto the road, so we decide it wouldn't be wise to drive in him. We change to a vehicle who has a slightly less chance of dying - so we hope. Donny's car. The trip is full of tolls - and we decide it isn't a good idea to travel to JFK from Lancaster. I tuck that knowledge away for use in my future of ticket-buying. As we enter New York, and the traffic begins, rain chooses this time for its entrance to our trip. Eventually we come across a section of road with several inches of water covering the pavement, and we cross all our fingers and toes as we drive through. Some dude on our right speeds past us and sprays water all over the car.

 

 

 

It was a full-blown thunderstorm. Lightning ripped through the clouds, threatening to tear open the sky as we knew it, threatening to smack the earth in a disciplinary way. We laughed, and said random, crazy things. The words "ice cream" came out of my mouth instead of lightning. It became an inside joke, a replacement for the word lightning. Inching along the last few miles through traffic, it took us an hour to get to the airport when it should've taken us only fifteen minutes, most likely. After arriving to Terminal 4, Donny, Pony, Wain and I sat cross-legged in front of Delta's check-in baggage area, and played several rousing games of Dutch Blitz. Donny and I competed at narrating the game.

An older orthodox Jewish couple came by, curious about what kind of game we were playing. We explained, promoted the game, and they moved on.

Then the rain stopped, and my companions left me.

Going through security wasn't as scary, slow or stress-full as I thought it would be. The gentleman who found my too-many-ounces bottle of ear care solution was extremely friendly and nice, and he let me go with it. Feeling like I might actually be able to do quite well with traveling by myself, I marched to my gate, feeling excited. I found it without much trouble. Down one escalator, across the terminal, to gate 35. I settled down in my seat, pulled out my phone. Oh yay, WiFi! I got a text. My flight has been delayed several hours because of the weather. Well, that's not too bad... at least I have WiFi! I texted Austin, letting him know.

 

 

 

Then I hear an announcement. My gate has changed. So I walk across the terminal to the other gate. Go to the desk, confirm that this is the right gate.

 

Oh. Well, it's now gate 33.

 

Um, okay.

 

And so back across the terminal once again.

Go to gate 25.

 

 At gate 25 - 

Go to gate 30.

 

At gate 30 -

Go to gate 18.

 

And right before I get to gate 18, I see on the screens that my flight has been cancelled. How fun. I ask a flight attendant who would've been going on that same flight what I should do. She directs me across the airport to the help desk. Laughing at the absurdity of it all, I march across the airport one more time and find an extremely long and slow-moving line in front of the help desk. Behind me is a man from Australia, seeming rather chill despite the stress in all the others in the line. Ahead of me is two girls, high school graduates returning home from a mini-vacation to New York city together before college. We exchanged names and chatted a bit about school and life and the joys of traveling. Also ahead of me is a young man who seems to be someone that random people know. From the little I can catch, I hear that he has a popular YouTube vlog. I am half tempted to approach him and ask him how come he is so well-known, but I just smile a little at all the people coming up to him wanting a hug and picture with him, and settle on the ground, pulling out my book.

It is four hours later that I reach the front of the line. The poor ladies working at the help desk seem tired. The lady helping me finds me a flight for the next afternoon, and gives me vouchers for a hotel room, a taxi to the hotel, and one to the airport for the next day. Exhausted, I try to find the place where I am to get my taxi. I go to the 4th floor, but can't find the proper place, and go down to the first floor exit. I call the taxi, and they tell me to go back up to the fourth floor. On the fourth floor, I am directed to Door One, and I wait for my taxi. I realize that I should be hungry. I haven't eaten for twelve hours. Someone - I have no idea what his job title is, but he is helping folks like me get their taxi - shows me a taxi to take, and I am off to the hotel. It is my very first taxi ride. The taxi driver creeps me out by listening to a radio station with the weirdest commercials. Have gross toe-nail fungus? Is it embarrassing to talk about your toe-nails? Well, you need to get our amazing toe-nail fungus remover! I am half asleep part-way through the taxi ride, but in the back of my subconscious I hear a commercial about sex. I have no problem talking about sex, but I have to say, it feels very creepy listening to such a commercial in a black, tinted window taxi with a stranger!

After breakfast the next morning, I had hoped to explore Madison Square Gardens, but I have flight issues to work out. The first leg of my rescheduled flight is delayed, so now it would be impossible for me to make the second leg of my flight to San Diego. I reschedule my already rescheduled flight, and after that is worked out, I decide to call my taxi a little earlier than they had told me was necessary. Boy will I be glad I do that.

Two hours later, I cram into an extremely delayed taxi with two other women who were in the same boat as I am. I am intrigued by the buildings in this city. There are office buildings which would take ten minutes to climb, just using the elevator! So is my supposition.

In the taxi, the lady in the back seat with me strikes up a conversation. Her name is Connie. We chat about the delays and such nonsense, but throughout our conversation I find out that she is from the Netherlands, and we talk about the politics and policies of that country. I am enthralled. She tells me terribly interesting stuff about the country. "You can create any political party you want! The Keep-the-coffee-shops political party - really, anything you want!" She tells me about the schools, which are all good quality schooling, no matter which neighborhood one is in. Although taxes are very high, nearly 50% of anyone's income, healthcare and schooling is very affordable. Family life, vacation and relationships are very important, not as important as working and progressing in the job-world. Connie tells me that most people only work four days a week, and everyone takes three big vacations a year. The most interesting thing she tells me is that there is a certain percentage of poor people who are supposed to live in each neighborhood, so there are no slums in the country. Technology and wealth is not valued as highly as it is here in the US, she tells me. "It seems like everyone wants the best car here, the biggest TV, a greater house - but back home we don't have the space for those things. Our refrigerators and TVs are small, because we don't have the space for them. But we are happy. We don't live so fast paced... For one example, I heard from a friend in North Carolina that you are told to drive defensively. And I read that even in a driver's manual! But in the Netherlands, we all care about each other, so we don't need to drive defensively! If we all follow the rules and take care, we don't need to drive defensively. And people here are always rushing, rushing, rushing..."

 

Ah, yes we are, aren't we! Always in a hurry, always seeking to get ahead, always with a more me-focused life. Not always bad, as Connie pointed out, but so different!

Believe it or not, what should be a short drive to the airport takes an hour and a half. I am worried that I will miss my flight, but despite being stopped in security (and there is such a long line to wait in!) and my shampoo, conditioner and ear care solution being thrown away, I make it to my gate in time! This time my gate only changes once, and it is just one gate down, so I besides the initial walk across the airport from security to my gate, I don't have to walk across the airport that much.

I love the airport. I love the calm after the rush of trying to find the correct gate... the mingling of languages, accents and different races. I love the contained excitement nearly bursting from every corner.

Guess where my first layover was? Maybe you will find it as humorous as I did!

Philadelphia!

It was the tiniest airplane I've ever been in. I was thrilled to be in the air again, though. After a short layover in Philly, I was flown to Detroit. I loved that airport. There too I had a short layover, then a four hour flight to San Diego. On that flight, a sweet couple with a baby sat across the aisle. I was able to steal their baby for a short while, and get some baby cuddle time. He was the sweetest. Eight months old, and super friendly and happy. The flights themselves were not out of the ordinary - I shivered at the thrill of take-off (I do every time - I hope I don't lose that excitement) and could not help grinning.

I watch "Inception" and "Allegiant" on my flight and cry. (There's something about fantasy action movies that make me cry that I simply love) And then I landed in the coolest airport - of San Diego!

That was simply the journey to my destination, but the journey itself happened to be a destination in and of itself.

The experiences I have had in San Diego will have to wait for another post!

Toodles,

Joelle

Words Filtered from a Silent Heart

If I were to wait for an opportune time to begin this blog post, you would not be reading this right now. Thoughts have been formulating in my mind for some time, now, and often while I patrol my beautiful school campus during the red eye shifts of the night, I think of the words I wish to write. Words, words, words. So utterly meaningless, yet also so very amazing. I'm sure you know I love pictures; I often intersperse my blog posts with pictures. But do you know that I love words - that I eat, sleep and breath them? Somehow, words contain such possibilities to ignite peace, love, hope, faith and confidence inside my soul. The right word, rightly spoken, at the right time, creates a strength I didn't know I was capable of, and I keep on.

"I love you, you know that?" ~Rachel, my altogether-too-mature 14-yr-old Amish friend and bakery coworker....

"You're such a goofball." ~said lovingly, appreciatively, by numerous people;

"If I don't tell you [a secret], I tell no one. [...] 

You may read my [private] journal, I'm not afraid for you to see my thoughts. You are privacy." ~my special Patty-Jo-buddy-girl <3

"You know what? I really like you! I'm looking forward to getting to know you! [...] We're somewhat alike!" ~Laura

Words always mean a lot to me, especially when coupled by actions or a kind physical touch. Nowadays, it has been normal for me to go for days without physical contact with another person, or for someone to say my name aloud. Most days it goes hours before I need to speak, or before someone is even around for me to speak to. I believe those are some of the things I miss the most from living at home, that I never expected. Hugs, hugs, hugs.... and hearing my name! I knew I'd be lonely here on my school campus, but I am learning new levels of loneliness. It's not all terrible, and I don't mean to make it sound such. I am learning to relish the silence, and find comfort in stillness. There is such a beauty in the ache of loneliness. If that sounds wrong to you, I do admit that perhaps it is a twisted perspective. Even so, I see my Jesus in the wilderness, drawing near to our Father in the silence, the stillness, and I draw comfort from Jesus having his times of loneliness.

 
 Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
~Shelley

There is a lot that has been going through my mind as of late, some of which I am not sure how to put into words. Struggles with understanding God, and with seeing Him in the midst of this crazy life, questions of how to grow closer to the God whom I worship, respect and love, and how I should think of Him... This Creator God bewilders me, my friends, and I need to know Him better.

In my weekly wanderings, I have been experiencing a wide variety of happenings. Dance class has been going excellently, and work has been delightful, although sometimes extremely drowsy. Most of my work schedule is during the red eye shifts, midnight to eight a.m., so during the day I try to get sleep. Weekends are rather tough because I work very long day hours, and that combined with being used to sleeping all day makes me very tired. This past weekend I managed to get nine hours of sleep in a 75 hour time period. You can imagine how deeply I slept today. I only woke up once from 8am-6pm, and usually when I sleep during the day, I sleep lightly and wake up periodically! Tonight is another eight hour red eye shift, but I'm looking forward to that. I enjoy walking over campus in the dark, and especially from five to six a.m., because the sky looks simply beautiful as the sun rises.

These words, my heart, my heart.... These words are the essence of my feelings right now. A simple, open, free questioning; simple acceptance.

i am a man and i must die
at most my years a century
a whisp of cloud, who in the sky
a weeping vapor fades and flees
i am a man and i will fly
not caged by mortal canopy
nor as eternal stars that lie
reflected in night's starry eaves
i wonder if they weary grow
of watching the galactic flow
that through the eons burn and glow
in mysteries that shadows know
what a relief, with open hands
to lie my heavy burdens down
to pass the fiery, burning brand
to younger men, a newer crown
when i am gone weep not for me
the stormy skies in melody
the thunder holds in harmony
they sing their songs, and i am free.
 ~felicia yoder

And I am free....

It seems that I often will feel one of four emotions about life: either a bleak apathy, a eager passion, a bitter and fearsome hatred, or a open acceptance. Right now as I move on and keep marching forward as best I can, I am simply being. Accepting life as it is, accepting the good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. It comes back to words again... not simply any words, not empty words, but the real words of the heart - the poetry of life. There is a poetry in our souls, one we must be sure to take notice of. Sometimes the poetry is a weary and sad sonnet, other times it is one of peace or vibrant happiness. The poetry in our hearts reverberates against the poetry of the world and touches the poetry in the people surrounding us. Sometimes our poetry affects others, and sometimes others poetry affects us. There are times that our poetry is not reflective of the poetry in God and nature... there are times that others with dark poetry in their hearts surround us, and we believe things about life and ourselves that are wrong. If that is you, love, let me tell you, turn your face to the sun and see the light! There is a poetry of light and truth, higher and more pure than any dark and heavy poetry surrounding you now.

Listen, in the silence you can hear it now.

~

Do not stand at my grave and weep:
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.
 ~Mary Elizabeth Frye

~


I have been one acquainted with the night...

On Matters of Self-Care

“Miss, how do you dress with so much style?”

“Miss, you smell so good.”

“Miss, can you sit by me for supper?”

Children are the best at cheering me up when I've had a hard day. I love the way they call me “miss”, or more often, “misses”. Some things about them can make me sad, like Danny giving me the cold shoulder, or when I know of a particular problem a child is going through, but for the most part, their genuine honesty brings a smile to my face.

“Are you a teacher? You don't look like a teacher! You look like one of us! You look like you're twelve. Hey, you need to put away your phone – only teachers are allowed to have their phones here!” ~ Dominique

~

Lately I have questioned my intent for social work. I've asked myself if I should be trying to help people when I burn out so easily. Because actually, I've been burning out. I've had some rough weeks, and I'm finally feeling up to writing about it. But this time, I won't be giving answers. With all of my writing, I've always had a quick and almost apologetic answer to all the questions and struggles in my heart, but never have I voiced what I've seen of the sadness of living without some philosophical and trite solution. So this time, no philosophical answers, no trite sayings. Because when it comes down to it, there are no answers that satisfy. There are no words that can fix the pain. And yes, I shall say pain. I shall say struggles. I shall say horrible, wretched, miserable. I won't downplay it, or explain it away, because what I've seen, experienced, and know to be true in my life or in so many others' lives is that life is horrible, wretched and miserable. People die. Children are abused, hurt, get brutally sick. Infants are murdered, women are raped and abused. Those who are too weak to stand up against injustice bear the brunt of unspeakable treatment. Hurt, insecurity and pain can be found in nearly every heart. Injustice and evil are the hands behind the chess pieces, and I bitterly hate that fact.

I won't apologize for being dramatic – because I'm not being dramatic. You could accuse me of being serious, but I don't believe I'm over-emphasizing the chaos our world is in at all. My words seem dramatic in writing, but in reality, as I think them I am incredibly calm. Not angry, not depressed. Just awfully quiet and still.

The worst thing about it is, I can't fix it. I can hardly even help. I feel the pain of humanity, and I can only cry for them, with them. And scream, please, please, it just isn't fair, it isn't right!

~

“Just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die. You gotta get up and try, try, try...”

~

Music has a way of wording what I want to say. Sometimes I am stunned by the accuracy of some lyrics. Music is one of those good things in my life that makes me feel stronger, and I can straighten myself a little while knowing that others feel what I've felt, and I can keep on.

Dancing has a way of setting the world right again.

“There are shortcuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them.”

There was a book I was especially fond of, once. Science fiction, it was, and there were three characters that came into the story halfway through. Each of those three represented something important; one was words, I believe, and the other I think might have been passion, or love, or music; but the third I loved especially. She was the mistress of dance. And there was something she said that stuck with me. The exact words have eluded me by now, but she said that dancing represents unity, and when a man and a woman dance together, being unified in spirit, it's the most beautiful thing in the world. I like to imagine the whole creation dancing, constellations and trees, and water and air all dancing in unity. I wish for there to be full unity, but to believe it to be true at this point in time would be naivety. I believe God wants for His creation to all dance together in unity, but it isn't so, and instead, cacophony reigns.

~

When I began writing this, I meant for it to be mainly on self-care. In all of dealing with trouble and managing stress, self-care is one of the most important things to be on top of. That comes naturally to some, but I'm finding that a lot of people who desire to help others are really bad at taking care of themselves. That's true for me. I find myself pretending that I'm fine until I'm nearly burnt out. Or, totally burnt out. Even then, I have a hard time admitting that I'm burnt out. It's funny. Usually it comes out in the form of “I'm tired,” or “I have a head ache.” Self care doesn't really come easy to me. I have been doing better about making sure I get enough sleep, or at least in that I don't make rash decisions when I'm really tired and discouraged. Getting enough sleep is the only thing I consistently do for myself. That is, consistent as in several nights a week.

There was one time I was especially low a week or two ago that I treated myself to a dairy-free, caffeine-free frappuccino from Starbucks. Then I went out shopping, treating myself to several outfits after several months of not buying clothes. That was a particularly rough day, and even though I didn't fully cheer myself up, I feel good about how I tried to take care of myself. Generally speaking, though, I try to refrain from buying stuff for myself as therapy - look where it left poor Mrs. Lincoln! (That being said, I can identify with her so much better now than a few years ago, for several reasons!)

I mentioned already how children can cheer me so when I'm down, and it's true. Giving, serving, and taking care of others has such a large part to play in my own self care. It's strange, but somehow in giving and serving I get the strength, energy and joy of which I had been so low. It's not that they do anything special, but I think a big part of it is that they are so happy and cheerful when their lives certainly aren't the best. Also, once I get my mind off myself and my own problems, my discouragement dwindles to it's proper size – nil.

I'm about sure you could guess the last way I practice self-care. Yes, dancing! I don't know about you, but I feel better when I'm dancing! All the way! Because dancing makes the world a better place.

Feeling incredibly sleepy, till next time, guys.

*Fistbump*

Keep rocking it!