life

Thoughts on “weeping with…”

/ abby hummel / 29 Comments

“Contribute to the needs of the saints… Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.” -Romans 12.

Last month we were blessed to host a memorial service for “National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.” I’m not going to say I really “enjoyed” this, because it was challenging to spend so much time focused on these sad and heavy experiences, but I was blessed by this experience and I think the others there were, too. We lit candles in honor of the babies’ lives and spent some time mourning these losses in light of God’s mercy to us.

“I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”
“So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. There are other forces at work, Frodo, besides the will of evil.”
– The Lord of the Rings, by JRR Tolkien.

I’m often asked for practical advice about how to help a friend experiencing a miscarriage. I first commend you to think about miscarriage like a Christian, which means, to think of this in terms of the gospel. That is primary, but secondarily I offer the following tips.

PHYSICAL EXPERIENCE OF MISCARRIAGE.
To put it delicately, in most cases miscarriage is essentially a mini-birth. Just like a full-term delivery, some require surgical or medical intervention while others progress naturally. There are also hormonal and emotional fluctuations similar to those experienced by other post-partum women. If you are bringing food during or immediately after these events (because you ARE bringing food), she probably needs protein and iron. Bring steak, spinach, and chocolate. For some women, this is among the most physically traumatic events they have experienced; she may need to recount her “birth story,” just like someone who delivered at term. Or not.

HER FAMILY RELATIONSHIPS.
 This experience brings stress and sadness for the whole family. Women usually take this harder, but I think men who mourn feel very isolated. Furthermore, many men may not realize they are grieving. Check in on both of them. Older children may be aware of this and often do not know how to process their sadness. (I remember sitting out of a gymnastics class after my aunt had a miscarriage, overwhelmed by the loss of a tiny  prayed-for cousin, not knowing what to do.) Keep in mind that this may be a huge stress on the marriage, too, and Satan is going to pounce on any opportunity to drive the family apart. A prowling lion does not have any qualms about seeking to devour someone who is empty with sadness or driving apart a couple when they need each other’s support the most. Pray often.

IDENTITY AS A MOTHER.
A mother does not forget her child. You do not need to worry about “reminding” her of grief by bringing it up. It’s there. She knows it’s Mothers’s Day, or that she should be 7 months pregnant, or that her child would be as old as the one running around in the next aisle at the grocery store. Most women identify their child with a name and a gender – be sure to follow her lead in speaking of the baby this way. It is always a gift to remind her that you remember what is most precious to her. Please be sure to tame your tongue while talking about the difficulties of your own pregnancy or parenting experiences if your children are alive. No one is saying raising children is easy, but statements like, “Diapers, crying, and stepping on legos! Life of a mom!” disregard the actual motherhood of a woman whose child died. Yes, motherhood is a hard and important job – but the mom with empty arms may have a harder road than the one with her hands full. I’ve even heard comments from overly-pregnant women like, “It’s so disappointing to not be having a baby on your due date!” Yes, but it’s not as disappointing as not having a baby on your due date because it died, I assure you. I make a point not to hold these things against others, and we can all seek merciful hearts here. But now that you know, pray about how your discussions of parenthood could seek to bless others who may be suffering instead of serving solely for personal expression. Maybe text another friend your frustration in the thick of things instead of posting a vent about it on Facebook?

NAVIGATING FRIENDSHIP.
Let’s level here: It’s awkward to have something that your friend wants and doesn’t have. Most of my best friends are single (one is even divorced), and would prefer to be married, or at least dating. I carried one of our babies longer than a coworker who shared my due-date. And really, my husband came home from Iraq alive while other people died. I know that sometimes there is hardship on the “haves” side of things… But it’s important to make sure that doesn’t cripple you from living compassionately. Remember that St. Paul’s admonition about weeping and rejoicing with others goes both ways, even though most people are only naturally inclined to do one or the other. If your friend is experiencing grief, the gospel compels and equips you to put aside your feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty to weep with her. It does not necessarily compel you to make her stop grieving. God put these commands together for a reason, and he works mightily in our humility.  (It will be easier for her to rejoice with you if you have wept with her, too, which leads me to…)

PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENTS. 
If you’re pregnant, I think it’s best to share your good news personally and privately – maybe an email or text message? A baby on the way is still good news. You don’t need to be ashamed or afraid, but know that it can bring up a big rush of hard, painful emotions for someone who is grieving. Give her a gracious way to avoid your public announcements and baby showers. And mostly, just remember: a sad reaction on her part doesn’t mean she isn’t happy for you – it’s just complicated. I can promise she’d much rather be happy than sad, too.
GRIEF & HEALING.
Take care not to add needlessly to your friend’s pain, but remember it is not your job to make someone else feel better. You don’t need to communicate annoyance or frustration if her grief lingers longer that you expect. She probably feels embarrassed enough without knowing her friends think she’s hanging on to this too long. Don’t take it personally if she struggles. God alone heals. Remember, too, that miscarriage is a real loss. It’s not like she’s healing from a cut on her hand; it’s more like healing from having that hand cut off. This will probably always hurt a little bit and it will probably change the rest of her life in some way, even if you don’t see it in those terms.

Finally, I’m going to go out on a limb here – it might be wise to consider these things when interacting with everyone.  Miscarriage is very, very common. I imagine those struggling with infertility would appreciate your tenderness as well.  You do not know if one of your friends may be struggling and hasn’t shared this with you. It’s always safe to assume that others carry some pain you don’t know about, so be gentle with people.

As always, I’d love to hear comments if you have anything to add to the discussion. What helped you through a miscarriage? What do you wish you could tell people about the way they helped or hurt you? Do you have other questions about caring for friends after pregnancy loss?

A voice in Ramah

/ abby hummel / 9 Comments

“A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.” – Matthew 2:18

Well! Fall has been outrageously busy for us and lots of good things are going on. I’m stretched far in all directions, but fall is one of my favorite seasons, and I’m really thankful that we haven’t spent these cooler months under the heavy weight of grief like we have during autumn in the last few years. One of my big projects has been working on some stuff about ministry and awareness for pregnancy and infant loss. I have some thoughts here to share as a follow-up to a conversation I had on a radio program on Friday about Christians ministering to each other after suffering miscarriage and infant loss. (If you’re interested, you can listen or watch that HERE.) Although Aaron and I are not particularly secretive about the babies we lost in miscarriages during the past few years, I haven’t really written about this topic publicly before. Privately, however, I have frequently shared from a huge file of unsorted thoughts and quotes, often sending these to people who are in their own pit of grief after a loss or are asking about comforting someone else going through this, and I thought I’d pull a few thoughts from there as an addendum to that radio discussion.

Mother and Son, by Fader.

Unfortunately, it’s touchy to talk about how to minister to someone after a miscarriage. The people who can write about it have likely experienced both miscarriage and plenty of botched comforting attempts from their nearest and dearest. It’s hard to know how to share without pointing fingers at those who gave you the comfort of Job’s friends instead of the comfort of Christ. And so I have often hesitated in commenting about this because I don’t want anyone who has mis-stepped to feel like they “failed” me in my grief! However, I doubt holding back is doing anyone a favor here.

It seems like many people hear about a woman who has miscarried and immediately think, “Oh no! That’s too bad. I have no idea what to say to her or how to help.” I have heard those hushed statements not meant for my ears:
“Did you hear about so-and-so? They lost their baby. It’s so awful.”
“I know. I have no idea what to say.”
“I hope she has another baby soon. It’s so sad. I just stay away and pray. She probably doesn’t want to be reminded of it, so I don’t want to bring it up.”
And then when this happens, there is conversational fumbling and perhaps some avoidance or awkward, pithy statements, and the bereaved woman is then left feeling more alone than she was before. This is not always the case, which I know because I’ve experienced many kindnesses from friends, family, and my church, but I have seen the dark side of “comfort,” too, and I think the general attitude about comforting in evangelical culture is usually one of uncertain helplessness or avoidance. After thinking about this a little bit, I’m coming to the opinion that this is not how Christians should respond. Why? Here are a few things to consider. I am referring here mostly to the mother, but many fathers also deal with their own set of emotions. I can only speak for myself, but if you are smart enough to read this article, you should be able to glean insights to help you minister to a man after his child is miscarried as well.
1) We know that God is the creator and author of every life. If He has knit every person together in their mother’s womb, there is no reason to hesitate to minister to someone who had a miscarriage. Her dear baby was created in the image of God, fearfully and wonderfully made. This miscarriage is not just a disappointment or a little blip on the road to having a “real” baby. I will not mince words here: she had a real baby who is now dead; she is a mother in the valley of the shadow of death; she has every right to miss this son or daughter very much, often for a very long time. Since we know these things are true, there is no reason to say something like “You can have another baby,” or “At least you know you can get pregnant,” because these statements brush off the value of the life of her baby who was very real, very loved, and very much created in the image of God. This worth of a human life is just as true of a baby who barely grew as it is for another born healthy at full-term,  or your brother, or grandma.
2) We know that death is real.  Any death is a stark reminder of the Fall, that things are absolutely not as they should be, that Jesus has not come back yet. And if someone is facing these things head-on, because perhaps she has very literally “carried death in her body,” it would be unloving to look in her face of grief, just telling her to cheer up and get over it. Proverbs 25:20 says, “Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day.” Please know the days of grieving a baby are often quite cold. A more compassionate response would be to sit with her in the hour of grief and offer your love in the way she needs it, not just in the way you want to give it. Pray, and when the time is right, lovingly remind her of the gospel and the Resurrection. Because that’s one of the best parts of Christianity: Death is real, but the Resurrection is, too! 
3) We have the Bible as a “guide book” for our lives. Scripture has much to say about loss, personal darkness, and ministering to those in distress. You might have to do some extra digging, though, in analyzing entire chapters and books (like all of the Psalms, 1 Thessalonians 4 or Romans 8) instead of grabbing a verse and quoting it out of context (like Psalm 37:4 or Romans 8:28). You won’t find anywhere that scripture mandates you to comfort someone with a reminder of their possible future earthly blessings, but you will find a lot about clinging to the sufferings of Christ and the hope of eternal life. 1 Thessalonians 4 very specifically tells us how to comfort those who grieve: remind them of the truth of Jesus’ life, death, resurrection, and imminent return. That’s it. Keep it there. If you know how to say “I love you, and I am so sorry you are in pain,” and can really read your Bible, you can extend Christ’s comfort to someone who is suffering.
4) We have the gospel! We have a special understanding of the purpose of life, death, and salvation. We know any ability to truly comfort someone else comes directly from Christ, who has borne all sin, sorrow, and suffering on the cross. You don’t need to tell someone that “God will never give you more than you can bear,” when, in fact, there is nothing in life that we can bear apart from Christ and his work on the Cross. You don’t have to wonder how to approach someone in grief, because you can pray for them and lovingly share the gospel. In a season shadowed by terrible news, like, “we can’t find a heartbeat,” or “your pregnancy is over,” your friend needs now, more than ever, to hear the good news. It’s not just for the lost! Christians still need to hear it. And when everyone else is trying to comfort this woman with lies, half-truths, or unfounded prophecies (“I just know you’ll have another baby soon!”), you can lovingly recount the truth of her salvation with her. This is the greatest gift you can give anyone, and you have the opportunity to share it with someone in one of her darkest hours. 

There’s certainly more that could be said here, but I’ll wrap it up for now. If you’ve experienced miscarriage, what ministered to you the most during your grief? And if you have been afraid to reach out to someone suffering in this way, what holds you back?

Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.
– 1 Corinthians 15:21-22

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live,  and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” – John 11:25–27

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Thoughts on “weeping with…” 

Summer 2012 – That’s a wrap!

/ abby hummel / 9 Comments

Chilly air is invading my cozy blanket pile on the couch and I’m getting up hours earlier than usual in the mornings. I’d say these are two signs that summer is definitely over! Now between lessons and tutoring, I’m doing lots of thinking, studying, laughing, piano-playing, singing, crock-potting, and generally ignoring piles of unfolded laundry. (I suppose that last part was true even in days of relative underemployment.) I like being busy and I’m looking forward to keeping this pace for the rest of fall! But I knew this active season would come, so I tried to make the most of my final days of relaxation earlier.

So, knowing I would be juggling “real” work now, I spent a little time working on some projects while Aaron was busy in Japan this summer. Oh yeah… He just got to visit another side of the world. While I did crafts in Iowa. No biggie! He can make it up to me later.

The biggest project I tackled was taking care of beautifying the dining room rug. I mentioned before that I basically hate how it looked, but after this makeover I’m very happy with what we have. it’s amazing what cool things come from a small budget and lots of creativity!
I started with this:

I was going for this  inspiration look:


A tutorial convinced me I could do it. And watching Jack Bauer‘s American super-hero stunts powered me through four hours of work. By the end, I was exhausted and telling myself things like, “I can’t stop and go to bed. I have to secure the perimeter! We can’t wait for back-up – GO, GO, NOW! Someone get me the President on a secure line!!” to keep my spirits up. And finally, after six episodes of 24, I had a beautiful rug!

I will confess: I made lots of rookie mistakes. I mean it! Lots of them! If you come over and move my table… well,  just don’t do that. You’ve seen enough here. Most of the crookedness happened because I didn’t realize the sides of my stencil weren’t square. Even though I started out carefully, my uneven edges and inadvertent rotations ended up really messing up the pattern even though I was following my guidelines. And I should have spaced out my repeats more for the look I was going for, but overall it’s totally fine. I should stop thinking about the mistakes. It is still pretty cool, and I think the diamond pattern actually makes it feel really connected with the kitchen tile backsplash, too.

I really enjoyed this project and I would absolutely do it over again. Now I’m looking for an excuse to do this somewhere else in the house!

And I’ll mention this here because I put it on my 30-before-30 list: Now that we’ve been married over four years, I am 90% done with my wedding scrapbook. This book goes from the proposal to our honeymoon… just missing a few random bridal shower pictures in the middle.

And yes, that is the same stencil from the rug on the coffee table. It isn’t that I’m so decoratingly coordinated or anything; I just worked with the supplies I had available when rug inspiration struck.

The final bonus of our summer? Several sets of company (but not enough pictures to document their visits), and now I can’t help thinking we have the absolute best cousins and niece ever.

I’m almost tired just remembering all we stuffed into the summer. It’s definitely over now! And between hunting and teaching, I’m thinking the big projects and vacations may have to slow down for a bit now, too.

The Great Hall Collage (Home Tour)

/ abby hummel / 7 Comments

A small house is a great blessing, and we have been surprised by much joy coming from the limited size of our home. I’m not the only one to think a diminutive space is good, too! The popular blog Apartment Therapy regularly features “Small, Cool Places” that make our little cabin a mansion, comparatively, and even Leonardo Da Vinci said “Small rooms or dwellings discipline the mind.” I’ve thought of his quote frequently since living here, and that mental discipline has stretched and improved me many times over during these three years.

In this smallish dwelling, we have just one hallway that twists around from the kitchen, up a few stairs, and leads to the bedroom, linen closet, bathroom and office. This cozy passageway is one of the dearest spots in my home because of the photo project built up on the walls. Inspiration came from a few different sources, but I didn’t really know how to start so I just got some pictures and started nailing them up on the wall.

Collage wall from Pottery Barn, via my pinterest board. I love the different textures on the wall, but I think the clash of black and brown frames is distracting.

source unknown, via my pinterest boards. I love the black frames against white walls with lots of natural wood in the house, just like ours.

When I don’t know how to start something, I either panic and procrastinate forever or jump right in and hope it works out. This hall collage came about because I responded in the second way. Now after three years we have one giant collage that is about 90% done. There are a few empty frames and some empty spots that need frames and artwork. When I look at this, I think I meant to have photos on just one wall, but I had a general idea instead of a specific vision for the project so it ballooned from there. I’m certainly not disappointed with how it turned out.

I left the light buttons on this picture because they are so cool. We turn the lights on and off by pressing round buttons, not flipping switches! This little house has serious quirks, and I love it.

A beautiful thank-you note; The cover of a cult book on prayer; Pictures from Aaron’s homecoming; Take-out cookie fortune: “Your path is arduous but will be amply rewarding”; 1st verse of For the Beauty of the Earth.

artsy cabbage; lots of Van Gogh; pictures from the beach; friends; family; virtus tentamine gaudet; embroidery from my friend J; Mattise goldfish poster; anniversary card; baby ducks; letterpress christmas cards;  honeymoon photography; psalm 51:8; Psalm 91; flowers from the Hillsdale campus.

Wedding pictures; grapes on a card from my friend A; quaking aspens; easter hymn; CS Lewis quote from “The Four Loves” on vulnerability; heartbeat; fake leaf above the door to our bedroom; antique postcards my friend E sent from Paris; college diplomas.

I have learned much about pictures and decorating and arranging in the last few years, so I am really inspired about where this could go in the future. We have a nice mix of art, pictures, quotes and other memorabilia here, and I’m daydreaming about doing this timeline style in another house someday, so the quotes and other art would somehow correspond with what was going on in our life at the same point of the pictures we’re in. I think it would be a really neat testament to God’s faithfulness in our lives, and a tangible illustration that our lives really are God’s artwork always in process.

PS: I will also admit that this post bugs me because it doesn’t feel “real.” I’ve done a fair amount of tweaking since taking these pictures, so I’ll update sometime when it’s “100% done.” Just in time to list the house for sale and remove them all for Realtor staging, you know.

PPS: Did you notice how many photos and cards we have from friends and family here? Those are some of my favorite pieces in our hall, so if you send us something neat it might become a special part of our collage. I’m not begging or anything, just throwing the idea out there for your consideration.

sharpened pencils

/ abby hummel / 13 Comments

This rest of this summer was brutally dry and hot, but now our mid-August weather has mellowed into a gentle respite of 70-degree days. With a cool breeze at night, sleep comes easier and deeper. (At last. I never sleep well in the summer.) And after that, these mornings are just right for steaming cups of coffee on the patio. I love this. The very end of summer signifies a turn to my favorite season, fall, and I usually call these weeks of changing weather “Pre-Autumn” in anticipation. I spend them obsessively dreaming about piles of leaves, apple cider, flannel shirts, butternut squash (not spaghetti squash – I will never eat that again), mugs of chili topped with sour cream, wool sweaters, hot tea, crisp mornings, thick socks, and orchard apples. Also, school supplies. I can’t get enough. I love the feel of paper, the tab dividers on folders, the sharp open-close of the rings on 3-ring-binders, and, second only to sticky post-its, I love writing with regular sharpened wood pencils. I usually indulge myself in some unnecessary stationery purchases during this time because that urge to browse the school supply aisles is so overwhelming.

“Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.” – Joe Fox in You’ve Got Mail.

This year I join my teacher-friends in a collective mid-August panic attack because school is starting. On Monday I leave this state of suspense and enter my favorite season with exciting challenges that will stretch me in many different ways for ministry and business. (And luckily, I feel like the business is a bit of a ministry, too.)  There are thirty-one students registered for fall semester piano lessons, I’m leading a group of other ladies in my Bible study program, I’m on a Sunday-School rotation at church, and I’m directing six academic subjects for a group of ten home-school students in 8th and 9th grades.  It was a huge leap for us when I quit my job and let my marketable skills and budding entrepreneurial spirit take us into uncharted income territory, and it’s wonderful to see this dream coming to fruition. I’m overjoyed that this is happening, but I’m also hyperventilating every time I look ahead to how much is already filled in on my calendar.

But I think fall is a great time to be stretched. Nature will provide some important lessons, because I know there is a lot that has to die and fall away in my life during the next few months. I’m thrilled about my new adventures, but also very aware that  last year’s leisure is almost entirely over. There will be a lot of dying-to-self required this year. There is beauty in that mortification. And there are also freshly-sharpened pencils, so I’m sure it will all be okay!

a bouquet of pencils via u-create.

Bathroom (Home Tour)

/ abby hummel / 5 Comments

After getting a look at the decor heights of our lovely bedroom, I thought I’d show you the disaster that is our bathroom. I will admit…. we chose that blue. I was 22 and inexperienced, and I have learned a lot since then. But anyway, some natural aging on the house means I get to make over  our awkward first paint and decor choices! There are tiles peeling off over the tub, so an overhaul on this bathroom is on the must-do list. I’m quite sure it will be easier and much cheaper than the never-ending kitchen project!

Walking in from the hall.

The grodiest shower in the developed world. I can’t even show you a picture of the inside. More grout comes out every time I scrub the tiles, so I’m never sure how hard I should work to get it clean. 

Someone brilliantly put wood trim around the shower door, so we have to be very careful about wiping it off after showers.

The sink is… very special. Also, the vanity is humongous and takes up half the bathroom. They had to make a cut-out so the door would swing open. 

This bathtub is also special. The shower extension doesn’t go high enough for a shower. And those fake brown tiles are peeling off!

I don’t really know when this will happen, but plans for the bathroom include: retiling the bathtub surround and putting in a shower head; turning the yucky shower stall into a linen closet; replacing the toilet; replacing the vanity with something skinnier; and repainting the walls gray.

I think deep-down, I would be more adventurous with color for the rest of the house, but Aaron likes to keep things very neutral since we will need to sell the house in a few years. I’ve heard that restrictions on creativity can actually be a freeing thing, and I think it’s true for how we’re putting the house together. By working to find things we both like, I think our house has a pretty clearly defined aesthetic that neither one of us would have found on our own. (Aaron actually cares about this quite a bit, which surprised me, but I bet if he was on his own it wouldn’t be a high priority.) This co-decorating sense makes it a little easier to pull together new projects, like our bathroom.  I like this first inspiration bathroom better because it feels a little more “grounded” with those black shelves. But no matter how it works out, I keep coming back to the gray-with-rustic-wood combo whenever I look for ideas, so I’m pretty sure we’re going for something like this!

My favorite inspiration bathroom! From Focal Point on my Pinterest boards.

More natural wood with gray! From a YHL Reader Re-design, on my Pinterest boards.

Our Room (Home Tour)

/ abby hummel / 8 Comments

I have some house pictures here. I truly meant to do these posts quite a while ago. I’ve been bugged to share house pictures by several friends and family members who can’t make it out to inspect in person. So here we go!

We’ll start off with the one room of our house that feels “done” to me. This is the only place we have bold color on the walls. Right after moving in, I tried a few greens that did not work. Finally, after wasting $70 on ugly paint, Aaron, who is partially colorblind, picked the color we have now. We love it. I don’t know what I will do when we move. I would absolutely think about using the same color again. My aunt visited last month and told me the green worked because we can see so many leaves in our windows. I think she’s right! It feels like an extension of the outdoors, which is just right for us.

The view coming in from the hallway. I got the blinds on a freak Lowe’s clearance for 70% off and my mom helped me make the curtains.

stepping in

Aaron’s side. I refinished the dresser as a surprise for him a few years ago; also, I spray painted the nasty old fan to look metallic black. The flower painting was a wedding present.

My side. Lots of books and baskets! Also, I made that bedskirt because our bed is too tall for regular ones, which is handy when you have lots of junk to hide. Which we do.

my book basket.

I bought this old record stereo on craigslist from one of our pastors. Painted the bottom, refinished the top, covered the speakers with old canvas. It’s great for storing linens!

My dresser. Antique from Aaron’s family. I refinished it.

Fake flowers from Walmart clearance; calligraphy from my sister; mail holder from goodwill; books; jewelry box; cool dish from goodwill.

There’s a great psychological effect to starting and ending each day in a space you love. I’m grateful to have such a cozy room… but I will confess that it usually has piles of laundry all over the place, which is less than relaxing.

it takes courage

/ abby hummel / 7 Comments

I’ve never thought of myself as a writer, really. A musician, an artist, a creator? Yes, but not much of a writer.  During my senior year of high school I had a tutor for my college entrance essay assignments, and I remember confessing this frustration during an editing session. Nearly every other form of creative expression came easily for me. I could write a song, arrange a collage, perform a piano solo, lead in a musical, knit a scarf, or decorate a room with confidence, but every time I tried to write, I questioned myself and was consistently unhappy with the results of my hard work. She listened patiently, and then suggested that frustration about my challenges as a writer might actually be a cover for the fear that my ideas weren’t valuable. Writing doesn’t have to come naturally to matter, she assured me, and good things are worth working for. I didn’t really understand what she meant for several years, and I rarely thought of this conversation after it happened. (I can recount this now because, in a move that is admittedly ironic, I recorded her comments in my journal, which is my long-standing habit after all thought-provoking conversations.)

Though I got plenty of challenging writing assignments once I started college (thank you, Dr. Freeh, et al!), I spent most of those years surrounded by absolute geniuses in every variety of written communication – literature analysts, poets, journalists, scriptural exegetes, curriculum editors, and columnists of every sort. I’m sure my writing competence sharpened significantly during this time, but I never felt like I was even close to average abilities. My insecurity might make even more sense if you know that I was tight with these writers: I married a scholarship-winning journalist, one of my wedding bridesmaids has now published a book, and several other friends from that life are in graduate school or regularly writing things read by people they don’t know. Spending my life with people who were beyond my own mastery in this one area was a fertile breeding ground for that long-held fear of inadequacy, the nagging sense that I just didn’t have much to say. I didn’t realize this was exactly what my tutor meant yet by then, or even in the following years when I would escape boredom at work by maintaining frighteningly voluminous email correspondence.

I finally remembered the admonition about writing-insecurity hiding my idea-insecurity again at the end of our recent Michigan vacation when I was packing up a box of my belongings from my old bedroom in my parents’ house. It’s been four years since I “officially” moved out after graduating from college and marrying Aaron, and we own our home so I don’t have many things left there. This final load was a collection of my journals, now chronicling over half of my life. There were twenty-five notebooks that I brought home, with dates stretching back to 1998. I was twelve years old then.

After arriving back in Iowa, I organized this small library by date and added my other recent journals, which brings the total number to thirty-four. While setting things in order, I thumbed through a few books and recalled God’s kindness and my growth with laughter and cringing. I’m glad I don’t have to go back to middle school… or high school, for that matter!

And maybe it’s a sign of that same kindness and growth that in the middle of this project (besides wondering where on earth I am actually going to keep these) I couldn’t help but think: It’s probably time to stop pretending I don’t write. And I should stop being afraid of my ideas, too.

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
– e. e. cummings.

great things He hath done!

/ abby hummel / 5 Comments

I recently asked if we could go on vacation all the time, and, as life would have it, this summer it was high time that some of our college friends got the knot tied. Since we drove twelve hours from Iowa to Kentucky, stayed in a room by ourselves and didn’t do much cooking, I think we can safely call this trip a vacation. The bride, Hannah, who was one of my room-mates at Hillsdale, is an artist and photographer so I tried to take lots of pictures in her honor. (It was the snap of the button that was in her honor, not the end quality of the shots.) After arriving back home, we realized we have lots more memories than photos! Of course!

Aaron and I had our fourth anniversary during the festivities, and it was a delight to commemorate the special day with such a joyful wedding weekend. We’ve been in separate countries for two of our anniversaries, so it seemed quite trivial to complain about the fact that we were spending our time at the bachelorette parties instead of celebrating a romantic evening alone. (Party preparations for the ladies were so frenzied that we kept calling the boys’ shooting-grilling-drinking-and-cigar gathering a “Bachelorette” as well.)

The hours the wedding support team spent preparing food trays for parties, wrapping shower gifts, running errands, cleaning the outdoor reception pavilion, dipping flower balls in tubs of water, practicing piano for the ceremony, wrapping twinkle lights around banisters, scrubbing chairs, and tying tulle after driving twelve hours to get there was a tangible witness of our commitment to support Hannah and James in their marriage as the months and years pass. We were entirely thrilled to see so many college friends and participate in this happy wedding!

Since there was a little bit of empty time on our agenda before the wedding, we explored the gorgeous area and went hiking by the Kentucky River. You can note my oh-so-appropriate foot attire. Kentucky hiking is a little more intense than Iowa hiking!

As slightly older friends, just barely ahead of Hannah and James in our own marriage, we have a little bit of sage advice to offer about their life together.
I played piano for most of the wedding music, but when I think back on the songs they selected I keep hearing the glorious organ hymn they played for the recessional. It’s the exact soundtrack I want to play in my mind when I remember this day.

image from Zach Stone

“…Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! Let the earth hear his voice!
Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! Let the people rejoice.
Oh, come to the Father through Jesus the Son,
And give him the glory, great things He hath done!”
– To God Be The Glory, lyrics by Fanny Crosby.

customer service

/ abby hummel / 2 Comments

[Image via emilymcdowelldraws on etsy]

Last week marked one full year since I finished my old job so I would have more time for my music studio to make a living teaching piano. We have both learned a lot this year, and I am overwhelmed with thankfulness that the life I had turned into the life I have now.

I worked at a bank for three years, and somehow I think I’ve blocked out most of my bad customer service memories. It was especially amusing when people tried to lecture me about bank policies, as if they were training me or I could change anything about it. Word to the wise: in almost any business, that first person behind the counter has 0% power and deals with 90% of the complaints. It’s a grating position to be in. I loved many of the customers I worked with, but it’s hard to deal with difficult people when you can’t enforce healthy conversational boundaries. The negative interaction that tops them all came inside my first six months there. It began when a customer came in flustered and crying. In addition to expecting me to approve of some dangerous financial practices, my role became difficult when she explained that she just found out her 30-year-old son in the military was being sent to Afghanistan. She didn’t understand why his Commanding Officer wouldn’t change the orders – or give her the time of day – when she called to complain about it.

I had to say something like “Oh, that’s too bad. That must be frustrating,” when I wanted to say “HELLO?! You can’t make a phone call to get your son out of fulfilling his duty to the country just because you’re mad about it. Nobody wants to send their son to war, but he wasn’t forced to enlist. And, by the way, he’s 30!”

Perhaps because my supervisor was standing right over me, I didn’t mention my own experience in this area: I’m a military wife, my husband was deployed (dangerously so) while we were dating, and I’m working here in the midwest because additional deployment scheduling conflicts meant we moved to Iowa instead of southern California after our wedding. Apparently my lack of pity for her helicopter parenting was evident, and she finally wailed, “Well, what am I saying? It’s not like YOU’VE faced any hard times so you’re probably too optimistic or naive to know what I’m talking about.”  Well… not quite.

I have been thinking the combination of people becoming ruder and standard customer service practices are a bit dehumanizing to the people who work behind cash registers. Self-employment is not quite as easy as it sounds, but I’m grateful for the freedom to do things I’m good at and the flexibility to decide who I work with.