moving

Minnesota beginnings

/ abby hummel / 3 Comments

When we decided to move to Minnesota, I didn’t have a lot to go on beyond vague notions of what it might be like. My college room-mate occasionally visited Minneapolis, and she always told me how cold it was. Because she was raised in Alabama and had one of those old-fashioned ear-flap bomber hats lined with real rabbit fur for Michigan weather, I didn’t take that warning very seriously. Ahem. Instead, the biggest frustration was that living in Minnesota would require even more driving to spend time with family in Michigan. The compensating consolation was the excellent water access, which was notably absent in Iowa. We often said, “It doesn’t have much of the Great Lakes, but it has a great number of lakes.”

Other than that, while Aaron got excited about researching Cassava and I started freaking out about moving for a temporary job and feeling so behind in life, I clung to the positive associations I had with Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion (because breaking into bluegrass songs and wry comedic sketches during regular life would be a dream come true for me), and Caribou Coffee. Now I admit I actually enjoy the specialty drinks at Starbucks better, but I appreciate the idea of Caribou’s celebration of pioneering and The Wild over Starbucks’ hip affluent consumer vibe. Folk music and antlers helped me get used to this idea, you could say.

Then, on a beautiful October afternoon, I waited in a coffee shop near St. Paul (neither Caribou nor Starbucks, and not particularly noteworthy either) while Aaron interviewed with his new team, and the sun beat warm through my window. After months of praying, with the “high” of recently selling the house fueling our sense of adventure, I wasn’t really waiting for a text from Aaron telling me how it went or if he had an answer. I knew moving was right even though it didn’t line up with any of the things I had wanted for years. We were doing it.

While I sat at that little coffee shop, God may or may not have spoken to me through an American Idol song. (When we get outside of scripture, I’m not really sure how that works always… It’s safer to avoid taking a firm stance.)

Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Please pay no mind to the demons – they fill you with fear
Trouble might drag you down
When you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
I’m gonna make this place your home. – Philip Philips, Home

These are things I want to remember, because if I thought this story started a few weeks ago when we moved here, I’d be wildly disappointed to find I had missed my chance to cash in on the big (only) thought that comes to mind:
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(It’s so cold in Minnesota that someone beat me to the punch and already published a book about it!)

 

rough newness

/ abby hummel / 6 Comments

After what honestly feels like the most unsettled month of all time, we find ourselves in a new year, a new town, a new house, and we’re starting to get some of the puzzle pieces of this new life put together just enough to start re-dreaming.

We didn’t plan to move to Minnesota until what really feels like the last minute. We committed to this job less than three months ago! Aaron has a commute that will take up hours of his life (and our family time) during this season, which is just unavoidable if you are the sort of person who needs a yard and works in a big city. I don’t have any piano students yet, which means the budget is t-i-g-h-t for the foreseeable future. We don’t have friends yet, or a church – although we did visit one close to the new house and plenty of people said hello so we certainly plan to visit again. I can’t remember how to get to the grocery stores without looking it up on my phone and I can’t find one that carries my favorite brand of boxed pizza crust mix. I say all this not to complain, but to acknowledge that transitions are always rough, and this week I am feeling that roughness a lot.

We sat down on New Years Eve and talked about the year past, which we have wondered about and anticipated for our whole marriage, and I couldn’t stop talking about how I am scared to be so out of control in every bit of things. We have lost a life that was working and have to figure out the new one, which may or may not have much in common with the old one. It sounds so negative to speak of things in these terms, so I have to reframe these conversations and rename these fears. I want to think of this as entering a new life with so much beauty and goodness and wonder to uncover and receive. I want to be grateful that it isn’t going like I planned, because what I strive for is never the very best. I certainly didn’t expect all the goodness we experienced in Iowa, but it was there waiting anyway.

Because if I think of this in the way I want to, I would just write about how much I miss the park by my old house, and the high ceilings, the dishwasher that worked, the people I knew, the kids I saw every week. I would tell you how much I miss the Fareway meat counter and our church and knowing just where to go when I needed to get out for a bit. I would lament about how disappointing it is to be a longer drive away from our extended families, which means significantly fewer visits in the next few years. Instead of staying in that longing, I want to figure out how to accept the unsettled mess of today a little longer. Because even when I thought I had it made, I was never really in control and I was always flying by the seat of my pants anyway. (Nostalgia is such a liar.)

There are no serious New Years Resolutions this year. Just a few practical must-do’s, such as getting a piano studio off the ground and possibly getting a part-time job while that starts up, and then upgrading a few things done on the house. (Like I said, I really miss a working dishwasher. There are also several things offending my aesthetic sensibilities.) But I want this year to be full of receiving grace I could not have orchestrated or dreamed of myself, and I want to have a good attitude about it in the meantime. I’m going to fail at this, probably a lot, but when I’m not keeping it together, I want to fall forward. I want to fall into the newness of whatever moment God has given.

One of the beautiful, new, delightful gifts (already!) has been the arrival of this little pup, who has been hoped for many, many times in the past five years. The timing of getting a seven-week-old puppy while your moving boxes are not unpacked is probably not advisable, but we decided to take advantage of a litter with the exact parentage we wanted. It’s probably better to do this before we start to ever think about new furniture, really.

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So we are trudging through the joy (cuddles and cuteness!) and duty (chewing and housebreaking!) of having little Max, and someday when we stop sleeping in winter coats so we don’t freeze to death when we take him out in the middle of the night, I will probably have many wonderful updates about how the rest of life is coming together, too.

All his work is done in faithfulness. …The earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord. – Psalm 33:3&4

Advent, Interrupted. (advent 2013)

/ abby hummel / 3 Comments

“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head. – Matthew 8:20

Instead of following any of our usual traditions, this Advent kicks off an intense season of unsettling. While I am listening to Handel’s Messiah, because that’s just what you do before Christmas (also, it is less annoying than the radio), there is a decided focus on projects like this…

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…instead of usual things we might do at this time of the year. Instead of covering little boxes with ornamental paper, I’m covering big boxes with Sharpie-d words like, “KITCHEN/OFFICE/ETC/FRAGILE/HEAVY” (sometimes all on the same box… uh…) and covering oddly shaped packages with shrink wrap, which is like a giant roll of Saran Wrap. Instead of buying candycanes to stir my hot cocoa and preparing favorite traditional dishes, I’m creatively mixing random foods from the freezer into “adventurous meals” in an effort to move it empty.  I miss setting up a Christmas tree, placing a wreath on the front door, making snowflakes, hanging stockings, sitting by the fire with our special Christmas mugs. (Aaron’s is a Grinch.) I’m missing church Christmas events, special times with friends, surprise gifts for people I love, familiarity, routines, and control. Instead, I’m saying “good-bye” to much of this and will have to start all over in the new year.

It’s funny that this season is entrenched in tradition and patterns, and that those annoying radio songs focus on things that stay the same (chestnuts, mistletoe, snow and lights, etc.), because the beauty of the real story is that it isn’t about what stayed the same. The history of captivity, wandering, rigid moral and civil codes, receiving and ignoring confusing prophecies, war, tumult, siege, exile, and silence culminates in an unplanned pregnancy, a sub-par birth situation, an emergency move to Egypt, an entire town bereft of little boys. This does not speak to maintaining long-standing magical-feeling traditions. The beauty of this all is that these interrupted circumstances pointed to what was superior and everlasting, and it wasn’t customs or feelings or family gatherings – it was the faithfulness of God and the fulfillment of His promise.

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. …From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ … He has made him known.” – John 1

While I would rather be lighting candles, singing verses of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, and reading Messianic prophecies over special dinners, I’m packing up my home, moving away from dear friends and students, spending weeks running around for family gatherings when I would rather be nesting into a new home, and not really doing much of my usual Christmas stuff. This is going to be an Advent with lots of practical reminders of Christ’s coming down to us — from timeless to temporary, from eternal life to a taste of death, from glory to a manger and then no place to lay his head, from the splendor of heaven to the unsettled mess of earth. (Which is more of a condescension than trying to function with the unsettled mess of my living room, though in my mind they seem pretty comparable.)

{concerning vocation} liberating society

/ abby hummel / 2 Comments

Wrapping up lessons with my piano students is one of the most sentimental parts of this season of endings. I’ve been overwhelmingly blessed with a career that uses my talents and training, and after three years of a job that definitely  wasn’t like that, I have been especially grateful for every single day of this experience.

[image source here]

[image source here]

Maybe the most fulfilling part of this job is that it puts me in control of my success for a day of work. I don’t have to worry about choosing between making a customer or my boss happy. All I have to do is get along with this kid for this half-hour, and I really enjoy that I tailor my lesson plans based on what I know is best for each student because of our established relationship. I love that I am in control of studio members, so I can easily weed out students who don’t want to cooperate and parents who are manipulative or difficult. Most of the time those issues are probably just personality differences, but it’s a huge gift that I decide where I get to draw those lines.

Self-employment is an experience you can’t understand until you’ve done it yourself. I think it’s my best fit, and I’m excited that moving provides a great opportunity to make a few changes for better growth as a business owner… even though it does mean basically starting over with clients, too. This sets me apart a bit from others who don’t understand what it means to work for yourself, and I find the comments from people who don’t “get it” pretty laughable. Most people have been spared the hassle of billing, fees, bookkeeping, paying taxes that aren’t withheld by an employer, saving up for unpaid sick and vacation days, and selecting a single-payer private health-insurance plan for a woman in her mid-twenties, but those are just as much a part of my day-to-day business operations as sitting at the piano. 

I learned a lot of lessons in my season of office work and I think that strengthens my perspective in many aspects of life. I’m still not at the point where I would say I’m glad I went through that. I wish I hadn’t believed the doubts and been brave enough to start moving towards this sooner. On the other hand, self-employment is not for the faint of heart, and I still think we were a little bit crazy to jump forward while Aaron was in grad school and we had a mortgage and wanted to have kids, but it has enriched our lives greatly. In the face of other significant heartbreak and waiting, it has been a special gift to be so fulfilled and delighted in my job.

I’m grateful the days I have worked are leaving more behind than a bunch of pay stubs. I’ve marched around my living room to the beat of a metronome to demonstrate that two eighth-notes fit in the same amount of time as a quarter note, watched hard work and discipline result in beautiful self-expression, and explained how JS Bach’s Crab Canon is like one giant math problem on a Moebius strip. I’ve helped kids prepare songs to play at their grandparents’ funerals, admonished unprepared students to develop a stronger work ethic, and taught them how to fairly evaluate their own improvements. The best part of a day is telling a child, “You worked hard and I am so proud of you!” Piano lessons? Sometimes it feels more like I’m teaching “Life Lessons.” I’m okay with that.

While I’ve been told I earn a “killing” (ha) to “stay home and sit around,” (ha) and have been told charging a fair rate is “greedy” (ha), none of that is true. I’m pretty sure I’ve been wildly blessed in this job and I’m grateful for that. How many people can say the cornerstone of their career is “rocking”? Not many. I’m in a happy minority.

music HA HA

reading round-up (11/08/13)

/ abby hummel

Well — life has been exciting around here lately. There is a new home for us with a very exciting story coming. There is also the tiny detail of, oh, having a Doctor around all the time now, which is relieving and exciting  after  five-and-a-half years of slaving.
For some reads to tide you over until I can think coherently enough to finish other posts  soon…
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Many of my friends blog and I just can’t get over how awesome it is to read something that makes me think, “I wish I knew them!”  when I actually do know the person. Reading this post on housekeeping from my friend Bethany provided one of those moments this week.

“Whether you are home during the day or not, we are all home-makers. …Adults do chores. End of story.” 

Amen. If you need me, I’ll be Pledge-ing in my kitchen.
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I had some Bad Experiences with theological debate in high school and sometimes shy away from talking about theology because I don’t feel like it’s worth stirring controversy, but I was so excited reading this post describing how the Cross is not the whole sum of the Gospel. It was like reading a secret journal entry I haven’t writen yet. (It made me think of this clip from The Office.)  Back on topic – the fact that scripture starts off with “There was evening and then there was morning,” and takes us all the way to “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain” leads me to believe that God points us not just to the cross, but to a different (though very closely related) event as the crescendo of salvation and history.  The salvation story doesn’t end at the cross, and we shouldn’t talk about the gospel as though it did.  The crucifixion and Good Friday are only “good” through the lens of Easter Sunday. Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead!
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You can count me a huge fan of Wendy Alsup’s blog, and I really appreciated her post about growing hard-hearted in suffering. I have often said (complained) to my husband that this a very poor season to be wrestling with fresh grief again. Not that true grief ever really goes away, but a fresh heap put on top seems excessive, and this encouragement is timely.
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On that note, I loved this description of grief as an air horn.
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Finishing out as we started, with talk of homemaking, preparing for a new house means digging around for some extra decor/DIY inspiration. I’ve been enjoying a few ideas from Liz Marie, Remodelaholic, and some Apartment Therapy home tours like this one with cool built-in storage (be warned – sketchy items in their “decor”).

{concerning hospitality} ignored at church

/ abby hummel / 15 Comments

{Hospitality is on the brain — brace yourselves for a few different ideas coming up in the next little while!}

When we spent a recent weekend in Minnesota, our schedule didn’t allow for visiting the church we were most interested in. Honestly, if it was just vacation we probably would have read a Psalm over a cup of coffee and called it “good,” but since we had committed to moving there, we decided to jump in church-shopping right away. I mean, we could be a few hours away from meeting our new future best friends!
We perused the worship options listed on a search engine and picked one that looked okay based on the time the service started and lack of overt references to any creepy, extremely liberal, or dangerously isolationist teachings in their website. We arrived early (sort of by accident because we missed the Starbucks turn off on the way over) with our Bibles in hand, bought coffee from their snack stand, and spent the next 10 minutes smiling at people. It was a small, young church with a very “hip” feel.  We walked in feeling exhilarated and happy, wanting to make friends — and in the entire morning, no one spoke to us. It was embarrassing and discouraging. We crawled back into the car feeling cranky and frustrated. I was wondering if we had just made a huge mistake in deciding to move. That experience was rough and it shouldn’t have happened, but when I checked with friends and family, I found out being ignored while visiting a church was really common.
church shopping
[Every red dot in this picture represents a church… Aaron commented that we didn’t need to move up, because, he said, “The Christians are already here and they are organizing!”]
Because we spent all weekend chatting with people in Aaron’s new lab, music store employees, cafe workers, and even people sitting around the hotel hot-tub in the evenings, the drive back to Iowa was punctuated with incredulity and jokes about how the “Minnesota nice” hospitality stopped at church doors. It occurs to me that our response of laughing it off would have been very different if we were weary, wounded, lonely, hurting, or burned out, and it would be really hard to try visiting that (or any other) church again if we weren’t in good spirits going in to the morning. While we are pretty sure we won’t be back there again for other reasons, I kept thinking about what the Bible says about hospitality and greeting other Christians, and opted to send a quick e-mail to the pastor.
So let me say, first, that if you’re reading this and you’ve also been ignored at a church — I’m sorry. That isn’t supposed to happen. That isn’t how scripture tells Christians to greet others and because I’m sure I’ve ignored guests before, I’m just as guilty of this as everyone I observed in that church. But if you had this experience, I encourage you to prayerfully consider proactively contacting someone at the offending church so they can pray for you while you search and change their own behavior to accurately live out what the Bible says we should do.
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Hi Pastor,
My husband and I spent the weekend in the area, and since he accepted a job there that begins in January, we wanted to visit at least one church while we were in town. We ended up worshiping with you guys and I am checking in with you since we didn’t get a chance to chat while we were there.
We both really appreciated some of your thoughts about prayer and vision in the sermon, which were very encouraging with this upcoming move! Sometimes when visiting churches it’s hard to tell if the pastors actually like their jobs, but we could see a great deal of brotherly love and happiness in everyone who spoke.
Please know that we consider ourselves partners together in the gospel, so I wanted to speak with you briefly about something you may want to prayerfully address with your people… My husband and I arrived at your location 10 minutes early with our Bibles in hand, bought coffee from the snack table, and smiled at your congregants. We complimented moms on their cute babies, cracked a joke about my husband’s doughnut, and asked where we could find a bulletin and information about the church before entering the sanctuary and smiling at the people sitting in our row. Throughout the entire morning, not a single person said hello back, asked if we were visiting, or introduced themselves to us. It was pretty discouraging, and it was a sharp reminder of how rough church-shopping can be. I’m not trying to make you feel bad about this, but I want to be helpful and encourage you to consider how to implement what the Bible says about hospitality (Hebrews 13:2, 1 Peter 4:9 and 5:14, Romans 12:13 and 16:16, 1 Corinthians 16:20) within your congregation. As a fellow believer, I have failed often in this area, but I believe it should be a priority and I would really want to know if a visitor had a similar experience at my church!
We are praying you will be encouraged and spurred on to greater love and hospitality (not frustration or embarrassment!) as a congregation, and that your love for each other and visitors would abound more and more. Feel free to let me know if you have any questions – I would be happy to email further if you want, but it’s not necessary. I am praying for you and wish you all the best as you faithfully shepherd your church!
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Have you been ignored at church? Or had a great experience as a guest? What makes it work, or not? Have you ever thought about contacting a church you visited and chatting with the pastor afterwards, even if you knew you wouldn’t be back? Since there is more church-searching in my future, I’m thinking a lot about what visitors can do to make hospitality easy for the congregation, so I’d love to hear if you have suggestions for that, too!

sale pending!

/ abby hummel / 3 Comments

Well, well.
entry mumsGetting things together, even to the point of potting mums for the front step, seems to have paid off. We’ve accepted an offer to buy our house.

downsize (25)

After watching friends wait long stretches -sometimes years- to sell houses, we’re amazed at this blessing. We negotiated and signed everything just a few days after listing the house, and now that we’re hammering out inspection details, everything should be all set to hand over the keys in December. We’re feeling very grateful, very humbled, and very excited (sometimes overwhelmed…) about the hunt for a new house. Instead of focusing on the bittersweet feelings of leaving this place, I’m trying to make the most of the next seven weeks here. I think these evenings will have lots of bonfires.
bonfireIs this really happening!?