cranberries and drive-thrus mean thanksgiving

Dad insisted that I drive to my grandfather's house for Thanksgiving because he likes me to drive through Atlanta. I'm not really sure why he always insists on this and I'm not really sure why I always agree to it because A. I almost always rear end someone in Atlanta traffic B. I almost always go the wrong way and C. I always have to take my family through a drive-thru.

Not that I am normally a composed and systematic person but I cannot do anything right in a drive-thru. And really, it is not for lack of trying. Usually one of the following things happens:

A. I order. My family doesn't know what they want to order. And then suddenly they all know. At the same time. And then they start yelling it at me because everyone else is yelling and they want to be heard. I slowly sink down in the seat and wish to disappear into oblivion.

B. Ordering goes smoothly. I go forward and begin to pull out the required amount of cash, plus exact change. I love to give exact change. It is a bright spot in my life. Did you know that if you carry 4 pennies, 3 quarters, 2 nickels, and 1 dime then you have the least amount of coins that you can make exact change for anything with? I hand the coins out the window into the palm of the expectant cashier and proceed to drop half of them and then, while mumbling apologies, I climb out of the car and pick them up. When I finally do get them to the lady, she looks disgustedly at the small collection of coins in her hand. I feel like I should offer her hand-sanitizer or something. But I don't because that is just not something that you do. Society really does not have the correct appreciation for exact change.

C. Ordering goes smoothly. I proceed to the second window or whatever and don't get close enough to the window. I can't back up because there is a car behind me. So I smile sheepishly at the girl who is there to take my money and she looks down her nose at me, completely unamused, with her little visor perched imperiously atop her forehead, and rolls her eyes. I completely unbuckle and stretch about 5 feet, with my entire upper body out the window and hand her the money. I then hang suspended over the abyss while the girl takes her sweet time getting the receipt. It is really awkward.

There is an infinite amount of situations like this that I am forever getting caught in, so I won't elaborate any further. Anyhow...

An Excerpt from my Thanksgiving...
My little cousin Kelsey and I are sitting at the table stringing cranberries and popcorn to hang up on a tree so that my grandfather can watch the birds from his kitchen table. We have proceeded so far in relative peace and silence when suddenly I notice that Kelsey has stopped with her needle in midair and is regarding me thoughtfully. I scoot my chair away from her slightly because she is the kind of kid that might be entertaining notions of stabbing me with said needle to laugh at me or something. Then she speaks...
"Ashlyn, do you guys decorate for Halloween anymore?"
"No, it is a Satanic holiday."
Okay fine, I didn't actually say that-- for heaven's sake Kelsey is like 9-- but it still would have been funny.
So, I really said...
"No, we did when Grant, and Ans, and I were younger, but we just don't do that anymore."
"Oh." Kelsey looks slightly crestfallen at my admission. "Well we still do. But I do it for different reasons than Alyssa (her younger sister) because I have different beliefs than she does."
Kelsey says 'beliefs' in such a tone as to cause me to stop stringing popcorn completely and sit and stare at her.
"And what kind of beliefs do you have, Kelsey?" I unfreeze myself.
"Well, I believe in Vampires. I study superstitions like that. I have a whole book on vampires and werewolves."
I raise one eyebrow and concentrate very hard on stabbing through the center of my cranberry. "Really?"
"Yes. And in that book, there is this story about this ghost targeting a girl," at this point, Kelsey has put down her needle entirely and is gesturing expressively with her hands, "and the ghost killed her father," now she leans in closer to me conspiratorially and whispers, "and the ghost pulled the girl's hair." With this climactic bit of information off her chest, she sits back down and begins stringing cranberries.

Delightful child. We are going to have a talk.

this is not normal

Today, I am home alone. I don't get to be home by myself often, so it is rather lovely when I can be. I meander around the house in jeans and an oversized t-shirt and everything is quiet. Because I can think when it is quiet. I've been thinking a lot lately.

It is very disillusioning to realize that something that you have dreamed of since childhood, may not be part of the plan for your life. I love my horses, they are the thing I am passionate about-- honestly I can't think of many things I'd rather do than gallop Tom full out without a saddle down the trail. But sometimes I can think of things that I'd rather do. And it scares me. Because I know that I can't take a horse to college-- so, do I just lose that? I mean, that is something that I have let define who I am for so long...does that part of me just disappear? I have always been 'Ashlyn, the girl who rides horses'-- what am I without it?

(As you read this, please realize that I am not depressed-- I know this is way off my normal tone. After I write this, I'm not going to go into the kitchen and swallow a bunch of pills. Honestly. I'm just searching and thinking and I need to get this out of my head however incomprehensible it is.)

I know all these people who have known what they have wanted to do since like, 8th grade. And everyone leaves for school next year. And I don't know what I want to do. And I'm staying home to figure it out. This frustrates me badly-- something I've noticed about myself is that I can't stand not knowing the finish. I can't not have a goal. Like at cross country practice when Coach wouldn't tell us how much we were going to run...I hated the feeling of apathy, just running, and running endlessly and not knowing where the finish was and not being able to regulate my pace according to where I knew the finish was. Even that drives me up a wall, and now my life is like this? Good heavens.

Sometimes I think I know what I want to do. I think I have everything all figured out. I want to work at a national park, I want to have a medical career, and so on and so forth. And then I don't. And then God puts a new variable into my life and I stand there with my mouth open going, "Wait! I thought this was what I was supposed to do! What is this?" I've been learning lately that I just need to stop thinking that I know where God is going ("I know he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.") because my preconceptions can keep me from going where He really wants me.

So, the new variable is Africa. I didn't go over and expect to come back wondering if I felt a call or not. It just sort of happened. And so it gets thrown into the mix.

"Just pray about it." that is what everyone tells me. Dad said, "Just pray about it, Ash. He might not answer you immediately. He may just want you to persist in that prayer and to sit there and just bask in you talking to Him for awhile. He may want you to pray for a couple of months." All right, not what I wanted to hear, but Dad is wise and I love him and I know he's right. But it is not that easy for me always because I am not good at making time for God. There, I've said it. I procrastinate with God like I procrastinate with the rest of my life and it carries over from there to there. I'm not saying that apathetically like, "Oh, I'm just not good at it. That is the way it is. It can never change." I've really been trying lately. And I think God has been talking. Which has been good, because sometimes I felt like I could make up an imaginary friend and talk to it and have it be more real than God. I'm not trying to be sacrilegious, or funny-- that is really how I thought about it.

"Fine." I say, "Fine, fine, fine." You win. I will be obedient. Because You promised that if I seek you with all my heart that I would find you. (Jeremiah 29:13) Because it isn't a one part thing. It is a two part thing. I seek and you reveal. And somehow through all of this, I am reminded that I didn't choose you before you chose me.

I swore I would never do one of these confessional, long post things. But I have. I just really needed to describe all that. Even if no one reads it, but I felt like people needed to know. Not sure why. I just did.