Recently I was commended at work for my flexibility - a condition to which if others knew the massive consolation that I undergo to achieve some semblance of agreeableness, would be surprised. The issue of flexibility is, at its core, a revelation of how much I need control. How many times have I seen my neatly laid out plans escape from underneath me? The mantra "keep calm and carry on" may have its cult-like appeal on posters, mugs, and t-shirt, but it is in the end an oversimplified remedy for what I think needs far more working out. Here's what I've discovered is what it takes for me: 1. Freak-out. Not the first course of action you would think of advising! I think it's impossible that something unexpected doesn't warrant at least a small freak-out session. If it doesn't, it's likely that you just didn't care too much to begin with.

2. Grieve. An unexpected change, or adjustment implies there is a loss of something previously planned for. Whatever that plan was, it's gone, and those around you would be all the better if you allow time to lament but avoid making a big stink about it. Kill the need to be the drama queen.

3, Let it go. If the only thing you hear is Disney's Frozen, I apologize. Seriously though, once you realize you can't reverse what's happened, you need to move in the next direction. If you cling too tightly to what was lost, you will never be able to troubleshoot effectively.

4. Don't ask why. Too many questions over what has been lost will prevent your forward progress. Even if a "why" is answered, it's less than satisfactory in the heat of the moment.

5. Be okay with the next best choice. My perfectionism often stands in the way of me coming to terms with "Plan B," but in the end it's often my self-reliance that stands in the way of embracing what could ultimately be an outcome far greater than what I could craft on my own.

I write the above humbly, knowing that I'll need to consult this list again for the next thing that gets taken from me.

"The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps." (Proverbs 16:9)

It's graduation season, and for someone like me in academia it means donning the commencement regalia and participating in all the pomp and circumstance that accompanies this important rite of passage. I have to remind myself what a big deal this is to the students who endeavored themselves to their field of study to emerge a degree holder (with all the rights and privileges there unto). I remind myself because I am easily jaded - but predictably, when the faculty procession begins it hits me why we elevate this achievement. It is significant when we acknowledge finishing something that not only requires attention, but also effort and persistence. This is not to say, however, that we paint too rosy a picture of the next steps ahead, or gloss over the fact that the uncertainty that comes in the transition may cause us to doubt everything that we've journeyed through. Sometimes we lay on the platitudes too thickly and forget that we ought to inject a dose of reality in which the stars do not align and the worst is yet to come. Enter again the cynic. But the cynic in me is quieted when I realize there are only a number of finishes we make until the cycle ends and an eternity of celebrating the finished work of Christ commences.

Nothing beats experience. I seem to be preaching that a lot nowadays (perhaps denoting age?), but I don't mean it to communicate superiority (or maybe I do). I realize that my introspective musings are often lost on my college age students, but what did I know of the world at that age? I try not to be exasperated by their folly whilst restraining myself from nagging them as a mother world. But my greater conviction of the value of experience has made me a little more preachy these days - though I realize for them to adopt this perspective they need time. Time to wrack up enough experience to appreciate the fact that they are past their youthful selves. Nevertheless, I still acknowledge a perpetual ignorance that humbles me, and lest I forget my place before an all knowing God, the forthcoming trial reminds me of this.

My twenties were spent on various adventures that have settled into very little warranting a Facebook status change. It seems unreal given my habitual restlessness to have stumbled upon a sameness that once was so elusive to me. I tend to be all about making grand, sweeping change, but the freshness required to live life in its routine is perhaps the more difficult thing as the allure of escape has beckoned in recent months. For now I find myself grounded in the monotony of my routine, yet the mercies experienced in the routine have yielded faith that I once believed were only had on grand adventures. So while my restlessness persists, there is yet today. And the next day. "Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days." (Psalm 90:14).

The takeaway for many who grieve death is to "live each day to the fullest." The allure of that statement is the hope of a life without regret - seizing every moment life has to offer. The problem, however, is that there are days where you just don't feel like giving life the gusto it deserves, and the whole philosophy of the well intentioned life goes out the door because the day passes without you cherishing it as you should. This sets us up for serious disappointment, and I would wager that even the most motivated individual would say that he/she often fails to live life with the fullness it deserves. Rather than believe it is up to me to manufacture a worthy life, my eyes are set on a Savior who has lifted me from the futility of that pursuit. When I see my failed attempts to dictate life according to how I want, my hope is lifted by one who has accomplished the salvation that I could not earn. I can't express how freeing this is! When Christ said that He came to give us life in the full, He meant that life has its most significance when we trust in a loving Savior who has proven our lives are already worth the price of His. I shall never make full sense of this, but oh, such rest it provides!

I used to think (and on my worst days still do) that there was something horribly wrong with me that everyone else didn't seem to have. The world tells you that everyone is flawed, so you should get over feeling poorly about yourself - you can overcome your flaws and erase your shortcomings. After all, who doesn't like a good underdog story? While this may seem worth celebrating, it's not exactly correct. Scripture says there is something wretched within each of us, and this is a bad thing. We are not only afflicted with this present, deep flaw we call sin, but also unable to do anything on our own to overcome it. It is only when we see the futility of us being able to do anything about our imperfection that we see the good of a Savior who gave Himself up so that we may revel in the day when we will be finally rid of all that is wrong within us. So, we embrace our flaws, but deny that there is anything by human effort that we can do to make up for it. This makes Easter such a beautiful day - Christ is risen, giving us victory indeed!

It's easy for me to retreat to my inner world of thoughts and much more difficult to be outwardly expressive. But even the processing that takes place so intricately in my head needs an outlet. I don't think I can fully assess my head and heart until I begin to see it reflected back at me - even it its most raw state. Though it is difficult to articulate matters of the heart, having my emotions surface unpredictably is even more frightening. So bear with me, dear reader, as I try to enliven this often spartan blog.

It's going to take some time before I'm myself again. People often don't know what to do with you when you're sad, choosing to fill that awkward space with something helpful when sometimes it's best just to let that person grieve. Besides, I have my sackcloth on so tightly that I'm not sure if even the most well-intentioned person can convince me to loosen its grip. I'm aware, however, that at some point, the sackcloth has to come off. I also know that my sadness, as difficult as it is, does not give me a free pass from fully engaging the world around me with its own various disappointments. I believe in Him who comforts us in our affliction so that we may comfort others in theirs. This is despite everything within me that wants to throw my own pity party and be left alone in my misery. I must rejoin the community of redeemed to positively declare our brokenness and yearn for a Savior who will one day make a permanent fix of all this mess.

I wish moving on was easier, much like pressing the reset button and everything returning the way it was. But the human experience does not allow for our minds to so easily find its rest. The sorting out we undertake reveals a susceptibility to long periods of agony and doubt - my soul quieted only by gentle reminders of the trajectory of the human race - an end to the hollow and restless despair in the realization that my Savior has already suffered the loss of all things so that I, a mere mortal, may find peace. This is the truth that the Spirit testifies. I shall never escape sorrow, but the sadness is neither futile nor unregarded. Faith persists even in pain, and I, with exhaled breath, move on.

Science tells us there exists this phenomenon called the optimism bias that hardwires humans for hope despite a bleak reality. When presented with an outlook that say, 30% of people contract cancer, most of us would overstate the probability of us being a part of the statistic. The optimism is at times irrational, and surprisingly persistent. Science would also lead us to the conclusion that this bias is in fact, key to evolution and the survival of the human race. The Bible has a lot to say about hope. Throughout the Psalms we see David asserting hope as consolation in the midst of desperate situations (Psalm 42:5). It was hope that drove the faith of our forefathers (Romans 4:18). And it is the same hope that drives us in our present reality for Christ's return (Titus 2:13-14).

Science has a caveat to this optimism bias - depressed people have a greater inclination to see reality for what it is, and perhaps worse. Who amongst us has never had a negative thought? I myself have spent a large part of my life vacillating between hope and my own cynicism.

I believe that hope has everything to do with who you place your hope in. I am convinced that the bias towards optimism, while inherent in humanity, will send you spiraling when you come to the brutal realization that all your perceptions of self, humankind, and fate do not match even your rosy expectations. It matters, then, that for hope to have its most lasting effect, the security of our faith must be certain.