Industrious

Names are a funny thing, really. They're really just a label, a title, a way to differentiate ourselves from others. Growing up, my mother told me that when I was born, "Emily" wasn't a very common name, and that their second choice for me was "Sarah." Well apparently a bunch of other people thought it was a good idea too, because when we moved to Bluffton there were two other girls my age named Emily, one of which shared the same birthday too!
When I was little, I was given an embroidered bookmark with my name at the top, and below, the meaning of my name: "Industrious." I remember asking my mom what that meant, amazed that my name could have any sort of meaning at all. After she explained it to me, I remember thinking about it, wondering if it was an accurate description, and if it wasn't, whether or not I should have been named Sarah after all.
Now thirty-one, and in my adult life, I'm realizing more and more how accurate that little bookmark was. The definition of Industrious, "Hardworking, persistent, diligent; working energetically and devotedly," is quite fitting. My closest friends know that I am a "List" person: I love writing lists just so that I can enjoy the satisfaction of crossing things off as I accomplish them. Most of my lists involve various projects I hope to finish around the house. In Nate's absence, I'm finding that the list seems much longer than normal, and growing, since I'm hoping to get more projects done before he gets home. But in the spirit of being industrious, I am checking things off it.
In all reality, I think I'm just adding to my "to do" list to keep myself busy, hoping to help the time pass by more quickly. Being alone has forced me to do everything on my own (I mean, if I don't do it, who will?): I've replaced the toilet seat, painted the doors on the house, scraped and re-painted the porch swing, landscaped, replaced windows, put together a toddler bed, installed mini-blinds, curtain tie-backs, an air conditioner,  and mounted a towel hook, among other things. It's not that I couldn't normally accomplish these tasks, but at least if Nate were home, he would be the one to do them. But since he's gone, I have no other choice but to "just do it."
Soon Nate will hopefully be able to come home after almost nine months of being away. It's been a learning experience for me, one that has made me realize just how much I can handle, how much I can accomplish on my own. I doubt my name has anything to do with it, but who I am as a person does. Has my name pre-destined me to be someone who is a relentless list maker and project do-er? I'm not sure, but I do know that nine months of taking out the trash is over-rated, and I'm more than happy to give that one up again, sooner rather than later.

Lost and Found

It's truly amazing how many people we come in contact with in our lives, the memories we share with them, and the ability to utilize today's technology to find those people we've lost touch with over the years. All I know, is that even five years ago, I wouldn't have been able to find people like I can today.
Most people who know me are aware of the fact that I grew up in Papua New Guinea as a small child. My father, a Lutheran minister, decided to become a missionary there in 1984, moving us to the other side of the world to experience a truly amazing kind of life. For our first few years there, my brother and I were home-schooled, then later attended Katherine Lehman School (aka K.L.S.) which was a boarding school that sadly closed five years after we left PNG.  Having moved there when I was only four years old, I spent much of my childhood there, moving back to Ohio when I was about nine. I soon lost touch with my friends there, since many of them who were M.K.'s themselves, moved back to their home countries as well. I often thought of them, wondering where they were in the world, and wishing I could find them.
Twenty-two years have now passed by in the blind of an eye, and now thanks to modern technology, I've been able to find some of them through Facebook and networking sites. It's incredible how fast time can pass by and before you know it, you're all grown up with families, jobs, and vastly different life experiences. My memories are so vivid in my mind, and I can clearly remember my life back then. It seems like only yesterday that I was running barefoot, speaking Pigin, and being only one of two American kids at a boarding school on the other side of the world. Although the blonde haired little girl running barefoot and chewing buai has faded into a distant memory, finding these long lost friends has reminded me of her again, making me realize that our younger selves are always a part of us. Sometimes, that's a great thing to be reminded of.