Last year of The Aughts

Ten years ago today, I was helping one of my best high school friends babysit. It wasn't an especially glamorous way to say goodbye to the 1900s, but it was still special to be with such a good friend on what some believed could be the last day of civilization as we knew it.

Yep. It was Y2K.

I was a senior in high school, and my classmates would every now and then whisper to each other the question we faced in such a time: Will we graduate?

It was a weighty question. We were 18; there was so much life to be lived after our release from the confines of public high school, so much freedom to enjoy. There was college. There was dorm life and that first apartment. There were parties to throw, attend and crash. There were boys. And there were girls.

Then, after all that, there was that ever-so-important career. And marriage. And kids. And a rocking chair on the porch.

Would it be ours?

The question wasn't so silly as it sounds now. Our families had stored gallons of water and cans of food in the basement. We'd been stockpiling candles. Butter tubs that actually contained gold sat nonchalantly in our fridges.

Would the world end before we entered fully into it?

No. No it would not. I'm happy to report the drop of the glass ball that year did not usher in chaos. Or ruin. Or desolation. At least not for average middle class Americans like us. (The majority of the world's population that lives in desperate poverty and disease is another issue. I doubt Y2K would have upended their already destitute lives much.)

Most of my classmates did go to college. There were first apartments, all-nighters, parties, first love. For many, there was -- and yet is -- a career, a husband or wife, children, travels. Life carried on.

Life carries on. As we stand on the brink of the last year of The 20 Aughts, I am glad for that. I rejoice with friends who announce engagement. I recently cried with joy when my friend Sarah texted to say she and her husband were expecting a baby boy. And I felt genuinely happy when I received a letter from my friend John saying he was going to serve as a missionary journalist in Singapore. Life carries on.

And yet, if you'll allow me a moment to be honest, I'm sad as I stand here looking behind at 2009 and ahead at 2010.

It's not that 2009 was a bad year; it was fantastic. It was full of variety and slightly odd, but it was good all the same. I cultivated awesome friendships; I worked for the government; I went to El Salvador; I worked for a Christian nonprofit; I bought a car; I edited a book.

And it's not that I fear what is to come in 2010. Per my usual, I've got some good adventures planned.

It's that I find myself asking the same questions I asked ten years ago: Will I graduate? Will life be mine?

I went to college. I didn't attend many parties, but some. I got a career. I traveled. I fell in love.

Thing is, love fell away from me. And silly as this sounds, I feel like life stopped. I mean, I don't feel that way all the time. I'm happy. I love the life God has given me. But sometimes, I feel that way.

Like today. Today I feel alone. And I so wish I wasn't.

Alas, tomorrow is another year. Farewell Aughts.

White runs in Greenie land

I snowboarded in Colorado! With Ben and Sarah and Josh (he's taking the photo). It was fun. It was cold. The Colts beat the Broncos that day. That's a good thing when you're with three Colts fans. I hope we get to do it again some day!

A small city

Nearly 8 million shoe box gifts have been packed, dropped at local collection sites, processed at one of six Operation Christmas Child processing centers, and shipped to 130 countries around the world. Poor children in Mexico, South America, Africa, Asia, Europe and the Middle East -- children who have likely never received a Christmas gift before -- will unwrap those colorful boxes and, hopefully, know they are loved.

That is a lot of boxes. It is a lot of wrapping paper. And toothbrushes. And stuffed animals.

It is a lot of time. The Denver Processing Center warehouse ran nonstop 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. every day but Sunday for 3 weeks. Close to 7,000 volunteers processed nearly 630,000 shoe box gifts in Denver alone, inspecting and cartonizing box after box for a total of 182 hours.

Operation Christmas Child is big. I am continually amazed at the scope of this project. As our director's husband put it: Setting up and running a processing center is like setting up and running a small city. That 65,000-square-foot space needs sanitation and waste services. It needs heat, water, food facilities, technology, phone systems, fire protection, shipping services, security and communication systems. Not to mention leadership and staff.

And yet, Operation Christmas Child is also small. What's the good of setting up a city if it can't positively impact society? Operation Christmas Child is nothing without each and every individual who packs a shoe box, wraps it, prays for the child who will receive it, and trusts it to our stewardship.

That fact humbled me every day I worked for Operation Christmas Child. I never grew tired of watching one more shoe box come in the door. I never grew tired of a child's wide-eyed wonder as he brought in a box and saw where it would go next. That box became more than cardboard and small toys. It became precious cargo and would soon become precious treasure.

Now, as I write this, the contents of the warehouse have been packed up and shipped out. It stands empty. The full-time staff have returned to the old office. I have returned home, soon to pursue another adventure in the wylds of Montana.

But, the vision of Operation Christmas Child continues. Nearly 8 million kids -- along with their families and their villages -- know Jesus loves them and desires a relationship with them. And that truly is the greatest gift of all, worth every second of work in a small city that flourished and is now gone...til next year.


Some of my Wyoming friends help demonstrate the enormity of an Operation Christmas Child banner. When I look at this picture, I am glad I was part of an "A" in this year's mission.

Even though I saw an exorbitant amount of boxes and tape and rubber bands and people in these five months of working for Operation Christmas Child, one of my greatest delights remained in packing my own four boxes. Here I am dropping my gifts at the Processing Center. I hope to meet the kids who received them some day -- here on earth or in heaven.

Dear reader,

It's been a busy month. Really busy. I have many thoughts about life, and love, and giving, and humility, and simplicity. But, you'll just have to wait to read them. I'll do my best to start posting again soon.

In the meantime, I hope you've had a blessed Christmas season. May 2010 bring many adventures your way!

Hannah

Nice to meet you

A year ago, while on my Amtrak Adventure around the United States, I stayed with friends of a friend in Philadelphia. Denise and Amy were great. They took me to get some authentic Philly cheesesteak and introduced me to Ikea, this mind-blowing furniture store that's more like a super maze. Oh. And Wawa. They introduced me to Wawa, this mind-blowing convenience store that boasts one heckuva coffee buffet.

But, great as Ikea and Wawa were, Denise and Amy also "introduced" me to Jeremy. I quote mark "introduce" because I'm not sure that meeting over email is a full-on introduction. But anyway...after I returned home, Denise sent me this email saying she had this friend who, too, wanted to take an epic, around-the-country journey.

Jeremy and I began emailing and plotting and dreaming his adventure. I offered him tidbits of advice (pray a lot, don't go into travel with debt, budget yourself, eat cheap, be willing to splurge on stuff that will be really memorable, stay with friends or friends of friends, be flexible). He offered me the chance to vicariously dream his travels, which, by the way, I think I could do for a living. I get all giddy even thinking about travel -- my own or anyone else's.

It was fun. And I am very happy to report that, just a month ago, Jeremy did indeed embark on his journey! He's going by van and for a much longer time than I, and I know he's going to see and experience some amazing things.

And get this: the weekend before Thanksgiving Jeremy swung through Colorado so we could officially meet. He joined me and my best Douglas friends (who were also visiting!) for breakfast at Snooze, this great eatery mentioned in a previous post. Then he and I wandered around Denver for a day before he drove away into the snow to meet who knows who and do who knows what. I wish him all the best in his travels and pray God's protection on him.

To follow Jeremy's adventures, visit his blog here.

Me, Sarah, Dave, Becky, Nathan and Jeremy. I was glad Jeremy could not only meet me in person, but my friends, too. (By the way, some people aren't very good photographers. Just sayin'.)
While wandering around Denver, Jeremy and I happened upon this ice cream shop. I had blueberry sorbet. It was tasty.

In a funny twist, I wasn't living in my own house when Jeremy visited. So, he ended up staying with the daughter and son-in-law of some people I know from my church in Wyoming. We both appreciate the Mattson's hospitality!

Test(ed) Driver

Whenever I call my Mom laughing ridiculously hard at something that's not really that funny, she always says, "Next thing you know, you'll be crying." And she's always right. Such extremes of emotion are indicative of exhaustion, which seems only to need release -- regardless of whether the release valve is the eyes or the lips.

Today I went through the emotions backwards. I called my Mom from work, voice quivering, tears rolling onto the phone. She did not say I'd be laughing next, but I suppose it doesn't surprise me that I am.

Let me explain. This past week has really stunk. In the car realm, at least. In a matter of six days, I have driven five different cars. I've owned two, borrowed two, and rented one.

A summary:

* Two weeks ago, I bought a Subaru Forester because I've been looking for a smaller SUV for a few years. The young girl I live with even named it Sam, which is big, since I don't usually name my cars.
* I sent my beloved and trusty Toyota Camry home with my Dad and commuted to work for a week in my new wheels. I dared the snow to fall. I looked at rutted dirt roads without trepidation. I considered buying a kayak to strap to the top.
* On Thanksgiving, my Forester blew a head gasket. Its radiator threw up into its own coolant overflow tank. It was ugly. So, I asked the family I live with if I could borrow their Saturn for my drive to work the next day.
* The next day, I became so nervous driving their tank-like stick-shift in heavy traffic that I nearly killed it at a busy intersection and ran a red light to avoid having to stop and shift. I knew I had 25 more minutes of traffic, and I knew I couldn't do it. So, I called my friend Sarah's boyfriend to ask for a ride. (Sarah was out of town for the holiday.)
* I left the Saturn at Wal-Mart. After work, Ben drove me to Wal-Mart in Sarah's Corolla (Yeah, this is starting to sound like a soap opera.) He drove the Saturn to my house. (Thanks, Ben!) And I drove the Corolla.
* On Saturday, the family I live with -- who just happened to be visiting family in my hometown -- brought my beloved and trusty Camry back to me. (Thanks, Mattsons!)
* On Sunday, my wonderful Dad and our friend John drove down and towed my sick Forester back to my hometown to be fixed for a lot cheaper than I could fix it here. (Thanks, John! You've gotten me out of more sticky car situations than I care to remember.)
* I drove my Camry to work on Monday.
* I drove my Camry to work on Tuesday -- but it barely made it. The "Check Engine" light came on and the engine felt like it was hosting a wild mosh pit under the hood. So, I took my Camry to the dealer and called Enterprise Rent-a-Car.
* True to their word, they picked me up. (Thanks, Enterprise!) And I drove a white Hyundai Sonata home.

The reason for my tears is a longer and deeper explanation than I care to share, but I will say this: Having car troubles as a single woman sucks. I so badly wanted a man to take care of me and my stupid car. I wanted someone to offer to let me borrow their car. I wanted to not feel like a dumb girl when I opened the hood. Instead I felt like I'd troubled everyone enough with my problems and it was time to "Go it alone." Which I did. And it was fine. But still...

The reason for my laughter is, well, look at that saga. It's funny. That and I'd simply cried enough tears. As my Mom DID remind me: It's only money. This too shall pass. And...this will build your character. In retrospect, I have to say, "Yes, yes, and yes." It is only money. It is already beginning to pass. And, shoot, we all need more character.

Maybe when I get whatever set of wheels I'm destined to have back under me, I'll drive to the local newspaper and place a personal ad:

Test(ed) Driver
SWF seeks SM. Enjoys tra--
vel -- on foot, bike, train,do-
-gsled, plane.You drive.Me--
chanic skills a plus. Must l--
ove adventure, dogs, and lo-
-ngwalks onthebeach.CallMe