~Hannah reporting in...

I miss blogging. I blogged for years here at blindbartimaeus.blogspot.com about my travels and adventures as a carefree soul with the "will o' the wisp," as folks said about my grandpa and began to say about me when it seemed I was destined to follow in his wandering ways.

Blind Bartimaeus and I have had great times together, but about a year ago, my posts started to sputter like an old VW about to run out of gas. Last March 2013, they just stopped. I haven't looked at this blog since then as life took a decidedly steady turn.

My boyfriend got a job as a photojournalist at the local newspaper. I took a job shortly thereafter at the same paper as a government reporter.

We got engaged!!!!!

We are planning a wedding and a life together. Here.

Here.

When I started thinking about blogging again, I came here to blindbartimaeus.blogspot.com, and it just didn't seem right to try to revive it as something other than a travel blog. Even when I wasn't actually traveling, Blind Bartimaeus has always had the flavor and energy of traveling solo wherever my feet took me.

(Blind Bartimaeus refers to a blind man in scripture, in Mark chapter 10, who was healed by Jesus. When Jesus asked Bartimaeus what he wanted after he kept calling out, louder and louder, for Jesus to help him, Bartimaeus simply said, "I want to see!" I always thought that was such a simple, yet all-encompassing, plea, and so I made it my prayer as I traveled and wandered that I would see as Jesus would have me to see.)

Plus, honestly, Blind Bartimaeus is a mouthful. It always took me about ten minutes to write out my blog address for someone who was interested in reading it, and then we spent another five minutes sounding out the letters and correcting the mispronunciations. I imagine a lot of folks got lost trying to find my online wanderings at Blind Bartimaeus.

And so, with a hint of nostalgic sadness, I have decided to start a brand new blog and let Blind Bartimaeus be what it was meant to be: a travel blog written by a younger me. Maybe I'll send our kids there someday when they want to know what I was like at their age and await their awe-struck squeals of, "Mom! You were crazy!!!!"

Mom?

Sheesh. One step at a time now.

I have a wedding to plan and a life to look forward to with a man I love so much I can hardly breathe when I think about it sometimes.

I love my life. I am grateful for every moment, good, bad and in-between. I am grateful to God for all the travels and look forward to more wanderings with my husband-to-be.

But for now, I am here. And if you want to join me, you can find me at: hannahreporting.blogspot.com. Hope to see you there! 

~Hannah reporting in...

Justin and I on top of the mountain where we got engaged. September 22, 2013.

 

Home

Since I last wrote, I got a new job! I am once again using my degree in journalism as the government and outdoors reporter for the local newspaper. I really like it. And I'm really super busy most the time.

In the transition between my job as a barista and my job as a reporter, I was working both jobs "part-time." As in about 30 hours at each job.

It was tiring.

But I survived.

On one rare night I had at home during that crazy couple of weeks, I was so, so, so very happy to be at home that I went all nerdy nutsy and took a bajillion photos of...HOME!

I just finished editing those photos with Snapseed, this great, cheap program that makes photo editing truly fun. Here is the result. Hope you enjoy.

Welcome home...to my home.

A strange mix of tears

Tonight I am baking a cake, and drinking tea, and looking at photographs, and listening to some good tunes.

And tonight I am crying the strangest mix of happy tears, and wounded tears, and tired tears, and relieved tears, and hopeful tears.

I wore mascara today hoping it would help me not cry. I thought the prospect of black streaks upon rosy cheeks would dissuade the flow. Alas, it feels good to cry. Really, oddly, insanely good.

It's been a roller coaster of a week.   

Last Monday, January 28, my Dad had a minor heart attack during a game of racquetball. My Mom, who was suffering from a nasty cold at the time, called me at about 4:30 in the afternoon to ask me to go to the YMCA and take Dad to the Emergency Room. He had refused the costly trip from the ambulance after reporting chest pain and a numb left arm but had assured the EMTs he would get a ride and a check up just to be safe. Within a couple hours, he was in ICU, and by the next morning, doctors were wanting to ambulance him to a larger hospital a couple hours away for an angioplasty.

How quickly life turns!

By God's great mercy, however, the brand new heart catheter lab in our small town had opened that day. My Dad would become one of the first patients.

My Dad spent three nights in ICU. My Mom spent nearly every waking hour with him. Due to co-workers with sick kiddos, I ended up working overtime that week, but the coffee shop where I work is in the hospital so I was able to visit often, too.

The angiogram showed a 90 percent blockage in a major artery. Doctors inserted a stent, and my Dad is now making a speedy recovery from the surgery.

A week later, with my Dad on the mend and both of us looking forward to backpacking trips this summer, those are the relieved tears. I am so thankful for doctors who can fix the ones we love.

The wounded, tired and some of the hopeful tears stem from...conflict. I hate conflict. I am one of those people who will write an elaborate, heartfelt apology note...even if I have nothing to apologize for. I'll find something, and I'll be sorry for it. Anything to make things better again.

I am learning that is not a good thing to do. That is not making peace. It is living in fear, and it is dangerous because it leads me to a false sense of having forgiven the one who hurt me. So I'm working on these issues. I'm working on speaking up when something is not right. However, I have not learned what to do when I do speak up and my adversary speaks louder and meaner and harsher than me.

Last Friday, at the end of an exhausting, draining week, I addressed an issue with a new co-worker in a reasonable--albeit tired--tone. She yelled at me. I tried to offer to talk it out, and she yelled at me again. I drove home crying, cried into my boyfriend's arms, cried as I brushed my teeth that night, cried the next day on a walk, and cried today after a miserable day of not talking to each other and feeling her disdain washing over me all day as we worked awkwardly side by side.

I hate conflict. Hate it. Hate, hate, hate it. I admire peacemakers because they are so strong. I want to be like that. But I'm scared. And I feel so small. So wounded.

So I cry wounded tears tonight. And I pray God will heal the wounds and show me how to be strong and how to truly forgive. And in the tears, between sips of tea, I feel hope rising. Hopeful tears. They sting less.

As for the happy tears? I just had dinner with my boyfriend. That makes me happy. Eight months into our relationship, and my heart still skips when I think about him. As I reflect on a rough week, he is a bright spot in many of the days. I would say he's the high spots on the roller coaster, but a more accurate description is that he is the harness. He held me tight through the ups and downs. I hope he can say the same about me.

Happy tears. Those are the best kind. I'm saving those for last and finishing this post with a smile and a hopeful look toward tomorrow as life continues on, with all its twists and turns. 

Good morning, Wyoming!

I believe friendships need adventure. While talking about the ups and downs of our days is valuable and needed, there is something special about the bonds forged when paddling up a river or trekking across a mountain. We strengthen each other when striving for a common goal. We buoy each other when the going gets rough. We double, triple, quadruple our joy when we see the summit smiles of loved ones.

I recently enjoyed a sunrise hike with two of my dear, adventurous gal pals. We hit the summit of Steamboat Point just as the sun opened its eyes on the horizon. It did my heart good to gaze upon God's beauty with two women who radiate strength, purity, and beauty inside and out.