christian – aud-staudblogs.com

June 18, 2024

An Excerpt

I mentioned before I am writing a book. It is coming along… very slowly at the moment. But here is an excerpt from a chapter I was working on today. Enjoy!

Our comfort zone lies within a closed hand. A friend from college once gave me a physical demonstration of this and you are welcome to try it. Right now, hold out your hand, palm up. Look away and focus on counting to thirty. Now look at your hand again. You will likely notice your fingers are more curled forward, like a fist, than they were when you first held it out. It is physically more comfortable to have a more closed hand than an open one and for most people this is also true on a spiritual level. How many times has God wanted you to open your hands and your response was to avoid it because it was more comfortable to keep your hands closed? I certainly cannot count how many times this has been the case for myself.

Everytime I go somewhere for the first time or do something for the first time (and quite often many times after that!), my comfort zone and thus, the opening of my hands, is put to the test. It took about two months of walking into the Cru weekly meeting before I stopped sitting in my car for ten minutes with my stomach in knots and the adrenaline in my body telling me to drive back to my apartment because it is way too intimidating and I do not belong there.

Obviously, this was a lie. I was wanted there and I did belong there. But this anxiety around my comfort zone does not care and does not back down. The same feeling has emerged before, in interviews, dates, starting new jobs, going to parties, and so on. It is a natural feeling, hardwired in us, and sometimes for good reason certainly. Unfamiliarity, especially for our ancestors, was closely linked to survival, whether it was trying an unfamiliar berry which could be toxic or making their presence known to another tribe who may be unfriendly. But not every berry is toxic, and not every tribe is unfriendly. The key is the ability to discern when to exit the comfort zone. And to access this discernment, we need to call upon God. A lot of times what He wants for us is obvious and we just overcomplicate it in the hopes of being able to keep our hands shut with the excuse of uncertainty at the ready.

During my sophomore year of college I went to Florida during spring break with Cru. The weather was about ten degrees below what was forecasted, I was sick, I was tired after being awake for forty hours while driving in a van all the way from Fort Collins, and I got put in a room with different girls who at the time I was not friends with and had not requested, with my roommate in particular being someone who complained non-stop, and caused several issues for students and staff alike the entire week. Needless to say, I was exhausted, ill, cold, and stressed. The perfect position to be asked to take yet another step out of my comfort zone.

My friend got baptized during that week. She invited a few of us to get up one morning to go to the beach to watch and celebrate her. Two of her close friends who were a major part of her faith journey were in Prague at the time and I decided to reach out to them beforehand to see about Facetiming them in that morning so they could surprise her and watch. Even reaching out and asking them gave me a lot of anxiety, which I know may seem silly because anxiety and the what ifs are often silly. But they agreed and said they could make the time work. I was excited but still anxious. Afterall we would be on a beach, reception may be bad, they are in a different time zone; there were many things out there capable of ruining this and I did not want to have this surprise for my friend end in disappointment.

Well the morning arrived, and of course, I was an entire hour off when factoring in the time zone. And with how I had been feeling all through the week, all I wanted to do was not try contacting anybody, and later lying to them saying I had no cell service and then never even telling my friend about the surprise. It would have been the easy way out, and one where my own mistake would have never been noticed but I knew no matter how I felt it would be the wrong decision so I messaged them letting them know I messed up.

And it was okay! Because I am a human and humans make mistakes. And also, because as luck would have it (or more likely divine intervention!) they did still have a few minutes to facetime in. I got to surprise my friend and it made an already significant morning for her so much more meaningful, with her telling me later on it was one of the most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for her. I am so glad I got to help add to her experience.

The right thing to do here was to exit my comfort zone. It was obvious but I allowed my anxiety about it to fortunately only momentarily, overcomplicate such a simple decision. Exiting my comfort zone over something so small and simple forced me to open my hands and God allowed it to all work out. Opening our hands may not go exactly how we expect or how we initially want, as this example shows, but God will take us in the direction we need to go, and oftentimes it is not even about us. This time, it was all about my friend. Opening or closing our hands can have lasting impacts, and it is important to remember those impacts can be on other people. And as a reader, I challenge you to stop complicating the simple and let God fill those hands of yours. Because God can make the simple meaningful, and not just for you.

If you’re intrigued by this post and looking forward to what I’ll write about in the future, you can expect a new post at some point in the future. Also, if you feel inclined, feel free to leave a comment below about what you think. Thanks for all your support and I hope you’ll come back the next time I post. Stay Amazing!

June 10, 2024

Brace Yourself

One year ago I drove through the desert in a Ford Fusion so packed up I could not see out my back window. After over twelve and a half hours, I then spent another twenty minutes circling an apartment complex trying to find my new building. It was 7pm and 96 degrees out but I was just so excited to finally be in Scottsdale, Arizona instead of Fort Collins Colorado. I was ready to explore, meet new people, go to the gym consistently, kick my depression to the curb, and start a new life. If I could go back in time and tell this version of me anything, all I would say is…

“Brace yourself.”

You can make all of the plans in the world but if they get disrupted, there is not much you can do. With how disrupted my plans were, I may as well have just gotten in my car with nothing and decided to wing it.

My first big disruption was my living situation. The excitement of it all quickly wore off after a week of sleeping on an air mattress before I could get my bed and other furniture put together. Once I had a bed, my only real source of stress in the apartment was having to walk Koda around the complex at night, which as a 5’1 woman, is a little scary, and even more so when my roommate had to call 911 a week after moving in because a block away there was a domestic dispute resulting in some gunfire.

How I wish that had been the only problem.

Two days before the first day of school, five minutes after getting back to my apartment, a puddle began to form on the floor between my room and bathroom. Then water began to gush from my ceiling. Then through the smoke alarm directly outside of my bedroom causing the alarm to sound. Koda did not like that.

The aftermath of a broken toilet on the floor above me led to $2000 in personal damages. My bedding, brand new bed, and mattress were ruined among many other things, though thankfully nothing of sentimental value was ruined and I was there when it happened which meant Koda was okay. But I was back to sleeping on an air mattress. My new plan was to buy a bed after the insurance check came in, but after waiting six weeks I had to just buy one out of pocket. It took six months of constant calls, emails, photo evidence and filing a claim with the state of Arizona to finally get an insurance check that was still $600 less than my damages.

And then came the cockroaches.

A couple who also lived in our building were evicted. I am sure there is an official term for it but I am just going to say it is due to the fact that they were absolutely filthy. My upstairs neighbors watched as people in hazmat suits went into the next door unit bringing out trash bag after trash bag, many filled with the remains of fast food, others with what could only be described to me as “black sludge.” It was a roach’s paradise. But once it was vacated the roaches had to relocate and chose my unit as their new home. There were daily sightings, egg sacs in multiple cabinets, and cheez its were forever ruined for me after reopening the box and pouring those delicious squares plus one cockroach into what was going to be a part of my lunch. It took weeks and me almost getting thrown out of the office by security (long story!) to get our unit sprayed and traps set up.

My lease does not end until September but I found a good deal and moved into a house just last week. One housemate is twice my age and the other one and landlord is eighty five and has plans to live another forty years and I believe if there is anyone who can achieve it, it’s her (we put up drapes on step stools together!) Koda has a yard, and I have yet to see a roach and I am known for being an old soul so this is certainly an upgrade, though paying two rents is not ideal.

The second big disruption was my job. I joined during a season of change for the district and one of their big changes was doing a trimester system. I am somebody who builds relationships slowly and this new system proved challenging, as did some of the class sizes. I will never forget the first day when I had a final class with 39 students, 30 of which were boys. A group decided to pass around a speaker blasting music. Sadly turning it off did not work due to it being bluetooth and as I did not know most of these kids I marched all 39 of them to the office to hand it in. Things stayed a little chaotic throughout the term but definitely improved from that day. But building relationships with such a large class size was tough.

If you thought my apartment flooding was going to be the only flood story, you were mistaken! It all started with water dripping from my classroom ceiling any time it rained (which happens in AZ way more than you’d think!). Well dripping turned into pouring and tiles falling from the ceiling. It eventually got so bad I had to relocate and finish out the school year in a different room a teacher loaned out to me.

I also had courses I never taught before and class periods were 70 minutes long each day so preparing these lessons took up a lot of time. I worked over 65 hours a week that first term, which effectively destroyed my daily gym visits and attempts at having a blossoming social life. Though there was clearly Godly intervention here. My mom’s old friend from college has a brother who lives in Arizona and heard I moved out here. I met him and his wife and they introduced me to their deceased son’s widow, and his best friend, Ryan. We got to know each other over the course of a few months. I then went to their other son’s wedding as his plus one where he was the best man. We have now been together for nearly 8 months.

But back to my job. I really did have great coworkers and superiors and I loved my hooligan students. There were just so many challenges and so much chaos both in school and in my real life that made me realize I could not stay teaching. At the end of July I will be starting a new job as an educational coach for a private company. I will still have students but no more than twelve, they have their own curriculum picked out by their parents and no grading. I am just there to help them and develop their social skills (and yes I see the irony in that!).

My last area of major disruption was finances. Teaching is not a high paying job, especially early on in the career. I was prepared for that. Moving is expensive. I was prepared for that. My rent went up several hundred dollars. I was prepared for that. Koda was not ready to be on his own and had to go to daycare a few days a week. I was prepared for that. Unfortunately I was not prepared for everything else. Obviously my apartment flooding was costly, even with insurance money. My car window seal broke and that was costly. Koda kept having weird medical stuff right after we moved and that was costly. But what really hit me hard was my paycheck.

It turns out different states have different rules regarding teacher pay that I was not aware of. For starters they take out more in Arizona for their retirement system. But what really hit hard was the social security pay. In Colorado, if you work for the public school system or other government jobs you do not pay into social security but that is not the case in Arizona. About $300 a month I did not anticipate was now gone just from that. My overall salary here was $6,000 more than my salary my first year teaching but my monthly pay was somehow $200 less. I was prepared to save less money than I had in Colorado because I knew I was very fortunate with my rent and cost of living situation out there. However, I was not prepared to not be able to save anything at all and sometimes even be forced to dip into my savings.

Getting a second job was not a viable option either. Especially first term with my work load and then after that, I couldn’t do that to Koda. And the summer break here is much shorter and only 8 weeks, so even finding a summer job would have been nearly impossible. It still feels funny to say this was so challenging for me because others struggle and have struggled in ways that go beyond having to live paycheck to paycheck while still having money saved. It was just such a drastic difference and one I was not ready for. But this new job will have higher pay, and less money taken out of it. Plus Koda no longer needs daycare so once the job starts and I am no longer paying two rents, things will get better and I will recover.

This past year had trial after trial. The previous year was a horrible year for my depression while this one was a horrible year for my anxiety. And yet God was with me through them both and I think he is about to calm the storm at least a little. There were a lot of other things that transpired over this last year but I wanted to just stick to the highlights. Through it all I have learned more about what it truly means to be resilient and what it means to give up control because I had none. I am still a planner but I understand God may teach me more things by taking me in a totally different direction and I have to be okay with it. I wonder what the version of me a year from now would tell this version of me. Hopefully not “Brace yourself. Again.” But if it is, I can do it. The Lord is with me.

April 3, 2024

A Rough First Chapter

Last week I decided to write a book. I finished a chapter. Will it actually be chapter one? Will it make it to the final cut? I have no idea. I also have not really gone back and edited this so if it does make it into the final book, it may look different. But I decided posting pieces of my writing while I work will help me stay accountable. So, enjoy!

I do not remember my baptism, but then again, this is true for most Catholics. I do, however, remember finding Mass extremely boring and the communion wine disgusting. At least the wafers were decent enough. Until eighth grade, Catholicism was a significant part of my life. Every Sunday morning consisted of sitting through an hour of mass where everyone would sing out of hymn books and recite creeds I did not understand and a guy named Father Tim in some snazzy robes would talk about things above my young head. Then for the next hour, it was off to Sunday school with kids my age where the teacher, who was usually someone’s mom or dad, would teach us how to be Catholic. There were routines and rules. As a kid I loved and craved structure and this place, while boring, provided it.

The problem is, my experience was that Catholicism was structure without substance.

I am going to take a quick pause in the story. In recent years, Catholicism has re-emerged as a hot topic in recent years and I want to clarify a few things before moving on. I am not writing this to make any sort of accusations against the Catholic Church or speak for the entire system. This is all only based on my personal experiences within the particular church I attended, as well as a few other people, such as my dad and his side of the family, and my boyfriend, among a few others. I do believe based on my experiences a lot of Christians not affiliated with Catholicism have a lot of misconceptions about it, with some even believing Catholics are not “saved” or not “true Christians” (this will come up more later!). In my experience, I do not believe this to be the case. The core of Catholicism is the Gospel, though they have a few traditions different from many other Christian branches and sometimes these traditions and structures are focused on so much and lead to the relational piece to be overshadowed. This is what I mean by it was structure without substance. And… resume!

In my experience, being Catholic meant knowing things and following rules. In Sunday school we learned about some of the (age appropriate) stories in the Bible like Adam and Eve. My sister once had an assignment where she needed to draw the story. As she asked my parents and I for help, my dad let slip a crucial piece of the story her Sunday school class felt five year old children did not need to know; Adam and Eve were originally naked!

I am not sure if my parents let her turn in her ‘more accurate’ drawings and if they did, I do not know how the church responded, however as a seven year old at the time with an impeccable memory, the images of a five year old’s attempt at nude artwork are forever burned into my brain. I will spare you the gruesome details but let’s just say the anatomy was not exactly accurate and even when it got to the scene where Adam and Eve are ashamed and covered themselves with leaves, there were too many ‘parts’ still on proud display.

But I digress.

In addition to some of the Bible, we also learned about some of the saints, mostly ones who were in the Bible such as Mary or Peter. Saint Nicholas was also brought up a lot because Santa Claus! And then there was the time a girl got into a debate with Deacon Ron about Mother Theresea. He said she was not a Saint and the Catholic Church would likely never name her one because of too much controversy. She said she would be a saint someday. On September 4, 2016 I bet Deacon Ron felt awfully silly.

Knowing things mattered, but what seemed to matter more was knowing the rules on how to be Catholic. We learned when to stand, when to sit, when to kneel, when to sing (to be honest I always just pretended!). We memorized the special prayers and creeds and began learning about the other parts of being a Catholic. One of the earliest memories I have of this was learning about the seven sacraments. For those who do not know about Catholicism, they believe there are seven holy sacraments, some of which all Catholics are expected to receive, while some are a special calling or privilege. They are: baptism, reconciliation, communion, confirmation, matrimony, holy orders, and anointing of the sick. This is the typical order in which these take place, but again, not everyone gets all of them and sometimes things can go out of order. For instance anointing of the sick takes place when someone is extremely ill, as in likely going to die soon. The priest annoints them with oil and prays over them. But sometimes people make a recovery and live out the rest of their life. And matrimony only takes place if somebody gets married and holy orders is when someone joins the clergy. In Catholicism, only Deacons, who are basically the assistant to the priest, can marry so most people only experience one of these two sacraments.

Baptism typically takes place shortly after birth because many Catholics believe being baptized is a necessary ticket into Heaven so if somebody dies unbaptized they are out. They do not necessarily go to Hell if they are young or never heard the gospel though. They end up in Purgatory, which is sort of seen as this inbetween or limbo. It is not necessarily bad but it also is not where someone wants to be. As a seven year old learning about these things, I remember wondering why God would make not getting dunked in water keep a baby out of Heaven, but as I already stated, I craved rules and structure so I went with it. Besides, I was safe!

We spent a lot of time in second grade learning about reconciliation, which is when a person goes into a special little area the size of a closet and tells the priest what sins they committed and then the priest tells them what their penance is. It all felt so serious and formal but I also never really understood why kneeling and saying two Hail Marys would make God forgive me for getting into a fight with my sister, but again, I went with it. Communion came next and was a huge event. We spent weeks going over and practicing how to receive the bread, which was just some flavorless little wafer, and the wine. For the wafer we would go up to the priest and could either hold out our hands in a special way or receive it on our tongue, which when you are seven feels way too silly and I knew I would not be able to do it without laughing so I opted for the hands. Then it was to the wine cup where the deacon would hold it out to drink from and then wipe it and rotate it for the next person.

The wine scared me far more than the wafer because as a child I was incredibly picky, to the point where my parents worried I had some kind of eating disorder. I kept telling them I was worried about gagging in front of everyone from the wine so they had an idea; how about you practice here at home? So my dad handed me the glass he had been drinking with dinner and I anxiously took a gulp. My mom always jokes about how she will never forget the face I made when the taste hit my tongue. She did not see it for long though because I had to beeline to the kitchen sink to profusely rinse out my mouth. Over the next few weeks, I tried a few more times and slowly got a little better.

When the morning finally arrived, I got all dressed up. The boys wore suits and ties while the girls wore these white dresses and when I look back at photos now, all I can think of is how I looked like a child bride with all of the decorative beading. When it was time, our class all got in line with me somewhere in the middle. The wafer took me by surprise because it was awfully dry and got stuck to the roof of my mouth but there was no time to do anything about it. I got my sip of wine, which was much sweeter than whatever my parents gave me, but I still was not a fan. I at least managed to keep my composure and it helped the wafer go down. Thankfully after it all my dad told me from then on, the wine was not required and I could skip it. I did not understand why taking only part of the sacrament still counted but I was not about to question God or the church on this one.

Confirmation typically comes next. This takes place in 8th grade for most people and is essentially a declaration of faith. My dad told my sister and I about how he did this when he was younger and about his experiences as an altar boy and how when they were done serving, he and his friends always chugged the remaining wine and never got caught. I was always appalled by this because of how gross I found the wine. But back to confirmation, I never did this one. In eighth grade, we stopped going to the Catholic Church. For about six months we just went nowhere. On the one hand, I was happy to be free getting up to go to boring Mass but at the same time, it felt like something was missing. But then again, my church experience never really seemed completely fulfilling.

Looking back now, I understand why it felt unfulfilling. As I mentioned earlier, in my experience, Catholicism was structure without substance. Sure I learned the routines and learned about the stories and about the people, but there was no relationship. Knowing about God is not the same as knowing God. In college I heard a sermon where the pastor compared it to our interactions with the President. We can look up all of the facts about the President but if we show up to the White House unannounced it will likely not go over well. Knowing their birthday or favorite color is not the same as having a personal relationship with them. And with God, we need the relationship piece and there are ways to cultivate it. In eighth grade however, I did not understand this relational absence yet. The only absence I noticed at the time at church was my mom’s.