A final chapter in this trilogy to document my experiences with weather, people, and God.
I said in the last post that this would be a hard post. A post that would be difficult and bittersweet. There is much joy in sharing this post with you, there is also sadness as another chapter to my life is being concluded in the near future.
In early April, as I was placed into the position of chief meteorologist, a letter I had set aside was brought back to my attention.
While in the UK, I had continued to seek out job positions and grad school opportunities. During the latter weeks in the UK I applied to 4 universities to attend for graduate school and earn a master's degree in meteorology. The University of Wyoming, the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Mississippi State University, and North Carolina State University all received an application for acceptance from me. Shortly after arriving in Bowling Green, MSU replied with an acceptance letter. This letter was exciting, I knew then that I qualified for grad school. I had been turned down by three schools in the spring of 2013. However, it was a second letter from MSU that was brought to my attention in early April.
This second letter extended to me an assistantship to aid in my pursuit of research and a master's in meteorology and climatology at MSU. The assistantship consisted of an out of state tuition waiver, a partial scholarship for tuition, and the offer of a graduate teaching assistant position with a monthly stipend to cover the rest of my educational expenses, and the main portion of living expenses. The letter gave me until Easter weekend to make my decision.
In the midst of the chaotic rise to chief's position, I knew that this was the end of the road if I stayed in Bowling Green. I can climb no further here, I knew this was the highest spot I could attain within the station and the corporation. I also knew that the Lord has placed me at Christ Fellowship for a reason, and I love the church dearly. The Lord doesn't call us to sit back on our laurels and marvel at all we've accomplished. He desires men and women who will passionately follow His guiding across the street, across town or around the world.
Life in television in Bowling Green appears to be, quite frankly, in opposition to God's call. There, I would develop a routine, develop a clique at work, and become hardened to others around me and to the city of Bowling Green. I would become cynical, cut off from the rest of the people of Bowling Green and out of touch with other humans and unwilling to follow the Lord Jesus Christ.
God has placed in front of me an opportunity to take His name back to Mississippi State University. He's provided me an opportunity to be a leader within the department of geosciences at MSU. Part of my desire to work in television was to be just that, a leader and an example to others. The Lord has given me the opportunity to do that back in Starkville. He's not only blessed me with a roommate, as well as many friends from undergrad; He's blessed me with new contacts who are incoming freshmen, transfers, grad students with whom I can share my knowledge of weather, Mississippi, and most importantly, my knowledge of how Jesus has changed me.
Life following Christ is crazy, illogical, exciting, and completely worth it. I cannot imagine, after being taught many things by God, living my life just to please me. I can never be pleased. I'll always find something wrong with me, something I can't have that I want, or something I don't want that I have. Following Christ means that though there is something wrong with me, it's called sin and Christ died to deal with the consequences of what's wrong. In Christ, He has promised to make me new, and He will make good on His promise. He rose from the dead to prove that fact. Following Christ means giving up my selfish desires and wants, and seeking Christ. The Bible says that the one who saves his life will lose it. The one who loses his life gains it. This is made possible in Christ, in His resurrection from the dead. Following Christ means that the stuff I don't want (pain, persecution, hunger, stress, etc) can be handed over to God. I give up control of trying to fix my life and myself. I'm letting the Potter mold the clay, the sculpture chisel off the imperfections. The process is painful, I have been and will be pushed, stretched bent, even broken. Above it all, God has a plan. His plan is for His glory, and in His glory, our greatest joy is found.
On August 11, 2014, approximately 1 year after I made the commitment to spend my autumn in the UK, I will return to the place where God took hold of me, grabbed my attention, and began remaking me and teaching me.
He knows my fears, He knows I want to be independent, and there are bills to be paid. He has since blessed me with a part time job in weather and TV. Wednesday, I accepted an offer to become the weekend meteorologist at WVUA-TV. THIS TV network, channel 7 in Tuscaloosa, AL.
I love working in television. I love being able to interact with people and help them by providing information they need in daily life and in emergencies. These two positions give me the opportunity to become better at that, and learn where it is God wants me from now until I see Him face to face.
I don't know where God wants me. I don't know if He wants me to continue in television or move to another field, but what I do know is that He is good. He allowed the dream of working in television come true, even if it's only for a short amount of time, I'm thankful for what He has blessed me with.
Throughout this year, I have been reading novels, and one, "The Count of Monte Cristo" by Alexandre Dumas, is very appropriate in its closing. Edmond Dantes writes a farewell letter to his heirs,
"Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget, that until the day when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words, -- 'Wait and hope.' -- Your friend,
Edmond Dantes,
Count of Monte Cristo"
Through it all, strength has been found in waiting and hoping in Christ. He will never fail, His promises are true, His love is deep, and His majesty is worthy of all my praise.
I want to thank a bunch of people. Through all of this, my parents have worried, stressed, prayed, and let me follow God's call even when they doubted.
I'm thankful for my British family, my friends from college and Colorado, all of whom supported, loved, prayed, and encouraged me to pursue the Lord's call to England last fall.
Additionally, I'm thankful for all of my wonderful new friends here in Bowling Green. I have been blown away by your love, acceptance of myself as a new friend and encouraged me through the rough days. Thank you for showing me around Bowling Green, welcoming me into your homes and lives. You've blessed me immensely.
Finally, I thank God, my Savior. He saved me, showed me love, cared for me, and blessed me beyond measure.
I love you all so very much. To those I'm leaving, I'll be in Bowling Green through June, and please, let's spend more time together. Please come visit me in Mississippi, it's a lovely place that I would love to share with you. To those I'm returning to, I love you and I cannot wait see you again and spend time together.
All, may the Lord bless you, keep you, and may you seek His face and His glory with every breath.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Thursday, June 12, 2014
"A Taste of 'The Good Life' & the Blessings of God"
Part 2 of 3 to catch everyone up on life as a Crank. This middle chapter to the saga will detail how very attached to all things British I have become.
I thought life would calm down, I would move back in with my parents and I would be one of the countless college graduates with student loans and no job to pay for them. Then I turned on my cell phone after months of it being turned off in Memphis (dumb phones do not work overseas, shocking). I have a voicemail from some guy who I didn't know. He was calling to talk with me more about a job opening in Bowling Green, KY and weekend weather. I was floored, but I was worn out. It was about 10pm so I told myself I would call him tomorrow. The next morning, I'm getting ready for the day, and attempting to come up with a list of questions to ask when I call the Kentuckian back. Before I'm done getting ready, my phone starts ringing. It's home skillet from Bowling Green. We chatted for a bit about the job, some details with it. He then offers me the job, on the phone, within 24 hours of my returning to the U.S. of A. I'm still tongued-tied and trying to re-adjust to the American Southern accent. Thankfully, I have the coherence to ask if I could talk to the chief meteorologist before making a decision.
I'll skip over the rest of those details due to legal issues and they're boring. Needless to say, what I thought was going to be a difficult time of twiddling my thumbs, God had much bigger plans in mind. He wasn't done knocking my socks off, and I am beginning to learn that He never will stop. He loves me, in spite of my darkest sins, my inability to share the Gospel, and my constant anxiety, He loves me, cares about me, and wants to blow my mind each and every day. I believe this is almost a humorous antagonisation of my anxiety.
By Martin Luther King Jr. weekend, I'd moved into a hotel in Bowling Green, KY. I enjoyed working in TV, experiencing my first show, forecasting and what I said actually mattering. I saw snow, predicted it, advised people in how to prepare for it. The experiences and opportunities afforded me by God to work in TV have been incredible. I'm so very thankful for this job.
The first week I was there, I had looked up churches in Bowling Green, and there were plenty. I didn't know where to start, so I went to the BSU at Western Kentucky University (they're all progressive and call it BCM, whatever). There, I met the director who introduced me to one of the interns who worked there, Joel. Joel immediately offered to get lunch with me, and though we didn't get lunch, we still talked awhile about what I'd been doing in the UK, and where he went to church (Christ Fellowship) and why. He also gave my number to a friend of his, Chase, who also went to Christ Fellowship with Joel.
The next day I met Chase for lunch and at that point, I could not not visit Christ Fellowship, I'd had two invites to come Sunday (0 for any other church), I'd been told how they were located in a similar area to the Earlesfield, and their desire was to reach the people of that community with the Gospel. Joel had given me the website, and so I creeped hard on the church, about what they believed, etc. I couldn't find a single reason not to go. Then I went.
Before the pastor's 50 minute sermon was over, I was sold. Then we took communion, icing on the cake. I was a little overwhelmed by the church, the genuineness of the people, the worship, and the commitment to the Gospel. After the service, I met Eric, who invited me to coffee, and later that week, to the small group Bible study at his house. God couldn't have made it plainer as to where He wanted me in Bowling Green. From Joel to Chase to Eric, to everyone else I met at church that Sunday, God had this in mind long before I went to England.
What really confirmed this to me was at the small group. We spent our time that week sharing our testimonies, rather than discussing the sermon (Ooops). That's when I was informed of the connection between Harlaxton College (in Denton/Grantham, Lincolnshire, UK) and WKU. I met people that night (and I've met more since) who went to study abroad there. I heard and saw people from all kinds of background sharing how they came to know Christ and how beautiful that night was.
I can say that these past 5 months since moving to Bowling Green have been absolutely some of the hardest, most frustrating, sanctifying, and fulfilling months. I consider this church, my church. The people, the community... my people and my community. The opportunities I've had to serve here in Bowling Green have been amazing. I'm blessed and thankful to be here now.
I've made many new friends, close friends, and am amazed that they actually are friends with this awkward, nerdy, non-Hill Topping dude who is overly obsessed with Britain (to the point that I listen to The British History Podcast, you should also, it's great).
By April of this year, due to a variety of things at work, I became the chief meteorologist at the station. My working hours shifted from weekend nights, to weekday evenings. This job has afforded me many opportunities, stories about WKU, Hot Rods Baseball, schools talks, Humane Society visits, celebrity cookie eating contests, career fairs, tickets to baseball, running in different events (KY Foam Run & the Color Vibe 5k Run), and even throwing out the first pitch at a minor league baseball game.
The people I've met and gotten to know here are the reason that the third part of this trilogy of the first part of 2014 will be a bittersweet chapter. Please read the next segment, "The Return to Academia" with the knowledge that many long, tearful nights of crying out for wisdom from God and seeking advice from godly men and women in my life have led to the conclusion of the trilogy.
I thought life would calm down, I would move back in with my parents and I would be one of the countless college graduates with student loans and no job to pay for them. Then I turned on my cell phone after months of it being turned off in Memphis (dumb phones do not work overseas, shocking). I have a voicemail from some guy who I didn't know. He was calling to talk with me more about a job opening in Bowling Green, KY and weekend weather. I was floored, but I was worn out. It was about 10pm so I told myself I would call him tomorrow. The next morning, I'm getting ready for the day, and attempting to come up with a list of questions to ask when I call the Kentuckian back. Before I'm done getting ready, my phone starts ringing. It's home skillet from Bowling Green. We chatted for a bit about the job, some details with it. He then offers me the job, on the phone, within 24 hours of my returning to the U.S. of A. I'm still tongued-tied and trying to re-adjust to the American Southern accent. Thankfully, I have the coherence to ask if I could talk to the chief meteorologist before making a decision.
I'll skip over the rest of those details due to legal issues and they're boring. Needless to say, what I thought was going to be a difficult time of twiddling my thumbs, God had much bigger plans in mind. He wasn't done knocking my socks off, and I am beginning to learn that He never will stop. He loves me, in spite of my darkest sins, my inability to share the Gospel, and my constant anxiety, He loves me, cares about me, and wants to blow my mind each and every day. I believe this is almost a humorous antagonisation of my anxiety.
By Martin Luther King Jr. weekend, I'd moved into a hotel in Bowling Green, KY. I enjoyed working in TV, experiencing my first show, forecasting and what I said actually mattering. I saw snow, predicted it, advised people in how to prepare for it. The experiences and opportunities afforded me by God to work in TV have been incredible. I'm so very thankful for this job.
The first week I was there, I had looked up churches in Bowling Green, and there were plenty. I didn't know where to start, so I went to the BSU at Western Kentucky University (they're all progressive and call it BCM, whatever). There, I met the director who introduced me to one of the interns who worked there, Joel. Joel immediately offered to get lunch with me, and though we didn't get lunch, we still talked awhile about what I'd been doing in the UK, and where he went to church (Christ Fellowship) and why. He also gave my number to a friend of his, Chase, who also went to Christ Fellowship with Joel.
The next day I met Chase for lunch and at that point, I could not not visit Christ Fellowship, I'd had two invites to come Sunday (0 for any other church), I'd been told how they were located in a similar area to the Earlesfield, and their desire was to reach the people of that community with the Gospel. Joel had given me the website, and so I creeped hard on the church, about what they believed, etc. I couldn't find a single reason not to go. Then I went.
Before the pastor's 50 minute sermon was over, I was sold. Then we took communion, icing on the cake. I was a little overwhelmed by the church, the genuineness of the people, the worship, and the commitment to the Gospel. After the service, I met Eric, who invited me to coffee, and later that week, to the small group Bible study at his house. God couldn't have made it plainer as to where He wanted me in Bowling Green. From Joel to Chase to Eric, to everyone else I met at church that Sunday, God had this in mind long before I went to England.
What really confirmed this to me was at the small group. We spent our time that week sharing our testimonies, rather than discussing the sermon (Ooops). That's when I was informed of the connection between Harlaxton College (in Denton/Grantham, Lincolnshire, UK) and WKU. I met people that night (and I've met more since) who went to study abroad there. I heard and saw people from all kinds of background sharing how they came to know Christ and how beautiful that night was.
I can say that these past 5 months since moving to Bowling Green have been absolutely some of the hardest, most frustrating, sanctifying, and fulfilling months. I consider this church, my church. The people, the community... my people and my community. The opportunities I've had to serve here in Bowling Green have been amazing. I'm blessed and thankful to be here now.
I've made many new friends, close friends, and am amazed that they actually are friends with this awkward, nerdy, non-Hill Topping dude who is overly obsessed with Britain (to the point that I listen to The British History Podcast, you should also, it's great).
By April of this year, due to a variety of things at work, I became the chief meteorologist at the station. My working hours shifted from weekend nights, to weekday evenings. This job has afforded me many opportunities, stories about WKU, Hot Rods Baseball, schools talks, Humane Society visits, celebrity cookie eating contests, career fairs, tickets to baseball, running in different events (KY Foam Run & the Color Vibe 5k Run), and even throwing out the first pitch at a minor league baseball game.
The people I've met and gotten to know here are the reason that the third part of this trilogy of the first part of 2014 will be a bittersweet chapter. Please read the next segment, "The Return to Academia" with the knowledge that many long, tearful nights of crying out for wisdom from God and seeking advice from godly men and women in my life have led to the conclusion of the trilogy.
The Return to America
It is hard to believe where I was 6 months ago and where God has brought me in that time. In my last blog post I was still in England, and was looking forward to Christmas, let me catch you up from there.
I spent Christmas with the Howsons, and their extended family that came in for Christmas. We all went to church together on Christmas morning. While Americans like our Christmas Eve services, the British head out Christmas morning. We walked to church in Harby, and I finally saw the inside of that Anglican church. The service was unique. A small sermon was spoken, and we sang many songs. There was a leaflet with the songs written on them. While we didn't sing all of these, the leaflet was their Christmas hymnbook, and it wasn't always that Christmas-y or even Christian. Some songs included were: "Jingle, Bells", "In the Bleak Midwinter", "Christ The Lord Is Risen Today", "Good King Wenceslas, "Here We Come A-wassailing", "Lord of the Dance", The Twelve Days of Christmas", and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas". While I know and enjoy many of these songs, none are exceptionally appropriate for the service. We did of course sing "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day", you can't avoid that one.
As I am writing this 6 months after Christmas, it is somewhat difficult to remember all that happened, however I do want to highlight how generous, thoughtful, and kind my British family was to me. I received a set of shakers (English Bulldogs with the British flag on their backs, very cute and appropriate), blue football socks (Everton colors), two Everton toothbrushes (lovely, thanks Lois), and a fantastic onsie. All in all, I made out well from my British family as I view them now. I have parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, and cousins' children who I count as two nieces. God has blessed me with families everywhere I go, and Britain was no exception.
My departure was hard, the evening flew by the night I was to leave by train for London. I can remember how the cold bit through my pea coat that night waiting on the platform and my heart pounding realising this would be the last time I would stand in Grantham. It was difficult, and the night was just beginning. My travel to Heathrow was fairly uneventful, but I arrived so late that security and check-in had closed and I was forced to spend the night out in the main concourse and lobby. I could find a comfortable position and my brain wouldn't focus on reading anything. Those wee morning hours were incredibly painful, I thought a lot about how I was leaving may never return.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the airline check-in opened and I finally got 2/3 boarding passes for my travels. Yes, 2/3, my final ticket from O'Hare to Memphis wouldn't print, the attendant said this was common with the big international airlines now sharing flights but coding them differently, she was with British Airways, and the last ticket was American Eagle/American Airlines. How she got my second ticket (Iberia Airlines), I have no idea, but I was so thankful. As we took off from London, my head dropped, and I think I may have drooled on the woman beside me... I was tired and unable to control any body movement or function.
I eventually came to when they served breakfast (I love international flights, complimentary food). I pinched myself to wake myself up enough to eat, then look out the window at the Spanish scenery. For the first time, I actually chatted with the person next to me. First, I apologised for my drooling, snoring, whatever may have occurred while I was dead to the world. We began to chat, and I learned a little about her life, a single woman in her late 40s from Buckinghamshire (west of London). She was on her way to hike in the mountains of Argentina. The trip was a gift from her father. We talked a little of religion as she was curious as to why I was in the UK and for so long. While no spiritual flames were light, nor even sparks, I pray that as she hiked those mountains the Lord would speak to her, and that she would see the emptiness she was already feeling as something only Christ could fill and heal. We landed in Madrid, we parted ways amiably and I then proceeded to get my final boarding ticket to Memphis, another adventure in a foreign land, with a Spanish-speaking attendant for American Airlines.
My Iberia Airlines flight was really nice, I had a window seat beside a younger man (late teens/early 20s), we never talked (except for when I needed the loo), which was saddening after my last flight but it showed me how other perceive my generation. We can be so absorbed in our own little bubbles we often miss the people, places, and happenings that are right beside us.
O'Hare was one of the most frustrating layovers I've experienced (besides the insomnia of Heathrow). After getting through customs, with just a few minutes to spare, I discover that I have to go back through general security to get to my connecting flight... Excuse me? I just went through customs, I shouldn't have to take off the belt, exterior clothing, shoes, etc. all over again! I only had about 20 minutes til my flight was to depart at that! My face was red with frustration and anger over that.
Thankfully, I made it. I was on the flight to Memphis, then we landed, I stepped back into the Memphis Airport on December 30, 2013 through the exact same gate I had departed out of on September 10, 2013. Though a wheel had broken off my big suitcase between Chicago and Memphis, my things and I were safe. I thought as I was eating dinner with some wonderful friends: Chris, Sara Grace, Haley, and Joe how calm life would become. How wrong I was.
I would like for you to continue reading this saga as it continues in my next post, "A Taste of 'The Good Life' & the Blessings of God"
I spent Christmas with the Howsons, and their extended family that came in for Christmas. We all went to church together on Christmas morning. While Americans like our Christmas Eve services, the British head out Christmas morning. We walked to church in Harby, and I finally saw the inside of that Anglican church. The service was unique. A small sermon was spoken, and we sang many songs. There was a leaflet with the songs written on them. While we didn't sing all of these, the leaflet was their Christmas hymnbook, and it wasn't always that Christmas-y or even Christian. Some songs included were: "Jingle, Bells", "In the Bleak Midwinter", "Christ The Lord Is Risen Today", "Good King Wenceslas, "Here We Come A-wassailing", "Lord of the Dance", The Twelve Days of Christmas", and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas". While I know and enjoy many of these songs, none are exceptionally appropriate for the service. We did of course sing "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day", you can't avoid that one.
As I am writing this 6 months after Christmas, it is somewhat difficult to remember all that happened, however I do want to highlight how generous, thoughtful, and kind my British family was to me. I received a set of shakers (English Bulldogs with the British flag on their backs, very cute and appropriate), blue football socks (Everton colors), two Everton toothbrushes (lovely, thanks Lois), and a fantastic onsie. All in all, I made out well from my British family as I view them now. I have parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, and cousins' children who I count as two nieces. God has blessed me with families everywhere I go, and Britain was no exception.
My departure was hard, the evening flew by the night I was to leave by train for London. I can remember how the cold bit through my pea coat that night waiting on the platform and my heart pounding realising this would be the last time I would stand in Grantham. It was difficult, and the night was just beginning. My travel to Heathrow was fairly uneventful, but I arrived so late that security and check-in had closed and I was forced to spend the night out in the main concourse and lobby. I could find a comfortable position and my brain wouldn't focus on reading anything. Those wee morning hours were incredibly painful, I thought a lot about how I was leaving may never return.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the airline check-in opened and I finally got 2/3 boarding passes for my travels. Yes, 2/3, my final ticket from O'Hare to Memphis wouldn't print, the attendant said this was common with the big international airlines now sharing flights but coding them differently, she was with British Airways, and the last ticket was American Eagle/American Airlines. How she got my second ticket (Iberia Airlines), I have no idea, but I was so thankful. As we took off from London, my head dropped, and I think I may have drooled on the woman beside me... I was tired and unable to control any body movement or function.
I eventually came to when they served breakfast (I love international flights, complimentary food). I pinched myself to wake myself up enough to eat, then look out the window at the Spanish scenery. For the first time, I actually chatted with the person next to me. First, I apologised for my drooling, snoring, whatever may have occurred while I was dead to the world. We began to chat, and I learned a little about her life, a single woman in her late 40s from Buckinghamshire (west of London). She was on her way to hike in the mountains of Argentina. The trip was a gift from her father. We talked a little of religion as she was curious as to why I was in the UK and for so long. While no spiritual flames were light, nor even sparks, I pray that as she hiked those mountains the Lord would speak to her, and that she would see the emptiness she was already feeling as something only Christ could fill and heal. We landed in Madrid, we parted ways amiably and I then proceeded to get my final boarding ticket to Memphis, another adventure in a foreign land, with a Spanish-speaking attendant for American Airlines.
My Iberia Airlines flight was really nice, I had a window seat beside a younger man (late teens/early 20s), we never talked (except for when I needed the loo), which was saddening after my last flight but it showed me how other perceive my generation. We can be so absorbed in our own little bubbles we often miss the people, places, and happenings that are right beside us.
O'Hare was one of the most frustrating layovers I've experienced (besides the insomnia of Heathrow). After getting through customs, with just a few minutes to spare, I discover that I have to go back through general security to get to my connecting flight... Excuse me? I just went through customs, I shouldn't have to take off the belt, exterior clothing, shoes, etc. all over again! I only had about 20 minutes til my flight was to depart at that! My face was red with frustration and anger over that.
Thankfully, I made it. I was on the flight to Memphis, then we landed, I stepped back into the Memphis Airport on December 30, 2013 through the exact same gate I had departed out of on September 10, 2013. Though a wheel had broken off my big suitcase between Chicago and Memphis, my things and I were safe. I thought as I was eating dinner with some wonderful friends: Chris, Sara Grace, Haley, and Joe how calm life would become. How wrong I was.
I would like for you to continue reading this saga as it continues in my next post, "A Taste of 'The Good Life' & the Blessings of God"
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