september in a nutshell
To be perfectly honest, when I wrote my last post this month, I did not imagine the rest of this month taking the drastic turn it ended up taking. But here I am, sitting in what I think might be a regular coffee shop (finally!), eating a tiny fifty-cent cinnamon muffin and drinking my current favorite drink: iced black tea with a splash of half-and-half. Ironically, the tea brand they serve here is Numi, the brand also served at SAGA- the student-named-titled of our cafeteria at Wheaton. So here I am, across the country, and I've managed to find (and love) the probably lone coffee shop that has the same tea I had daily in Wheaton. (Also, I forgot headphones again, so be ready for some people-watching-interruptions during the writing of this post.)
Now. I considered naming this post "car theft, weddings, and walking on water," but decided that would serve as a better subtitle, or perhaps function in lieu of a thesis as I explain why my planned post about angels and Mary, Mother of God, has been postponed until further notice, and why I lived on a pendulum for the bulk of my favorite month, clinging desperately to the chain as I swung from very great to very bad (and hung somewhat in the air, only to fall back) to very great to somewhere in the middle. Or maybe it's that pirate ship ride at amusement parks, and I'm sitting in the back row, as opposed to the front where the swings are not as intense.
The Friday after my last post, September 14, we had our Opening Day Celebration for City Year, a truly lovely time that we- as the City Year San Jose site-spent dedicating our year of service, essentially being launched as teams into our year in East San Jose. We took a bunch of team pictures (which as you all know, feeds my soul), and had a paid-for team lunch (again, feeds my soul), leaving me quite full in my heart, re-inspired and ready to leap again, excited about the friendships that were forming.
And then, the fateful Saturday of September 15 dawned bright and blue. I slept in, finished another post-grad read- All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr (it was okay, but kind of disappointing, not going to lie), rode my bike to the market, went to the outlet malls with Betty Ruth and bought two pairs of new pants for work and a black and white polka dot jumpsuit for the upcoming wedding's rehearsal dinner. The best part of this was the woman next to me gave me her coupon for $20 off, resulting in a jumpsuit purchase of only seven bucks. We stopped at the fruit stand on the way home and got fresh corn and avocados, and I dropped Betty Ruth off at home so I could finish errands. Dream day, right?
WRONG. Blasting my fall playlist and singing as I drove into the mall parking lot, I was lucky enough to find this amazing parking spot, like five spots from the front, despite the fact that everyone and their mother was at the mall. I dashed in to find a bachelorette present for the previously mentioned wedding, found yet again another excellent sale item, and burst back out into the September sunlight, hurrying in hopes that I could blitz the samples at Costco before they were cleaned up. Back to my superior parking spot and- another car, a small, tan car, is in the spot I parked in. Whispers of panic slowly crept in as I frantically walked the row over and then back to my spot with the stranger's car. Standing on the curb and peering over the section of lot I parked in, my worst fears confirmed: no car.
"Dad, this is going to sound really weird, but I promise you I am not joking. I think someone stole my car," I said, as I did the only natural thing to do when your car gets stolen. Call your dad, who conveniently lives 700 miles away. He told me to call the police. After sitting on the curb for forty-five minutes with my Victoria's Secret bag, looking as pathetic as I felt, a policewoman arrived, filed my missing car report, and helpfully informed me that my kind of car (a '98 Honda CRV) gets stolen EVERY DAY from the parking lot I parked in. Which is, you know, just awesome.
And thus it began: a four hour trip to the mall and a four day saga of phone calls and tragedy, that honestly might be easier to lay out in bullet point form. I just ran through it all with a friend after church today, who was inquiring about the whole disaster, so hopefully I didn't forget any major details. Here we go:
SUNDAY: A friend drove me to church, and a friend of Betty Ruth let me borrow her car (a GIANT van), as we called insurance to see if I could rent a car despite me being two years too young due to the DEFINITION OF EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES. No news from police yet.
MONDAY: I get a call at 1 am informing me my car has been found in Merced, California (two hours from me), and that they will tow it. I call again when I wake up for the day (around 5:20 am) and discover that they have towed it indeed. To a shop. In Merced. And that I need to COME AND PICK IT UP, accompanied with the correct paperwork and vehicle release form from either the Merced or San Jose PD, despite the fact that I HAVE NO CAR and thus no way to get there. And (here's the kicker) I can't release anyone else to pick it up or release it, and I can't do any of this over the phone. Cue frantic call to mom, call to tow place, call to Triple A, call to Merced PD, call to San Jose PD, call to my boss, call to dad, repeat for four hours in varying order. It seems like there might be a possibility I can fax the papers from the SJPD to the tow place in order for someone from Triple A to get my car, so I drive to the San Jose PD at 9:30 am, just the time I want to be driving a huge van downtown through traffic. At the PD, I am informed that- oops, we forgot to tell you that since it's your parent's car, you can't sign for the car until we get a notarized letter from your parents. I consequently burst into violent tears in the tiny grey lifeless office, as the kind police worker looks on helplessly and apologetically. Meanwhile, my mom notarizes a letter releasing the car to me, I, weeping, go to work- again, WHY is it that I only cry on the freeway?-, I go back to the SJPD, finish the paperwork, and the tow place tells me that actually the report needs to be from the Merced PD and it doesn't matter what the SJPD has but she'll look over the papers anyway. BRILLIANT. Everything is now closed, so we wait.
Tuesday: Mom takes over calling so I can go to work. We call insurance and tow people and Merced PD in varying order, and after much ado and more tears, the car is picked up by another tow company and towed to a mechanic shop in San Jose. I sign for the car. (Yay!) Everything is now closed, so we wait.
Wednesday: Mechanics can't start working on the car (safety check because nothing drastic happened to it!) until the insurance approves them to start working on it. No one hears from insurance man all day so no work happens on the car. Everything is now closed, so we wait.
Thursday: I'm leaving to go home for the wedding, and about to board my flight, and FINALLY an insurance agent calls to interview me about the car, and he then calls and gives approval to start working on the car!
Monday: I pick up detailed and finished car after arriving back in San Jose!
Now, the thing you don't get from all of that DISASTER NATION is how incredibly wonderful my parents were. They did so much: hundreds of calls to insurance and mechanics and detailers and police departments, lots of tears, and interactions with incredibly rude people and angel-people (big S/O to Mike the mechanic, we love him). There were probably more details in there that I left out, but honestly I'm exhausted. We just sent in the receipts so once the reimbursements happen, it will all be squared away. I now have this thing called "the club"- courtesy of my grandmother who purchased and shipped it to me immediately following initial theft- that I put on my steering wheel which is supposedly supposed to prevent the whole car theft thing from happening again. Gosh I hope so, because it about did me in.
Pendulum swing as we flash back to the Thursday-Monday of being home. I haven't been in Boise in the fall for four years, and the minute I walked out of the airport with my mom, the crisp air was the best respite I could've asked for. I don't know how to describe Boise air in the fall other than the most refreshing breeze that wakes up all your senses at once; it's pure magic. The whole weekend served as a the most necessary, dreamy heart-balm, family bike rides to breakfast and birthday parties, track meets and football games, making applesauce (check out recipe coming very soon!), a hike and coffee with mom, and an incredibly beautiful wedding celebration of my childhood best friend. We became friends on the first day of kindergarten, two little girls in the ladybug group. And here she was, a stunning bride, walking bravely down the aisle into a whole new stage of life. We danced and danced on the edge of a field in a garden full of books and flowers and fairy lights, together, with old friends and new friends, and sent her and her husband off under a shower of sparklers and a clear sky of stars.
(interruption: middle aged woman is slamming millennial’s’ ability to stick with a job with an authority I’m pretty sure she doesn’t actually have. She’s having coffee with her friend and has been DOMINATING the conversation.)
After a necessary reset, car back in possession, I returned to San Jose, dragging my feet. Coming back to San Jose is always difficult. It’s still a little lonely and the job is incredibly hard- both logistically and with the students- and it’s easy to despair. I believe awhile I ago I wrote about how airplane journals always seem to be the best ones. True, again. I realized that God is calling me to the next step of trust. Like Peter walking on the water, God called me to get out of the boat, and I did. But, also like Peter, there is just A LOT OF WIND AND WAVES going on out here, and I’m sinking fast. I want to get back in the boat!! I don’t like being out of the boat!! It’s cold!! And everyone I love is in the boat!! Except me!! But Jesus is saying, “O you of little faith! Why did you doubt?” And grabbing my hand, and pulling me out of the waves and back onto my feet.
It all just goes to show you how life is unexpected, how planning (as much as we hate to admit it), is a little futile. How necessary it is to be present and to soak up each moment. To be where your feet are, and not where you wish they were. Which is pretty beautiful, actually.
And so, I'm back onto my feet, after Car Mess and after a pretty bad last week at work, sad news from home, and semi-dream crushing words about possible next-year-plans, holding onto Jesus quite tightly, because as Peter said, "O Lord, to whom else shall we go?" Choosing intentionally to look for the September things I'm loving right now: acorn squash, tiny 69-cent pumpkins at Trader Joe's, the cover of "Sweet Disposition" by Sawyer, discovering I like plums, cooking new harvest recipes for myself, warm oatmeal for breakfast, our new family DOG Piper, revisiting my favorite, dreamy movie "The Hundred Foot Journey, "and Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren (a gift from my dear kindred spirit friend Jill).
So, Alyssa's September in a Nutshell. Remembering to cease, relaxing the corners of my mouth, flinging open windows and breathing in the crisp air.
Courage, dear heart, and dance bravely into October.
-alyssa
P.S. Now the lady is talking about how she learned to articulate and talk clearly and loudly from an adult drama class she took, and how she doesn't save it for the stage. Considering I can hear every word from across the coffee shop, she is right about that.