Identity

Practically-ghetto signs were posted everywhere, made from Microsoft Word clip art. They silently screamed judgment and fear: "NO CELL PHONES," "NO CHEATING," "NO BOOKS," "NO DEBIT/CREDIT CARDS," "NO TALKING." I stood in a racially and economically diverse line to take the written driving test. The air was full of tension and despair. I hate the DMV. It feels like the DMV's goal is to make your life hell and charge you money for it.

I was excited to move to Minneapolis. I have traveled all over the world (sixteen countries so far) and have loved seeing new places and meeting new people. There's something refreshing about visiting a place where nobody knows you. I am quickly discovering that moving is NOT traveling. Traveling is temporary; moving is permanence. Traveling is new and exciting; moving is fearful and exhausting. Traveling is full of "mountain top experiences;" moving is full of valleys and growth.

One of those valley moments was happening at the DMV. When Jason told me I would have to take the driving test to get my Minnesota license, I thought he was teasing me. I have been driving in Oregon for thirteen years and have a clean record. Why in the world would I have to go through the misery of taking a test?! Jason was right, and not only did I have to take the driving test, I had to do it within 60 days of moving to Minnesota or risk a $250 fine.

I stood in line focusing on taking deep breaths and remembering that my identity was not in my ability to pass a driving test. In my hand, I held my Oregon driver's license, birth certificate and marriage license. My goal was not only to get my new driver's license but to also get my name changed to my married name. All the sudden it hit me, this was it. This was my last chance to save my "Elizabeth Knopp from Portland, OR" identity. The thought of being "Elizabeth Poarch from Minnesota" didn't seem nearly as cool or hipster.  Besides, it didn't seem right for me to get my Minnesota license having never lived through a Minnesota winter. Despite my hesitations the line kept moving forward.

So many unloving signs at the DMV

I sat down in cubicle #20 and put on the gigantic pair of 80's head phones, trying not to think about how many heads had perviously worn them. A massive button was on the screen that said, "PUSH TO BEGIN." The only thing I could think was, "Stop yelling at me!" I took a big breath and pushed it. A female, monotone, computerized voice began to speak, "Welcome to the Minnesota written driver's test..." Why in the world was she speaking so slow?! This was going to take forever. She continued, "To begin, we will start with a practice question..." Continuing at an extremely slow, basically archaic, pace, she went on to explain how the buttons on the screen worked and how to move from question to question. To my relief the female voice went on to say, "Your first question will be a practice question and will not count towards your score." This was good news! An easy question that could help me relax, become familiar with the system, and then dive into the actual test. The screen lit up with another screaming button: "PUSH HERE TO START PRACTICE QUESTION." With a new wave a confidence, I pushed the button. 

The monotone computer voice began to read the question, "Which is the capitol of Minnesota? Minneapolis, Duluth, Saint Cloud or Saint Paul?" I starred at the screen and wanted to DIE. I had absolutely no idea what the capitol of Minnesota was! Panic began to wash over me and I felt my soul cry out, "WHY??? Why did this have to be the practice question? I've only been here six weeks! I have no idea! I'm so STUPID! How could I not know the capitol of my new home?..."

My number one struggle with getting married and moving has been identity. In the last few years my relationship with Christ has been really good. I have felt anchored in my Saviors love and trusted Him wholly with my life and desires. With the joys and struggles of becoming one with my husband, moving away from my physical and spiritual family, and leaving my music community, I have felt lost and confused. Daily I do battle to calm my emotions and restore my soul, because this I know to be true: God does not change. No matter my surroundings, marital status, family or community, my Lord and King has not changed. This is what I am learning right now. My relationship with God is not determined by my feelings of happiness or belonging. My relationship is built on my perseverance to seek Him, love Him and follow Him no matter how dry and tired I feel. 

With my "new" Minnesota paper license. Real license will be arriving in the mail! 

I failed the practice question at the DMV. The capitol of Minnesota is Saint Paul. (File that away in case you need it someday!) I did pass my driving test and Jason took me out to lunch to celebrate! One emotional battle won, a million more to go. 

Psalms 27:4 "One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple."

Basil Plants

I managed to make a dream come true for Lizzy recently. She found this idea on Pinterest concerning making Tiki torches out of wine bottles. Cool idea. We were randomly at the grocery store the other day, and I noticed a hardware store. My mind was in one of those moods which only comes about when you have a day off. The idea popped into mind, and I decided to get the parts. It had all of them. At one point, I walked up to a clerk and said, “Teflon tape.” The man snapped in action, turned around, pointed to isle eleven, and responded, “On the right.” I marveled out loud at how two words could do that to a man. A store full of a million particles and two words made him find the exact piece for me. I was in a daze for five minutes. Amazing. Oh! And, the project turned out wonderfully. 

You would think that’s the end of the story; it’s not. Lizzy is cooking tasty dishes. She’s even looking for students to teach violin. Our bills are being met. Contentment sets in. Bachelorhood is long gone. Homesickness is subsiding. It’s a stormy day today, perfect for getting stuff done and keeping up with aircraft carriers being ordered into the Gulf. I finished grades up for the students. The basil plant my wife bought two weeks ago is still alive! It has even taken on the status of a house pet, as my empathetic wife brought it inside to save it from the storm. Now, all I have to do is convince her we need a ferret. 

Curry Lentils

It is currently STORMING in Bloomington, Minnesota. Winds up to 60mph, branches breaking off of trees, downed power lines and boats capsizing. It's a perfect day for my new favorite curry lentils recipe.  I must admit, being a full time cook has been FUN! Having a husband that loves all food and eats almost anything makes it pretty easy, and even the disasters get consumed. 

I have always been a little scared of curry, but after attempting several recipes my fear is gone. I love it. It is so flavorful, and people think you are an amazing cook. My favorite recipe right now was taken from combining two different recipes that I didn't like separately, then combining to make an AMAZING one pot dish. 

So as a sign of being fully married and embracing my domestic side, here's the recipe. 

Take 1 and 1/2 cups of lentils and rinse them, removing all debris and set aside.  
Take a three quart sauce pan and over medium heat. 
Add 3 tablespoons of coconut oil (or butter but I like the coconut for the curry) and a whole chopped onion. 
Cook until the onion is browned and caramelized. 

While the onions are cooking in the pan, I put the spices together in a small dish: 2 cloves of pressed garlic, 1 1/2 teaspoons turmeric, 1/2 ground cardamom, 1/2 teaspoon grand cinnamon and a dash of nutmeg. 

Once the onions are done, add the little bowl of spicy goodness to the pan. Stir constantly until it smells AMAZING. It takes about 30 seconds. Then add the lentils to the pan stirring constantly. Once you feel like the lentils, onions and spices are well combined, add 6 cups of broth. 

Bring to a boil and then turn the heat down. You will probably need to simmer for at least an hour. But really it depends on how you want your lentils cooked. I like mine well done. Once the lentils are close to your desired consistency, open a can a coconut milk and turn the heat back up to medium. Bring to a boil once more, adding the coconut milk and stirring constantly to combined everything. 

Voila! Some of the most amazing, one pot, easy, curry lentils you will ever make. I like to serve with fresh rice and  fresh spinach. The spinach wilts with the heat of the curry and is really yummy. 

Full recipe below. Enjoy! 

3 tablespoons butter or coconut oil
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic  pressed
1 1/2 teaspoons turmeric
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
a pinch of freshly-ground nutmeg
1 1/2 cups lentils (brown or green work)
6 cups vegetable or chicken broth (I prefer chicken)
1 14oz can coconut milk

-Elizabeth 

Father's Day

It satisfies me to organize. We’ve moved in. We have our juicer. We’ve ordered replacement parts for it. I drank carrot juice this morning. We have a new rice cooker on the way. We have a bathroom trash can. Stray suitcases are getting tucked away, and a home is coming forth.

Next task: Thank you notes. Next week, perhaps. In the meantime, learning how to live well with my Love is top priority. It is so easy to settle for mediocrity in a marriage.  We are so very different. Then again, we are so similar, it’s scary. I get stressed out easily, and that throws everything off. She continues to show grace toward me. Morning walks are important. Hugs are more. I highly recommend married life.

Last task: write on Father’s Day. I don’t have a father. He died…14 years ago. Father’s Day comes and goes without notice. Though I am thankful for the many men who have stepped in to help out through the years, I would have to say it would be nice to call my dad. Everything would be different if he were still here. Everything. I can’t even imagine being in the same place if he were.

I was talking to a mentor yesterday. He said all his time was being taken up with working on his son’s new investment apartments. What a novel idea that my dad might be helping me work on my wife’s car or installing something or discussing theology. That would be great. My immediate family has some gaping holes, holes that are only there because of the loss of my father. I still do not understand why God allowed him to die of cancer at 54. I will never. Even still I can’t imagine what my sister-in-law’s family is going through with the loss of my brother. What hell. What pain. What do you do? Nothing. Just be. Cry. Pray. Say, “I love you.”

With my dad and sister.

The truth is I would prefer to not think of any of this stuff. It hurts too much. It also makes me more human. I like not digging that deep. I might love better. I might be more sensitive. I might think in terms of family, humanity, eternity. I might be reminded of something that only your heart knows is true. I might be changed. For all that life is, I am really bad at it. I’m scared that I might not be accepted. Under all this junk and fear, the truth is I miss him. That’s the bottom line. It hurts even to write that line. Perhaps that’s good…I’m not sure. What is good is your wife suggesting things, life with fresh carrot juice, and crying over your dad because you really miss him. These are good things.

Coffee Shops

I am a coffee snob, or so I’ve been told. My wife is as well. She’s from Portland. Bipartisan right by her house. We had our first coffee date there. Good memories. Dunn Bros is a cool chain around the Twin Cities. They have good food and sweet buildings. The best coffee shop I’ve been in is Agia Sophia in Old Colorado Springs, CO. The best coffee I’ve had is Harmony House coffee in Dayton, TN. Thankfully, in a month, I’ll be able to bask in the glory of drinking Harmony House coffee. My wife and I will be going back to Bryan College to help host the Summit TN conference.

Agia Sophia’s is an Orthodox coffee shop, photography studio, and bookstore just down the road from Pike’s Peak. I can’t remember if it’s Greek or Eastern. If you’re ever in the area, you should go. It’s two stories, leather seating on the second. My favorite chair sits in the left corner, with a gold-infused wood table next to it. Classy. Maroon walls with icons make for a great study or chat. Carpet makes sounds quieter and homier. Get a French-press and take Athanasius for a spin.

I’m sitting in Quixotic, at the moment, in St. Paul, MN. My wife is next to me. The main thing about MN coffee shops is the cement floors. Given a year-round winter here, most places have cold, hard cement floors to help the continual salt and snow tracks. Unfortunately, this makes for a horrible experience. It modern, not hospitable, and very unkind. I feel like ripping my legs off in the winter because it’s so cold. There is a glass room for reservations, though, which is quite cool. The coffee is Portlandish. I’ll give you a definition of Portlandish another time. A snapshot would be the going zeitgeist of coffee at the moment.

Harmony House was named for community. I like that. Pubs used to be a place for community. I’m not sure where you find community anymore, maybe Facebook? Minnesota lakes tend to be that for 2 months out of the year. The founder of Harmony House has his M.Div. He roasts his own coffee. You don’t want to put anything in your coffee, because it’s so good. He’s a local. Many Bryan students attend. Meetings are held there. It has good intentions.

Starbucks. Ever since starving my way through grad school, I’ve only drunk house coffee-no money for espresso drinks. I’m now content with a “tall Pike with room.” It generally costs a little under two bucks, and I get free refills with my Gold card. I don’t care about the Starbucks stigma. They have good go-to coffee anywhere in the world. It’s not the incomparable, Harmony House Yirgacheffe, but it’ll do much better than that gas-station Folgers. I only resort to Folgers when I’m having Southern-style breakfasts in the South from 6-11am with friends over a Bible study, or I’m making a road-trip that extends to midnight and Starbucks is closed.

All this to say, coffee shops must be determined for a variety of reasons: music, atmosphere, feel, tenor, taste, temp, and cost. I’m sure there are more. Actually, at the moment, staying at home and drinking French-press or tea with my wonderful wife is probably the best.

"Homemaker"

I was standing at our kitchen sink, earbuds in, waiting on hold with the car insurance company. One of the hardest parts of being newly married is combining our lives. Nobody really preps you for that part, probably because the frustration of it is that once you have done it, you want to forget it forever.

The hot, soapy water was calming and almost therapeutic. I tried to sing along with the ridiculous hold music, making up a song that only my three year old nephew would think was funny. The thought of him liking it brought a smile to my face. I sighed. Being homesick is rough.

Abruptly my homesick fog was cut through by the sound of a voice.

"I'm so sorry for the wait, Mrs. Poarch..."

I didn't really hear the rest of her greeting. I've been married a month, and still being called "Mrs. Poarch" is the weirdest thing.  I'm not ready for it. Being called "Mrs." denotes a level of maturity or wisdom that I just have not reached yet.

After shaking the fog from my head and shutting the dish water off, I begin to explain that I was recently married and needed to combined insurance with my new husband. I answered several questions, and things were rolling along. She then asked, "Are you working, Mrs. Poarch?"

"No, I'm not." This, too, caused an ache. I miss my students, my teaching studio, and the violin shop that smelled of wood, varnish and rosin.

"Ok, so, I'll just list you as a homemaker then?" she responded.

I looked frantically around our one bedroom, studio apartment. Thoughts began to spin through my mind. "Is this a home?!" "What makes a home exactly?" "Can I make a home?" "Does cooking make a home?" "I bet a home needs two bedrooms."

Interrupting my sudden panic was the insurance lady saying, "Mrs Poarch?"

"Uh, I guess? I don't know. I don't think I'm really ready for that. I've only been doing this a month."

She burst out laughing and said, "None of us are ever ready. I'm sure you're doing just fine."

The last week and a half I have been pondering this business of being a "homemaker." It seems like such a weighty job, not one that you should take lightly or just try as a hobby. I think about my sister with her three amazing children and beautiful home, my mother with her seven children and doors that are always open for hospitality, my grandmother who has a legacy of family and has given me some of the best holiday memories. To me they are the true "homemakers." These are woman that remind us that there is still hope and love in this world. Compared to these beautiful giants of domesticity, I am a minion. Yet, I am a brave minion, so I will charge ahead. I pray to have a home full of Christ, full of love, full of well used furniture and dishes, full of grace where people arrive weary and leave rested. I desire a home where evil is fought and truth is spoken.

-Elizabeth