The Time I Was On Steroids And My Family Made Fun Of Me

Picture this: it's the summer of '05 and the Russ Clines have just moved to beautiful Dana Point, CA to partake in a 7-month-long vacation from reality. We're all moved into our new house and celebrating seaside weather by eating most of our meals on the patio and visiting the ocean as often as we want. Because we've just moved, the younger members of the family are virtually without friends (except for the occasional friendly face we see during the youth group our parents make us attend) so we're mostly hanging out with each other, dabbling in the art of makeup (yes, even Riley) and XBox and attempting to learn how to surf.

So it's the middle of summer and time is about to start passing more rapidly as the beginning of school approaches and we're enjoying one of our leisurely-spent breakfasts on our back patio when suddenly the peace is disturbed as one of my hilarious family members cracks a joke and we all partake in showing our amusement at the hilarity.

"Rheanna," Riley interrupts my grumpy morning-time revelry, "what's wrong with your face?"

I look into the window that I'm facing and have no idea what he's talking about.

"No, try smiling," my mom says.

So I smile and realize that there is something amuck with the reflection looking back at me in the window: try as I might, half of my mouth will not turn upward.

My family members laugh. Yes. They laugh. They laugh, they tease, they joke, and all the time my head is racing through all the possibilities of what could possibly be wrong with me. I'm thinking maybe a bug bit me during the night, or maybe I sprained a muscle, or maybe I accidentally took a muscle relaxant with the bite of scrambled eggs that my parents insisted I eat. (I have a natural aversion to scrambled eggs, mostly because the yellow color reminds me what they really are, but my parents think that if I don't get any protein in my breakfast, I will die. Or something.) It was a very traumatizing experience. Myself, living through this internal agony, while my family made fun of me.

Eventually I convince my parents that something is actually wrong with my face and they take me to the pediatrician (pediatrician! at 16 years of age!) who informs me that half of my face is paralyzed because I have Bell's Palsy, I will need to take steroids to try to make it go away, and even if my face does go back to normal, I will always have Bell's Palsy and it could show up any time in my life. So I go on steroids and my family continues to mock me, making comments about my impending manliness due to the steroids.

My face eventually went back to normal, but the trauma because of this experience will always live on inside me.

(I also eventually forgave my family, even though Riley still says that my name means "one who looks like man" in ancient languages.)

The United States of America smells weird.

While I was still living in Ecuador, my family usually ended up spending a significant amount of traveling around the States during the summers. One of the best things about these trips was the way the Miami airport felt: the moment I stepped off the plane, everything felt clearer in a sense, and airier. Not only did it feel a certain way, but it also had a distinct scent.

I'm currently sitting at my little desk in the cardiology office where I work and I can smell that scent. I've come to associate it with summer, because of those month-long trips during my missionary life, and heat and romance. It's thicker than the air I'm used to and lighter, too, all at the same time. It smells like shopping malls and Christian camps, the drive on the way to In-N-Out and hours and hours worth of family road trips. It smells like Fourth of July fireworks and relatives I barely know and sometimes what I can remember of the East Coast and churches - dozens, hundreds, THOUSANDS of churches all shaken across the country like rainbow sprinkles on top of a mini cup of old fashioned vanilla frozen yogurt from Golden Spoon. It smells like falling in love too quickly and bad choices and my sister screaming and my brother cuddling and it smells like songs I made up about Tyler Padgett and living out of a suitcase and huge scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

It smells like dreaming about my future and what returning to live in this "foreign" world would look like.

And now I'm moving into my third year of living independently in Southern California and it still only takes three-and-a-half weeks of Ecuadorian life to signal my nose to this epically American scent. But that's ok, because I don't think I ever want to get to the point where Ecuador is the place that smells weird to me.

Quarter Life Crisis

I'm in Quito, Ecuador. The one in South America.

It's only been six days since I returned to the país de mi alma. I don't think I can describe the completely strange feeling of walking into "my" house and not knowing where "my" bedroom was. It's odd, because as much as I love this new house, it still feels like we're staying in somebody else's home. I'm hoping that will change, that by the end of my time here, I'll actually be able to find my way to the laundry room. 

Flew in Thursday night. Thanked God for getting me to Quito without having to spend the night in Guayaquil (I would have hated that). Cried as soon as I saw my parents while riding the escalator out of the hallway at the airport. Jumped on my brother and sister while they were trying to sleep. Stayed up late just to revel in the newness of the new house.

Friday and Saturday: Alliance choir concert. Felt jittery at the notion of seeing people I hadn't seen in a year. Thankfully avoided too many awkward moments with said people. Laughed with my best friend one night, then flirted with my brother's underage friends the next. "Illegal" flirting is probably the best kind.

Sunday, went to the church that has been a part of my family for about 50 years. Reconnected with my youth pastor from Dana Point and finally met his wife. Felt jittery about that, too, until I realized that who I am, and who I was back then, is not made up of one person. Was filled with memories I kept to myself and feelings I hadn't thought of in a long time. Scored an age of 41 on the Wii fitness test.

Saw best friend number two on Monday afternoon. Visited my high school as a non-high school student and felt weird about it. Was almost not recognized as an alumni by the school nurse. Hung around the big soccer field and waited for first best friend to come on campus. Was 1/3 of 3/4 of a bear hug of a best friend reunion. Played Prince of Persia, Fable 2, and Halo 3 on the Xbox 360. I really missed that thing. 

Tuesday, wore pajamas, did nothing. Made sugar cookies and worked on Christmas presents. Quizzed my sister on her Science test (mitosis is the first and most important stage of cell division) and partook in a dinner party with people I didn't know so well. Am now sitting in my dad's office chair, trying to get sleepy enough to go to bed. 

Once the little bro and sis get out of school, I'll be more productive. I promise.

I lay all of my birdies

I was getting ready in the Hastings' guest bathroom this morning when it finally hit me again; on a plaque hanging from a bathroom wall was written this verse:

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight."

So often I forget that worrying is the sin of not giving all your cares to God. He expects us to trust that He rules over our futures. When we try to take our troubles upon ourselves, we usually learn the hard way that we have nothing to do with how things turn out.

I don't want to keep relearning this again and again. I want it to forever be pressed on my heart. But I don't think that's how humans work. We live circular lives, always coming back to the lessons we thought we had memorized by heart. That's also how God set up our lives: we weren't created to learn something once and remember it forever.


I cast all my cares upon You
I lay all of my birdies down at Your feet
And anytime I don't know what to do
I just cast all my cares upon You

A house

Tonight, I'm in Colorado Springs.

It's funny how many memories can be connected with just one house. My grandparents have owned this particular home for as long as I can remember and probably even before that; countless Christmases and various summer vacations have been spent here, miniature golfing at the Putt-Putt course down the road, cracking nuts in the living room, and of course, getting as much of the family together as possible for that essential family portrait, many of which hang in positions of importance in this house.

The last time I was here, I was spending only a night before a long road trip back to Dana Point, California. I was preoccupied with thoughts of "major" social events I was missing, a church choir program and several all-important date nights in particular. (In fact, I was so consumed by those thoughts that I even forgot to notice the brand-new shelving unit in the living room.)

A house can measure your growth just like those enormous rulers your parents used to draw on the back of your bedroom door. Every time you enter a house, all the feelings you felt the last time you were there welcome you at the entrance, and for a slight moment, you're exactly the same person you were two years ago.

Eleven Things My Mama Should Have Taught Me

After one (happy, crazy, growthful, changing, difficult, spectacular, lovely, joyful, lonely) semester of college, I have come to understand these things:

1) Mostly, you relate to the people you knew previous to your first college experience in a completely different way after you've come home. To me, this means that I am officially an adult in the Cline/Scholl crowd; I partake in adult conversations, without fear of giving my own opinion or even telling Kevin to shut up. It also means that stupid high school cliques are no longer in control of my social life. (This is where I insert a five-minute long sigh of relief.)

2) People are hard to live with. It doesn't matter who they are, where they came from, how similar they are to your own personality; people are just hard to live with. And once you can master the "art of losing" all the things that make your life familiar, it is five hundred thousand times easier to live with another person.

3) Pop-tarts and string cheese can be a suitable meal for anytime of the day!

4) It is completely normal to eat by yourself, whether you're in the cafeteria or hiding out in your dorm room.

5) Friends require upkeep. After about six years of having three perfectly synced friends who practically fell into my life, this was the hardest for me to come to terms with. It takes time for faces to become acquaintances, acquaintances to become casual friends, casual friends to become close.

6) Facebook is a SICKNESS.

7) No matter how awkward I feel about the whole "Third Culture Kids of APU Unite!" thing, I have to admit that it does make me feel ten times more comfortable when I realize that a professor is a former MK or a classmate spent most of her life in a different country. It's not because I can't relate to your average American, it's because I can relate better to people who have had similar experiences to mine. And that's true for everyone, whether we're talking about the language you speak, or the kind of school you graduated from, or the place you grew up in. People are naturally drawn to those who are like themselves. And no matter how self-obsessive that might seem, it's good.

8) You are different. I am different. We are all freakin' different, so it's completely futile to go around acting like you're God's gift to society. Get over yourself.

9) 7:15 Walk/Jog classes are never a good idea.

10) Sometimes people suck. (That's why forgiveness is such an intense theme in the Bible.)

11) Tie-dye is way cool in college.



I started this blog entry about a month ago, but I got frustrated with how Blogger changes the language if you're in a different country and since I was in Ecuador (South America, not Africa), everything was in Spanish and it just bothered me. So even though the new semester has already started, pretend it hasn't.

sleep tight

i'm going on vacation tomorrow.


with some people that i kind of like (aka my second family).


plus best friend number K!


am i excited?


absolutely.

=]