I'm Just Going To Be Honest

Sometimes I get really depressed that Nate's not here. I don't want to wallow or whine, so I never talk about it. I don't know whether or not this is healthy. But moping won't bring him back sooner or make me feel better, so I try to ignore the nagging feeling of sadness and just keep going. That usually works just fine, but sometimes it just hits me like a ton of bricks and I'm out for the count.

Tonight is one of those nights. Tonight one of my roommate's favorite singers is performing on campus, so even though I want to curl up in my bed and go to sleep, I'm going to a concert. I'm going to pretend everything's ok. Fake it till you make it, right? That's just the best strategy I have right now.

This is my life for the time being, and I just needed to share that.

I struggle to find peace within the chaos

To sit and be still with the God who invites me

to simply pause

and be quiet with Him

Much bonding happens in silence.

New Struggles

This school year has been great thus far, but also extraordinarily busy and often rather hectic. I'm still working in Sage Cafe, the campus coffee shop, but this semester I'm managing the cafe instead of working the counter, which is very rewarding but also involves daily work rather than working a two long shifts each week, and takes a lot more mental energy and motivation. I've also returned to the job I had last year cleaning for an old woman named Patsy. She's so funny! She's a very foul-mouthed and spunky old woman, and has led a wild, and sometimes tragic, life. I'm very happy to get to know her, and I'm also quite happy to be able to help her, since she's so feeble she can do very little by herself. That takes only a few hours every week, and fortunately I get to choose when. This year I also got another job working as a cashier in our cafeteria for lunch 2-3 days a week. My roommate and I are planning to take a road trip to San Francisco after I graduate, so I got the job in the cafeteria to save up for that. The time fits really well in my schedule, but sometimes it makes for very hectic days, going from class to work in the cafeteria, and then to work for Patsy, and then sometimes even to work in Sage after that. And then homework. I have the time for all of these things, but sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. My biggest struggle in all this is realizing that, while I am trying to do everything, it's ok if I don't. I've realized in the last few weeks that, as a life long over achiever and perfectionist, somewhere along the way I built my sense of self-worth around what I do rather than in my identity as God's child. I find that how good I feel about myself depends on whether or not I feel like others are impressed by me and see me as a smart, capable person. I've also realized that I've set unrealistic expectations for myself. I cannot be perfect, and I need to learn to be ok with my own failures and to not rail on myself when I make mistakes; everybody makes mistakes, and I am no exception. I had to sit down the other day and admit all of this to myself and to God. I cannot meet the expectations I have set for myself, and it is time for me to start heading in a new direction in terms of how I perceive myself. Doing that is going to take a lot of prayer, and I know that's going to be a huge struggle for me in this chaotic semester, but I need to do this.

So that's what's going on in my life right now. I'm going to try to be better about updating this blog this year. We'll see how it goes.

Happy Friday everybody!

It's All Relative

I watched a documentary this afternoon about graffiti and street art, and it raised a lot of questions about our mainstream. To some, graffiti is vandalism; it is an ugly defacement of public property and an attack on orderly society. To others, it is art, plain and simple. It is a gift, giving color and vibrancy to what was previously just an ugly wall, fence, or abandoned building. I think both perspectives can be right, and it is simply a matter of what we consider beautiful. Who declared that the original way a wall is erected is its most beautiful state? Or that an abandoned building should be left to crumble rather than adorned as it goes down? There is a class issue there; walls and buildings are rarely left abandoned in upper class neighborhoods. Those who grow up in lower class neighborhoods see tagging and street art as a way to assert their identity in a system that tries to make them invisible, as a way to reclaim and make more beautiful that which was left to crumble in their streets by those moved on to more prosperous places, and even as a way to entertain themselves in communities without parks or playgrounds or after school programs. Frankly I find it very hard to condemn that.

However, we accept billboards and ads without question. Multiple people in the documentary compared the proliferation of billboards to visual pollution. Ads are often ugly and offensive, and yet we are forced to look at them because the company has purchased the space on that billboard, and therefore they can do whatever they want with it, regardless of the feelings of those forced to see it. One man raised this great argument: With ads and commercials on tv, it's different. It's like a deal is made with the tv company: they provide you with the tv show, but if you want to see that you have to see their ads as well, and if you don't want to see the commercials you can turn off the tv, but then you don't get to see the show either. With billboards, no such deal exists. You have to see the ad, it's too big to ignore, and no one cares whether you want to see a large picture of a woman in her underwear or not, because you're going to anyway. Another man likened it to being raped: billboards are forcing sexual images on him that he doesn't want to see, that it will sometimes take him days to get out of his mind, but because those companies have the money to buy that ad space nobody questions it, and yet art is illegal? Who made this system?

There is also the obvious aspect of rebellion. Graffiti is a way for those without voices to lash out against the structural violence of the society that has otherwise rendered them voiceless. It is their way to fight against a corrupt society, it is an act of war. In South Africa, graffiti proliferated during the anti-apartheid movement. It was a way for the powerless to speak out against the government oppressing them with minimal risk, and it was considered a political crime. Today, in all countries, I think it still is, though it is rarely perceived that way. We see it is illegal, straightforward defacing of public property, a violation of the law and therefore unwelcome in our society. But then again, feeding the homeless is also illegal in some major cities, and yet billboards forcing sexual images on people are perfectly ok, as is patenting seeds and forcing small farmers out of business, and denying schools in poor neighborhoods access to good materials, and harassing immigrants, and putting deadly chemicals in foods. I could go on. I believe in respecting the law, except where in conflicts with God's law, but in a society whose very structure are so harmful and unfair, how much is the law to be respected? How can I respect a system which harms so many to profit so few? I think we need to rethink what is criminalized in our society, and why street art is so criminalized while so many more harmful acts pass unnoticed under our noses.

An Excellent Quote

"I did not ask if you believe what man says about God. I asked if you believed in God. There is a difference. Holy Scripture is stories...legends and history of man's quest to understand his own need for meaning. I am not asking you to pass judgement on literature. I am asking if you believe in God. When you lie out under the stars, do you sense the divine? Do you feel in your gut that you are starting up at the work of God's hand?" - Dan Brown, Angels & Demons


I do not agree with this definition of scripture, but I appreciate the simplicity. We do overcomplicate things.

God of Comfort

I don't usually talk about Nate being gone or how hard it is for me. I don't like to. At this point I cope simply by keeping going, not thinking about it too much, and staying busy. But every now and then, and even more now that I'm back in Norcross, somebody asks about him, or a memory suddenly leaps to mind, and reality hits me like a ton of bricks; I haven't seen my fiance in 5 months, and since his internet has been down I've hardly talked to him for 2. It can be crippling; my day is never the same after that. I don't want to anything or talk to anyone. Last week I spent almost an entire day just watching tv, because that was all I felt like doing. Even though I know it's probably not healthy, I fall into despair and self pity, and it's nearly impossible to get out.

Today was one of those days. It was a perfectly nice, boring day until my mom asked about Nate over dinner and I just went down from there. Only tonight was Water's Edge (the college ministry at my church), and I decided to leave early to have some time to pray and read the Bible before it got started. The half hour drive there was miserable; I was sullen, cranky, and felt very alone. Usually when I get that way I'm too wrapped up in self-pity to really sit down and pray, but today I'd already been planning to do it before my mood began to go downhill, so I did. I prayed that God would relieve my despair, but more than that I meditated on God's goodness and Christ's power and humility. Nothing was better and I was still hurting, but God gently put things in perspective for me. Yes, not being able to talk to Nate right now is horrible and it hurts, but God is still good, and He is always good, and He is the only one I love more than Nate and the only one who can get me through this, and I will not be able to make it through the next 6 months without leaning fully and completely on Him.

And then the service started, and I learned that there is nothing like worshipping from a place of total brokenness and dependence. God never seems more glorious and more loving than when we realize how much He is all we have and truly the only reason worth living. I just realized that Nate being gone is going to bring me closer to God and teach me to be a better servant to Him, and that He is glorified through my situation because He is the ONLY thing that can lift me out of that place of despair and brokenness.

God may be invisible, but He is real. There are those who argue that what the religious experience is only imagined, that it's all in our heads, but there is no way what I experienced tonight was imagined. My imagination is not powerful enough ease the pain of my worst hurts and return the joy I haven't felt in while. My imagination cannot make the massive hole in my world seem smaller or make life feel ok again. Only God can do that, and I experienced His comfort tonight in a very tangible and miraculous way that I pray will bring glory to Him who brings comfort to our deepest suffering.

Nevermind

I just read an article pointing out that color scheme should work around colors that are already in the venue; ex. if the venue has green carpets, I have to be sure to pick colors that will look good with that. Not that big a deal, right?

What that actually means: I can't even pick colors, and therefore can't make ANY design decisions until we have a venue. We can't have a venue until we have a date, and, for those I haven't already explained this too, we can't have a date until Nate officially has leave for that time, which he can't do until he's where he'll be stationed in the summer of 2013, when we want to get married, which won't be until at least January of 2013. I hate my life.

Is there any planning stuff I CAN do?

Beginning the Summer's Wedding Work

To color scheme, or not to color scheme? That is the question


I'm open to suggestions

Itch

Today the itch to leave here is very strong. I want to pack a bag and get in my car, drive somewhere I've never been before and see something I've never seen.

I am always the better for open air breathing, and was certainly meant for the wandering life of the Indian. - Maria Mitchell

Home, Pt. 2

Being back home is very strange. I think Vicki summed it up perfectly tonight, as she often does, when she told me, "Half of your body and soul left here a long time ago, and now you're back and that half is like, what the hell are we doing here?"

Amen.

I wasn't expecting this place to feel so little like home. I have been aware over the last two years of the distance growing between myself and this place that used to be my home, but I am still surprised that my old room is not at all the safe haven that it used to be; now it feels more like simply a reflection of my younger self. Sometimes when I'm driving around Norcross I realize that I have forgotten all my old shortcuts and lost the easy knowledge I used to have of which routes are the fastest at which time of day, and I find myself thinking, "I don't live here anymore! What does it matter?" This town has no attraction for me anymore, not even that created by the pride I used to feel in knowing its roads like the back of my hand. The only real times I feel deeply at home here are when I'm driving to Onelia's house, or driving back from Tiffany's late at night, when there are no more cars on the road. The rest is just buildings with history.

Maybe I'll put some of those roots back down this summer, but I doubt it. The roots that used to tie me to my room and to familiar roads have dried up and been gradually replaced by the ones I've grown deep into the soil in Asheville, and even in Myrtle Beach. But I don't even identify Asheville as being fully my home. I think that somewhere in my past few years of ramblings I became a wanderer, that that half of me that is so long gone from Norcross is at home wherever I'm living out of a suitcase. There is a part of me that misses that feeling, that wants to be driving with a backseat full of suitcases on to some new place and new adventures. To that part of me, my car feels more like home than my mom's house in Norcross.

It is strange, being "home" and yet not really being home. I wonder if I will always feel this way, if I'll ever really settle down or if I'll always be a wanderer at heart.

Home

I am back in Norcross for the summer. In the last two years, I've spent a total of three months here, non-consecutively, and, with the exception of winter breaks, only for a few weeks here as I get ready to move on to somewhere else. Now I'm back for the whole summer, one large chunk equal to the whole amount of time I've spent here since high school. I'm here because God told me it was time to come back, to finally begin to focus my energy closer to home. Originally I thought it was because I need a rest, because I feel like I've been running from one place to another for the last two years, and to reconnect with the family and friends I left so immediately after graduation and have hardly had time for since. That is certainly part of it, but today I realized that God has much more in store for me here than that. This summer is going to be about learning to be patient and loving with my family, about learning how to serve them the way I've spent my last two summers serving campers and homeowners, and it's going to be hard. So hard. But it is a lesson I need to learn. How can I spend my life loving and serving others without ever learning to properly (or at least as properly as any of us can) love on my own family? God is going to grow and stretch me very much this summer, and I can already tell that it's going to be very uncomfortable, but it's also going to be very good.

Praise to the God who sees our weaknesses and helps us grow past them. That is love.

Thoughts

Where does morality come from really?

I am thankful for a God who welcomes my questions.

Some Days

I wish I could be someone else. Someone who isn't so obsessed with the world's problems. Someone who lived a simple life rather than dedicating it to struggling against all the injustice in the world. Someone who could make more decisions based on what I want rather than what God tells me or what I need to do. Someone who wanted to spend a semester abroad partying in Europe rather than studying conflict resolution in a distraught and impoverished African country. Someone who could think about taking a vacation in the Caribbean without their mind instantly jumping to the economic injustice of life and tourism in those nations, precluding all hopes of peaceful days spent on exotic beaches. Sometimes I wish I could just temporarily remove the awareness from my brain and temporarily live a small and blissfully ignorant life.

I don't actually want that, but man, wouldn't it be nice?

I've always thought I would spend my life doing something small scale, simply loving on the people I can reach and making the world a better place one day at a time, but over the last few months I've been feeling a growing desire to become some sort of suit-wearing civil rights lawyer, or lobbyist, or politician, to dig my hands into the roots of problems and change the policies and legal systems that perpetuate them.

Crossing Arizona

We watched a documentary in my geography class today on illegal immigration into the U.S. from Mexico. It was called "Crossing Arizona", and I am BEGGING you to take an hour and half out of your life to watch it, whether you're liberal or conservative or just have no opinion on illegal immigration. I'm not trying to "convert" anybody, I just think it's so incredibly necessary for us to take the time to think about the human implications of immigration policies on both sides, no matter what conclusions of views you're going to walk away with. I just want people to think about this.

I don't think it's available online anywhere (Netflix has it, but not on instant play), but try your school library. I know mine has an impressive stash of documentaries. I know it's midterms time, but it's not a long movie. If/when you do watch it, please send me a facebook message or something and let me know what you think. Even if you think it's the worst way you've ever wasted your time, I'd still like to know your opinion.

Pressure

My mom is sick. She's been having really severe stomach pains since November and has been feeling lightheaded and dizzy more recently, but because insurance companies are weird she couldn't afford to go to the doctor until 2011. She finally went to the doctor yesterday, but as we expected the doctor couldn't give us any information yet. Her symptoms are too vague for them to have any idea what it is yet. She's probably anemic, which accounts for the lightheadedness but is probably completely unrelated to her stomach pains. They drew some blood and she has an appointment for next Tuesday to discuss the test results from that. They're also scheduling her for a colonoscopy and possibly another test where they run a scope through her entire digestive system.

I'm worried. I'm really, really worried. It could be something simple, or it could be something really bad. I think the not knowing is the worst part. I've been worried since she told me she was sick months ago, but since she couldn't go to the doctor yet I shoved it into the back of my mind. Now that she's going to the doctor it's becoming real again. My mom really is sick. This knowledge has wrapped itself around my heart these last few days and refused to let go, and the pressure is such that it takes excessive amounts of willpower just to deal with those stupid day-to-day things like homework and blog updates. I just don't want to deal with any of this at the moment.

I find myself resenting those people I see who seem so carefree, who just laugh about everything. I regard them with bitterness. I bet both they're parents are fine, I think, They just sit around laughing and playing, what do they have to worry about? They're parents probably give them money for everything they need. Do they even study for tests?

I don't want to that person. I don't want to be so bitter. It's not those peoples' fault my mom is sick, that my family has little enough money that I've been paying bills for two years already, or that I had to get a job off campus to pay those bills. They are blessed, and so am I, just in different ways. I don't want to resent the people I see laughing. There is plenty to love about them, and I don't want to be so wrapped up in my own stress and fear that I miss it.

I sat down and prayed for a while today and flipped through some of my favorite passages I've marked in Matthew over the years (I LOVE that book). That helped a lot. I'm still tense and afraid, but there have been moments today where I've had peace. This is in God's hands. I love Him, and He loves my family and will take care of us, because we are His children. Those moments of peace have been brief and fleeting, but the knowledge that they are possible helps.

Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

Valentines Day

Is really not a good day when your fiance is on the other side of the world. I think I generally do a very good job of being cheerful and not mopey in a situation that really, really sucks, but I was not able to sustain that today. I have been feeling very down today and missing Nate quite terribly. These days are bound to happen, and I think I'm entitled to one every now and then.

I would also like to publicly recognize the efforts of my dear friends Onelia and Tiffany, for listening to me whine and texting me often during the day to make me feel less alone.

I've had better days, but the world is still beautiful, and God is still good.

Thoughts and Parallels

Why is there not a strong anti-war movement for Iraq like there was for Vietnam?

The Vietnam War as at the height of the Cold War, were they at least had the nice-sounding justification of democracy, defending South Vietnam from the North, and all that jazz. In retrospect we look back and recognize it clearly as unjust, and we tend to forget that at the time there existed a solid argument and popular Cold War mentality which justified the war, but still people stood up and formed one of the strongest anti-war movements in history.

Why isn't that happening now? Even before the end of his presidency Bust admitted that Iraq had had nothing to do with the 9/11 attacks and that they had no nuclear weapons. Nobody really knows why we're still there, and most people don't think we should be, and yet there seems to be no recognizable anti-war movement. The same goes for Afghanistan. That war is even more similar to Vietnam than Iraq, because the government has given us the justification of fighting terrorism, which seems to be the 21st century version of communism. The thing is, us invading these countries only strengthens the resentments and anger that engender terrorism. The Department of Homeland Security recently said that the potential for a terrorist attack today is the highest it's been since 2001; clearly this tactic isn't even working. So why aren't more people standing up to call for an end to it?

Abroad, Pt. 2

I'm applying for the Rwanda trip, studying post-genocide restoration and peace building. My second choice is a similar trip studying post-conflict restoration in both Uganda and Rwanda.

I have no idea why I'm so drawn to this. I've never had an especially strong interest in Africa. In August I was even planning on spending my semester abroad somewhere in Latin America, but during last semester I realized that I'm really not very interested at all in Spanish culture and spending time there doesn't really appeal to me much. Or Europe. I've dreamt of going to Europe since I was in middle school. I want to see the culture, the art museums, I could make a very long list of things I'd like to see and do across Europe, but this can't compare to the way I feel about Africa. I don't know why spending time there appeals to me, but it does. The same with these trips specifically. I have no idea what I'm actually going to do there, what skills and new understandings I'll come back with, and how I'll apply them through the rest of my life, but I feel drawn to this vague picture so strongly that anything else, from living out my childhood dream to even studying development elsewhere in Africa, something I'm very interested in and passionate about, would feel like I was selling myself short.

This feeling is very big. It's big and its vague and it's uncertain and I don't understand it. All I know is that it promises something big, very big, much bigger than anything I've ever experienced in my life, and that scares me.

Abroad

During the last week I've finally started taking steps toward my semester abroad next spring. It's required for my semester, and I've known this for a while now, but somehow now that I'm starting this process it seems more real to me.

I'm going to Africa. I don't know where yet, but I feel drawn to it, and I know that's where God wants me to go, which is probably the most intimidating place possible. Funny how God works like that. I have a catalog of a few different programs, and the ones that stick out most to me are studying post-genocide reconciliation and rebuilding in Rwanda, development and the community in Uganda, or post-conflict reconciliation in Uganda. I'm leaning very strongly towards the reconciliation ones for some reason I can't really pinpoint. The development trip sounds like it would be more intellectually stimulating, development really interests me, and it's undoubtedly training that would allow me to really make a big difference in the future. The peace building ones seem like big blanks to me; past getting there I have very little idea what I would actually be doing, and I think that may account for the allure of the development trip; it's a little more concrete. I also worry that one of the reasons I like the thought of the Rwanda trip especially is because of pride; it sounds so impressive to say "I'm going to study post-genocide reconciliation and rebuilding in Rwanda". I mean, really. Say that in your head once or twice. I've been praying that God would grant me humility in this process and that He would give me the clarity to go where He wants me to go.

It's rather intimidating to think that less than 12 months from now I'm going to be getting on a plane to go to Africa for 4 months. But that's life, isn't it?

Reverence

Today I replaced the gap Spanish left in my schedule with History and Literature of the Ancient Israelites. I think it's a coolest class I've ever taken in my entire life. Learning the context of scripture and the depth the Hebrew words add is amazing, not to mention the theological ideas. If it was possible to academically drool, I would.

We touched on many subjects in class today, one of which was names for God. In ancient Hebrew they did not write vowels - God is seen as breath in the creation story, both in creating the earth and man. That's the oversimplified version but unfortunately as well as I can explain it - and it was forbidden to make images of God. Because vowels are so breathy, writing them was seen as making an image of God. That's why God gave His name to the Jews as YHWH. We were discussing this in class today when the professor paused and asked if anyone was offended by us saying Yahweh; he said in the past he had had students who preferred that they not speak that holiest name of God. The ancient Israelites revered God so much that they did not speak His name, and there are those who still maintain that reverence today. I forget where it was, but I heard a pastor in church this summer read a story out of the Old Testament where a man opened the bible to read to a crowd, and as he opened it they all stood in reverence and awe of the word of God. He hadn't even read anything, he'd just opened it.

So what about us? I've never felt so much respect for the word of God that I felt compelled to stand to hear it. I've never thought so much of speaking the name of the God who is so holy and so high above me. The New Testament says that because of Jesus we can now approach God boldly, and that our relationship with him his intimate, but have we lost a healthy sense of reverence? Are we too casual, or were the Israelites extreme?

I want to love until it hurts

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."
- Mother Teresa

Done

Just dropped Spanish. Nothing is worth that misery. My school just got an online program similar to Rosetta Stone that students can access for free online, so maybe I'll just use that once I'm feeling a little less resentful towards the language. I'm glad I hadn't bought the book yet.

Also, I've set a few goals for this semester that I would like to share with you, as well as record so I can look back at the end of the semester and see how I did:

1. Get As and Bs
2. Exercise more. Any physical activity will do.
3. Don't be leaving campus every weekend.
4. Have a social life and don't spend all my time in my room doing homework
5. Get back to doing things I love. In high school I was consistently exhausted and overwhelmed, but I loved all the things I was doing. Since I've been in college I've dedicated myself completely to my studies, and while this has some major pay offs I miss doing things I love and that I'm passionate about, like dancing. I really need to get some dancing into my life again.

Those are my goals. Oddly there to be less academically committed; I feel like that's the opposite of most college kids' new semester resolutions.

Quitting

I hate Spanish. I really hate it. I've never liked the language; when they made me take it in 8th grade I thought it was an ugly language. I took French all through high school as well as one year last year and I love it. Unfortunately the French I've taken so far wasn't enough to satisfy the language requirement I have to meet as a global studies major, and I've wanted to learn Spanish for a while now just because it's such a useful language, so last semester I thought "I already know French, so rather than take a class I already know I'll just take Spanish for my language requirement. It'll be great!" What I did not foresee was a less-than-great Spanish professor last semester (this sentiment was confirmed my multiple people in the class, it wasn't just me), so that I left Spanish 2 feeling like I hadn't learned anything at all, and now I'm in Spanish 3, taking solely out of necessity a language I don't like much in the first place, plus I feel like I'm really behind and can barely keep up. This is causing me a great deal of inner turmoil, because I am not a quitter. I would like very much to drop Spanish; it's making me miserable and I'm sure I could get into a French class in the future to fulfill my language requirement, but I have never quit anything in my life. Somehow "I'm bad at it and I don't like it" does not seem like a good enough reason for me to quit anything, even though I don't even like the easy parts. If I can stick it out for the rest of the semester my language requirement will be satisfied and I'll know Spanish. Or I'll bs my way through the class, be miserable all semester, and finish feeling like I still don't know Spanish, which wouldn't be worth it. Spanish is such a useful language to know, and I feel like I would use it a lot in the future. Or I won't; if there's one thing I've learned in my life it's that God likes to change my plans. I have no idea what to do. Please give me advice.

Interruptible

I am not a very interruptible person. It's because I'm a planner; I like to decide in the morning what I'm going to do in the evening and I like to stick to it. Once I've made a plan I don't like to change it, which is good because when I commit to something like doing my homework or sitting down and writing a paper I'm going to do it, but I think that this habit has also prevented me from having a lot of fun.

Prime example: because the roads were supposed to refreeze tonight, I decided days ago that I was going to stay in tonight, and after I got home this afternoon I settled in for a night of reading and tv watching. I had planned on spending tomorrow hanging out with all the people I wanted to see before I return to school the day after tomorrow, so somewhere around 10 I began texting people to see when they were free tomorrow. My friend Lydia, my friend since the simple days of kindergarten, responded that she's busy all day and night tomorrow and asked if she could come over tonight. This was not the plan. I had already decided I was going to spend the night by myself. I was in the mood for quiet reading, not socializing. However, it was the only way I could see Lydia before I leave, so I agreed, though deep down I was wishing for a way I could magically hang out with my old friend tomorrow night instead and was certain that this was not going to be a whole lot of fun. I was very wrong. Lydia and I sat for almost two hours, just talking as the night flew past us. She interrupted what I had decided I was going to do and totally screwed up my plans, and it was wonderful. I am taking this lesson to heart, because life is never going to move according to my plans, and I don't want to miss out on all the delightful interruptions it can bring.

Mother

I've always been a little bit envious of my friends with close families. I also love to spend time at their houses. Last year I made friends with a boy in my Global Issues class and I went over to his house once or twice. We were never extremely close, and we only hung out for a little while, but I loved being at his house. His family was so close, so open with each other, and I just loved to sit around in his kitchen, soaking up what seemed to be the tangible love in the room.

Being home for an extended period of time always reminds me of how distant I feel from my family. I've written a lot here about my relationship with my dad and how it has slowly been improving over the last year. I braved the ice to go spend some time with him tonight and ended up eating dinner there and staying for about twice as long as I had planned, cut short only by my dad's bedtime. We had quite a nice time.

I've never been able to talk with my mom the way I have with my dad. I can't talk to my dad about my feelings, and while I know my mom would love to hear in depth about my life and has many times expressed the desire for me to talk to her more, to tell her things like "Hey, Nate and I are pretty serious" before just saying "Nate asked me to marry him", I feel like I can't, and I don't know how to get past that.

I feel like my relationship with my mom was defined my senior year of high school. Those who knew me then know the story, but many I've met since haven't heard it: I applied and was accepted to UNC Asheville. I sent in my deposit and had even applied for housing when, at the beginning of Spring Break, I got a letter from their financial aid department informing me that they were only awarding me $2000 a year in financial aid for a school that charges close to $30,000 a year for out of state tuition; there was no way I could afford to go. As soon as my mom told me the news I left my house and spent about an hour walking around my church's retreat center and praying. I didn't know what I was going to do, and God told me not to do anything. to just wait, and that His plan would reveal itself in time.

I consider that to be one of the pivotal moments of my life. I had only truly become a Christian that September, and it was a huge act of faith on my part not only to trust God with something so monumental, but to return to my family and friends and tell them that I had no idea what I was going to do in the fall and that I was just going to wait and see because God told me to. The friends I could handle; I knew that some of them may think I was being weird but that I could be sure of some support there, but I was terrified of telling my mom. I was sure she was going to eat me alive, and Julie agreed with me. I was shocked when I told her what I was doing - or not doing - and instead of yelling she smiled, hugged me, and said she was proud of me and that she would support me no matter what I did. The next day she changed her mind. Apparently overnight she had remembered everything that could possibly go wrong when one does not have a plan, and all the problems of not enrolling in college immediately after high school, and totally revoked all the support she had promised me. It was war. For the next six weeks before I left for Teameffort that summer everything she said to me included a comment about me going to college in the fall. At the time I already near meltdown point because of I.B. exams (for those who never did I.B., imagine finals, only with the knowledge that if you fail a final you don't get your college diploma) and on top of that I was constantly fighting with my mom over her refusal to accept my decision, which I didn't even consider my decision as much as I considered it God's.

I called my mom three times the entire summer I was gone, and while we obviously don't fight like that anymore ever since that moment I have been operating under the understanding that the best way to get along with my mom is to not share the important stuff with her, to restrict our conversations to surface things, nothing that has too much significance to me, because when my mom refused to support my decision to follow God's plan and allow Him to control my life she proved to me that she doesn't understand me at the most fundamental level, and can't understand the way I think or see things because she can't relate to the framework of faith through which I operate. It hurts a lot to be so misunderstood by someone so close to me. I know the only way to change that and fix our relationship is to let her in - because while my dad is the one holding me at a distance, I know that in this case I am the one preventing this relationship from growing - but I'm scared. I don't know why all of this suddenly came to me tonight, why I suddenly had all of these thoughts at once and was possessed of the urge to write them down - an hour ago I wasn't even thinking of this and now there are tear streaming down my cheeks - but I think this may be part of the reason God wants me to stay home this summer. It will be the longest amount of time I've been home since senior year and a prime opportunity to try to begin to repair my relationship with my mother, if I can find the courage.

I'm going to be praying about this a lot.

Spiritual Poverty

I was thinking about this when I went to church on Sunday. In high school I always went to Simpsonwood, here in Norcross, but when I was living in Gainesville last year I discovered 12 Stone church, and I like it so much better. Ever since my first summer with Teameffort I've discovered that Simpsonwood frustrates me. People there don't dance or sing, they're not excited to be worshipping or to be learning about God. It seems like most of them won't sing because they're afraid the person next to them on the pew will think they're being silly. To me it seems like most of them are just going to check the church box and do what they're supposed to do because they're supposed to do it. Perhaps I'm being unfair; I don't know all of the people there. A lot of them are great. Everybody worships in their own way, and some people just don't like to sing. Even so, I can't help that whenever I go to the service there I wind up feeling frustrated at what seems to me to be a lack of genuine emotion, and I can't focus well or truly worship because I'm too frustrated with the people around me. I know that has something to do with my own spiritual poverty that I can't worship because I'm distracted by what is or isn't going on around me. On the other hand I step into 12 Stone and I find myself feeling excited and ready to encounter Jesus, because I've always found the teachings there edifying, the excitement of the people around me is always genuine and contagious. To what degree is it that some people prefer different churches and find one more edifying and helpful than another, and to what degree is it my own spiritual poverty preventing me from being able to focus on God in a certain environment? I have no answers for this, only questions, and a deeper awareness of my humanity.

Boredom

I have been stuck inside for the last 3 days, and it doesn't look like I'll be able to get out until Friday afternoon. It snowed Sunday night, and the snow was beautiful, but in Georgia snow comes with ice, and now the roads are covered in ice. While there hasn't been any more precipitation the temperature hasn't been above freezing all week, so nothing has melted yet. I've read three books in the last three days. It's nice to reread old favorites, but I am very much looking forward to being able to get out. Especially because I had a bunch of errands to run and people to see before I leave, and because of the ice I probably won't be able to see some of the people I had plans with this week simply because they life far away and once the roads are safe enough for me to leave the house there really won't be enough time for me for me to drive out to see them. Or my last day here will just be a crazy hectic occasion of me trying to cram a million people and things into one day, which seems more likely seeing as one of those friends just called me and I really don't have the heart to say I can't make the time for anyone.
I'm ready to be back at school. I've enjoyed vacation and all the rest I've gotten, all the free time and movies and books and friends, but I'm ready to go back to having classes and work and a busy schedule. I'm looking forward to going back on Sunday.

I think it is high time that I write something

I have become very lax about posting. I think it's largely because I'm so busy. There's been so much stuff going on over the last few months that it's hard for me to make the time to write about it. That and I'm a slacker. That's probably the bigger reason. So, I'm going to try to take this post to write a spark notes version of the last few weeks.

1. Apparently at Warren Wilson College an A- can end a 4.0. I had accepted that I was probably going to lose my 4.0 this semester, and it's really not that big a deal anyway, but I was sure I was going to get at least one or two B's and those would end it, which is fine. Turns out though that I got all A's (Yay! That was a delightful surprise), only two of them were A-'s, and I would really rather my gpa have dropped over something less nitpicky. Really Warren Wilson College? Really?

2. NATE WAS HOME!!!! Oh man that was amazing. He was only home for twelve days, but we spend most of it together, hanging out watching movies, hanging out with friends, or taking engagement pictures by my dear Andie Tucker : ) I may post my favorites here later. We also had dinner with our parents, by which I mean both our parents at the same dinner, meeting each other. It was not nearly as awkward as I expected it to me. I was in full out unreasonable worrying mode, and was convinced that they would hate each other and that the whole thing would be a disaster. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. Fortunately I was very wrong. It was a lovely evening and was drama free.

3. Christmas was lovely. My mom went to Florida to visit her parents for the week while Julie and I spent Christmas with our dad. Mom was gone for the whole week leading up to Christmas, and Julie was on a road trip with Taylor and his family, so I had the house to myself, which was quite nice. I could get used to living alone. Spent Christmas eve evening with my dad and went back Christmas morning. It was nice. Very few presents but lots of cooking and hanging out, which is what I think Christmas should be. Julie spent most of the day with Taylor's family, which hurt my feelings a bit but oh well. There's nothing I can do about that. Nate came over later in the afternoon as well, which was a lot of fun. At one point I went in the kitchen to cook and then realized that I had left him alone with my dad, which worried me a little bit but they got along much better than I expected. I'm just a worrier about things like that. Also, WHITE CHRISTMAS!! Snow! It was beautiful. Nate and I had a snowball fight that was definitely the highlight of my Christmas, even though it only lasted long enough for out gloveless hands to begin to ache severely from the cold.

4. I kind of have a hard time with the Christmas spirit. It seems like Christmas is supposed to bring extra excitement and feelings of joy at the existence of Christ, but I didn't really feel especially excited this year. Yes, it's important to celebrate Christmas, but shouldn't we be just as excited about Jesus all year round? Shouldn't every day be Christmas?

5. Nate left. He left Thursday night, and I really can't remember the last time I cried like that. My other half is now on the other side of the world. I stayed up all night Thursday to skype with him when he landed in Seattle, which was around 5 am our time. Consequently my sleep schedule has been totally destroyed - I'm now semi-nocturnal - but it was worth it. Somehow talking to him so soon after he left made it feel like he was less far away. I've done a lot of moping around for the last few days and I'm starting to feel better. My friends have been wonderfully supportive. I've gotten multiple loving text messages, and my dear friend Onelia forwent the New Year's partys to bring me takeout Japanese food and sit around my house in her party clothes to watch the Time's Square festivities on tv. Love.

6. Now that I have a substantial amount of free time on my hands, I've gotten really into wedding blogs and planning websites. Nate and I decided not to dig into the planning yet since he was home for so little time, but we'll probably do that soon. Doing all of this reading makes me wish we could just get started now, but we've got over two years since we're waiting until I graduate and he gets back from Japan. I guess for the next few months I should just enjoy getting to do all the fun thinking without having to do any of the work.

7. I still have another two weeks before I go back to school. I spent pretty much all of last week with Nate, so I'm looking forward to getting to catch up with friends this week. It shall be fun : )