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 : )