On Living

Take one quick second and breathe in. Close your eyes, hold that breath. Tilt your head up toward the ceiling or sky and open your eyes as you blow it out.

Now.

One week of classes is finished, and it feels like nine. Don't finals start tomorrow?

In some ways, this year feels exactly like a continuance of last year. These friends who've been separated by a summer coming back together seamlessly. Hours of laughter and stories and homework and sharing meals and curling up together to listen to the wind.

In other ways, this year feels completely foreign. Who are these faces at floor meetings I don't recognize? What is this absolute mountain of homework fallen from the sky? Where did this beautiful room and completely perfect roommate come from?

I love it. I love this year. And yet, at the very same time, there is still so much anxiety in my heart at all times. I cannot relax.

I've run into a complete conflict of interests in my life. I feel so at home and so comfortable and safe here at school. I am so happy taking my classes, reading my ancient literature, living day by day, studying and eating in Gwinn.

But I don't know what I'm doing with my life.

Plain and simple, this terrifies me to no end.

One of the very first questions anyone asks in college when first meeting you is, "What's your major?" With the answer of, "English, creative writing," what surely follows is, "Oh... What are you going to do with that?"

I don't know.

Please stop asking.

I just know that I'm doing what I love. I don't have some magic career in mind that will keep me off the streets.

I live with two conflicting perspectives: that of eternity, and that of everyday. But I'm not planning out my future. And while I feel this is the correct mindset to have, to leave everything wide open for God to act, it scares me none the less.

Can I believe without fear? Does a lack of courage discount my faith at all?

With pressure on all sides to find a future vocation, know my place in the world, be ready to set out and change everything, I feel myself slowly shrinking. You have lofty goals. You know exactly what you want to do and where you want to do it. You know who you're going to marry.

I know... what I'm doing this afternoon. A bit of what'll happen next week. That's all.

I've seen God, though, take things in my life and turn them around. I've experienced being dead-set on a certain outcome and having God say, "No." But while I don't want to forge forward into an unknown future, I also do not want to sit by idly, waiting for something to happen. I know that God works through our actions.

It is this balance that I need of prayerfully asking about opportunities, taking tentative but strong steps forward, but always keeping my hands open for God to take the reins and lead to... anywhere.

Notes from last Sunday:

This is our life: we set out following a plan, and things change.

How do you find a path that leaves room for the Holy Spirit's intervention? How do you plan, but be open?

We must learn to lean into our desires, praying for discernment as to what we should hold onto and what we should let go of.

We think we know what God wants for us, but then we're forbidden by the Holy Spirit. This is the Christian life for you: there is always a little bit of uncertainty.

I want to be the one place where He wants me to be.

And notes from today:

How can I offer you Christ as the answer? By knowing your question. By learning your culture.

Our witness doesn't begin with a chasm of difference, but with finding a bridge, with building relationships, with love.

Are you going to step into God's story or stay in your own?

Today I will stop waiting and begin to live.

On Home

Tonight is the last night I'll spend in this room.

Until, you know, Thanksgiving. Not the longest time frame in the world, but still: something to be noted.

This summer has been so many things: long, short, wonderful, tedious, inspirational, frustrating, joyful, depressing, amazing...

This last week has been so stressful and so terrifying that school's starting has been completely overshadowed.

Hello, sophomore year. How are you feeling today?

Move in tomorrow. Freshmen coming soon. Then classes and studying and late night Beth's runs and brother/sister floor bonding. Add Ben and writing and Jesus, and there's just enough time for (not quite enough) sleep.

And then, of course, the swine flu will probably come attack our campus.

I'm sad that our floor will be different than it was last year. What an amazing time we had, what beautiful girls, what love-filled memories. But this year will be amazing, too, and in a brand new way. I'm excited.

I am out of my mind exhausted. Sleep and stress don't coexist in my world...

What do you have in store for us this year, Lord?

It'll be amazing.

On Prayer

Oh my word.

I have no words.

Sitting up in my bed at 3:40 this morning, crying, saying, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord," over and over again until the tears quelled.

Our lives are so fragile.

"Tonight the stars speak of your infinite love
And it serves to remind me
That what I have means nothing at all
Compared to your glory.

Oh Lord,
How long till your voice speaks clearly?
How long till your arms envelope me?
I cry, be my strength when I am weak.
Oh Lord, have mercy on me please.

My spirit is willing but my flesh is so weak;
I cry in your arms now.
God, grant me the strength to rest in you;
I lift my hands and cry.

Oh Lord,
How long till your voice speaks clearly?
How long till your arms envelope me?
I cry, be my strength when I am weak.
Oh Lord, have mercy on me please."
Thank you, Lord.

On Hope (Please Take Some!)

This last year, my life exploded in the best way possible. I made so many amazing friends, learned about my world and myself. But most importantly, I learned so much about God. I started thinking about what I believed on a personal level, instead of just willingly lapping up all of the (sometimes bullshit) doctrine shoved toward me by my school, church, friends, teachers, and books. I started to think for myself, and learned that Jesus is greater than I ever could have imagined. And that blew my mind.

All of this to say: before this year, I didn't live with a ton of hope. God was always an afterthought. Something would start to go a little screwy and I'd throw up a quick prayer. But living with my heart leading the way instead of God led to a sad and empty little existence.

But this year, when things came along that made me sad (like a boy or sickness or accidentally hurting a friend or past mistakes being dragged up through a stupid facebook message), although I still felt my full range of emotions, although tears and sleepless nights still happened, there was this happy thing that kept me from feeling bogged down and completely useless: hope.

I'm not sure where it came from: reading the Bible, more prayer in my life, meaningful relationships, a change of location, an excitement for living. Maybe all of these things. But I suddenly realized that the depressed angry little kid I was for a lot of years is gone. What liberation.

I was just writing an email to a friend who's going through such a tough season in her life, and as I was shelling out all this advice I realized that I'm terrified of giving advice. I always have been. I mean, when someone asks for help, they sort of expect you to give them meaningful answers, say something to actually be helpful. And I am hesitant with those words: what if what I say just makes it worse? There's some self-doubt for you.

But as I was typing this email, and the words and verses and analogies and what I hope were encouraging words started flowing, I realized that I shouldn't be fearful because everything I was saying is so true. That Jesus is the author of hope and love and sometimes being released from brokenness is the most painful thing in the world, but also so necessary.

I don't know. Our lives are never going to play out exactly the way we think they will, but oftentimes if we just let go, these amazing things we never imagined come pouring into our life without end. And that's so amazing.

Like a passion for the Word;
Like an inexpressible craving to worship;
Like a best friend absolutely filled with light and joy;
Like a relationship with a tri-lingual crazy face;
Like a sister who is entirely inspiring;
Like a promise that we will never be abandoned or forsaken.

On Rainy Days

Sitting in a small restaurant, across the table from someone I care for so much, watching the rain pound down.
Thank you, Lord, for that beauty.
For the cool freshness that stings lungs with deep breaths.
For the stormy grey ocean.
For the simple smell of autumn.
For the strip of orange above the horizon, as the sun dips below.
For a warm car, warm hands.

On Saturday...

As per request of el novio:

8/29/09

Head popping off the cushion of the mattress, listening hard. No... it's not raining! What relief floods through the senses, laying back on the bed, closing eyes once again.

Later, sitting cross-legged in the midst of a mess of picture croppings, stickers, markers, pens, tickets, memories...

Later, buzzing about town, stopping at Trader Joe's to purchase bread and cheese and grapes...

Later, sitting in the big chair in the living room, listening to Mom talk about [something]; seeing a white car pull up in front of the house...

Roses;
Hugs;
Secret locations.

No, we're not going tandem bike riding.

Strolling through the sunny streets of Edmonds, hand in hand;
Sitting on a blanket in a sun-dappled field;
Walking through sand, unexpected sun beating down;
Snuggling in a chair, watching Seinfeld and Friends;
Perching on a counter, watching him cook;
Eating (very tasty foods) together;
Waiting for night to descend;
Watching Marlin and Dory search for Elmo...

Where's my trailer? I need water! Fill my trailer with water...

Lips on lips.

Accidental laughter;
Star gazing;
Stealing the blanket from one another.

I can't seem to catch my breath...

On Work and Writing

Time drags slowly. Sitting in this office chair, listening to Radiohead, the Flaming Lips, Modest Mouse, MGMT, the Shins. Waiting for an email from CIS. Checking facebook for the hundredth time.

My calendar is quite organized, my emails all in their respective folders. My to-do lists are pinned up on these fabric boards, my pens all face the same direction. And still the clock is so slow.

This dreariness of waiting, the slow snooziness of time this afternoon reminds me of times in DH 150, waiting for Chem 1100 to get out. Those were long afternoons, inspiring many yawns, sighs, and random scrawlings of prose across my 'notes.'

My hands are going numb as the air conditioning floods our floor. It's a perfect, sunny, seventy-three degrees outside, but without a window, with only fluorescent lights casting their glow, I somehow feel like it's winter. I need a hat and a pea coat and some really cute boots.

Taking advantage of these empty hours, the words start to flow. Revisions, deletions, additions. Sometimes, I think I'm not cut out to write novels; it is such a challenge to keep the idea going for that long. Short stories work out easier. I have too many characters in my head, and when I start a new novel, I desperately try to shove them all together, with short lived results most of the time. So, for now, I'm sticking to shorter projects.

Setting is hard; if I don't plan out what the location of my characters is exactly in my head, I tend to get disoriented so easily. Most of the time, therefore, I steal a location from my life. Like my grandparents' old farm house: this is where Todd and Sarah run about now...


He stood, holding his arm, looking at her.

She took one step forward, and motioned with her arm. “Come on.”
At her gesture, he hesitantly walked after her. She pulled the door open another foot, allowing the boy to pass through into the snow ahead of her. She closed the door fully, without a slam.

The young man gasped as the winter wind attacked him. Hugging his arms around his chest, he watched her desperately. She set a quick pace back toward the house, glancing back just
enough to see him following behind in her peripheral vision.
Reaching the back porch, she stomped against the wooden planks, dislodging snow from her boots. Opening the outer screen door, the hinges squeaked painfully. She winced as the high pitched squeal radiated in her ears. When she glanced backwards at the youth, though, he seemed not to have noticed.

He followed her into the mud room, and stood dripping on the rug just inside the door. His thin clothing was soaking, sticking to his body; his hair sent droplets of melting snow down his face.
“Wait here,” she said, after she had relieved herself of her boots and coat. Abandoning the bleeding and shivering young man, she took to the stairs, ascending into rooms largely untouched.

Reaching the second floor, she caught her breath for a moment, leaning on one arm braced against the wall. Two plush orange chairs stared at her from across the room, book-stuffed shelves lining the walls behind. She turned to her left, grasping the cool metal of a doorknob, and pushed open the bedroom door.Topher’s room was perfectly tidy, contrary to how it had been while he was alive. She crossed to the dresser, attempting to blind herself to anything in the room beside her goal. Tugging open multiple drawers, she pulled out a pair of long underwear, jeans, a t-shirt, a plaid shirt with buttons down the front, thick socks. Gathering the clothes into a bundle against her chest, she closed the drawers carefully, perfectly, and left the room just the same as it had been before her intruding.