greenest green

Celebrate we will
'cause life is short but sweet for certain - hey!
We climb on two by two
to be sure these days continue
Things we cannot change
-Dave Matthews Band, Two Step

I don't want to grow up. I want to spend a thousand more Georgia summers wading in the creek at Wilshire Trails, catching water-spiders and crayfish. I want to lick a dripping softball-sized scoop of cake batter ice cream supported by a waffle cone from Bruster's as I walk along a shady path of the nearby park. I want to feel the sun's warmth as it bursts out from behind a giant cloud, and welcome it's retreat as another passes beneath it. I want to savor each cool, muggy morning and see the heat waves rising from the asphalt as I climb with sun-burned shoulders into a stifling car after a day at the pool. I want to wake up from a nap in the hammock on the side deck of my dad's house to the smell of fresh-cut grass, walk lazily into the kitchen, pour him a tall glass of ice water, bring it outside, and watch him drink it all in one thirsty gulp before he starts the mower up again. I want to catch fireflies after dark and listen to the crickets' song as I fall asleep.

This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere. -A.S. Byatt, Possession

I refuse to spend the beginning of my young adulthood mourning the hasty end of my adolescence; to spend countless hours dwelling on the past is no better than wasting days dreaming of the future. I will disregard the present no more. It's important to walk slowly sometimes - to wear a skirt that blows in the wind - to dance when you feel like it - to laugh until it hurts - to read novels and sit outside in the sun - to stay up late talking to your best friends - to feel the bark of your favorite tree with your bare feet - to notice Spring's greenest green and let it surprise you every time.

bittersweet

Summed up in one word, year two of college has been bittersweet, a fact made plain by my attitude toward its end. Last year, I started moving out before spring break; I was so out of that little shoe box. But apartment 306 in McWhorter Hall has become my home, and the three beautiful women that I share it with, my family. I've grown to love UGA - the turtle pond, the lacebark elms that line East Green Street, discipleship, Lake Herrick, the (free) climbing wall in Ramsey, my sister living just down the road, aerobics classes, and even the faculty of the communication sciences and disorders department. The idea of the next few weeks of school and leaving for the summer is sort of symbolic for me. It's like a small scale trial run of what's about to happen in my life in the next few years. Leaving for five weeks in Russia forces me to think about leaving for three years in Seattle. While I'm excited about the next chapter, I do not want this one to end just yet.

I'm not sure if I'm ready to leave my family. We're parting ways for the summer: I am going to Russia, Becca to Spain, Lindsey to Italy, and Danielle is taking classes and working stateside (she went to New Zealand last year). I love these girls so very much. I wish I could capture and share with you an image that would convey their individual beauty, but it's taken me eight months to see the depth of who they are, and I am still uncovering new and wonderful things about them every day:

Yesterday after class I was sitting at my desk removing the bright pink polish from my fingernails when I heard the kitchen door open. "Hello?" she called from our living room, and appeared a moment later in my doorway,"I knew you were here because I could smell the fingernail polish." In spite of our desperate need for an academically productive afternoon, we began to talk, and continued to do so for about two hours. We talked about everything and nothing - like old friends that hadn't spoken in years and needed to catch up. We took some personality quizzes online, and I had to answer some of the questions that she couldn't figure out about herself.

When I opened my window to let some fresh air in, I could smell the summer. As I adjusted the plants on my windowsill, I heard her say quietly, "You're pretty, Kirby." That's what she's like. She sees beauty in things that others overlook. Last night, we were sitting outside the art school before the graphic design exit show and she noticed an overgrown tree stump. I'm pretty sure she's going to bring her sketchbook back there to draw it between classes sometime this week. She asks brilliant questions. Her favorite Disney princesses are Mulan and Belle. Her favorite cereals are Kix, Honey Bunches of Oats (which she calls H-Boo), and Multigrain Cheerios. She drinks her tea with Splenda. She loves scarves and big fat juicy oranges, but shudders at the thought of touching rotten fruit. She drives a manual transmission and puts little card pockets in the front covers of most of her books, which she also labels. Apparently she wants to organize them in some fashion and keep track of who borrows them. (She just came into my room, laid down on the floor, and told me that)

She doesn't realize how amazing she is and she lacks confidence, but I kind of like that about her; she is genuinely humble, which is a precious rarity, in my opinion. Last night I watched her paint flawless Victorian letters on a project for her upcoming portfolio review. For a moment, it was as if I saw her through the Lord's eyes. Beautiful.

She's going to hate that I wrote this about her.

equipped

Although it is possible to explain most of the tiny miracles that happen in our lives with technical terminology, understanding these mechanisms is not a prerequisite for their functional utilization. Children need not understand complex syntactical rules of grammar in order to start forming sentences. I remember the first time I ever heard the word "conjugate," and I can assure you that I had been successfully conjugating English verbs for at least twelve years prior to that moment. It is not necessary to know that the contraction of the cricoarytenoid and thyroarytenoid muscles creates the longitudinal tension necessary to increase the frequency of vocal fold vibration; you can still raise your pitch. We do not have to be familiar with the neural pathways that carry visual input to the cortex of occipital lobe for sensory processing before we can use our vision. My supernatural sense of smell is not a result of my limited knowledge of the olfactory nerve, and I can assure you that understanding neuromuscular physiology and plasticity has not made me a better piano player.

We are anatomically equipped to use all of these things that we do not understand. So are we spiritually equipped to use things we do not understand as well? Equipped to Love? To tap into the power of the Holy Spirit? To Heal? To pray His will? To extend mercy? To forgive? To interpret the Word of God? To hear His voice?

I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the father.
-Jesus (John 14:12)

I believe so.

Physics 1010

Did you feel the mountains tremble?
Did you hear the oceans roar?
When the people rose to sing of
Jesus Christ the risen one

I was listening to this song as I drove down Prince Avenue this morning on my way home to Athens. As I listened to the words, an inexplicable surge of joy and hope filled my heart; I literally had to open the windows to make space for it. God is moving in my heart and in our city.

Did you feel the people tremble?
Did you hear the singers roar?
When the lost began to sing of
Jesus Christ the risen one

I spent my first year on this campus somewhat reluctantly. My goal was to get an education and move on with life; my heart was elsewhere - preoccupied - one might say. But He called me back to Him. the minor fall. The Major Lift. Transformation. Restoration. He has done great things. But it's so not about me, and greater things have yet to come.

And we can see that God you're moving
A mighty river through the nations
And young and old will turn to Jesus
Fling wide your heavenly gates
Prepare the way of the risen Lord

I am tired of my self-absorption. I am tired of being so caught up in my own life that I find myself ignoring the marvelous things the God is doing all around me: healing, revival, salvation. For too long I've looked away, or worse, rolled my spiritual eyes at these things. For too long I've brushed shoulders with and sat in classrooms next to people with my shameful lack of compassion. It's time to join with Him. It's time I open my heart and learn to see individual people instead of a sea of faces or a mass of students. It's time to believe in His power. It's time to stop wasting time. It's time to start fighting for them. It's time to be that kid that stops in the middle of the race to help another kid that tripped.

Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
Songs that bring your hope
Songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice

Athens seems like such a dark place sometimes. But He is the God of this city. He has a plan for us. I am so thankful to be a part of it. I only have one more year here, but I am so excited to see God do in this city what he has done in my heart. (and greater things)

Did you feel the darkness tremble?
When all the saints join in one song
And all the streams flow as one river
To wash away our brokeness

My friend and I are going to start meeting before physics to pray for our classmates. Will you join us?

And here we see that God you're moving
A time of Jubilee is coming
When young and old return to Jesus
Fling wide your heavenly gates
Prepare the way of the risen Lord

campus transit

I used to wish that my best friend could be here with me at UGA to ride the bus with me. It sounds silly, I know, but my love language is (without question) quality time. Most of the best conversations I've ever shared have been unplanned; they happen in the wee hours of the morning when we'd hoped to have gotten to sleep hours ago, sitting in traffic on the way home from journal shopping, over a groggy breakfast before an 8AM class, in the middle of cramming for a gigantic test the next day, pushing a cart through the aisles of a grocery store, with an unexpected phone call, on long north campus walks late at night, or driving down winding mountain roads on a sunny fall afternoon. I spent many months last year praying for more moments like these with my best friend, and God answered as he so often does, in a way much different from what I had in mind.

I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends.
-Walt Whitman

I've always had friends, but the possession of a best friend has always kind of eluded me. I grew up between two sisters who were best friends; three was a crowd. I suppose I had a "best friend" when I lived in Alaska. Her name was Heather, and I recently found her on Facebook. I remember the day I moved - she came to airport at 6AM to see my whole family off - a pretty impressive gesture for an eight-year-old. I had another best friend in middle school - she helped me through my parents' divorce, and I am eternally grateful for her friendship. Unfortunately, we grew up and grew apart.

I've always fancied myself a best friend kind of girl. I like to get to know people really well - to connect with them - to understand each other's fears, dreams, passions, pet-peeves, habits, and jokes. I like to know how they like their coffee or what their favorite cereal is. It's nice to get past the stage of needing to explain or preface a story in order for the person you are telling to grasp its significance. A few months ago, I was at Olive Garden with a large group of girls celebrating a birthday. I noticed one of my friends ordered sweet tea (which she only drinks when she isn't feeling well) instead of water, and I asked her if she was okay. She was surprised that I knew to ask. Spend some time with me, and I promise I will learn these things about you, too.

This morning I rode the bus with my best friend. I was only supposed to go one stop (normally I would have walked), but we were talking and I forgot to get off. We rode a few more stops, she got off, I stayed on, and eventually I was back where we'd started. In keeping with the typical college student stereotype, I plugged my ears with headphones and smiled as an old familiar song came on shuffle (Hanging By A Moment by Lifehouse). He's been speaking to me through music lately. We sang a song at Wesley on Wednesday night that said this:

Your love is deeper than my view of grace
Higher than this worldly place
Longer than this road I travel
Wider than the gap You filled.

I am so thankful for this Love; it never disappoints.