reasons why kirby is single

1. as a general rule, enjoys the company of children or old people more than that of her peers (There are, of course, many exceptions to this rule; if you are reading this, you are probably one of them).
2. knows more about current research trends than popular culture.
3. shaves her legs on a weekly basis at best.
4. does not own hair brush.
5. would rather cook with her grandmother and/or shoot the political breeze with her grandfather than attend most parties.
6. enjoys cross-stitching.
7. likes to go to sleep at eleven and wake up before seven.
8. has pooped in the woods/will tell you about it.
9. cannot abstain from using fancy technical jargon in everyday life.
10. goes to UGA, where the gender-breakdown of the student body is wildly disproportionate (70% female, 30% male).
11. loves garlic.
12. and onions.
13. wears old spice deodorant on occasion.
14. does not always shower in a manner that is... consistent.
15. wants to barf whenever she smells perfume.
16. chose a major that affords her class with only one boy.
17. aforementioned "boy" is middle-aged, married, and has children in high school.
18. spends Sunday afternoons making lists like this.
19. big jim has set the bar at an almost impossible height.
20. has somehow managed to surround herself with the most beautiful friends imaginable.
21. Has not yet met anyone bold enough to take her on.

DISCLAIMER: I hope this makes you laugh. (because it's a joke [but every word totally true])

smile

Last night I got super-upset about the images of stillborn babies with anencephaly (terminal condition in which the fetal brain develops outside of skull) my neuroscience professor showed us in class yesterday. Sometimes having a soft heart can be incredibly painful. I called my dad and he prayed for me and shared this verse:

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. -Philippians 4:7-9

Now, I realize that many of you probably wouldn't choose the word "lovely" to describe the pictures above, but I cannot help but see these beautiful children any other way. These babies have a chance at life. The God of restoration will heal them, and I cannot believe that He's chosen me to help Him do it. As I thought about these things, I was filled with gratitude for the fact that I was born into a family in a country where I've been blessed with the opportunity to receive an education that is equipping me with the knowledge I'll need to offer speech therapy to this population that I know I am just beginning to grow into my passion for. Until recently I've wondered to the point of exhaustion why in the world I was born here, where I have everything I could possibly need or want, instead of in the slums of India or the dump in Guatemala City.

Dare I say that I think I'm starting to understand? In my life, I will be free to travel to terrifying places like Afghanistan (which I fully intend on doing, even if I have to wear a burqua, or better yet, tape my chest and wear a turban and fake beard...).

The Smile Train has established small surgical centers in 75 countries, and as I looked over their list, I noticed several that I already have connections with as a 20-year-old college student. I've been to Guatemala three times and studied abroad in Russia. My Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Bill have lived in the Philippines and are currently residing in Egypt (I need to go visit them soon). My sister studied abroad in Argentina. My church sends mission teams to South Africa and the Dominican Republic. My dad has led several mission teams to Bosnia. I have old friends with serious hearts for Zambia, Uganda, and Mali, and one that is teaching in Taiwan.

I'm excited to see what God has planned.

unsolicited answers. well, sort of

The past three days have comprised one of the most academically unproductive weekends I have experienced in quite some time. I took the GRE on Friday, and subsequently, my brain decided to go on strike. This morning I literally stayed in my bed for an hour or so after I woke up simply because I knew what getting up meant, and I did NOT want to study for that neuroscience test on Thursday. After wasting another hour with my sketchbook and a cup of tea, I decided to get to work. (don't laugh, but this was about 9:45 AM)

Oddly enough, the Lord decided this would be an excellent time to tell me several things, or more specifically, to answer several questions that I had been bringing to Him in prayer for quite a while. Just as I would pull out the flashcards or open my book, He would distract my attention. I would have to write down His words, search for a keyword on BibleGateway, or pull an old journal off the bookshelf to read what I had written on whichever date or in whatever ink color He gave me. It was a beautiful time, and I could feel His laughter as I began to grow mildly frustrated with all the interruptions. There were several instances in which I assumed He was finished, and I would drop my journal on the ground defiantly, only to pick it back up three minutes later.

So often I find myself, in keeping with sound advice, striving to set aside chunks of time to spend with Jesus, but it seems that our sweetest and most intimate moments happen according to His schedule rather than mine. Try as I might, I cannot twist His arm.

summer's last stand

I found myself laughing as I ran out the door yesterday morning into the burst of cool September air, pulling my yellow sweater on with one arm, attempting to step more securely into my shoes, and untangling the twisted straps of my bag while juggling a raincoat and keys with my "free" hand. I was running late for discipleship. Let's take a step back and consider this: Kirby Lee running late??? I'm still surprised by the changes in myself. With all this seemingly misplaced laughter, I'm sure I'm adding to the number daily of people on campus that think I'm crazy.

This afternoon was too beautiful to be cooped up inside, so I headed over to the IM fields, where I sat in my newly acquired thermarest easychair in the partial shade of an oak tree on the side of the grassy hill overlooking Lake Herrick. I'm enjoying summer's last stand. After two cooler, overcast days we've been afforded a sunny one with a nice breeze. The moment felt perfect: the wind tossing my hair into my eyes, the grass tickling my toes, and the afternoon sunlight dancing on my shoulders with the shadow of the tree above me. Autumn is just around the corner, and I'm certainly looking forward to it, but I must admit that I am a little sad about peach season's end.

I've entered into my last set of seasons in Northeast Georgia, and I want to savor every smell, to drink in the colors, to imprint the sounds of this place forever in my mind for easy access next year when I've moved on to the next adventure in my life. Perhaps its this desire paired with the fact that I was fortunate enough to spend six of the southeast's hottest weeks this summer away from home that's making me want to cling to summer for the next few days. But then I remember that Autumn is my favorite -- a season of change.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

A time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace. ...

...He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, 11

(sorry for ripping off your idea)

for You, Zion, the stones cry out

Skipped Wesley tonight to see a show at the 40 Watt. Now my ears are ringing, my hair smells like reefer, my toes are bloody, and the soles of my chacos are sticky from shuffling around on the PBR soaked floor. I noticed something cool, though. The people all around me were worshiping, and if I might add, much more passionately than a lot of church-folk I've seen; it was quite clear that they were created to do so.

Please join me in prayer for our city.

patience, forgiveness, fruition and such

Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray,
But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks
Wants war, wants wounds; weary his times, his tasks;
To do without, take tosses, and obey.
Rare patience roots in these, and, these away,
Nowhere. Natural heart’s ivy, Patience masks
Our ruins of wrecked past purpose. There she basks
Purple eyes and seas of liquid leaves all day.

We hear our hearts grate on themselves: it kills
To bruise them dearer. Yet the rebellious wills
Of us we do bid God bend to him even so.
And where is he who more and more distils
Delicious kindness?—He is patient. Patience fills
His crisp combs, and that comes those ways we know.
-Gerard Manley Hopkins

This morning in church Andy Stanley talked about the paths we take and the destinations that they lead to. Sometimes we think about things as isolated events, when, more accurately, they are steps in one direction or another. During the entire sermon, I kept asking the Lord to show me where I was at fault in the steps I was taking, and I grew frustrated when I couldn't come up with anything.

Towards the end of the message, he made a statement that grabbed my attention: "Some of you chose the path of forgiveness a while ago, and you are just beginning to see the results of your obedience." Could this be me? Yes. Suddenly my eyes were opened to the perfection of the plan He had orchestrated. It's been months since He asked me to extend forgiveness. I never expected anything in return.

But apparently I forgot that Jesus is all about restoration; His timing is always perfect, and an old friendship that I had accepted as lost is being rebuilt. Alleluia.

Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you. -Psalm 116:7

fruition

–noun

1.	attainment of anything desired; realization; accomplishment: After years of hard work she finally brought her idea to full fruition.

2.	enjoyment, as of something attained or realized.

3.	state of bearing fruit.

—Synonyms 1. consummation, accomplishment, fulfillment, achievement, completion, perfection, result.