the first of the lasts

Lasts. Last small group, last full class-week, last discipleship, last Geography lecture, last stat lab, last assignments, last Wesley, last trip to Publix, last run at the IM fields, last bus ride, last graduation announcement, last weekend in my apartment, and many more that I've yet to realize that I will have to face in the next few days and weeks. Last night I faced the first of the lasts: small group. It was really really hard to leave.

fresh start

Dad and I ventured to Boone this weekend to look at a couple of apartments. I decided on a townhouse in Vilas (with a view!) that I'll be sharing with a marriage and family therapy grad student (Mallory) and an as-of-yet-undecided-mystery-roommate. The fact that her name is Mallory kept causing communication breakdowns between Big Jim and me; our default Mallory is obviously Mallory Lee. I met the Gregory family for the second time. We first met five years ago in Croatia when they were working there for Campus Crusade, but now they're with Samaritan's Purse (Operation Christmas Child - the shoebox ministry). We had breakfast with a girl that is in my major at App and will hopefully be starting the grad program in the spring. The pair of us immediately hit it off, so I'm excited to have at least one friendly face to look for in Edwin Duncan Hall.

One issue that dominated our conversation on the journey home was that of vehicles. Because the townhouse situated on a bit of a hill about four miles from campus, and therefore, considered "out of town" for Boone, I will inevitably face a handful of days with perilous driving conditions, at least for me and my Accord. So we kicked around the idea of trading Chileno in for something with four-wheel drive. I know I've always said that I will never drive an SUV, but it might be happening. Dad pointed out that a small one might fit my lifestyle a little better than my Accord, so we are going to look. Problem is, I really like my car. He's been good to me.

I'm excited about this fresh start: new town, new furniture, new school, new church, new friends, new grocery stores, new mountains, new gym, new teachers, new home, new routines, and now possibly new car [well, new to me, anyway]. But change is always a form of loss, and at some point, I'm going to need to lament the end of my time at UGA and in Georgia, especially in light of the possibility that I may never again claim permanent residence in this state.

I was thinking in the shower this morning about all of this. I don't know about you, but I do some of my best thinking in the shower. For some reason, I find it easier to invite God into my thoughts in this setting - perhaps because its so private. We were mulling over all of this "fresh start" stuff and I just had this peace about all of it. It was as if He was reassuring me that He doesn't change, but that He loves the idea of a new day for us. That's why I love mornings so much: its a reflection of His image that I bear.

eighth grade

I paint a picture, I think it's easier to live that way
But my heart is really broken
I'm not the man you think I am when you see me
each day Torn apart and then left open
Father come and fill me up
I can't wait for you to overflow my cup
My heart makes me wonder how much longer
'Til you're coming back to take me away
My heart longs for you to fly right through the sky
And take me to the place where I
Will never feel my heart break down again
I search the sky and then I try imagining you there
Looking on anticipating
You're standing by and knowing I will join you in
the air Until then I'll be here waiting.
-My Heart, by Third Day

This was my favorite song when I was thirteen. The words captured the feelings of my young heart better than any song had previously done. Interestingly, although two life chapters (high school and college) have come and almost gone, this song still resonates deeply within me. So much has happened in the last seven years - dreams have been fulfilled and destroyed, plans have changed, hopes once crushed have been renewed, old friendships have been strengthened, and new ones have blossomed, while others have faded away. In many ways, I am a different person altogether.

Yet, I can still relate quite easily to that girl just finishing up eighth grade. I am excited about the summer just like she was. That summer contained her first trip to Europe. This one, my first independent move to another state. Like her, I am both excited and nervous about a new school and all its trappings on the horizon: North Hall High School then, Appalachian State University's Graduate School now.

I wonder what she thought the days approaching her college graduation would be like. She probably didn't think very long or hard about something so far off in the distant future, at least not realistically, what with high school on the horizon. When and if she did, I'm sure she assumed that she would, naturally, be planning a wedding at this point. After all, that's what happened in college: if you weren't lucky enough to have previously acquired a high school sweetheart, then you certainly met your soul mate at University...

Well, like I said, plans change, but I didn't intend for this post to be some sort of lament. She probably had never heard of speech-language pathology, and she definitely didn't imagine herself sitting in her room typing a blog about the potential thoughts of her younger self.

Rudy: Maybe God allows you to go through suffering so you can help others when they go through the same suffering.

Susan: I've got an idea. How about if none of us have to go through it, so I don't have to go through it first to show them the way?

Rudy: Then you'd be childish and shallow, don't you think? Suffering seems to be the best teacher. And be honest with yourself: you've changed. You're not the same person you were when you first came here.

-from Angry Conversations with God by Susan E. Isaacs