Speculations of a Plant Lady

final exam

2009-12-09T08:27:00.004-05:00

Well, at least for this semester. That's right, folks, one to go, and I'll have [hopefully successfully] completed my first semester of graduate school. Problem is, this one's kind of a doozy.

Our school-age (language disorders) professor expects us to differentiate between the ten different language disorders we've covered in class, indicate the specific deficit areas (there are about five or six per disorder), decide which assessment tools we would like to use, and formulate a lesson plan for intervention, given "a few sentences" about the child. Phew!

There are ten case studies. So basically, we're supposed to do a full day's worth of diagnostics and planning in 2.5 hours or less. I am not what you would call prepared for this. So I'm implementing an intervention plan for myself to help me learn and be more comfortable manipulating the material. I've got my index cards and an assortment of markers at the ready, and I'm going to look through my old lesson plans (that I wrote for this class) for an idea on how to remediate myself.

For those of you that this means virtually nothing to, I am going to pretend that I am a child with a language disorder and teach myself the material for my test using a lesson plan that I wrote for an 8-year-old.

I'll probably go with a hybrid of word finding and information processing disorders.

oh hey boone winter!

2009-12-02T08:48:00.003-05:00

Winter came to Boone this week. It's cold and rainy and as I was walking from my car to class this morning I found myself thinking, "Help me, coffee! Help me, wool coat! Help me, mittens from target (which I happen to keep in my glove box)!" in a Ricky Bobby-esque fashion. This, of course, made me laugh - out loud. Fortunately there weren't any people around me to judge me as certifiably insane (or think I was crying and attempt to offer their condolences...?).

The good news is that the laughter actually "helped me" more than the coffee, coat, or mittens. It warmed me as I thought about how dumb the selection ballet flats was for a day such as this. Even as the freezing water seeped through to my toes, I continued to laugh.

Maybe I am crazy.

best christmas song ever

2009-12-01T07:51:00.001-05:00

The Horse's hay beneath His head
our Lord was born to a manger bed,
that all whose wells run dry
could drink of His supply.

To keep Him warm the Sheep drew near,
so grateful for His coming here:
You come with news of grace,
come to take my place!

The Donkey whispered in His ear: Child, in thirty-some-odd years, You'll ride someone who looks like me (untriumphantly).

While the Cardinals warbled a joyful song:
He'll make right what man made wrong,
bringing low the hills,
that the valleys might be filled!

Then Child, asked the birds,
well, aren't they lovely words we sing?
The tiny Baby lay there without saying anything.

At a distance stood a mangy Goat
with a crooked teeth and a matted coat,
weary eyes and worn,
chipped & twisted horns.
Thinking: Maybe I'll make friends some day
with the Cows in the pens and the Rambouillet,
but for now I'll keep away -
I got nothin' smart to say.

But there's a sign on the barn in the Cabbagetown:
WHEN THE RAIN PICKS UP AND THE SUN GOES DOWN,
SINNERS, COME INSIDE!
WITH NO MONEY, COME AND BUY.
NO CLEVER TALK NOR GIFT TO BRING
REQUIRES OUR LOWLY, LOVELY KING.
COME YOU EMPTYHANDED,
YOU DON'T NEED ANYTHING.

And the night was cool and clear as glass
with the sneaking Snake in the garden grass,
as Deep cried out to Deep, the Disciples fast asleep.
And the snake perked up when he heard You ask:
if You're willing that this cup might pass
we could find our way back home,
maybe start a family all our own...
but does not the Father guide the Son?
Not my will but Yours be done!
What else here to do?
What else me but You?

And the snake who'd held the world,
a stick, a carrot and a string, was crushed
beneath the Foot of Your not wanting anything.

-A Stick, A Carrot & String, by mewithoutYou

in MY monologue

2009-11-27T14:33:00.005-05:00

Here's a little something I wrote over Thanksgiving break. It was inspired by a good friend with whom I had coffee that week, as she shared this video with me:

http://www.hulu.com/watch/107502/saturday-night-live-taylor-swift-monologue

I like camping and mint chocolate chip ice cream,

but I'm not gonna talk about that

in MY monologue.

I like laughing and my charm bracelet,

but I'm not gonna talk about that

in my monologue.

La la la.

I like going to Egypt and shooting guns in Colorado

but I'm not gonna say that

in my monologue.

I moved to Boone, thus expanding my horizons

but I'm not gonna say that

in my monologue.

La la, LA la la la la

This is my blogosphere monologue.

You might think I'd mention the half marathon that I ran yesterday in Atlanta

but I'm not gonna talk about that

in my monologue.

By the way, I did real well!

Though my hip-flexers hurt like hell,

but I'm not gonna write about that

in my monologue.

La la la.

Ha ha ha.

La la la.

And if you're wondering if I might

be dating a chemical engineer,

well I'm not gonna comment on that

in my monologue.

La la, LA la la la la

This is my blogosphere monologue

You might be expecting me to say

something about going to the Philippines in May

with Operation Smile to do a medical mission,

It'll actually be in March

Shortly after spring break

but I'm not gonna talk about that

in my monologue.

My blogosphere monologue

La la, LA la la la la

That was my blogosphere monologue.

update

2009-11-20T10:50:00.005-05:00

Friends, the seasons are changing, and it's high-time for an update.

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.

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Panera

2009-11-07T20:08:00.007-05:00

Today I woke up and went to Panera for a whole grain bagel and cup of coffee. Than I stayed here for four hours, working on a project for my neurogenic communication disorders class until the lunch crowd arrived. Upon the realization that a great deal of my consciousness was being spent suppressing the urge to politely ask the boisterous group of gossiping women at the next table to can it, I decided that it was time for a break. So I went home, stopping at the grocery store to pick up a couple of staples for the week on the way. At home, I cycled my laundry and completed one (of the THREE) preschool language disorders assignments I have due on Monday.

Then I came back to Panera for a cup of tea and some French Onion Soup. I'll stay here for another 45 minutes - until they close. Then I'll move to another coffee shop that stays open a little later.

today

2009-10-23T16:21:00.005-04:00

Today has been the most perfect day. It hasn't been exceptional by any means, except perhaps exceptionally ordinary. The past two days have been more like what I expected graduate school to be like than the last two months of class. Yesterday I did preschool language screenings before class, and today three of my classmates [read: friends] and I did hearing screenings at an elementary school in West Jefferson.

We had to meet at 6:30 AM, clinic I.D. lanyards around our necks, travel mugs of coffee in our hands, and smiles on our faces by the time we arrived in Ashe County, 30 minutes early (thanks a lot, Garmin). So we went to West Jefferson's new fancy Wal-Mart and perused the Halloween cards to send to our siblings in Georgia and Florida. By the time we left the store, the sun had decided to make an appearance. We screened first, second, third, and fifth grade students, as well as a couple of RTI (Response to Intervetion [potential special education candidates]). It was kind of fun. We were finished before noon and went to a Thai restaurant in downtown Boone for lunch.

It's a rainy day, so I've been inside reading an Emily Griffin novel and doing laundry. Finally I conceded that it wasn't going to stop raining, so I put on my new balance shoes and went for an eight mile run in the rain, listening to a couple chapters of To Kill A Mockingbird. (Somehow I made it through the public school system without having been made to read it previously... sounds like a child was left behind).

And tonight? Contra Dance.

swing your partner

2009-10-11T13:39:00.003-04:00

Recently I've been partaking in a North Carolinian high country cultural experience called contra dancing. I love it. So much so, in fact, that I have decided that at my wedding reception (whenever it may happen) I plan to have a live band and a caller who will give lessons while the guests await the arrival of the wedding party, but that is neither here nor there...

This is the way God put it: "They found grace out in the desert, these people who survived the killing. Israel, out looking for a place to rest, met God out looking for them!" God told them, "I've never quit loving you and never will. Expect love, love, and more love! And so now I'll start over with you and build you up again, dear virgin Israel. You'll resume your singing, grabbing tambourines and joining the dance. You'll go back to your old work of planting vineyards on the Samaritan hillsides, And sit back and enjoy the fruit— oh, how you'll enjoy those harvests! The time's coming when watchmen will call out from the hilltops of Ephraim: 'On your feet! Let's go to Zion, go to meet our God!'" - Jeremiah 31:1-3

How I long to join that dance! To spin around and swing my neighbor - to one day have my own to swing. I don't know exactly what it looks like, but I know what it feels like: contra dancing! It feels like giving a little weight to your partner and spinning and spinning until you almost feel dizzy, but trusting that you'll end up on his right in long lines or hands-four, ready to dance a little more. It feels like smiling through the pinch of your shoes or the breathlessness that accompanies the constant movement, despite the beads of perspiration forming on your brow.

I love to dance. I love to have a good partner to lead me through each step - a partner with whom I can just relax and move gracefully and fluidly, because it's only when I try to maintain control that I misstep or end up where I don't belong. I love leaning back in a swing and feeling the centrifugal force spinning us faster and faster. I love how the pre-swing balance is marked by the sound of hundreds of feet stomping in unison on the old wood floor of the apple barn. Clearly, I really like contra dancing. But that may or may not be what I'm talking about.

Being a skilled dancer has less to do with knowing the steps and more to do with learning to relax, to trust your partner, and to listen for the caller's instructions as He gives them.

"You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance; You ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers. I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you. God, my God, I can't thank you enough." -Psalm 30:11

i am a nerd

2009-10-06T10:24:00.004-04:00

america's best idea

2009-10-03T00:00:00.006-04:00

We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us, as if truly an inseparable part of it, thrilling with the air and trees, streams and rocks, in the waves of the sun, -- a part of all nature, neither old nor young, sick nor well, but immortal. Just now I can hardly conceive of any bodily condition dependent on food or breath any more than the ground or the sky. How glorious a conversion, so complete and wholesome it is. -John Muir

Anybody else super-excited about The National Parks series on PBS? Given that I plan to take my family on vacations to The National Parks, I sure am.

green bananas

2009-09-28T21:12:00.003-04:00

I've come to the realization that I've got some serious ripening to do. I have a lot to learn in the academic and professional realms, which coincidentally, become less distinct from one another day after grad school day. I have even more to learn about myself - to continue to develop and build on the beliefs and values that I hold. Most importantly, I have a lot to learn about God. I have to get to know Him better. I have to learn to trust in His promises. Otherwise I'll just be a bunch of green bananas for the rest of my life, and who wants that?

aimer encore

2009-09-23T07:23:00.000-04:00

You must not be astonished when, even at the risk of your taking me for a fanatic, I tell you that in order to love, I think it absolutely necessary to believe in God (that does not mean that you should believe all the sermons of the clergymen) — far from it. To me, to believe in God is to feel that there is a God, not dead or stuffed, but alive, urging us toward aimer encore [steadfast love] with irresistible force.

-Vincent van Gogh

Agreed. Most definitely agreed.

No, no, not the rat track!

2009-09-18T16:43:00.002-04:00

It's been raining nonstop for the last three days in Boone, and this weather pattern is supposed to continue into the weekend. The downside is that my energy level plummets on rainy days; all I want to do is consume copious amounts of grain and sleep and/or read fiction (Think about it, how many animals do you see outside in the rain? None. They hibernate or something). The upside is that I need to get a lot of work done this weekend, so I will have a lighter load next weekend when two of my dearest loves visit, and as long as it is yucky outside, I will not be especially tempted to play outside in these mountains that are fast becoming my home.

The rain started on Tuesday, and I was forced to run three miles on the treadmill on Wednesday instead of outside [Can I get a resounding "Ugggggggggh..."?]. Today I was due for a five miler, and as I would much rather run this distance in a torrential downpour than on one of those little rat tracks in the florescence of the gym, I headed up to Cone Memorial Park, which is just off the Parkway near Blowing Rock. It was still super-foggy when I got there, but miracle of miracles, it had stopped raining! Off I went around Bass Lake with my rain-gear and iPod, following the carriage trail toward the cute little apple barn just over the ridge.

At one point I heard some loud rustling in the foliage alongside the trail, and immediately began clapping my hands and shouting, just in case it turned out to be a bear. You never know.

I think I'm supposed to be learning something about faithfulness these days, but I don't know exactly what. There's just something about driving up the road in the middle of a weeklong rain and finding precipitation-free hour just when you need it that makes me think that it couldn't have been coincidence. I guess what I'm trying to say is... Thanks, Jesus.

new.fresh.unfamiliar

2009-09-09T17:15:00.003-04:00

Main Entry:	new
Part of Speech:	adjective
Definition:	recent, fresh
Synonyms:	advanced, au courant, brand-new, contemporary, current, cutting-edge, dewy, different, dissimilar, distinct, fashionable, inexperienced, just out, late, latest, modern, modernistic, modish, neoteric, newfangled, novel, now*, original, recent, spick-and-span, state-of-the-art, strange, topical, ultramodern, unaccustomed, uncontaminated, unfamiliar, unique, unknown, unlike, unseasoned, unskilled, unspoiled, untouched, untrained, untried, untrodden, unused, unusual, up-to-date, virgin, youthful
Antonyms:	deteriorated, old, old-fashioned, outdated, worn

Thanks, Dictionary.com.

So I've experienced a lot of new things during the first weeks of this new chapter in my life called gradschoolboonenorthcarolinaadventure (should probably come up with a NEW name). Here are some them:

Greek yogurt, "study hikes" on the Blue Ridge Parkway, a developing interest in geopolitics?, the realization that "graduate assistant" really means "secretary," cheating on Publix with Ingle's (which is Spanish for "English" -- I've always wondered if they know that), Harry Potter on my iPod (for free, thanks to the ASU Library Instructional Materials Collection), the occasional glass of red wine, home-schooling three children on Friday mornings, constructing models of the circle of Willis using only pipe cleaners, volunteering at a nursing home, couscous, watching 18 Kids and Counting with my roommate, scoffing at the abomination known to many as "South Carolina Peaches" (j/k south cackalacky! but seriously...), this little bunny that almost always scares the you-know-what out of me when I see him hopping alongside me at a certain segment of one of my running routes near my house, utility bills, and the teeny-tiny basil plant I got at the Watauga County Farmer's Market last week.

After all, I'm still a Plant Lady.

can't go back now

2009-09-08T20:54:00.002-04:00

Yesterday when you were young
Everything you needed done was done for you
Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone, what can you do?

You and me walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now

You know there will be days
When you're so tired
That you can't take another step
The night will have no stars
And you'll think you've gone as far
As you will ever get

You and me wak on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now

And yeah, yeah, you go where you want to go
Yeah, yeah, be what you want to be
If you ever turn around, you'll see me

I can't really say
Why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter
Are the ones you take all by yourself

You and me walk on, walk on, walk on
Yeah, you and me walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now.

-The Weepies

It's tough here. I'm incredibly busy with school and work. I don't have many friends just yet.

However, I find myself clinging to this deep-seated belief that I am in Boone on purpose. When I walk outside to my car each chilly morning, I am reminded. When I heard about an opportunity to take a course on speech pathology in an international context (complete with a spring break study abroad trip to Guatemala) next semester, I knew that the path I've been following since I was in the 10th grade has lead me here. When I discovered that Appalachian acquired one of the faculty members from the MUSC (Medical University of South Carolina) communication disorders program that dissolved last year, I almost had to laugh. He's not just any faculty member - he was their cleft palate specialist - and he's not just any old cleft palate specialist - all of his work has had a multicultural emphasis. Apparently it is his intention to take students on an Operation Smile trip with him in the summer. Naturally, it is my intention to be one of those students.

Yeah, I'm here for a reason - for a purpose. It's just a matter of settling into it. Besides, I just wrote a check for my out-of-state tuition, and I can't go back now.

on being a graduate student

2009-08-27T13:42:00.003-04:00

Being a graduate student is a glamorous thing, indeed. During "orientation," we are bombarded with information on everything from clinical malpractice insurance to the advantages of keeping an extra-large bag of cheap kitty-litter in the trunk of your non-four-wheel-drive car to help combat the ice during Boone's winter months. They take our mug-shots for clinic badges, feed us dinner, and send us on our way.

In the first week, we help our supervisors get settled into their offices if they are new. Professors delegate many tasks to their assistants, which may include, but are not limited to: obtaining basic office supplies (i.e. paper-clips, manila folders, post-it notes, etc.), constructing and installing frames for hanging files in filing cabinets, typing old articles that have been xeroxed so many times they are too difficult for students to read (but apparently, not too difficult for a graduate student), sending emails on behalf of the professor who is computer illiterate*, typing up instructions for aforementioned professor to access and navigate his university email account, filing, offering advice on the appropriate microwave time for a left-over hamburger when asked, and performing general secretarial tasks.

In our classes, we are cautioned by our professors over and over AND OVER again not to overload ourselves, attempt to skip class (unless we have the swine flu), or cheat. They go over each extensive syllabus, but by the time we get to our fourth or fifth class, they've all run together because some teachers teach more than one class and all of our classes meet in one of two rooms. We sit through three-hour classes three days each week. We read a lot. We feel our hearts sink as our advisors key in the override code that allows us to take 15 hours, exceeding the graduate school's recommendation of 12 for full-time students with assistantships.

This is going to be fun.

*I find this term ironic in its application to a tenure-track literacy specialist...

new home

2009-08-18T15:35:00.002-04:00

Please accept my most sincere apologies for not having posted in months. In my defense, I've had kind of a busy summer, what with having the time of my life at camp in Colorado.

Now I'm in Boone. My parents left after lunch today, and now I'm on my own, trying to figure my life out. Graduate school is turning out to be quite different from my undergraduate experience. Whereas an incoming freshman at UGA is held by the hand and spoon-fed everything from meal plan to dorm life to registration to extracurricular activities, here they bombard you with emails and all you can do is cross your fingers and hope you don't screw up. The fact that I've been out of the loop for quite some time doesn't help.

So I'm just sitting in my new room, looking out the window at the green mountains surrounding me, trying to download antivirus software for my computer and mentally blocking the fact that the room behind me still has a box that needs unpacking.

pilgrimage

2009-05-18T09:33:00.018-04:00

We left yesterday around eleven in the morning to begin our pilgrimage to Mount Sinai. Aunt Chrissy, Abbie and I climbed in a rather spacious van with our drivers, Adel and Isam. We stopped to see the Suez Canal, slept a little, and Adel helped me with my Arabic. After about six hours, we arrived at the St. Katherine Protectorate, a National Park in the southern region of the Sinai peninsula.

We stayed at the Plaza, the Catherine* Plaza that is. It reminded me of a place I once stayed in Monjas, Guatemala, El Hotel Lopez. The linens were scratchy, and let's just say we were a little concerned about the potential for bed bug bites and/or intruders entering through our balcony, which I easily scaled in tennis shoes. Fortunately, we only slept for about two hours because we had to wake up early enough to begin our ascent at 2:00 AM. Dinner was included and was served buffet-style. Some things were more delicious than others, the chicken, for example, was great. The bread, not so much. Egyptians must not be the most talented bakers, because they even messed up the little cakes. How can you mess up cake? I didn't think it was possible.

At any rate, after a couple of hours of laughter reminiscent of the slumber parties of our youths, we got a couple hours of sleep, hopped out of bed, packed our little bag, and headed to the mountain. Adel drove us and introduced us to Mahmoud, our Bedouin guide. Think back to your SAT skills, because I'm about to throw an analogy at you:

Bedouin : Mt. Sinai :: Sherpa : Mt. Everest

Got it? Okay, so Mahmoud was this tall, skinny fellow who apparently does this five times a week or so. He carried our bag for us and helped us navigate the roughly five mile ascent through some of the especially treacherous spots. Once we hit the trail, the first thing I noticed was the stars. We were in the middle of the desert, and I haven't seen stars like that since perhaps I was a child in Alaska. The scenery surrounding us made me feel like I was on Mars or something. I'd never seen anything quite like these rocky peaks, just visible in the light of the cresent moon. After a few minutes of a gradual incline, we passed St. Katherine's monastery and came upon a couple of Bedouins offering camel rides. "You want camel?" they would say, "it is good camel and far way." We declined and continued into a small area where there had to be at least fifty camels tethered to rocks, some sitting, some standing, all chewing cud (from where, I cannot imagine). It was rather eerie, all those camels in the moonlight.

Every mile or so there was a "coffee shop," which consisted of a shack on the side of the path that sold candy bars, water, soda, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, etc. The headlamps supplied by Uncle Bill proved incredibly helpful, especially once we got to the end of the switchback camel trail and began the last segment of the climb, a series of 750 steps to to summit. Mahmoud warned us that all along the steps there would be Bedouins offering their hands to help us up the steep path, but that this help was not free. "Lah shakran," we repeated over and over again, "no thank you." Oddly enough, I heard a surprising amount of Russian, and it was pleasant to my ears.

Once we reached the point at which there were only 100 more steps, Mahmoud sent us on without him. I imagine he anticipated the crowds on the summit and was content to wait for our return after sunrise. We reached the summit just after 5:00 AM, and watched as the majestic scenery appeared before our eyes in the twilight. I thought about Moses, all those thousands of years ago, meeting with God on that very mountain top. I thought about how he had to make the journey alone, how he demanded that God show him His glory, how God had him hide in a cleft and passed his hand over it, how Sinai had been the place of the burning bush, when God first spoke to Moses, calling this place holy ground. I couldn't believe I was there.

Just as I was thinking that the sun had already come up and that we were simply unable to see it due to cloud cover and/or pollution, I looked over Aunt Chrissy's shoulder and saw it, peeking up over the horizon. It was bright orange against the dim yellows and blues of the sky, and quickly brought light and heat to the gray mountains all around us, turning them into a red-orange color.

The sun climbed into the sky with alarming speed, and it got hot fast. Though it was easier physically, the descent seemed longer with the heat and pronation of our toes, but we finally made it. We summitted Mount Sinai - probably my first internationally known mountain.

*Please take notice of the spelling discrepancy. This can be attributed to the "E-factor" (E as in Egypt).

egyptian marathon

2009-05-17T02:59:00.003-04:00

In Egypt, a "marathon" is synonomous with a 5k at 4:30 PM in a place called the Wadi Degla Protectorate, one of Egypts National Parks. Prior to my own visit to the Wadi, it was described to me as "a giant sand pit" and "a big gulley," both of which proved to be accurate descriptions.

The Wadi is sort of like a large sandbox multiplied by the grand canyon. It was intense, but we survived. Hopefully I will add pictures to this post very soon.

In other news, I have decided to extend my stay in Egypt until Wednesday so that we can fit in a short trip to Mount Sinai before I leave.

new york minute

2009-05-14T03:54:00.003-04:00

Delta only flies to Cairo out of JFK Int'l Airport in New York, and the late morning flights were all overbooked, so I opted to leave at 7:50, which turned out to be an excellent choice, and this is why:

On the plane, I sat next to a guy from Kennesaw State University whose father also works for Delta. Branden and I immediately hit it off, somehow managing to skip the small talk and discussing only important-type things. He was headed to South Africa the next morning to work on a service project with a leadership organization he is involved with through his school for a month, then to work on a Buddhist farm for a while after that. Early on in the conversation, he asked me if I had any religious affiliations or beliefs. I told him about Jesus and how I felt compelled to love him and oftentimes do so by loving and serving others (or at least attempt to do so) because of his Love and sacrifice for me. He told me that he was really interested in Eastern religions and, more recently, Lebanese philosophy.

We talked about cultures, languages, food, our families, science, faith, sustainability, and stuff white people like, including, but not limited to the following: religions their parents don't belong to, farmer's markets, organic food, diversity, yoga, nonprofit organizations, international travel, Manhattan, veganism/vegetarianism, architecture, bicycles, being the only white person around, study abroad, beards and scarves (well, we didn't actually talk about these two, but he had a beard and I was wearing a scarf despite the warm weather), integrity, native wisdom, platonic friendships (we were the embodiment of this), acoustic covers, books, following their dreams, and public transportation that is not a bus.

By the time we began our initial descent into the New York area, he asked if I wanted to head over to the city for lunch since I had about 6 1/2 hours before my next flight. I decided that since I was apparently already crazy for going to Egypt on a whim, that I would go. Neither of us were especially familiar with public transportation system, but we jointly navigated our way to Manhattan by train, arriving at the 53rd & Madison stop, just a block south of Central Park.

We ate at a place called Smiler's on the corner of 54th & Madison. It was a little market with a cafeteria-style feast of fresher produce than one would expect in the middle of a mega-city. I wish I had taken pictures. After lunch, I still had a little time to kill before I needed to head back to the airport, so we wandered around for a little while, continuing our five-hour-long conversation about nothing and everything. We exchanged contact information, and he promised to write me a letter about his experiences in South Africa. Finally we parted ways with a friendly embrace, and I descended back into the depths of the Subway system as he headed to the park to read.

I don't think I'm making this up, but it is still moderately difficult for me to believe that it actually happened.

call me crazy

2009-05-14T03:41:00.003-04:00

On Monday night, I was lounging on the love seat in the living room of my father's house using his Macbook to check the flight availability of his trip to Milan this weekend. We had tentative plans to take the train to Lake Como and go for a picturesque hike, perhaps a picnic, and of course a photo-shoot. Unfortunately, the flight out of Atlanta had only four seats open, so it was a little risky. Out of curiosity, I checked the flights to Cairo, and found that there were over thirty seats open on the flight out the next day. I mentioned this to my dad, to which he replied, "Call Aunt Chrissy. See what they're doing this week."

Given that this conversation took place around 9:00 PM EST, it was 2:00AM in Cairo, so in leiu of calling, I sent an f'book message:

Re: call me crazy

No seriously, please do call me crazy because I was looking up flight availability for my dad's trip to Italy this weekend because I was trying to go with him, and on an absolute whim I checked the flights to Cairo to see what they looked like because I cannot stand the fact that I will be missing you guys this summer...

The flights are wide open for me to leave tomorrow (I would arrive on Wednesday morning) and return on Monday. I do realize that it would be a lot to organize and at such late notice, and that you guys have lives, so feel completely free to say no kirby, you are crazy, but I would love nothing more than to spend a long weekend with you guys.

Call me first thing in the morning, even if it's the middle of the night here - if this is going to happen i will need to leave pretty early. If not, that is okay, really, no pressure.

Around midnight, my cousin Abbie called me. I finished packing, slept for a couple of hours, and was on my way to the airport by 5:00 AM.

where i'll land

2009-05-04T20:55:00.005-04:00

And I'm waiting for it to come
And I'm hoping for better times
When it comes, I will open my mouth
I'll write songs to make you cry
And I'm learning how to travel in time
How to make right the things I've done wrong
And when I do, I will open my mouth
I'm going back, back, back in time
-Travel in Time by Marching Band

Just a few minutes ago, I began my last 24-hour period of residence in Athens, Georgia, the locus of my soon-to-be Alma Mater. I'm not sure how I should be feeling about this, so I'm just sort of going with it. I've never been good at goodbyes - I prefer to casually leave things off as an assumption that you'll see one another again. Others might spend a night like this celebrating with friends, but being my socially awkward self, I went to the first half of a review for my Statistics final tomorrow, and left at the break without intending to. I walked from the Chapel on North Campus and wound up at Starbucks, where I ordered an iced coffee and kept walking.

I suppose the term "walking" implies purpose, so perhaps a better word is "wandering." I wandered for a few minutes, contemplating the fact that thousands of students had walked under these magnolias before me over the last 200 years or so. I climbed a few of the trees. As often happens, I found a reflection of the over-arching themes of my present life-stage in these moments and actions. I'm kind of wandering these days. It's not that I don't have purpose or Guidance, it's just sort of like it's 4:45 and you've finished your work responsibilities for the day because that's the kind of employee you are, but you can't clock out until 5:00. So what do you do? Run down the clock. A wiser move would be to study for your exams, but when you're a nerd that's kept up with her reading all semester, this option seems a little bit pointless.

I don't think that the Lord isn't directing my path, I'm just on a section of trail devoid of intersections for the moment. Somehow, most probably as a result of this big thinking, I ended up at the SLC, typing this post.

I guess I have some plans for the next couple months and years, really, but after that, I don't know where I'll land. It's strange, considering the compulsive planning addiction I fought as a younger version of myself. This is all I've got so far: June-August in Colorado, perhaps a family vacation to Hilton Head, then to North Carolina for a couple years. After that, who knows? Anything could happen.

six miles

2009-05-01T08:06:00.002-04:00

pilgrimage- any long journey, especially one undertaken as a quest or for a votive purpose, as to pay homage.

I went for a run this morning. It was my last run in Athens, at least for now. Typically I run on the trails at the IM fields or botanical gardens, but I needed to get rid of some of the dirt caked on my shoes (white people love new balance). So I ran around campus on what turned out to be a cognitive pilgrimage of sorts.

First I ran up River Road, where I used to ride my bike home from Linguistics. I continued up East Campus Road until it intersected with Baldwin, where I took a left then a right to run between the old art school and the library, past the North Campus Parking Deck, and toward Tasty World. I made a left at Broad Street and entered North Campus by the arch, making note of the fact that this would be the last time I would go past it and not through it. I zig-zagged my way to Herty Field and made a couple of loops around the fountain before heading to Gilbert Hall and Lumpkin Street.

When I began this run, I didn't have a route in mind really, so I just allowed my memories to string together and I always sort of knew which general direction to head in next. At this point, I was heading for Brumby. I passed Caldwell Hall, which houses the department of Environmental Design and is known as the ugliest building on campus. I found a new treasure tucked between this building and Lumpkin, which, in my opinion, totally redeemed it: The Founder's House and Memorial Garden. It was beautiful, and I found myself regretting the fact that I didn't discover this place my freshman year, because I could have spent countless hours studying there on fine spring days instead of locking myself in my depressing shoebox of a dorm room to forget what the sun looked like.

I ran past the SLC, which apparently is now called the ZMLC (Zell Miller Learning Center), where I spent a great deal of time my first semester here reading for Astronomy and Educational Psychology before my late afternoon Spanish class. I crossed that intersection of Baxter and Lumpkin and ran past the Mell Community and Bolton Dining Commons before coming to the high rises: Creswell, Russell, and up that hill that never gets any easier, Brumby. I spotted my old window in room 442 on the south wing, where I spent my weekends cracking up over bad korean food with my high school sweetheart, who I had already begun to outgrow without even realizing it.

I ran past the West Campus Parking Deck and through my old parking lot and took the same backroads I used Wednesdays on my way to a night class in the Rivers Crossing building on College Station spring semester of freshmen year. When I reached South Lumpkin, I ran to Wesley and cut across between the Georgia Center and the South Campus Parking Deck. I ran past Snelling and the Pharmacy Building, where I realized that I wanted to be a Speech Pathologist during a Survey of Special Education class I took with my sister. I ran past the Turtle Garden, my very favorite place on campus and said goodbye to the turtles and coyfish, past the Forest Resource building, where I frequently slept through statistics. I ran past my climbing tree, where I did a lot of my big thinking sophomore year. I ran past Aderhold, which still looks like a giant waffle to me, and down East Campus Road until it connected with College Station Road.

When I reached the 5 mile mark, I was a little shocked, and thought for a moment that my pedometer was in kilometers instead of miles, because I was feeling really good. Finally, I ran by the health center and IM fields, past the Ramsey center and East Campus Parking Deck, and then home.

I got a really good professional idea on this run: Cognitive Maps for patients in the early stages of Dementia. I'll let you know how that goes.

the first of the lasts

2009-04-21T08:43:00.002-04:00

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

2009-04-19T07:20:00.004-04:00

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

2009-04-14T23:10:00.005-04:00

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

out like a lamb

2009-03-24T07:48:00.005-04:00

Well, March certainly came in like a lion, at least in Athens. For those of you that do not find this city to be your place of residence, we had about 6+ inches of snow - and that is a moderate estimate. It seems safe to say that its on its way out like a lamb.

I promised I would update - I'm going to Appalachian State University in the fall! The more I think about it, the more I feel like a ten year old that's been told he gets to live IN Six Flags for the next two years. Wahoo! North Carolina and I will be fast friends, I'm sure.

Today I went to the science library to check out a book for my language disorders class - I'd forgotten how much I love that place. The quiet of a library is not just a result of a lack of noise, it's one of the few places on campus that truly feels still, and I find the stacks timeless. But my very favorite thing about the library is the books. I love borrowing library books because of the way that they look and feel and even smell - old. You never know whose hands a book has been in, or what countries it's traveled to. In the last three months alone, I've taken library books to Egypt, France, and Switzerland. I wonder where the volume I selected today has been. Probably not anywhere of consequence - it was published in 2008.

The library is awesome.

discovery!

2009-03-20T14:33:00.002-04:00

Wonder of wonders, I have discovered Audiobooks on iTunes! Today I was listening to Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey whilst jogging around the lake and the IM fields this afternoon, when I heard this:

Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.

I've personally found this to be true. Right on, Jane.

east meets west

2009-03-19T07:51:00.006-04:00

The most peculiar thing I saw in Cairo occurred on a women's car on Line 1 of Africa's only metro system. There was a lady, that I assume was commuting to work, completely covered in black from head to toe with only her eyes exposed through a narrow, horizontal slit. As if it wasn't strange enough to see her in such a modern setting, she pulled out her cell phone and started texting. It took a minute for my brain to process that information. Talk about east meets west.

My desire to write seriously about my first trip to Egypt is only outweighed by my inability to put such an experience into words. But I will try to explain.

I guess it would be nice to help in your escape From patterns your parents designed.
-Gronlandic Edit, by Of Montreal

You see, for a plethora of reasons big and small, the Lee family has been separated by strained relationships and physical distance for the entirety of my life. Because of this, I never got to know the members of my father's immediate family as well as I did those of my mother's. Now, as an adult, I've been presented with a choice: do I blame others and accept the lack of relationship, or do something about it?

I decided to do something about it, and that is a large part of why I chose to go to Cairo to visit my Aunt Chrissy, Uncle Bill, and sweet sweet Cousin Abbie on spring break. I must confess that I was a little bit nervous in the weeks preceding my travel, not that there would be drama, but that we would never get past that polite stage, or worse, that they wouldn't "get" me. Boy was I wrong about that.

Abbie is absolutely brilliant, and I found myself forgetting our age difference as we sat at a coffee shop called Beano (yes) on Road 9, sipping our drinks and talking about how we both have trouble relating to our peers, thanks to our old souls. It's amazing to see how much we have in common. She is adventurous and quite brave. Her heart is enormous.

Aunt Chrissy has this youthful quality about her that is hard to describe. As the week progressed, I began to see more and more similarities between her and my dad, as well as their sister, my Aunt Stephanie. Her sense of humor helped me to understand where mine comes from, and reassured me that I am not alone when I crack a HILARIOUS joke that nobody gets, because I can assure you that she would have laughed.

Big Bill, as my other cousin Charlie calls him, lives up to the meaning of his name: protector. He is an excellent husband and father, and very knowledgeable about the region and culture in which his family resides.

We basically spent the whole week laughing at ourselves and the incredibly awkward/comical things that we encountered in our sauntering (including, but not limited to, enduring a straight-up sand storm, riding a gargling camel, walking through dozens of metal detectors that went off without any further investigation, sneaking our way into mummy rooms and the great pyramid at Giza, playing I-Spy on the Nile, sort of being abandoned by our driver in a place called garbage city [and in the process being sort of attacked by droves of uncontrolled school-children], realizing that the Millers have Amelia Bedilia herself working for them, being offered an aphrodisiacal perfume called "Arabian Nights" by the salesman at the Golden Eagle Perfume Palace, being stared at by a creepy Egyptian man at Beano [among many others], and, apparently, meeting our future husbands at the recently bombed Khan el-Khalili market). I found some dear friends and kindred spirits.

As I sat on the plane to fly back to the states, my heart began to ache when I finally accepted the fact that I was leaving them. It's still aching.

whose life is this?

2009-03-05T10:21:00.003-05:00

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who have set foot on African soil and those who have not. Over the course of the next 26 hours, I will make the transition from the latter to the former. I just took a geography midterm, walked to Aderhold, and am typing this in the mac lab while I wait for my next class to start. As soon as it is over, I will dash over to my apartment for a quick lunch, hop in the car, and drive to Atlanta where I will meet my grandparents at the airport (they've graciously offered to keep my car at their house so I don't have to pay for parking).

My first flight leaves Atlanta at 5:20 this afternoon and is scheduled to arrive in Paris at 7:55A tomorrow morning local time (1:55A EST). I just checked the availability: there are 13 seats open and I'm number 5 on the standby list, so it's looking pretty good.

Unfortunately, Charles De Gaulle International Airport and I do not get along very well, so I cannot say that I am looking forward to the 5+ hours I will be spending there tomorrow morning before my Air France* flight to Cairo leaves at 1:35P Friday (7:35A EST.) I should arrive at my final destination around 7:00P local time (12 noon EST).

I called to discuss my travel plans with my mother earlier this morning. The call ended with her saying something about being safe driving to the airport, as that, statistically speaking, will the most dangerous leg of my journey, and to not talk to any strange Parisians. Whose life is this?

*Or Air Chance, as my grandfather so affectionately refers to it.

and yet, the child won't say a single word...

2009-02-16T16:01:00.011-05:00

My baby brother is 17 months old. According to developmental language norms, he should be nearing the fifty-word vocabulary typical of an 18-month-old. He walks, has "conversations" with Elmo, is interested in books, initiates nonverbal social interactions, feeds himself, and has met all major non-verbal developmental milestones.

Just the other day, I received the following email from my stepmom:
Hi there!
Yesterday, Robby, on his own, decided that he wanted to set up his own office.
He took his drum, and put his “My First Laptop” on top of the drum. Then he found a block and brought it over to use as a stool. Then he sat on his block and played with his laptop. He did this all on his own!
I did then hand him the phone to just complete his little office, and of course he knows what to do with that!
Then, he came out the next morning and did the same thing in his pajamas with Mr. Bear.
He is now sitting and playing at his “desk” with his laptop.
I thought you might get a kick out of these pictures.
I guess Jim and I spend a little too much time on our laptops and someone picked up on this!
Love you!
Patti

And yet still, not a single word. I think he's teasing me.

the chacos

2009-02-11T08:26:00.002-05:00

The sun shone yellow on its grey head, reminding me of summer; and I cannot say why, but all at once, a gush of child's sensations flowed into my heart. -from Wuthering Heights

I love winter. I love the necessity of bundling up in layers of sweaters and scarves. I love the warmth of a cup of tea in my cold fingers. I love the prospect of snow and the season of epiphany (thanks to the Mars Hill Bible Church Podcast). We've experienced a preview of spring over the last few weeks, though. Seriously, I've pulled the chacos out, and unless the temperatures dip below freezing for an extended period of time again, I will not be persuaded to put them back in my closet.

I'm looking forward to spring.

maybe the buses should have seat belts

2009-01-29T18:09:00.001-05:00

Today I was riding a North-South bus en route from my Human Geography class in the instructional plaza to my Language Disorders class in Aderhold. Just as we were turning by the coliseum, a Volvo decided to pull out in front of the bus, forcing the driver to slam on his brakes. The next thing I knew, my bookbag and I had been ejected from our seat, and was sort of flying through the sparse crowd standing around the front section of the bus. I landed a foot or two away from the driver with a pair of knees that would have been skinned without the protection of my jeans, staring up into a dozen pairs of eyes that looked as shocked as I'm sure mine did.

The next thing I realized was that my bookbag was on top of my chest and that the bus was still moving towards the next stop, which was mine. I pulled myself up and lumbered back to my seat, where my classmates began demanding a slew of reassurances that I was, in fact, okay. At this point, we had about four minutes to run a quarter of a mile to our class. I jumped off the bus and jogged down Carlton Street, arriving just in time.

Turns out, the only injury I actually sustained was minor: I jammed the ring and little fingers of my left hand. It hurts to type, which is an important part of my job, but thankfully, I'm not scheduled to work again until Monday.

Maybe the buses should have seat belts.

virtues

2009-01-26T22:31:00.005-05:00

My small group leaders asked us to come up with a list of virtues for our lives - a list of characteristics that will determine the choices we make, and therefore, the paths we take, regardless of emotion, circumstance, or pressure of pleasing others. Here's what I've come up with so far:

1. Practice forbearance, or patient endurance and self-control; abstaining from the enforcement of a right. According to Rob Bell, forbearance is an act of kindness where retaliation is expected. Basically: I will choose to love my enemies, do good to those who hate me, and pray for those who mistreat me because that is how Jesus loves.

2. Exercise modesty, but not in the way one might initially assume. Of course I will dress appropriately, but modesty is so much more than that. Modesty protects our purity - the hidden person of our hearts. It is a lack of pretentiousness, freedom from vanity and boastfulness, and a moderate estimate of one's own worth or importance.

3. Seek wise counsel. It is far too easy to make careless mistakes in life. Discipleship allows us to draw from the experience of those wiser than us, as well as share our mistakes with others so that they don't have to repeat them. This, of course, includes the Wisest Counsel of all [Who should be my first resort].

4. Foster compassion. I will protect my soft heart from becoming calloused by sharing in the heartache, pain, and sorrows of others. I will help them to bear their burdens and take the time to listen, even when, no, especially when it is inconvenient. When I can't sit through a geography lecture on genocide without tearing up, I won't get frustrated with myself. Rather, I will realize that such a reaction is a reflection of the heart of God.

5. Offer beauty. I will not be beautiful for vanity's sake, but rather serve those around me with my loveliness. I will be a life-giver, inviting my brothers and sisters into peace and encouraging them to enjoy life.

6. Be vulnerable. I will boast in my weaknesses and share my life with others. I will be open and honest with those around me, in hopes that Grace will be the resounding theme that those who listen to my story will be unable to ignore. I will make no apologies for who I am.

7. Exhibit bravery. In light of the fact that my middle name means "Lion of God," I will not fear new or unfamiliar things, but rather embrace them as adventures in which The Strong God will partner with me.

kirby.arielle.lee

2009-01-26T21:47:00.004-05:00

Because I love Zion,
I will not keep still.
Because my heart yearns for Jerusalem,
I cannot remain silent.
I will not stop praying for her
until her righteousness shines like the dawn,
and her salvation blazes like a burning torch.
The nations will see your righteousness.
World leaders will be blinded by your glory.
And you will be given a new name
by the Lord’s own mouth.
The Lord will hold you in his hand for all to see—
a splendid crown in the hand of God.
Never again will you be called “The Forsaken City”
or “The Desolate Land.”
Your new name will be “The City of God’s Delight”
and “The Bride of God,”
for the Lord delights in you
and will claim you as his bride.
-Isaiah 62:1-4

I love the concept of Zion; apparently it used to refer specifically to a mountain near Solomon's temple in Jerusalem, the dwelling place of the Spirit of God, but over time its meaning expanded. Think about it: where is the dwelling place of the Spirit now? Hint:

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? -1 Corinthians 6.19

"For we are the temple of the living God." (2 Corinthians 6.16) I suppose that makes you and me, figuratively speaking, Zion. Curiously, my first name means "church settlement" (in Old Norse), "village where the church is" (in scandinavian), or, if you will allow the stretch, "Zion."

My dad named me, and while I'm certain these thoughts hadn't crossed his mind when he signed my birth certificate, I refuse to accept this as coincidence. My middle name, Arielle, is hebrew for "Lion of God." I guess that is where the whole fierceness thing comes from. The imagery alone sends chills down my spine, for the courage that He has called me to is already part of my identity. All that's left for me to do is test it out - be brave.

And then there's Lee.

"Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing
Like the love that let us share our name."
-The Avett Brothers, Murder in the City

Lee means "sheltered from the storm." How very fitting. Kirbylee, as my dearest friends often call me, literally means "church settlement sheltered from the storm."

I love my name. Thank you, big jim.

natural beauty

2009-01-25T15:05:00.015-05:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Maryanne Williamson

This weekend, I co-taught a beauty/nutrition class at a middle/high school girls conference. I can't even tell you how much fun I had and how much I already love the girls in my small group. The only way I could bear to drag myself away from them yesterday was remembering that Disciple Now is less than two months away. In preparation for talking about beauty, I did a little introspection and an even smaller amount of research. I flipped through an old, thoroughly underlined book that I read, appropriately, in high school:

"In The Sound of Music, the Countess has Maria beat in the looks department, and they both know it. But Maria has a rare and beautiful depth of spirit. She has the capacity to love snowflakes on kittens and mean-spirited children. She sees the handiwork of God in music and laughter and climbing trees. Her soul is alive, and we are drawn to her." -Captivating, pg. 16-17

I also wrote this journal entry on 20 Janvier:

One of the very deepest longings of my heart is to be a natural beauty. I'm not sure precisely what that means, but I think its more than just not needing to wear makeup. In fact, I think that you can be a natural beauty and still wear makeup. I think it has more to do with demeanor than physical appearance. I want to feel beautiful - to make others around me feel it themselves. Beauty has a lot to do with confidence, and confidence, knowing the truth about yourself: the LORD created me; I am his masterpiece, his handiwork, his poetry, so of course he finds me beautiful. As if that knowledge wasn't enough, He is showing me who I am:

I love boxing movies and waking up early. I'm a cat person, a mountain-girl with a weak spot in her heart for banjo music, beards, and plaid. I like to make my friends laugh, and nights in with a small group of friends appeals to me so much more than a night out (unless you are talking about out-camping). I like to ride my bike in a skirt and I love cold weather and sweaters, although autumn is, without question, my favorite season, and November my favorite month. My favorite color is green - almost any shade except kelly. More recently, I have grown into my love for deep purple, or eggplant, if you will.

I don't really keep up with current events, and I'm not sure whether I will or not when I finish college. I'm learning to appreciate antiques, and I love fresh fruit and whole grain bread from the Publix bakery. I consider myself an accomplished granola-maker and I love dark chocolate. Spending time with my grandparents is very important to me and I love hearing their stories from different stages of life. I hug really hard and love even harder. I stopped using product in my hair a few months ago in an effort to move toward the whole "natural beauty" thing. I like it. At my mother's request, I started plucking my eyebrows last week, but the jury's still out on that one. I'm taining for a 10k right now, with the eventual goal of completing a half-marathon in the spring. I'm not a runner, so this is a challenge for me.

I know I've posted lists like this before, but the reason I share these things about myself is to encourage others to discover the intricate and purposeful details of their own identity. The LORD cares, for "even the very hairs on your head are all numbered." (matthew 10.30)

"This is what we are inviting you to: not to learn one more set of standards you fail to meet, not toward a new set of rules to live by and things you ought to do, something far far better - a journey of the heart, a journey toward restoration and release of the woman you always longed to be. It's about discovering who you already are, as a woman." -Captivating, pg. 19

As I told the girls this weekend, things like purity and modesty are vital in protecting the "hidden person of our hearts," but if we don't come to know who that hidden person is, we will underestimate our own worth, reducing purity/modesty to a seemingly pointless list of rules. If we ask Jesus to reveal to us just the tiniest glimmer of who we are in his eyes - just one or two quirks that make us so unique and beautiful - we will fight to guard the purity of our hearts: a process known is some circles as modesty.

round two

2009-01-15T18:09:00.002-05:00

My sister Mallory just got accepted to North Georgia College and State University, which is where she's wanted to go, and where I think she will absolutely thrive. I am so excited for her. It's kind of weird because it doesn't seem like it was that long ago that I was in her shoes: trying to decide where to go to college and wondering what to study once I got there. When I was her age, I didn't know myself well enough to make a well-thought-out decision, and looking back, I feel pretty confident that God sort of shepherded me to UGA.

This is the place where I discovered [read: began discovering] who I am. This is the place that I found my major and have grown in my passion thereof. This is the place where I met my sister-friends. This is the place where I got to know Jesus a lot better than I ever have (it's difficult to keep that from happening when Someone rebuilds your broken heart...). This is the place where I've transitioned from "girl" to "young woman," as weird as that is to admit. This is the place where I realized that I really like climbing and yoga and aerobic dance.

Oddly enough, if I had known everything about myself that I've learned during my time at UGA when I was in high school, I never EVER in a million years would have chosen this school for myself. I have no doubt that this is where I was supposed to be over the last few years and for the next few months. But when May comes, I feel confident that I will be ready, not relieved, but equipped to peacefully accept the fact that the time has come to move on. The fun part is, I'm sort of getting a second crack at picking out a school that is a better fit for me.

I've submitted applications to UNC-Chapel Hill and Appalachian State University, and should hear back from them sometime in March.

Will keep you posted.

2008

2009-01-07T18:01:00.005-05:00

2008 was a great year.

It was a year of firsts...
-first resolution kept.
-first vacation without parents.
-first time I really loved college.
-first international flight on my own.
-first time a boy I dated long ago (in high school) got married.
-first full year of consistent discipleship.
-first bachelorette party.
-first (second, and third) blind date.
-first time i flew on a plane that my dad was flying.
-first tattoo (yeah).

It was a year of lasts...
-last time i register for courses at UGA.
-last holiday season in Athens.
-last Audiology class.
-last roommate Christmas.

Looking back, I realize that I learned a lot about life in 2008, specifically, about enjoying life. Being happy is less about circumstances, whether good or bad, than it is about being flexible and rolling with the punches. It's about remembering to Hope. It's about getting to know people better -asking good questions and learning about who they are makes it virtually impossible not to grow in your love for them.

In 2008, I discovered music that made me want to dance or sing or turn the volume all the way up or put that one song on repeat. I learned to laugh at myself. I learned to let go of the desire to reinvent myself - to relax and just be still - to slow down and realize that there's no need to hurry. I learned to love my home and know that it will still be there for me no matter how far away I travel or how long I am away. I learned to see my fears as adventures and receive love from my friends and family.

I've learned that sometimes in life, your heart gets broken, but that often times, this very process sets you free. Even if it's not what wanted, it's important to see it for what it is: emancipation. Maybe if things never changed you would have been happy still, perhaps you're sure of that, even. That's me. But I know I wouldn't have taken a chance on all the adventures that 2008 held if things never changed. I might be happy, but I would certainly be a different, more boring person. So good comes from circumstances that seem like the end of the world to us. I suppose that's just the kind of God we serve.

old soul

2009-01-06T14:57:00.006-05:00

Today I traveled back in time. Well, sort of. That's what it felt like, anyway. I went to North Hall to peek on the yearbook and visit my favorite teacher, Mrs. Shirley, a habit I've developed over the course of the past few years. This was the first year that I didn't recognize anybody, because all of the girls on staff were in middle school when I was editor, except the freshmen, who were in the fifth grade that year. As Mrs. Shirley introduced me to the staff, my mind wandered. I graduated from high school three years ago. So much has changed. But when did it happen? I don't remember suddenly growing up, and although I know I'm a much cooler person than I was at seventeen, it's still hard to believe that I'm all grown-up, or nearly so.

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
Were still fighting it, were still fighting it.
-Ben Folds, Still Fighting It

As I listened to their carefree banter, I began to feel so... old. To be fair, I'd felt like a forty-year-old with really young friends all through high school, and even in college, I sometimes have a hard time relating to my peers. How did I expect to feel upon my return to the very room I spent the majority of my high school career in, what with this old soul of mine?

Everything seems to have changed: my taste in music, my sense of humor, my regard for others, my financial awareness, my hopes and fears, the focus of my academic and professional pursuits, my relationship with Jesus, you name it.

Three years doesn't seem like such a long time; it shouldn't be able to create such a vast chasm of age-difference, after all, two of my best friends are six years older than me, but these sweet teenage girls certainly did not feel like my peers. Don't get me wrong, most of the girls were juniors, which is the group I had at Disciple Now in March, and I loved spending time with them. They have such beautiful and sincere hearts, and I hope to move up with them this year, although I would love to have sophomore girls again. But I do not consider them my peers. I wouldn't seek accountability or solicit advice from them.

No, I've grown up. This makes me want to laugh when I think about how I skipped out to my car in the rain this morning in my hot pink gingerbread pajamas, pausing to splash in the puddles along the way. I can act so childish at times, but I think that being comfortable enough with yourself to act like a child is part of maturity.

The problem is, I don't really want to grow up.

switzerland

2009-01-02T10:07:00.005-05:00

Tuesday was kind of glorious because I went to Switzerland with my dad. After catching up on a few hours of sleep, we ventured out, me in my cold gear and wool sweater, him in his flannel-lined cargo pants. Dad bought our tram tickets and we headed downtown for a pit-stop at Starbucks, where we took advantage of the Wi-Fi access for his iPhone over a couple of $4 cups of STRONG coffee. Next, we grabbed a couple of brats at the station before jumping on the train to the place where we could access the gondola that would whisk us up another couple hundred feet above sea level to the ridge overlooking the Zurich Sea.

At some point, perhaps en route to Starbucks or over lunch, dad asked if I still wanted to go hiking, despite the cold and the cloud cover that would potentially obstruct the typically picturesque view of the mountains all around us. Without hesitation, I answered yes (I am, after all, a mountain girl). Later, during our ascent in the gondola, we noticed that the trees were frosty, and the next minute, we burst into the sunlight, escaping the thick blanket of clouds. I knew I had made the right choice, and soon admitted to Big Jim that when I answered "yes" to his inquiry, I had this feeling that the Lord had something special planned for us.

We stepped off the platform and into Narnia. (gondola vs. magical wardrobe made from a tree planted with fruit from another world - what's the difference?) The ground was covered in a thin, but fresh layer of snow. The sun was shining, its rays penetrating the thickness of the forest in a dazzling kaleidoscopic fashion, while tufts of powdery white snow was falling all around us, dusting my hair and eyelashes. We began to follow the yellow diamond blazes that marked the wide trail, or Wanderweg, it you will, but couldn't make it more than twenty or thirty feet without stopping to snap a few photographs. I couldn't stop smiling and laughing and running to catch up with my dad after pausing to admire the tiny ice crystals that clung to only one side of a small tree - the side opposite the direction of the sun's warmth. Soon we even came upon a lamp post, and I turned around, half expecting to catch a glimpse of Mr. Tumnus peering out from behind a tree.

We walked past fields of snow and small farm houses. Occasionally, dad would abruptly stop and turn around, explaining that the best pictures are sometimes right behind you. We walked on in silence for a few moments and I thought about everything that I'd just experienced. It would have been nice to have a clearer view into the distance - to see the breathtaking snow-capped range surrounding us, but that's not what God had planned for us. Instead he surprised us with a sight that I like to think few people, or at least, few Georgians, have experienced: a little patch of snowfall in the midst of a sunny Swiss afternoon. Would I have appreciated the things so close to me if I had been distracted by things off in the distance? Perhaps, but probably no to the extent that I did. Life so often works in much the same way. The future is kept hidden from us so that we are better able to live - to truly live - in the present.

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
"Who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been his counselor?"
"Who has ever given to God,
that God should repay him?"
For from him and through him and to him are all things.
To him be the glory forever! Amen.
-Romans 11:33-36

After a few hours, we came to a tower with an icy spiral staircase that we ascended with care. From the top, we had a more aerial view of at least the tops of the peaks around us, or at least those tall enough to tower above the vast foggy quilt covering the earth below us. A perfect afternoon.

oh, it's a hickey

2008-12-25T22:30:00.005-05:00

I've seen the way you deal with things
the troubles that this life can bring
if it get to you, I scan't tell by the way you sing
you act like it just doesn't mean a thing
I see you dancing all your, dancing all your, dancing all your days
maybe you can tell me how it is your got that way.
-The Avett Brothers, Dancing Daze

I really do love to dance, despite the fact that I'm not very good at it. One of the most important things I learned in Russia is to not care about dancing in front of people. It's just fun, and occasionally I am overtaken by the irrepressible desire to move with music. Many of you have witnessed this. Recently, I've been sharing this behavior of mine with my baby brother. Long story short, he has been conditioned to dance whenever he hears that Peanuts Christmas song - you know the one. I think dancing is a sort of outward expression of a carefree spirit, and for me, it's become a branch of humor (again, many of you have witnessed this).

Put music to our troubles;
We'll dance them away.
-mewithoutYou, The Ghost

Here is an anecdote that exhibits what I like to think of as "verbal" dancing: earlier this evening I was at a Christmas gathering in Oakwood - my mom's dad's family. My grandfather has six siblings, all of which have children and grandchildren, providing me with half-a-dozen cousins that are my age, give or take a year. Tonight I was the only one that didn't bring a girlfriend or boyfriend with me, which, honestly, made me feel a little like a failure at life. I do realize that this is silly, especially since I'm only twenty, and have, as my mother reassured me, "had plenty of boyfriends," (which is true).

I still found myself feeling a little . . . I don't know, out of place or something. Fortunately, I was able to diffuse the uncomfortable feeling by answering anyone inquiring about the small, but rather noticeable burn (curling iron) on my forehead with "oh, it's a hickey."

That got them laughing.

love as strong as death, jealously demanding as the grave

2008-12-10T13:27:00.002-05:00

He won't relent until He has it all. Thank God.

Place me like a seal over your heart,
like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
like a mighty flame.
Many waters cannot quench love;
rivers cannot wash it away.
If one were to give
all the wealth of his house for love,
it would be utterly scorned.
-Song of Songs 8:6-7

mallory

2008-12-07T08:33:00.002-05:00

This is my Mallory. I must confess that I still think of her as the tiny creature that endured the middle seat between Kalen and me on our family road trip down the Pacific Coast Highway the summer before she started Kindergarten. When I remember that she is about to graduate from high school, it freaks me out a little bit.

Just look at how beautiful she is! I want to celebrate her. Mallory is a Sanguine social butterfly - the life of every party; she never meets a stranger. She loves little kids and each one she meets loves her back, especially the boys. Mallory has a good heart. She will excel at whatever she chooses to do in her life, and I cannot wait to see what the Lord has planned for her.

Mallory loves Special K Red Berries. She hates fruit cake cookies. She is always so encouraging to me in a much-appreciated straight-forward kind of way. I love her.

manna for me = community

2008-12-05T16:12:00.005-05:00

Manna is a hell of a drug.
-Manchester Orchestra

I write enough about myself, so in honor of Speculation's first birthday, I though I would write about some of my very favorite people - friends and family members that have shaped this plant lady into who she is.

There are so many people that have stuck with me through thick and thin - best friends that have literally come into my closet (I used to hide in there when I was upset - maybe I still do, I just haven't been upset enough since March, I guess...) and sat in my laundry basket holding my hand and listening or pulled me out to make me go out to dinner with them. Others have walked some of northeast Georgia's long switchback trails with me, both figuratively and literally, helping me to navigate some tricky spots and always inviting me to share my heart by sharing hers. Women just a few years older than me have taken me under their wings, sharing their hearts and lives with me. They have offered advice that has led to some of the wisest decisions that I have ever made - and that I certainly would not and could not have made on my own.

My sisters have never failed to make me laugh, whether it was saying just the right thing at the right moment, helping me tear up old Valentines, taking me to the aquarium, or dragging me to Paris for a day. My baby brother has been a huge source of joy in my life. I'm thankful for three beautiful roommates with which to do life. They are some of the most excellent listeners I've ever met. My parents have driven hours, flown across the country, and rented a cargo van in an effort to help me make the best possible decisions regarding graduate school. My step-parents have been endlessly encouraging - guiding me through the process of escaping Italy in time for school the next day and constantly providing a slightly less biased opinion than their spouses are genetically capable of : that I am a clever young woman with a good heart. Half-a-dozen or so supportive grandparents continually teach me what unconditional love looks like.

Old friends and new, close family members and those far away, there are so may people that surround me - people to love and to be loved by. I am so thankful.

My aunt and uncle have opened their home to me on several occasions this fall, which has helped my observations at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta a much more pleasant experience. Last night we decorated ginger bread houses with the children. It was so good to just relax and be a part of their little family. I love spending time with them and have been doing this about once a month since August. I so admire my Aunt and Uncle. They are raising such healthy children (nutritionally, emotionally, socially, spiritually, and intellectually) and I hope to incorporate some of what I have learned from them into my own home one day. They are great parents and I can tell that they love each other like crazy. She respects him and he loves her. I watch them serve and submit to one another and it is so beautiful. He takes out the recycling for her and she makes chocolate-covered strawberries for him. I love sitting around and talking with them after the children go to sleep. These nights have been some of my favorites this year. So thank you, Newton family, for your love and gracious hospitality.

grocery shopping

2008-12-01T15:05:00.004-05:00

I love grocery shopping - probably more than anyone should. Seriously. I think I would do it for a living if I could. I love the process in its entirety; I think it can be segmented into three steps:

1. Preparation. I keep a running list on my desk during the week. If I think of something I need, I jot it down. At some point over the weekend, I pull up the Publix Weekly Ad and add things to my list based on what's on sale. Once the list is complete, I toss it in one of my cloth grocery bags and wait patiently for one of my favorite moments of each week:

2. The Big Show. I always start in the bakery and work my way back through the deli towards the produce section before working my way up and down the aisles. Its lovely to have a store that you are familiar with. The list is helpful - necessary, even - but its also important to stay flexible. Blueberries might be on sale, but you might get to the store and find out that they don't look as delicious as one might expect. You might also get inspired on aisle seven. I generally do my grocery shopping on Sunday or Monday because of the penny item. Sometimes its peanut butter or old fashioned oatmeal. I've also seen toilet paper or coffee. Today it was frozen pizza. I hear a lot of people complaining about Publix prices being high, but they always have a wide variety of bargains in their sale paper each week. I'm getting to know the people that work at my Publix, which is nice, and even though I don't usually accept the offer, its nice that they always ask if you need help getting your groceries out to your car.

3. Cool-Down. Don't laugh, but I literally buckle my grocery bags up in the back seat (you can never be too careful with eggs and such). I even love putting the groceries away in their respective "homes." Obviously, I start with perishables, then move on to the pantry.

Perhaps this is selfish, but I hope that I get to go grocery shopping on a relatively regular basis for the rest of my life.

three more days

2008-11-18T20:27:00.004-05:00

I just got to get you this good job done
so I can bring it on home to you.
-Ray LaMontagne, Three More Days

Things I'm interested in pursuing over the break:

1. Yoga on Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday at the Y.
2. Visiting the eye doctor [new glasses].
3. Pizza from Little Italy [It's true, we have one in Athens, but it's just not the same].
4. Spending some time at Holly Park.
5. Illustrating a children's book called Carl's Cochlear Implant.
6. Giving blood.
7. Hiking.
8. Watching Seinfeld every night.
9. Sharing a bed with my baby sister.
10. Chasing my baby brother around the house.
11. Family Christmas picture.
12. Running with new puppy.
13. Seeing my family.
14. Consuming 4x an appropriate daily caloric intake in one sitting.
15. Cooking with my grandmothers.

Three more days. Please share your list.

it's not easy

2008-11-16T08:38:00.002-05:00

People, people, people, they make it sound so easy
They say just do what your heart tells you to
But sometimes you cannot feel it
Sometimes you cannot hear it
Sometimes it won’t talk back to you.
-from Pretty Girl From San Diego by The Avett Brothers

Do you ever feel like you're just barely treading water? Like you're using every ounce of energy to keep your head in the air so you can breathe? Do you ever feel that way for no apparent reason? Perhaps it can be attributed to some weird reaction between senioritis and anxiety about graduating a year before most of my friends. I feel like I'm losing sight of the vision I've been so sure of for months and years even. I'm questioning the choices I've made regarding my career path. I'm worried that I will, as so many others have, forget the compassion I now feel for refugees, widows, and orphans when I transition from youth to "real" adulthood.

How do you know if your choices are pleasing to the Lord? How do you decide between good, better, and best? Can I honestly place any amount of trust in decisions that I made my freshman year apart from God? Why have I had such overwhelming peace about all of this until now? Are these doubts something that I've conjured up within myself, or are they meant as a way of communication from the Holy Spirit?

appalachian

2008-11-08T20:20:00.004-05:00

I know it's hard to see Me darling
let your eyes adjust
if you go blind just trust
you were made out of My dust.
-from Dogs by Page France

Sometimes I get confused about where I'm headed. I expect that that statement makes a lot of you laugh because I've always been the kind of girl that knows where she's headed and how to get there. While it's true that I am blessed with a substantial amount of clarity (especially for a college student) on most days, my mind can get pretty foggy on others. It feels like driving up an unfamiliar twisty mountain road at night; the headlights of the oncoming traffic seem to temporarily blind you and you hope your impaired vision doesn't last long enough to make you careen around a curve and off a cliff. (...better try the emergency brake!)

I wonder if I'm making the right decisions, or if I'm extending grace as freely as it's been extended to me. I worry that the things I desire are not the things I'm "supposed" to desire, or that I'm slipping back into the habits of my old slave-to-schoolwork self. I know that I make the world about myself far too often, and I second-guess many of the ways I've chosen to interpret reality.

I suppose there are a lot of things that I would sort of like to happen, but I think that I'm finally learning to surrender my own personal agenda to the will of the One that loves me more than anyone ever has or ever will. You see, I have a history of holding on too tightly to good things that just were not best for me; my grandmother once described me as "loving hard." It sounds like a good thing, but I'm not really interested in going down any more dead-end roads.

I'm confused about a lot of things, but in this moment, as I type this, and for the last few days really, I have wanted nothing but whatever God's very best is for me. I feel as though I can say that with more honesty than ever before.

My mom and I went to visit Appalachian State University this weekend and I loved it. I won't say too much, but Boone felt ten times more right than Seattle felt wrong. There was space for my heart up in the mountains.

baby teeth

2008-10-26T10:45:00.009-04:00

Last night one of my dearest friends came over to my apartment for a pajama party. We made quesadillas and ate fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies [read: cookie dough]. We created artwork and watched P.S. I Love You. We talked, and between fits of laughter, she helped me realize something incredible around two o'clock this morning.

Do you ever question the purpose of some past occurrence? The feeling I'm referring to is different from regret; I simply wonder why the Lord allows certain events to transpire - people or things that change us drastically if he knows from the beginning that they will end in heartache. I posed this question to my friend and she answered with wisdom. She suggested that the absence of pieces of my heart that I felt I had lost is creating space for new things - better things - that God wants to fill me with.

kind of like losing your baby teeth.

This morning I found myself wondering more about the concept of baby teeth. So, naturally, I googled it. This is what I found:

Baby teeth are widely found in the animal kingdom. Fish an reptiles continuously lose and replace their teeth throughout their lives, but mammals have just two sets of teeth. . . . Young mammals' skulls are small, and it's impossible for them to accommodate a full array of adult choppers, so juveniles have cute little temporary teeth to fit in their immature jaws. Once the bones of the cranium have developed to adult size, the tiny teeth start wiggling and fall out. . . . The process for initiating the formation of permanent teeth in humans is not completely understood. Normally, permanent teeth come in at about age six as part of a genetic development sequence whose temporal trigger is not yet known. Perhaps these teeth start jumping ship after being made to chew all sorts of stuff off the floor for the last five years. . . . As the enzymes break down the tooth's root and surrounding connective tissue, the tooth loosens until it's time for the old 'dad and string ploy' to provide space for the adult tooth.

I could take this metaphor so very far, but I will spare you. All I will say is that about a year ago I was (spiritually) walking around with a toothless grin.

In answer to the question of the purpose of baby teeth, I simply have to look at my little brother. Yesterday dad and I took him up to Dockery Lake for a quick 7 mile in-and-out. On our way home we stopped in Dahlonega for lunch and three chocolate-covered pretzels from the Fudge Factory. This is what happened:

Robby's baby teeth provide sustenance for him at this stage in his life, but he will eventually outgrow them. That is not only okay and normal - it's beautiful.

[definitely something to smile about]

pause

2008-10-22T17:43:00.002-04:00

Check it out. I just wrote on my friend's facebook wall and had to laugh at the irony of my words. She asked me how life was, and I told her that it was busy but good - flying by - and that I often wish I could press pause.

Oddly enough, I used the same VCR metaphor in a slightly different sense on my second-ever Speculations post, Fast Forward, which I wrote on the last day of 2007.

Thankfully, 2008 has been a year of new beginnings.

basil, meet italian parsley and mint.

2008-10-20T15:43:00.006-04:00

Given the title of this blog, I thought it would be appropriate to announce that I acquired two new herbs today, Italian Parsley and Mint, to add to my collection. I felt as though I lived up to my nickname for the first time since December, when it was first given to me. I had packed up my car to head home for the holidays and all three of my roommates accompanied me down for a proper send-off. In the passenger seat, they noticed a box of plants that were coming home with me, and Lindsey said I was like a plant lady instead of a cat lady.

Today on the elevator, one of my neighbors asked me about the plants in my hand. When I told her that they were herbs, she wondered if I used them for cooking. I told her yes, and that they made my room smell lovely as well. She asked if they were difficult to keep healthy. I explained that they like a lot of sunshine and just a little water. She said she was going to head over to Publix to get some of her own.

I guess I am kind of a plant lady.

fifty percent chance of rain

2008-10-18T22:42:00.005-04:00

You know how when the sky starts to clear after it's been raining all morning on a day when you have something planned outside in the afternoon, and you're not quite sure if the sun is truly going to come out or not? And you know how sometimes in those moments, you hear a bird singing, and even though you don't speak bird, you somehow know that the song means that the sun is definitely coming out - that it's just a matter of time?

I like that.

sixty and sunny

2008-10-18T19:40:00.006-04:00

Today I found myself sitting on the sideline watching my little sister's soccer game: the epitome of the American Dream. Nearby, a parking lot full of shiny gas-guzzling SUVs proudly displaying political stickers on their bumpers glistened in the mid-morning sun. I wondered how many hundreds of thousands of dollars were spent on that specific advertising effore alone, and how far we could have progressed in the way of "fighting the war on terrorism" if we had devoted even a fraction of those funds to the education of boys and girls in Afghan refugee camps in Peshawar.

I listened to the coach, who happens to be a deacon at my church, SCREAM at the nine-year-old girls on his team. What? I mean, WHAT? It's soccer. They are nine. Keep your pants on, dude. It's October. It's sixty and sunny. Enjoy the day (and forgive me, but I've had a year to think about it, and the Love I share with the Living God cannot be likened to a baseball diamond by any stretch of the imagination).

To be fair, I was experiencing these events while reading the story of the first girl in Baltistan to receive an education beyond the fifth grade level. Her name is Shakeela. "I'd like to become a doctor, and go to work wherever I am needed," she says. "I've learned the world is a very large place and so far, I've only seen a little of it." My sentiments exactly, Shakeela.

After listening to the team mom pressure the couple sitting next to me into signing their daughter up for a tournament in Dahlonega next month when he'll be out of town on a business trip and she'll be struggling to find someone to keep the kids that night during her shift at the Ronnie Green Heart Center, I made a commitment to myself, the Lord, my future family, and a group of children not yet born on the other side of the world. I will abstain from participating in this portion of American culture.

So don't be surprise if I peace-out on the U.S. for a while after I finish school. The opportunity for an excellent education has been freely handed to me. I didn't have to fight for it, and nobody told me that a woman's place is to work in the fields - that it's a waste of time to fill my head with knowledge that I will never put to use. It will be a joy to see that others, less fortunate than myself, benefit from that gift: Grace.

"If you really want to change a culture, to empower women, improve basic hygiene and health care, and fight high rates of infant mortality, the answer is to educate girls." -Greg Mortenson

two years and four months ago

2008-10-09T17:23:00.011-04:00

Occasionally, I get this sinking suspicion that I am trying to reinvent myself. I suppose much of this stems from the intermittent realization that I am, in many ways, quite different from who I used to be, though it requires an objective viewpoint - taking a step outside of myself - to see the differences clearly. An introspective survey of my last few years can be helpful.

Today I had my final advising appointment of my undergraduate career. That fact hit me like a ton of bricks as I sat in the waiting room of Student Services on the first floor of Aderhold. I remembered looking anxiously across the room at my dad who sat in that very chair at the end of orientation, flipping through course catalogs and C.O.E. promotional materials. I had impulsively decided to change my major to early childhood education, and after that ever-supportive father of mine bullied his way into getting me an individual appointment with an adviser, I had only to wait. That was exactly two years and four months ago.

When autumn came, I changed my major to speech therapy on a whim at best. I only allowed about one week to elapse between the time I first considered the option and filling out the forms in my adviser's office once again. I had absolutely no business making important decisions at that point in my life; I did not consult God and the thought of praying about it did not even cross my mind. After all, it was MY life, and I was free to make my own decisions (and mistakes).

So freshman year, I made the transition from an intended to an actual CMSD major, and like most of the girls, planned to work in an elementary school - the perfect occupation for a wife and mother. I totally deserved to have to start over with a new major - to have all the fruit of my academic toil rot in my hands as I held onto it so tightly, but my God is a compassionate One, and I truly believe that during that year when I closed my ears to the voice of the Holy Spirit, He was whispering into my heart the entire time.

Take all that you have
and turn it into something you were missing
Somebody threw that brick
And shattered all your plans
Yeah.
-Brand New, Sowing Season (Yeah)

Although my academic endeavors were allowed to remain intact, He desperately wanted my attention - my acknowledgment and love - He wanted me. So he caught my attention last November in what I've come to realize was really the only way he could have done so. My word, it was painful - and not just for me. Through the process of healing, He's redirected my career path, albeit just slightly, and given me the most precious of gifts: vision. He's reawakened the wild and free and adventurous parts of my spirit - parts that had fallen victim to the American Dream. These days, the girl I see in the mirror is forever ruined for that life she once so desperately wanted.

I will probably never be a soccer-mom-SLP that works in an elementary school. Instead, I have this picture of myself doing international mission work in some of the scariest places on earth... most recently I've become intrigued with the middle east. I'm reading Three Cups of Tea, and I've determined that, if ever I marry, it will be to the Greg Mortenson of my generation (the truly beautiful thing is, even if I don't, that's totally okay because I can't shake the feeling that I'm well on my way to becoming the female version of him one day). Sometimes I just burst into fits of joyous laughter when I think about the Good I get to be a part of in my life. I'm not reinventing myself, I'm allowing the Lord to show me who I am.

He is jealous for me

2008-10-03T00:33:00.000-04:00

reasons why kirby is single

2008-09-28T16:54:00.006-04:00

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

2008-09-24T11:25:00.007-04:00

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

2008-09-21T21:58:00.009-04:00

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

2008-09-18T00:38:00.006-04:00

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

2008-09-11T01:15:00.006-04:00

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

2008-09-07T14:24:00.018-04:00

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.

a new creation?

2008-08-30T10:45:00.009-04:00

Anyone who belongs to Christ is a new person. The past is forgotten, and everything is new. -2 Corinthians 5:17 (CEV)

So I went to Wyoming at the beginning of the summer and our team had a mixed CD to give out while we were on the trip. Naturally, I got a copy, put it on my computer, and forgot about it. But a certain song came on shuffle yesterday afternoon while I was dancing around my kitchen and trying out a couple of new recipes for granola and multi-grain cranberry-banana bread.

Admittedly, this song is not representative of my typical musical preferences, but I had to listen to it over and over again. "Who wrote this?" I thought, "I mean, seriously, somebody else has felt like this before?" I made my roommate listen to it. She understood why the simple lyrics resonated so well in my heart because she's been right by my side for the majority of this journey. But we were apart for three journals (May 15th-August 14th) this summer, and after only a few days together, we were able to see wonderful changes in each other - changes that are a direct result of Grace.

Because our time apart was sandwiched between months of living and doing life together, she was able to see the changes in me quite clearly. But just for the virtual record, here are some of the changes that I am aware of:

1. Mercy. He's been teaching me to Love people in a different way than I have had the capacity for in the past. I'm learning to see past things that make it hard to love people for who they are. The value of empathy seems to be dissolving my tendencies toward judgment.

2. Charismatic... Stuff. Wesley. It's a little crazy, but I like it a lot. I've never been a part of this kind of passionate worship before. The funny thing is, the actual services are only a sort of punctuation for what's going on in Athens. Healing. Restoration. Revival.

3. Peace. I don't compulsively make lists anymore (Well, sometimes I do, but I most of them get thrown away pretty quickly). I don't try to plan out my class schedules two and three semesters in advance. I don't micromanage every minute of every day anymore. I kind of like not being in control. Heck, I don't even know where I'm going to be a year from now. And I'm kind of totally okay with that... weird, right?

4. Restoration. Sometimes progression happens in the form of retrogression. When I was sixteen, I came to the conclusion that the Lord was truly enough for me. That His Love was more than capable of fulfilling the desires in my heart for a husband (If he exists, I shall henceforth refer to him as "Beardy") at some point in the future. Well, we all know what happened next. But in a lot of ways, I find that the wholeness that the sixteen-year-old version of myself possessed is returning. My passion for international missions has been renewed. Old friendships have been restored to their former glory.

5. A soft heart. He is taking away the stony places. I feel things now.

To name a few.

change everything

2008-08-29T09:34:00.011-04:00

Use me, Lord, wash me clean
I want to be more like You.
Change my mind, change everything,
For this is my cry to You:

that my thoughts be pure
and my actions holy
that i would speak the truth
and love You only

We sang this song at Wesley the other night; the words are so powerful. Bob talked about the passage in Jeremiah 18 about the clay and the potter.

This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: "Go down to the potter's house, and there I will give you my message." So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. (v.1-4)

As an aside, I would like to emphasize how greatly I would appreciate the LORD telling me to head on down to a certain spot with a promise to speak to me clearly and (apparently) audibly there. I hope Jeremiah realizes how fortunate he was.

Then the word of the LORD came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?" declares the LORD. "Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel. If at any time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be uprooted, torn down and destroyed, and if that nation I warned repents of its evil, then I will relent and not inflict on it the disaster I had planned. And if at another time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be built up and planted, and if it does evil in my sight and does not obey me, then I will reconsider the good I had intended to do for it. (v. 5-10)

While Bob was speaking about this passage, I started praying:

27 August
Ruin the ambitions or plans I've made apart from You. Reshape me. Oh... You're already doing it. You started almost a year ago, and You continue to shape me into this more amazing creature, someone I myself am just getting to know - the real and beautiful and honest and free and fully alive Kirby... Demolish the thoughts or ideas that crop up in my mind when they are not from You. Fill me with your Peace. Help me to know and love you, so that I can trust You and relax as you form me. I want to know you. more. please connect with me. I want to be close to You - nearer than I was when I woke up this morning - more intimate with you. I want to taste and see your Goodness. I really really really want to know You - for You to be much more real than anything else in my life.

"Now therefore I say to the people of Judah and those living in Jerusalem, 'This is what the LORD says: Look! I am preparing a disaster for you and devising a plan against you. So turn from your evil ways, each one of you, and reform your ways and your actions.' But they will reply, 'It's no use. We will continue with our own plans; each of us will follow the stubbornness of his evil heart.'" (v. 11-12)

I think that evil is, simply put, an absence of Goodness (a.k.a. God). So even though a year ago, when this entire process began, I wasn't exactly overtaken by malice and orgies and drunkenness and debauchery, I certainly had plenty of selfish ambitions, and therefore, evil ways. Like Israel, I made my own plans. Like Israel, I ignored His warnings of destruction. Like Israel, I continued to follow the stubbornness of my evil heart.

I held on so tightly to what the had LORD planted and built up that its Goodness was suffocated. He destroyed it. He reconsidered the good He had intended for it. He smashed the emerging pottery into a lump of clay. He ruined me.

But this, as it turns out, is wonderful news. You see, its not the end of the story. I am being reshaped. recovered. rebuilt. renewed. redeemed. reclaimed. restored...

ruined for anything less than Him.

the rain

2008-08-26T14:11:00.005-04:00

It rained in Athens today. Most people, had they been caught without an umbrella like I was, would have quickly decided to invest in one, especially considering the fact that this weather is supposed to last all week. I did not, however, reach this conclusion. On the contrary, I found the experience of walking home from Aderhold in the pelting rain quite thrilling. I took off my raincoat and wrapped my bag in it to keep all those hundreds-of-dollars-worth of textbooks dry and suitable for resale in December.

After a few minutes, I found myself running down the stairs between the music and art schools, splashing in the deep puddles of water that collected in the pavement's uneven places. I couldn't see myself, but I know I was just beaming. Fortunately, I didn't really see any other pedestrians, so I don't think I frightened anyone. I think they were all sensible enough to seek shelter and wait out the downpour. Just as I was walking into my building, I passed a girl that was heading out. Sopping wet, I couldn't help but smile an enormous mascara-running-down-my-cheeks smile at her. She smiled back.

I shivered with laughter as I caught myself habitually wiping the slippery soles of my chacos on the doormat in the threshold of my air-conditioned apartment building. I walked to the elevator, leaving a trail of rainwater in my path, and a puddle where I stood as I slowly ascended to the sixth floor. I let myself into our apartment, peeled off my soaking dress, pulled on some yoga pants and a t-shirt, wrapped my hair in a towel, put some water on the boil for a steaming pot of overly-steeped black russian tea, and sat down to write this.

She puts her hands against the life she had
Living with ignorance, blissful and sad.
But nobody knows what lies behind
the days before the day we die.
-The Avett Brothers, Die Die Die

This time last year, I was one of those sensible people that would have found a quiet vestibule in the closest building and sat down to read a textbook until the rain subsided. I was desperately attempting to transform myself into someone that I was never meant to be. I missed out on a lot of opportunities to walk in the rain because I was afraid of getting a little wet. But this year is already so different. I wanted to come back to school. Classes don't stress me out. Sometime in the last year I stopped micromanaging my schedule and my life. Yesterday I bought my first football tickets. As I reflect on these things, I find gratefulness welling up inside my chest. God is gracious.

I'm glad it's yoga day.

more distinctive colors

2008-08-15T07:33:00.006-04:00

The weight of lies will bring you down
And follow you to every town
Cause nothing happens here that doesn’t happen there
So when you run make sure you run
To something and not away from
Cause lies don’t need an aeroplane to chase you anywhere
-The Avett Brothers, Weight of Lies

Yesterday when I was driving to Athens I heard this song for the first time and these words caught my ear. Suddenly two lines had summed up the way I had been feeling about Seattle for the past couple of days that I couldn't quite put into words. In February, I wrote a post called
Ready To Stand. In it I talked about all of the new things I was trying at that point in my life; everything from yoga and climbing to painted fingernails and piano.

Seattle was on the list. It was important and healthy for me to try all of these things, and some of them I've stuck with and have grown passionate about. Others of them have fallen away along my journey, Seattle being the most recent. If I'm honest with myself, I know I am not a city girl, and a view of Mt. Rainier, although gorgeous, couldn't cut it for me. As I grow into the person that the Lord created me to be, I'm learning that I cannot, am not supposed to, and don't want to fit a mold. (Me, unique? How incredibly lovely!)

"Mackenzie, the pattern of color and light is unique to each person; no two are alike and no pattern is ever the same twice. Here, we are able to see each other truly, and part of seeing means that individual personality and emotion is visible in color and light."
"This is incredible!" Mack exclaimed. "Then why are the children's colors mostly white?"
"As you near them you will see that they have many individual colors that have merged into white, which contains all. As they mature and grow to become who they really are, the colors they exhibit will become more distinctive, and unique hues and shades will emerge."

-from The Shack, by William P. Young

So I think I've resolved not to waste time worrying about what's going to happen next year. This morning I woke up to an orange sunrise and the smell of fresh basil in my new apartment. I am so grateful for my precious friends sleeping the rooms next to mine. My old habit of incess ant planning almost cost me the opportunity to live with them again this year, but the Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. (Psalm 116:5)

Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails. -Proverbs 19:21

a surprising direction

2008-08-12T22:18:00.006-04:00

Faith never knows where it is being led, but it knows and loves the One who is leading. -Oswald Chambers

I went to Seattle yesterday. Yes, for one day, or more accurately, ten hours. The night before Big Jim and I left, I was feeling nervous, and so I asked a friend to pray for me. He reminded me of one of my favorite passages in Matthew 6 by asking a simple question: Does God not feed the birds? Almost immediately I began to feel the anxiety lifted off my chest and I was able to sleep in peace, reminded of the Lord's sovereignty over this situation.

The next morning on the plane, after wasting some time playing bejeweled, I began to pray, asking the Lord for clarity during the day. I wanted to love Seattle, but I was also afraid that I would. You see, I can be incredibly stubborn, and although I know that His plans cannot be thwarted, it's still a nicer experience to listen from the beginning than to rebel and undergo correction. I wanted to hear from the Lord while I was in Seattle, one way or another. Was I supposed to go there?

"Come near to me and listen to this: from the first announcement I have not spoken in secret; at the time it happens, I am there." -Isaiah 48:16

When we arrived on campus, I didn't feel that magical spark that I expected. I didn't dislike what I had seen so far by any means, but I also didn't love it in the way that I wanted to. The Speech and Hearing Sciences building was beautiful - covered in ivy and full of character. The weather was atypical for even an August Seattle day - sunny with a high of 75. I enjoyed the meeting with some of the faculty members, and I have no doubt about the quality of this program. But UW's campus reminded me so much of UGA, and although I've grown to love my school, I've always said that North Georgia would have been a more natural fit for me if only it were a little further away from home.

This is what the LORD says - your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: "I am the LORD your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go." -Isaiah 48:17

As our day on the west coast drew to a close, I found myself with an unexpected feeling. I wanted very badly to visit Appalachian State, the school that my friend Brooke (she is going to laugh when she hears this) and I have joked about going to for the last six months or so. Mom and I are planning a trip to Boone at the end of September.

It seems He is directing me.
It's just that the direction is a little surprising.
I will keep you posted.

change

2008-07-31T20:35:00.003-04:00

Growth means change, and change involves risk, stepping from the known to the unknown.
-Author Unknown

As wise man (my papa) once told me that life is a series of transitions, strung together by our responses and adjustments to them. Change is always happening - sometimes in a slow and steady drumbeat - flowing like the seasons; they are expected, predictable, offering ample warning, so that we can prepare ourselves. But sometimes change catches us off guard, and suddenly we find ourselves violently jerked out of the little world that had become ours. We are forced to find a new normal.

I'm beginning to think that change itself is neutral - that it can't, in and of itself, be good or bad. Let me clarify, the positive and negative effects of change can certainly be good or bad, but these consequences are dependent on, well, our dependence, on the One who is never surprised by change. Change is always an opportunity - for growth, for grace, for building new relationships and strengthening old ones, for discovering our passions, and for learning about ourselves and the intentions our Creator has for us.

a large basket of Lorings

2008-07-28T07:26:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I went to Jaemor Farm Market with my grandmother. This is how it made me feel:

Day after day from all those miles and leagues of flowers there rose a smell which Lucy found it very hard to describe: sweet -- yes, but not at all overpowering, a fresh, wild, lonely smell that seemed to get into your brain and make you feel that you could go up mountains at a run or wrestle with an elephant. She and Caspian said to one another, "I feel that I can't stand much more of this, yet I don't want it to stop."
-from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis

Over the course of the last week, I made two different plans for my Sunday, both of which involved hiking, both of which fell through. Turns out the Lord had different ideas. I didn't get it when I stepped on a nail a few days beforehand, nor when my parents offered their sound advice. He's guiding (I considered using the word "forcing" here) me to follow his will by eliminating my options, which is exactly what I asked for.

I am so thankful for what he is teaching me (finances, shalom), and even more thankful for the farm market. He knew I would love it. I wanted to look at and smell and touch and taste everything; I never wanted to leave and I cannot wait to go back next week when the Georgia Belles (white flesh peaches) are in. I brought home a pint of blueberries, fig preserves, homemade granola, four kiwis for Madison, and a large basket of Lorings which I cannot wait to share because even I couldn't possibly eat them all before they ripen.

this is me

2008-07-21T19:21:00.007-04:00

My business is not to remake myself, but make the absolute best of what God made. -Robert Browning

I feel sexier in a climbing harness than I ever did in a prom dress or heels. hands down. I'm obsessed with fiber. I love peppermint tea, and teapots in general, for that matter. Sometimes I sew patches on blue jeans and old sweaters. I like birch trees and easter lilies. I listen to music much too loudly and have a mild bilateral low-frequency hearing loss as a result. My dream car is a solar-powered subaru outback. I'm growing my hair out again. I keep cloth grocery bags in my car.

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

Plaid gets me every time. So do messenger bags, suspenders, scruffy faces (thanks dad), deep voices, and nerd-talk. I have too many shoes, and keep my favorites in the trunk of my car next to my jumper cables. I enjoy yoga and meaningful song lyrics. I love to sing and dance (but I'm sorry if you've experienced either of these). Becoming a vegetarian wouldn't be that huge of a lifestyle change for me, but I could never be a vegan because I like milk, yogurt, and cheese too much.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

My plants are my pets. I'm terrified of fish, splinters, abandonment, and aliens. Forgiveness is the most beautiful concept that I have encountered thus far in my short years. I like to wake up early. My favorite subject is anatomy, but language is a close second. My aspirations for this school year include: becoming a decent slackliner, deepening a few friendships so that they will certainly last when I move away next year, and learning more about backpacking, lead climbing, healing, and Jesus. Recently I've developed a slight interest in the middle east.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.

My favorite color is green. I love peaches. My temporomandibular joint (jaw) pops every time I open my mouth. I like poetry and art museums, but wish I knew more about them. I prefer windows down over air conditioning. I have control freak tendencies and sleep with a stuffed dalmatian named major nelson and I secretly like the song "I Hope You Dance." I figure I should be worried about graduate school for next year, but I'm really not.

All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
(Psalm 139:13-16)

If He wants me in Seattle, He will make it happen. If not, I will go to Boone and hike every weekend and love it. (Until today I did not truly have peace about this)

This is me; I make no apologies. I was created this way.

floating on the Lion's breath

2008-07-17T06:50:00.003-04:00

Journal Entry from July 3, 2008:

She felt frightened only for a second. For one thing, the world beneath her was so very far away that it seemed to have nothing to do with her. For another, floating on the breath of the Lion was so extremely comfortable. She found she could lie on her back or on her face and twist any way she pleased, just as you can in water (if you've learned to float really well). And because she was moving at the same pace as the breath, there was no wind, and the air seemed beautifully warm. It was not in the least like being in an airplane, because there was no noise and no vibration. If Jill had ever been in a balloon she might have though it more like that; only better.
-from The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

In May I was driving to the airport to visit my friends, Robby and Joanna. It was sometime around 4:30 AM and still very dark. Where Are You Going by DMB came on shuffle and, ordinarily, I would have skipped it because, truth be told, I don't much care for the song. As I fumbled for the button, I felt a strong impression that I should not change it. Perhaps it was the Holy Spirit; I hesitate to say so because I'm still only learning that kind of discernment. At any rate, He had my attention, and as if the aforementioned song was the question, the answer came next: Breakfast in New York by Oppenheimer, a song that I had quite recently begun to associate with my trip to Russia. (I am a little embarrassed to admit that I had been thinking about graduate school before the answer came, a gentle reminder not to get ahead of myself, or, more importantly, Him, as well as a promise to go with me to Russia).

My trip is entering its final stages, and I've noticed that an attitude of mild disappointment and frustration has built up over the last few weeks. I have not been able to feel His Presence as I so often do in Athens (He is moving there). I haven't heard from Him in powerful or obvious ways, and I know that I've passed up several opportunities to share with some of my new friends. But this morning as I read this passage from The Silver Chair, I realized that I have been floating on the Lion's breath, figuratively speaking. Regardless of what I feel, the Lord has most definitely been here with me, protecting both my body and heart - teaching me through the stories of Narnia and through conversations with the people I've met this month. As always, He is good, and I am thankful that He has opened my eyes to catch a glimpse of that truth today.

DAS-vee DON-yeh

2008-07-12T11:40:00.007-04:00

A wise friend of mine made a prediction when I first found out that I was going to Russia to work as a camp counselor. She said that she could "totally see me giving my heart to Russian children." Little did I know how right she would be. I gave it away yesterday as Susan and I left Dubinina. I was okay, and up until about half an hour before we left, you couldn't have told me that I would cry. But when one of my little girls asked me to promise that I wouldn't forget about them it was all over. The tears started pouring down my cheeks. How could I forget the beautiful little ones that had so touched my heart and shared their lives with me? How could I forget jumping rope and swimming in the freezing cold pool? How could I forget my Russian lessons and dance competitions every night? How could I forget their beautiful eyes and their sweet smiles and cheerful laughter?

I will never forget. I'm back in Moscow for two days - home on Monday. I promise to fill in the blanks in my story as soon as I get a chance. I'm looking forward to seeing you.

bears, beets, battlestar galactica

2008-06-22T11:42:00.002-04:00

After a lovely week at camp, Susan and I were invited to spend the weekend with our new friend Vera. She and I were co-counselors with group 6 (boys and girls ages 9-11). Her english is excellent. Friday was my birthday, and her parents prepared a special Russian meal with beautiful vegetables from her mother's garden. We even had cake! After dinner we played UNO for hours. It was great practice for learning our Russian numbers and colors. Vera's parents understand a lot of English, but speak very little. There was a moment when I looked up at the evening sky (which was oddly still very light even late in the evening) and thought about how beautiful this scene was. What a beautiful gift: a portrait of peace between two countries that have been enemies for most of the last century. I remember a lot from the evening, mostly laughter, but I do not remember feeling the presence of any kind of language barrier.

Today we spent some time with our friend Rusilia. We had lunch at her house: Borsht. It was delicious. We also saw a lot of Yoshkar-Ola. It is a nice city. There are trolley buses and lots of wonderful food. Our professor told us that we would probably lose weight here, but we doubt it. We've been eating a lot.

I've enjoyed this weekend of rest, but I must confess that I am ready to get back to camp. One of my other co-counselors, Katya, is also studying speech therapy. It should be interesting to see how our relationship works out since she speaks even less english than I speak Russian. Our other co-counsleor's name is Andre Georgovich. He speaks a substantial amount of english, so that is helpful.

Camp has already become a second home for me, and despite the mosquitos, I am ready to get back. Hopefully I will be able to write more soon!

стоп

2008-06-13T06:30:00.004-04:00

стоп means stop. It's actually pronounced that way as well. That is how the signs at intersections are marked in moscow. My Russian alphabet skills have come in handy so far. The weather here is gorgeous, and since my flight got in about eight hours before everybody else's, my professor, Gwynn, and I are being given a private tour of the motherland's capital by a local guy that works for CCUSA.

Almost all of the metro stations have some kind of monument marking them. My roommate in the hotel is another program participant from Australia. Should be interesting. Can't drink the water here. No windows in the airport, but the city is much brighter than I had imagined.

Once again, this 800 year old city boasts a fascinating blend of ancient and contemporary architecture. So far we ate a restaurant called my-my [moo moo]. I had some weird Russian wild mushroom salad and these little cheesecake things with strawberry dipping sauce. I really need to pull my camera out and start taking pictures.

After lunch, we walked up the street to see the old KGB building and a beautiful little russian orthodox church. There are hundreds of some kind of tree here that are giving off small wisps of cotton-like seed pods, so although it is a clear sunny day, it looks like its snowing. Next I believe we are headed to red square. I'm excited to see Lenin and the Kremlin.

I'm not sure when I'll be able to post another entry, but I will try to do so sooner than later. Certainly I will have had some time to be able to offer a better sample of writing.

breakfast in new york

2008-06-11T17:34:00.004-04:00

Breakfast in New York
And I know that we’re dreaming
Drunken conversations and the things we were scheming
To get out of this town and take a trip underground
-Oppenheimer

Spent the last two days in the big apple. The city is surprisingly beautiful in the summer - trees line many of the streets, and the park is full of thick green grass. It's hot. 102 yesterday. In Yoshkar-Ola it was snowing, so we're looking forward to perhaps some cooler weather in a few days.

I've never spent any time here in the summer, nor have I been to the upper west side. It's like an entirely different city altogether. Columbia is like a little garden. The campus is quiet. I have a great view out of my window in my room on the east side of the eighth floor. Dad flew up here with me yesterday and we visited the Museum of Natural History and ate sandwiches in the park. I've really enjoyed getting to know my travel-class-mates: Renee, Susan, Amy, Denny, Jacob, Taylor, and Darcy. Last night we went to a Mets game. Renee, Darcy, Amy, and I made a trip down to Herald Square this afternoon. Tonight we're going to eat at a cuban restaurant a couple blocks from here on Broadway.

Tomorrow is going to be the longest mega-day of my life. I'll wake up at 5:00 AM, catch the M-60 bus at the corner of Broadway and 116th to La Guardia - fly to Atlanta at 9:00 AM, arrive around 11:30 AM, meet dad at Hartsfield, depart for Moscow at 4:30 PM, arrive at 10:30 AM the next day. My plan is to sleep as much as possible.

I miss you all and will update as soon as possible.

Lena Gomolka

2008-06-09T12:30:00.004-04:00

I come from a long line of bag ladies. My great-great grandmother, Lena Gomolka, arrived on Ellis Island shortly after World War I at the age of nineteen. All of her belongings were packed neatly into half-a-dozen-or-so mismatched bags. She had spent the previous several years of her life working in eastern Poland's potato fields, where her first baby was born. Apparently, after giving birth in the middle of a field, she wrapped him up like a papoose and kept working. She passed away shortly after my father was born in 1964, so I don't know very much else about her youth, but when she got older, she had beautiful long white hair. She outlived her husband, Peter, by 25 years, living on her own despite the invitations of her children into their homes.

And not one motion her gesture could I forget,
the prettiest bag lady I ever met...
Pushing her cart in the rain, then gathering plastic and glass
She watched the day pass
Not hour by hour, but pain by pain.
-mewithoutYou, Paper-Hanger

Most of the ladies in my family have carried painful burdens in their bags: alcoholism, abusive husbands, divorce, depression, sickness, poverty, prejudice and racism, heartaches, teen pregnancy, and the curse of the extra-wide polish birthing hips. But they have also carried joy and laughter, a love for singing although we are terrible at it, resourcefulness, olive complexion, large green eyes, and a knack for baking and gardening.

Although I carry some of the things I've inherited from Lena, like her pride and independent spirit, the Lord has helped me to drop the pain of the many of life's troubles along my journey. He's filled my bags with peace, confidence, climbing shoes, joy, education, memories with great friends, books, a huge and loving abnormally-configurated family, grace, passions for problem-solving, mountains, children, and so many more things.

Please share what you know about your heritage.

Россия

2008-05-30T16:43:00.003-04:00

As most of you know, I'm heading to Russia soon. I kind of can't believe it's actually happening, and sooner than I think. Looking back on the last month or so, I've realized that I've learned a lot about Russian history. It's quite interesting, and that, coming from a self-proclaimed science nerd that will be the first to admit that she doesn't know squat about history, is a monumental statement. Unfortunately, I will have infrequent internet (at best) since we will spend the majority of our time in the rural Mari El Republic, but I will make every effort to type posts when I can. If this proves impossible, I will put them up when I get home and backdate them. I'm serious.

I've never been away from home for this long, so if you want to send me a letter (please please send me a letter!), here is the address:

Kirby Lee
c/o Camp named after Volodya Dubinin
Respublika Mari-El
Yoshkar-Ola
157 Komsomol'skaya Str of 321
424006 Russia

Our professor has advised us that it takes about a month for mail to arrive, so if you'd like me to get it before I leave, please make sure you send your mail by June 10th.

Россия = Russia

western sunrise

2008-05-23T07:16:00.004-04:00

I woke up early this morning - somewhere around 4:45 or so - and couldn't sleep anymore; I had too much on my mind. I walked into the kitchen and read emily dickinson for a while before resolving to take a walk on the beach and watch the sunrise. I even made a facebook status about it. (surprised?) Unfortunately, I dilly-dallied and before I knew it, the day had dawned. Somehow I missed the sky's fading from deep navy to pale blue, and suddenly I remembered watching the sunset over the water a few nights past. We're on the west side of the island.

It was just as well, though, because the thought of venturing out in the dark alone kind of scared me a little. Embarrassed by this childish feeling, I got dressed and began my walk. It was lovely to be alone in the quiet of the early morning coast; the sounds of the sea can hardly be called a distraction, and a gentle breeze swept away the South Carolina mugginess. I started to sing, but kept glancing nervously up and down the beach, wary of spectators, before I realized that I didn't care if anyone heard me.

Occasionally I would reach down to pick up the tiny seashells that the ebbing tide revealed - treasures for the hands of the tiny Russians that I'm certain will change my life in a few short weeks. God is so good, for as I turned back toward the place where I started from, the brilliant sun burst out from behind the eastern treeline. So often I expect very specific things from him, but when I hope in his promises, I am never disappointed.

fire-flower cordial

2008-05-17T21:17:00.009-04:00

I saw Prince Caspian for the second time today; here are some of my thoughts:

I suppose I've always sort of imagined myself to be most like Susan Pevensie: harnessed with logic and sensibility, the one that matter-of-factly offers the scientific explanation for why the river has eroded its way into a gorge over the course of the last 1300 years (much to the annoyance of her siblings), the one that struggles with faith because practicality is so much easier. I admire Susan. I would love to be the beautiful girl that gracefully rides her horse (or bike in my case) in a long flowing skirt through the woods - the skilled archer that carefully aims before launching a deadly arrow into the side of her opponent - the one who kisses Caspian in the end.

Listening to the whispering in my ear, soft but getting stronger...
-mewithoutYou, Four Word Letter (Pt. Two)

Yet as I watched the film, I felt the LORD telling me that He wants to make a Lucy out of me. I am not meant to be the one that runs into battle screaming "FOR NARNIAAAA!!!" with Peter and Edmund, though that would be my preference. I am not meant to be the one who carries a bow and quiver with a magical horn slung over my shoulder. Rather, I am meant to carry a small but treacherous dagger and a diamond flask of fire-flower cordial concealed at my belt. This, for me, is such a strange spiritual undertaking, yet it is one that He keeps confirming. (He must have anticipated the doubts I would still have at the end of the movie, wondering if He was really talking to me or if I was making it up, because there was a beautiful Regina Spektor song at the end of the movie - just in case I didn't quite get it)

Therefore, the promise comes by faith, so that it may be by grace and may be guaranteed to all Abraham's offspring—not only to those who are of the law but also to those who are of the faith of Abraham. He is the father of us all. As it is written: "I have made you a father of many nations." He is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were.

Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, "So shall your offspring be." Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah's womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.

-Romans 4:16-21

big jim

2008-05-14T20:25:00.012-04:00

And I'm still waiting to meet a [guy] like my [dad] who's closer to my age. -mewithoutYou, Nice & Blue (Pt. Two)

Yesterday I woke up to an alarm for the first time in a while. The obnoxious ringing jerked me awake at 5:30, and within seven minutes I was driving down Thompson Bridge Road in the eerie early morning darkness. At 5:47, I pulled into the driveway of my dad's house, he hopped in the car, and we headed to the Y for spin class. I had taken my first dose of a typhoid vaccine the night before, and unfortunately my stomach couldn't handle the intensity paired with the live virus, so halfway through I went to walk on the treadmill while he finished up. About 25 minutes later, dad walked up to me and said "hey kirbylee, feeling up for some dips?" (He's helping me strengthen my arms for climbing.)

When we got home, I agreed to help out with some yard work, so we drove to Wal-Mart to purchase some grass seed, red mulch, and ivy. I didn't have any old clothes with me, so I had to borrow some of his. I like working with my dad, and yesterday had wonderful weather for working outside. There were moments when I considered dropping out of school to become a migrant worker.

At one point we were sitting side-by-side at the top of the small precipice in our backyard planting ivy that will hopefully grow down and hold the bank below. We laughed. We talked. We had a little system going. Patti came outside and captured this image of us.

Today, I got a flat tire on White Sulphur Road on my way to the Y. I called my dad, and he promised to come help me when my aerobics class was over. Sure enough, when I walked back out to the parking lot, he was sitting in/on the back of my car with the trunk popped. As I approached, he announced that I would be changing the tire, under his supervision since, technically, he'd already taught me how a year ago. The natural response probably would have involved some amount of grumbling, or even whining on my part, but the more I think about it, the more I am thankful for this experience. I changed a tire myself today. How many 19-year-old girls can do that? Thanks, dad, for being such a good teacher.

I am so very thankful for my father. When I was in elementary school, he would come in and read books to my class. I always remember him spending time with me. He is my friend. He offers great advice. I have learned a lot about the way that God loves me through my relationship with my dad. I am proud that he is my dad - proud to be seen with him in public - proud that, though he loves so many, he loves me special. I'm even proud that I look like him - flat spot, oval-shaped face, cow-lick, forward-growing hair and all! My dad is the greatest.

What is your's like?

christmas break

2008-05-09T16:16:00.007-04:00

School is out! Yes!

Oddly enough, I've spent the first few days of summer on Christmas break, if you will. My dear friends Robby, Joanna, and Trey have welcomed me into their cozy home in Wake Forest, North Carolina. It's been a restful visit so far - while Robby's been at work or class, the three of us have taken multiple naps, watched Nacho Libre, obtained a piercing (yep) at the mall, gone for a stroll around campus, read Anna Karenina (for me), and Terrify No More (for Joanna), changed diapers, met some friends, and talked and talked and talked. Last night Joanna made a delicious chicken & veggie pizza with homemade whole-wheat crust for dinner. Afterwards, her friend Tiffany came over and, with Robby as our trainer, we all worked out in the living room.

I love being here; as a direct result of their hospitality, it already feels like home - as though this were a friend's house that I've been coming to after school since I was a kid. In a summer full of adventure after adventure, it is good to begin with this kind of get-away. I'm remembering how crazy Robby is. I'm getting to know my new friend Trey. Joanna-my-friend has been transformed into Joanna-the-mother, while somehow remaining Joanna-my-friend.

friday

2008-05-02T15:57:00.006-04:00

My favorite part of the day is in the morning when the sunlight is just beginning to filter in through east-facing windows. I like these precious moments when I feel alone in the quiet, when everyone else is sleeping still. My hair is tousled, my breath is horrendous, my eyes won't fully open, and my fine motor skills are compromised. Regardless of these deficits, I like to shuffle into the kitchen and make myself some peppermint tea with cream and sugar - to sit still for a few minutes while it steeps.

My favorite part of the week mimics this brief repose. I love the moment when you finish your weekly duties and can just take a deep breath before the weekend activities begin. Due to the lack of urgency and pressure, Fridays are often my most academically productive days. The long drive down 129 towards Gainesville is best on a sunny Friday afternoon. I like to crank up the music, roll down my windows, and just drive. This semester I've discovered that campus is different on Fridays, too. It's quiet.

My life feels kind of like a Friday right now. I have only one exam left and then school is truly out for three months, excluding study abroad, which in my opinion, does not count. This is the first summer in three years that I will not be sitting for classes, and probably the last for the next three years, as most graduate programs require summer coursework. I am enjoying it.

Who has not found heaven below
Will fail of it above
God's residence is next to mine,
His furniture is love.
-Emily D.

greenest green

2008-04-22T13:50:00.019-04:00

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

2008-04-19T08:22:00.009-04:00

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

2008-04-14T13:10:00.006-04:00

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

2008-04-13T22:07:00.005-04:00

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

2008-04-04T09:17:00.015-04:00

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.

my humble science

2008-03-27T13:39:00.005-04:00

Science isn't interested in what's known, but what's unknown; to put on the blinders and pretend that we know everything is naive in my opinion.
-Dr. Timothy Heil

I spent a few minutes enjoying the sun by the Mary Kahrs Warnell Memorial Garden today. The turtles apparently had the same idea; I spotted half-a-dozen or so sunning themselves on the flat rocks protruding out of the water. Surprisingly, the coy fish didn't even really make me feel anxious; then again, I am in the business of conquering fears these days. The breeze was pleasant. My mother called, interrupting my oh-so-Thoreau moment, but I truly didn't mind, and talked quietly with her for a few minutes as I watched Spring unfurl its details .

People often talk about the historic serenity of North Campus, but truthfully, I have always felt more connected with South Campus. Surrounded by dozens of stoic science buildings, I have generally been able to find solace. It's lovely. Quiet. Still. I felt rather childish as the burning desire to drop my apple core into the pond began to build within me, and I knew it was time to go to lunch.

I started thinking about my beloved science, and the harsh criticism it has received, especially in recent years, from my beloved church. For some reason, it has become a trend in modern western society (which has incontestably infiltrated the modern church) to pit science and religion against one another, insisting that the two are enemies. I think that the general public misunderstands the goals and overlooks the self-imposed limitations of science. It's difficult to overcome the false dilemma of the mindset that we have been raised on, to offer even the smallest amount of consideration to the both-and view that is characteristic of many eastern cultures. (Let me be clear, I am BOTH either-or AND both-and.)

Science studies the natural world. It seeks to discover truth by disproving claims, much like a sculptor carves away bits of his chosen medium to reveal a beautiful piece of artwork, or a paleontologist gently sweeps past layer after layer of dust and soil, carefully uncovering each delicate fragment of bone. Or, if you will allow it, the way that God refines us through sanctification; He removes our impurities, strengthens our faith and deepens our love. He calls us to die to self so that Christ's love can be magnified in our lives.

One of the hallmarks of science is its self-corrective nature. Science admits its mistakes (something the church has always struggled with), but remains conservative. As a general rule, it does not change suddenly in drastic leaps or bounds (if it does, we're probably talking about pseudoscience, which is another point of discussion entirely), but gradually over relatively long periods of time. True science begins with intellectual humility, which:

...depends on recognizing that one should not claim more than one actually knows. It does not imply spinelessness or submissiveness. It implies the lack of intellectual pretentiousness, boastfulness, or conceit, combined with insight into the logical foundations, or lack of such foundations, of one's belief.
-from A Miniature Guide to Critical Thinking, by Dr. Richard Paul & Dr. Linda Elder

Last night at Wesley, Bob made an interesting assertion. He said that "the central ingredient to inviting God's Presence is the genuine humility of his people." So science, in its purest form, serves as an avenue of invitation to the Presence of God? When I consider the complexities of the universe, and more recently, the intricacies of the human body that I have gained such a comparably limited amount of knowledge about through formal education, I have to say yes.

Has Anyone Seen My Coat?

2008-03-25T14:14:00.008-04:00

A page is turned in this world to reveal a little girl
With a heart that's bigger, as it is unfurled
By the language in her soul, that's teaching her to grow
With a careful cover of love that will not fail.
-Bebo Norman, A Page Is Turned

That's me.

I spent an hour or so today sitting in a tree, enjoying the glorious weather, and thinking. Interestingly, it was the same tree that I sat in last fall on the day I wrote my first facebook note. My, how things have changed. Before, I was impatiently waiting for much more than just autumn. Today, perched much higher (as I've become a stronger, more confident climber) in this dear old tree, I was able to be still and listen to the birds.

Soon I could hear the small group of musicians - some professors, some students - that has, in recent weeks, taken to playing together in the courtyard outside the ecology building on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Like most things unusual and unique, these fellows have taken up residence in a special place in my heart - especially the fiddlers and the old white-headed men with long beards and suspenders.

Springtime is upon us. I want to laugh when I think back to that day in September; I was so eager for winter, for the progression of life, for change. Figuratively, my winter came quickly, and was cold and dark. Fortunately, it did not last long. Sitting in that tree, I thought about one of my favorite scenes from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. After they cross The Great River, the group thinks they've lost Lucy, but she turns up, asking if anyone has seen her coat. They are all so relieved at her return that only Mrs. Beaver notices the flowers and trees blooming before their very eyes. "I don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore!" she says.

See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me.
-Song of Songs 2:11-13

10,000 B.C.

2008-03-23T08:39:00.003-04:00

Last night I took my cousins, Conner and Thomas Owen, to see 10,000 B.C. It was completely their choice, and I wasn't that excited about it. If you haven't seen it, do not read this; it will ruin the ending for you.

I love this movie. Those of you that know me best will probably figure out why.

D'Leh's father left him when he was a boy. He never quite understood, and faced ostracism from his peers because of this abandonment. Eventually (still a young boy), he met a girl named Evolet, and they grew into love as they grew up together. After he "won" her by killing the mammoth on his first hunt, he gave her up out of fear that others would discover what he felt about himself: that he was a fake. (He totally wasn't)

Some slave traders came and took her away, along with several others. Without hesitation, D'Leh left with a few companions in hot pursuit of her. He had come to know her deeply and knew that she was worth dying for. He risked his life for her dozens of times. He never gave up. He followed her far beyond the end of the world as he knew it.

Let me be clear, Evolet was no sissy. She was clever and strong and brave and persistent. She left a trail for him. She knew he would come for her. Later, she stabbed a guy with his own arrow. (That's what I'm talkin' about!)

Finally, in the tradition of Braveheart, D'Leh finds himself in Egypt. He has gathered many followers that have come to seek the freedom of their people. His desire was wildly contagious. His purpose was no longer solely to rescue Evolet, but to set free thousands of captives. Tic'Tic (his surrogate father) tells him this:

A good man draws a circle around him, and in it he cares for his family, his [wife] and children. A great man draws a larger circle including his brothers, his friends, and protects them as he would his family. But then there is the rare man who has a special destiny. His circle extends beyond boundaries to include the world of innocents who lack the will to defend themselves.

Although he doesn't believe it at first, D'Leh is destined to become such a man.

After a sweet battle, D'Leh and Evolet are about to be reunited. They are literally running toward each other, when the enemy, her captor (the one she had just stabbed), shoots her in the back with an arrow. D'Leh could not rescue her from death.

But Old Mother (this weird spirit lady back home) could. She took on the wounds of Evolet (whom she had practically raised as her own daughter), and died in her place, thus giving life back to her. Sound familiar? The same thing happened to me when Jesus called me back from death, saying "Wake up, O sleeper. Rise from the dead." (Eph. 5)

How fitting on Easter.

a life-blow to some

2008-03-19T22:52:00.004-04:00

Sometimes things happen to us that hurt our feelings. A family member says something that crushes you. Perhaps you find yourself utterly forsaken by someone you trusted. Maybe a friend gives her allegiance to a person that hurt you. People betray confidences. Gossip spreads. Relationships are broken. These are endemic among the human race. Earlier this evening, I was struggling with one particular situation in my life that causes me heartache, and ordinarily, I would have discussed it with my two closest friends, but I decided to discuss it with Jesus instead.

And why wouldn't I discuss it with Him? He has been an intimate, loyal, trustworthy, understanding, kind, merciful, wise, strong, funny, compassionate, patient, and true friend. With a careful eye, I have watched him fulfill every need that has developed in my life over the past few months: deepening friendships, business, rest, emotional health, discipleship, community, physical comfort, new passions (like climbing, drawing, and piano), a restored closeness with my mother, Emily Dickinson's poetry, forgiveness, romance, confidence, freedom, and laughter.

Yet I will never know the full extent of His love for me. That thought makes my heart feel so full, and for the first time in years, I find myself cured of "destination disease," and content where I am in life. He is my Peace. When I remember this, I realize that whatever goes on in the hearts or lives of others doesn't matter (at least not to the effect of making me feel bad about myself), however important these things may seem. Heck, sometimes it feels like the world as I have come to know it will end because of some relational issue. And end it does. But sometimes this particular kind of end is necessary; and a new spectacular world will spring up.

A death-blow is a life-blow to some
Who, till they died, did not alive become;
Who, had they lived, had died, but when
They died, vitality begin.
-Emily Dickinson

The ransomed of the LORD will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.
-Isaiah 51:11

For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back.
-Isaiah 54:7

You were like a young wife, brokenhearted and crying because her husband had divorced her. But the LORD your God says, "I am taking you back!"
-Isaiah 54:6 (CEV)

I am so alive and so in love with this "God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were." (Romans 4:17b). When I consider His love for me, I want to cry a little because I know myself, and I know that I am not worthy of such love. But by loving me, he makes me worthy. lovely. whole. perfect.

One Fainting Robin

2008-03-17T18:44:00.003-04:00

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
-Emily Dickinson

This is why I am studying speech therapy, in case you were wondering.

Overcast

2008-03-12T08:26:00.022-04:00

I am at the beach with Lindsey and Danielle this week. Even the drive down was the best I've ever had - the highlights include listening to the Beach Boys, Ingrid Michaelson, Death Cab, and Hanson, Danielle convincing most of the trucks we passed to honk, semi-serious talks about self-image and relationships, Garmin, and free Chick-Fil-A.
Upon arrival, we immediately headed to the ocean. I kicked off my flip flops, turned around, and, unable to contain my child-like excitement, sprinted down to the water's edge. There are at least two witnesses to this event. Danielle found a tiny Jelly Fish and part of a Sand Dollar, a "Sand Nickle" one might call it (as I did).

---

Yesterday it was a little overcast, but we went out for about an hour and sat in the sand in our bathing suits (Lindsey was smart and left her cover-up on). Occasionally, I would get up and chase seagulls for a few minutes. The few people that walked past (in jeans and sweatshirts) must have thought that we were absolutely insane. Danielle used two straw mats to fashion a wind-blocker. Ingenious.

---

Let the beloved of the LORD rest secure in him,
for he shields [them] all day long,
and the one[s] the LORD loves rest between his shoulders.
-Deuteronomy 33:12

Our Jesus has been so good to us so far this week. He's offered us a break from everything about life that causes confusion, stress, worry, fear, and frustration. We have entered a No-Facebook, No-Phone Zone and will remain here for the next 48 hours. We have elected to sleep in one king-size bed (though there are three others), and today already looks like a beautiful sunny day.

Toad Strangler

2008-03-04T13:41:00.008-05:00

Holy holy holy cow. Had I been offered a glimpse last Friday as to the slight, but unexpected turn that my life was about to take I would have refused to believe it. Surely God's timing is always flawless; yet He leaves it up to us to acknowledge that fact.

Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up;
do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.
-Isaiah 43:18-19

I'm beginning to see the new thing. It's a little frightening, but in a good way - like running through the forest, caught in a mid-summer-late-afternoon toad strangler; like watching a thunderstorm; like allowing the sheer size of L'Arc d'Triomphe to dwarf you; like slacklining.

A huge prayer in my life has not only been answered, but in an absolutely beautiful way, painted with humility, forgiveness, repentance, mercy, grace, restoration, and healing. What a blessing it has been to thumb through the last few month's journal entries of documented prayer for my old friend, and to see these things Jesus asked me to pray for answered before my very eyes. What a blessing to discover that another friend served as an advocate on my behalf, a catalyst for this breakthrough, just what I needed.

I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. -Psalm 40:1

Dear friends, continue to wait in Him. He will answer.

Come and Listen

Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD. -Psalm 27:14

Fresh Soil

2008-02-19T19:18:00.003-05:00

Last night I re-potted all of my plants. It was time for a fresh start. I liked the way the soil felt under my pink fingernails, but how lovely it felt when I scrubbed it all away - a fresh start for my hands and my plants. It makes me think of a lot of things, really, but especially the lyrics to an Ingrid Michaelson song, Starting Now.

Speaking of soil (I must confess that I have three separate/unrelated ideas to include in this post, but I will do my very best to connect them anyway), the other day I read this:

"Tragedy is the fertile soil of miracles. ... it seems the way to deal with the evil of the world is not to pretend to go around it, but to plunge right through . ... I believe sometimes bad things happen to good people so we can watch God turn the greatest tragedies into the purest love." -Athol Dickson, from The Gospel According to Moses.

I have watched this happen time and again in my life. I hope you have, too.

And finally, Love. I suppose at nineteen, I'm still too young to understand it. Mostly I know this because I thought I did, and not all that long ago. I was under the impression that it was quite simple. It's not. It's not a bad thing to be too young - I just still have a lot of things to learn about life and Him and the world and other people and myself.

"Teach me and I will be silent; show me where I have been wrong." -Job 6:24

Ready To Stand

2008-02-11T07:29:00.000-05:00

I'm walking in an open field looking for some space to fill
I believe there's something left to hold.
So even when the sun goes down and there's no one around
I'm standing in the freedom of my soul.
-Bebo Norman, Stand

Step One: Identify and Overcome Fears
As 2 Timothy 1:7 says, "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (NKJV) I'm giving blood tomorrow. This is a huge step for me - a step of obedience for sure: first His blood - now mine. As far as the more distant future is concerned, I'm considering a move to Seattle next year for graduate school. By myself.

Step Two: Seize Opportunities...
To travel - I figure God made the world and everything in it, so it's probably worth seeing if one has the means.
To love/help others - He also made people and loves each person deeply. I suspect that there is a reason; I'd like to discover it.

Step Three: Learn to Love Unreservedly
Recently I've realized that true freedom requires my extension of the forgiveness I've received to those in my life who are equally undeserving of it. So learn to love mercy (Micah 6:8). "Only the free can love, and only the completely free can love unreservedly." -St. Teresa of Avila

Step Four: Be More Disciplined: Waste Less Time
"In all the work you are doing, work the best you can. Work as if you were doing it for the LORD, not for people." -Colossians 3:23

Step Five: Loosen Up: Waste More Time
A. Try new things: piano, painted fingernails, yoga, Wesley, the old testament, spending some money, poetry, step aerobics, paradoxes, wearing heels occasionally, summer in Russia...
B. Be generous and willing to share. (1 Timothy 16:18)
C. Release whatever it is that I hold onto so tightly; only then will my hands be open to receive God's best for me. Realize that this is a process.

Sore Must Be The Storm

2008-02-09T10:29:00.000-05:00

A dear friend of mine just started a blog and in one of her first entries quoted Emily Dickinson. So this is inspired by the pair of them: my dear friend and Dickinson. I'd like to share two lovely poems written by the latter. I wish I had words of my own, but hers are so much more than enough.

Hope is the thing with feathers
The perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

---

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Middle School Monologues

2008-02-03T17:31:00.002-05:00

Recently I had the privilege of being a part of something wonderful. My friend was part of a team that created a film for campus movie fest, and she asked me to play a small role. These girls did an amazing job, and out of 140+ entries, they made the top 16 that were shown at the Classic Center on Friday night. I hope this makes you laugh.

Large Enough For Me

2008-01-24T15:26:00.001-05:00

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.

Nor had I time to love, but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
-Emily Dickinson

I can remember doing a unit in my high school American Literature class on Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson and viewing it as a colossal waste of time. I hated poetry because it wasn't straightforward; it required a creative effort on the part of the reader (i.e. me). Now I pour over these words, perhaps because I've experienced just a little more life and I'm beginning to understand some of Dickinson's sentiments that I couldn't a few years ago. Maybe I've just learned to appreciate poetry in general a little more.

I can also remember sitting in the back of the classroom day after day, ignoring my seventh grade social studies teacher's lectures about African history. Now I'm struggling to manipulate my schedule to fit in an African Studies class next fall.

I wonder what I'm learning about these days that I will look back and wish I had given more attention to (I should probably start by spending less time whining about my schoolwork). Today my "little toil of love" involves a lesson in empathy for my future clients with voice disorders, as I myself have lost my voice. It is definitely large enough for me.

What We Had For Dinner

2008-01-21T14:40:00.000-05:00

I just finished watching Hotel Rwanda.

I'm utterly confused about the state of the world, especially with regards to international diplomacy. I realize that many of the scenes in the movie were sensationalized, but I cannot ignore the fact that it's based on a true story. Real people. Real families. Real children. 1,000,000 of them.

One of the themes that I picked up on centered around the moment of realization of the bystander apathy infecting one's culture. Paul (Cheadle) was a Hutu. At first he attempted to look away as his own people began to slaughter hundreds of Tutsis, his neighbors included; he claimed that his "family is the only thing that matters." But he could not ignore for long.

I am an American, and although I was only six when this conflict took place, it was my country, the leaders that we elected, that supported UN withdrawal from Rwanda. Our leaders dismissed the issue as insignificant and isolated "acts of genocide." We abandoned them...why?

I'll admit that I know very little about this matter, but allow me to venture a guess: "The economy, stupid." What had Rwanda to offer us? Would things have been different if she had oil reserves to power our SUVs or diamonds to perpetuate our long-standing (est. 1948) traditions?

How does a person arrive at a point in his life at which he is capable of assigning greater value to some material good than to human life? Or deciding that the protection of hundreds of thousands of children and their families is not worth our precious time and resources? I am not pointing my finger; for we as citizens of a sickeningly wealthy democracy are just as guilty as the crooked politicians that we elect. We all looked away.

Jack (Phoenix), the American camera-man, recognized the bystander apathy of his country:

Paul Rusesabagina: I am glad that you have shot this footage and that the world will see it. It is the only way we have a chance that people might intervene.
Jack: Yeah and if no one intervenes, is it still a good thing to show?
Paul Rusesabagina: How can they not intervene when they witness such atrocities?
Jack: I think if people see this footage they'll say, "oh my God that's horrible," and then go on eating their dinners.

------

I wonder what my family had for dinner that night.

Self-Control is the New Patience

2008-01-20T01:12:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning I was running on the indoor track at Ramsey when God let me know what was about to happen in my life, at least in the arena of character development: self-control.

So joy is the new compassion in that it just kind of sprouted up in me without my notice; and self-control is the new patience, for I have a feeling that I am about to be painfully aware of its lessons.

"It is not good to eat too much honey,
nor is it honorable to seek one's own honor.
Like a city whose walls are broken down
is a man who lacks self-control."
-Proverbs 25:27-28

I kind of feel like I don't fully understand this metaphor because our cities don't have walls, but I imagine that the walls were established to protect the city's inhabitants. The guards at the gates could regulate what went out as well as what came in, and certainly the walls made the city a safer place.

I tend to associate self-control with the regulation of one's actions; a self-controlled person does not hurt others, but keeps the bad things that are inside from escaping. But in this context, it appears that self-control is more about self-protection than the protection of others from self.

Maybe effective self-control starts sooner than we think; for if we filter what comes through the gates, we need not worry about what exits through them.

Speculations of a Plant Lady

final exam

oh hey boone winter!

best christmas song ever

in MY monologue

update

Panera

today

swing your partner

i am a nerd

america's best idea

green bananas

aimer encore

No, no, not the rat track!

new.fresh.unfamiliar

Synonyms:

Antonyms:

can't go back now

on being a graduate student

new home

pilgrimage

egyptian marathon

new york minute

call me crazy

where i'll land

six miles

the first of the lasts

fresh start

eighth grade

out like a lamb

discovery!

east meets west

whose life is this?

and yet, the child won't say a single word...

the chacos

maybe the buses should have seat belts

virtues

kirby.arielle.lee

natural beauty

round two

2008

old soul

switzerland

oh, it's a hickey

love as strong as death, jealously demanding as the grave

mallory

manna for me = community

grocery shopping

three more days

it's not easy

appalachian

baby teeth

pause

basil, meet italian parsley and mint.

fifty percent chance of rain

sixty and sunny

two years and four months ago

He is jealous for me

reasons why kirby is single

smile

unsolicited answers. well, sort of

summer's last stand

for You, Zion, the stones cry out

patience, forgiveness, fruition and such

a new creation?

change everything

the rain

more distinctive colors

a surprising direction

change

a large basket of Lorings

this is me

floating on the Lion's breath

DAS-vee DON-yeh

bears, beets, battlestar galactica

стоп

breakfast in new york

Lena Gomolka

Россия

western sunrise