the first of the lasts

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

fresh start

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

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

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

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

eighth grade

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-from Angry Conversations with God by Susan E. Isaacs

out like a lamb

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!

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

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?

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.