Just FYI

I don't really use this blog anymore. I've moved on to another. It was based on my Ireland trip but more about journeys in general, and I could get really cliche with that, but I won't. I may still post something on here on occasion if I'm thinking about a lot and trying to sort things out, but for now, it's Adventures of the Traveling Rainbow Cake. 

In the middle

I feel like I've somehow gotten a lot older in the past three weeks. I've lived by myself for the first time--no dorms, no roommates. I've become a teacher with real, live students. I've been spending my free time with people who are over the age of 25, are married, who own the property where they live, who have masters degrees and careers, whose next "step" in life is deciding when to have kids. In some ways it's good; I'm kind of tired of being a teenager. Other times, though, I think I'm a lot older, but then I remember that I'm 19, and it results in an open-mouthed, wrinkled-forehead, quizzical look as I contemplate the paradox of feeling old while being young and only half way through college. I think I need to start spending more time with people my own age.

Mars, Venus, and unintentional dismounts

Rob Bell is from Mars, Baptists are from Venus.

When I first came to college two years ago, I was sent off with a strict warning by my conservative Baptist father to stay far away from Mars Hill. For those of you who don't know, Mars Hill is a church in the area that is pastored by fairly well known author and speaker Rob Bell. Baptists don't like Rob Bell, so it follows that they uphold a severe dislike of his church as well.

Rob Bell has made some controversial statements. He questions what is really at the heart of the Christian faith. He doesn't always take a stance on issues that are the center of many of the modern church's debates. He mentions salvation and grace, but is highly vague on how we accept that. In research I've done, I've often seen the name "Rob Bell" and the word "blasphemy" in the same sentence.

Back to two years ago. I didn't trust anyone who quoted Bell, attended Mars, or even reflected positive attitudes toward either of them. It was one of those, "Oh, you go to church there" kind of things. My Baptist horse was a very high one.

I took horse riding lessons for six years. I was pretty decent, but I was always terrified of falling off. I wasn't scared that it would hurt, but to me that was the biggest mistake I could possibly make, so I dreaded it. My instructor, Bridget, always told me, though, that it takes ten falls to make a good rider. Unfortunately, I only made it to three before I quit because it was too expensive. Another thing Bridget used to say is that falling wasn't a fall--it was an "unintentional dismount."

I met a few people at school here who made me reconsider my assumptions that Mars Hill housed the devil disguised as a caucasian man with spiffy glasses, but there was one person in particular who definitely was the cause of an unintentional dismount from my Baptist horse. It was someone I had gotten to know, someone who challenged me, someone who--dare I say it?--I trusted. Then, a variation on the typical response: "What?! You go to church there?!"

Disbelief followed, then a few deep breaths, a couple calm debates, and finally, my agreement to give it a chance. I read two of his books and am on the third. I listened to a couple of the church's sermon podcasts. I've been to two services there.

And that's exactly what I think--Rob Bell is from Mars, and Baptists are from Venus. That doesn't make one better than the other. Yeah, Bell and the church's other pastor, Shane Hipps, have made some statements that I definitely don't agree with, but they're nothing that is integral to my faith. To me, it seems like, for preaching, they have their own agenda and simply pull in a few verses to offer it weak support. But, crazy as I know it sounds, Baptists aren't right about everything, either. Bell's books have made some excellent points and I've found parts of them highly compelling. While I'm far more comfortable on my home planet, it's proven that the conditions on Mars are far more suited to human life than Venus. Imagine that--a habitat more welcoming than that of the Baptists? Who would've thought. Overall, I think both places have fascinating aspects and both have a specific role, and the members of each could learn a lot from each other about how to live and what to believe. Mars isn't for me, but I think I'll continue my weekly interplanetary travel for the next month just to remember the significance of my unintentional dismount.

My advice to the world:

If you're even the tiniest bit of a neat freak, never get a white coffee maker.

White coffee pot + brown coffee = seeing how dirty the coffee pot REALLY is and having to obsessively clean it.

Welcome back?

It seem that whenever I return to school after being away for an extended period of time, I have a strange series of misfortunes (see http://furtherin2009.blogspot.com/2010/01/return-day-1.html ). Today has been no exception.

I am back in GR…and I have both good and bad news. The good news is that I made it here safely. The bad news….well, there's quite a bit.

Once here, I stopped to check my mail before heading to my apartment. I greeted Stephanie, my suitemate from this past year, who was working in the mail room. She informed me that the power was out in my building for an undetermined amount of time and had been since Saturday. Normally, I wouldn't mind this too much, except tonight I'm supposed have friends over, bake brownies, watch movies, and make a tent out of sheets in my living room. Along with that, I don't regret my summer without car air conditioning, but it made for a terribly toasty drive here. I was looking forward to entering a building that would be at least slightly cooler, but it was actually worse.

I checked into my apartment and took about half an hour filling out the stupid RCI form that is annoying enough to ruin anyone's good mood. Upon turning it in to one of the RAs, I was secretly hoping he'd offer to help me bring everything in from my car. Unfortunately, with the wish of "Have fun unpacking everything from your car!", he resumed watching TV in the lounge. This left me to unload on my own through a lengthy process that went like this:

Step 1: walk from my apartment, at one end of the very dark hallway, to the stairs at the opposite end of the hall.

Step 2: Rummage through my car in an attempt to find the best items to evenly add up to the Maximum Carryable Load size (MCL). This was difficult, as I needed a free hand to open the door. It limited the use of my right arm only to things I could hang from my wrist or tuck under my upper arm.

Step 3: Haul MCL up the stairs, to the opposite end of the hall, and deposit in kitchen (the only place it would be out of the way of the furniture moving that is to come). (Side note: my apartment with its door open was quite literally the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. This made me laugh.)

Step 4: Take a bite of my granola bar, the only food I had to last the next seven hours.

Step 5: Repeat.

Approximate Average Load Time (AALT): 4 minutes.

In the midst of this process, I realized two things. One, I had no toilet paper, thus couldn't use the bathroom. Two, I left my coffee pot at home. The toilet paper issue can easily be solved, but the coffee pot…I'm pretty sure the world is going to end.

Today has been quite the adventure thus far. While frustrating, it's really quite humorous. And, if Tori ever returns my phone calls, I look forward to spending tonight with two wonderful people.

Air conditioning and Escalades

The air conditioning unit at my house quit working yesterday. It needs to be replaced. Anyone who has had this repair done knows it costs a fortune. It's one of those things that's extraordinarily expensive simply because people are willing to pay for it. Why are they willing to pay for it? Because they feel they need it.

Here's an excerpt from a conversation tonight:

Ethan: So did the air conditioner really break, Dad?

Dad: Yeah. That thing's gonna cost $(fill in the blank with absurdly high number) to replace. Can you believe that?

Me: Yep. They know people will pay for it. Why don't you just not replace it?

Ethan: Are you kidding? Caley, I'm sitting here sweating.

Me: So? You can deal with it. Write a book entitled The Summer Without Air Conditioning, then sell it at Borders where hundreds of thousands of rich Americans will buy it because of intrigue about the sheer horror of it.

Actually, even before yesterday, air conditioning had been on my mind a lot lately.

An idea started forming in my head while in Mexico, but I wasn't able to put it into words until I read it in a book. There's this thing called entitlement. Merriam Webster explains this as "a right to benefits specified especially by law or contract" or "belief that one is deserving or entitled to certain privileges."

What are you entitled to? I think we can all agree that that every person is entitled to the basic needs of life--food, water, shelter, etc. As Christians, if we believe that everyone is created in the image of God, it means everyone we encounter is entitled to respect and love. Jesus healed; I believe people are entitled to health. We're entitled to family and friendship. We're entitled to think and feel how we want. Unfortunately, sometimes this thing called sin gets in the way, sin that makes the world an unjust place, sin that separates us from the once-perfect communion we had with our Creator, each other, and the earth. Sin is the reason so many people are starving. Sin is the reason so many children are born HIV positive. Sin is the reason there are orphans. Sin is the reason people commit suicide. In Mexico, I encountered many of these issues. Staggering statistics were shared about the amounts of domestic violence, alcoholism, and suicide in the Yucatan.  I visited an orphanage. I listened to a group of men who spoke about their working conditions and how it is to raise a family there. I heard a human rights organization talk about the oppression of the Mayan people.

What about us as Americas? What are we entitled to? "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Life. That makes sense. Liberty--we have our Bill of Rights that states the freedoms our country gracious grants to us. The pursuit of happiness? This is where I believe things have gone very wrong.

In our pursuit of happiness, we've gained an incredible sense of entitlement that's nearly unfathomable. The list could be endless, but above all else, we believe we're entitled to physical comfort. In this category are spacious cars, running water with an adjustable temperature, plush couches, the perfect mattress, carpeting, bug spray, a good haircut, refrigeration, our own bedrooms, square footage, reliable plumbing, privacy, window screens, coffee, clothing for all occasions, interior décor, air freshener, contact lenses, music to suit our tastes, television, internet available everywhere, cleaning supplies, grocery stores, libraries, schools, transportation whenever we want, home security systems, variety and options, a routine, the newspaper…and, yes, air conditioning.

Do you see anything wrong with this? There's nothing wrong with many of these things, but the more we get, the more we "need." The more technology and the quality of life improves, the more we can't live without. Pretty soon, we're buying Escalades.

I was driving with my dad earlier today. We found ourselves stopped at a red light next to a black Cadillac Escalade. He commented on how nice it was. That, naturally, set me off on a rant about expensive cars and Oprah and why they both disgust me. The Escalade is one of the most coveted SUVs. The base price of the 2011 Escalade is rumored to be roughly $63,000. It gets 14 miles per gallon, or a maximum of 20 on highways.  People want them. People buy them. People love them. People take care of them. This is a CAR.  Why? Because they've worked hard for that $63,000 and they feel they've earned it.

How much do we spend on luxury? What would happen if we all gave up, or at least downgraded, our Escalades? I don't think we've all been called to a life of poverty. God has immensely blessed America and us as individuals, and I think to completely deny ourselves of those blessings would, in a way, be disrespectful. However, I think we're called, in turn, to use the resources we have to bless others, and I think this starts with giving up our sense of entitlement. Only then will we become clearly aware of how much we're blessed with.

The day I returned from Mexico, I decided on a challenge for myself this year: I will not use air conditioning in my car. Air conditioning isn't the point. The point is that whenever I get in my horribly warm car and start to sweat, I remember that I'm not entitled to much in my life. Somehow, miraculously, a lack of air conditioning has led to an indescribable amount of contentment--more than I've ever had in my life--an understanding of how much I have, an increased awe of God, and a greater care for others. It was hardly a sacrifice for me, the person who is always cold anyway, but it's amazing what a change in perspective it can bring when an option is taken away.

Try giving up something small that you take for granted, that many people feel entitled to. See what happens. 

Something to ponder

Since my return from Mexico, I've been struggling to verbalize precisely why the trip was so significant to me. Just a few minutes ago, I came across this blog post by Chip Huber, the Dean of Student Engagement at my school, and it really helped describe why I believe Mexico had such an impact. I found it to be pretty compelling.

Missing Zambia...and Why I Think Everyone Needs to GO...

Today is an interesting day for me...I woke up this morning thinking about a team of folks from my former school who were spending their first day in Zambia...this is the first trip that Wheaton Academy is taking where I'm not leading the trip, and it is the first year I won't be visiting sub-Saharan Africa since 2004...don't get me wrong, I am way, way thrilled that they are still going without me...in fact, that is the whole point, isn't it as a leader? But there is a real sadness that I'm not there with them, seeing old friends, playing soccer on dirt fields as the WORLD CUP goes on a couple countries below, and being moved again by the mixture of great need and great Kingdom work present in a nation and communities I've strangely fallen in love with...

A couple weeks ago I already started working on setting up dates to take students from my new campus environment back to Zambia and all that Africa has to offer...I can't imagine not going back, and I still deeply feel called to expose students and co-workers to life and the church and reality in this other part of the world...there are already plans in the works here at Cornerstone to host a big soccer event to help raise funds to purchase bednets that we can distribute next summer as we fight and help to prevent the deadly impact of malaria on families and children...and I've been left to wonder why I am still so consumed with taking people to meet others and see things that I know has great potential to make messy their lives that might be rather together and tidy in their current states...

Below is an excerpt from Palmer Chinchen's new book True Religion that speaks to the power of being deeply bothered when we experience things that produce real conflict in our lives are turned loose...it's a great summary piece of why I long to and will continue to take people to places different than their own worlds...to be disturbed and moved to response and in the process to become spiritually transformed...

"Welcome to hell," the European doctor greeted our medical team snidely at the entrance to the Lilongwe Hospital. Hell is what it was.

I had first visited hell a few years earlier when Boyd, a young man I knew in Lilongwe, was struck by a car while crossing the road at dusk.

Boyd's father showed up at my house in the dark and asked anxiously if! would drive him and his family to the hospital to find his son.

The stench was nauseating. Every part of the hospital was in some state of disrepair. Nothing appeared to have been painted in years. I watched the staff mop floors that remained curiously grimy.

We found Boyd on a dingy gurney in the hallway leading to the ER. He had a compound fracture; the bone protruded through the skin. His leg, his pants, and the gurney were all drenched in blood. He was still bleeding.

"Has he seen a doctor?" I asked.

An ER attendant spoke. "No, we are waiting for the doctor."

I walked into the ER to try to find help. There were no doctors, so I rounded up two interns and convinced them to bring Boyd into the ER to get the bleeding stopped and clean the puncture wound in his leg. They agreed, rolled him into the ER, and promised to look after him until the doctor arrived. I felt good about being helpful and headed home.

That was Friday night. Late Monday evening, Boyd's father was back at my door. "Boyd is in a lot of pain. Could you help me with some money for some pain medication?"

"Pain medication?" I was surprised. "Once a fracture is set, there should be no pain."

"The leg has not been set yet," his father replied.

What? Boyd lay there in the hospital for three days with a compound fracture, and no one had set it! I knew the orthopedic surgeon would not be in at night, so I waited until the morning and headed back to "hell" with several of my Malawian college students. We hunted the halls for an hour looking for the one orthopedic surgeon in the country and finally found him in an operating theater, teaching a class. He waved me in, and I told him about Boyd. He was unaware of the case and graciously told me to bring him.

We found Boyd, but none of the nurses could find a gurney to roll him to the operating room. So we picked up his bed, each taking a corner, and we carried him to the operating theater.

His leg had rotted. It took almost six months to heal. If there's a place in this world where people lie for days with gaping wounds—that's a place of hell on earth.

Bothered
I'll be honest. I write all of this with the intention of bothering you. I hope you will no longer be willing to ignore people who hurt.

Oppression, injustice, poverty, bigotry and abuse are real and present. But it doesn't have to be this way. God put you and me here to make this world a better place, a more beautiful place. When Jesus left, He asked that you and I continue to change and love the world. The mission and purpose of the local church was never intended to end at the edge of our community.

King Solomon writes about the heart of God: "Rescue the perishing; don't hesitate to step in and help. If you say, 'Hey, that's none of my business,' will that get you off the hook? Someone is watching you closely, you know–Someone not impressed with weak excuses."

So whatever the cost, go in the name of Jesus and love people who hurt. Tell them and show them that God has a better way, a more beautiful war, a life-giving way.

Conflict
Educators have discovered an interesting phenomenon: We learn best and comprehend more when our minds are disturbed. In other words, the more people are bothered by what they are being taught—because it is new or radically different and they disagree—then the more likely the information will change the way they think and live. The process of wrestling with difficult concepts makes them better thinkers and ultimately deeper people. The process even has a name—cognitive conflict (or disequilibration).

Jesus was brilliant at this. He masterfully used parables or illustrations to disturb those He taught.

Being disturbed is not just a good way to learn—it's necessary for transformation.

Jesus would always propose equilibration to people’s thinking by offering a better way to live, a more beautiful way to live, a more godly way to live. But He let them choose.

Diamonds
Spiritual transformation often happens in the moments of life that stun us. When we experience, watch or hear of something disturbing, it creates this cognitive conflict that can change the way we think and live.

You may already know how diamonds are formed. Carbon, which is just black dirt, is compressed by millions of pounds of pressure by the earth's weight. This extreme pressure and heat from the earth's core transform the carbon into something pure and beautiful. The greater the heat and pressure, the more pure (or clear) the diamond forms.

In much the same way, I'm convinced we are transformed through moments of spiritual conflict. Under the pressure of going globally and giving our lives away, we open ourselves to the possibility of God crafting something beautiful in our souls. He uses the pressure of the experience and the heat of the moment—sometimes literally—to transform us spiritually and make our lives a bit more beautiful.

We have two options. We can choose to stay and ignore. Or we can choose to go and see and be disturbed. One choice leads to a kind of death; the other leads to life and change and hope.

If you'd like to read more of Chip's blog, in which he writes much about missions and other spiritual matters, here's the link: http://chiphuber.blogspot.com/

A jeopardizing library trip

Today I had a lovely morning and afternoon of sleeping in, going for a run, drinking coffee, and reading Life of Pi and making Spanish flashcards outside. Where I live, Jeopardy is on at 3:30 in the afternoon. I love Jeopardy and try not to miss it whenever I'm home. I came inside at 2:40 and had two options: either continue working on my Spanish flashcards go to the library. I figured I'd have enough time to go to the library before Jeopardy; after all, it's just down the road. I changed and left within ten minutes.

On my weekly trip to the library, I like to get a few movies and an occasional book. Since I'm rereading LOP right now, though, I only needed movies. Typically I choose one in Spanish, one drama, one comedy, and another from one of those sections. I found a couple Spanish films quickly, grabbed a random Johnny Depp movie as my drama, and ventured over to the comedies. Now there is a plethora of variations among comedies. There are romantic comedies, cheesy cliché comedies, dark comedies, satires, slapstick comedies, intentionally stupid comedies, unintentionally stupid comedies, vulgar comedies, and comedies that are really not even funny. I avoid most of these. Somehow, though, the comedy genre still produces pretty great movies. Without comedies, we would be lacking the touching humor of Dan in Real Life, the wittiness of Stranger than Fiction, the ridiculousness of The Princess Bride, and others like Night at the Museum, My Fair Lady, You've Got Mail, Up, Shrek, other Disney movies, PS I Love You, The Darjeeling Limited, Juno, Hitch, and many others. Today, somehow, nothing seemed appealing. I scanned all the titles, first from T to Z, then L to S, then backwards from K to A. Nothing. I finally settled on Big Fish just because it's Tim Burton.

In the middle of my hunt, I had utilized the library computer for the online catalog system. I didn't realize I had left my keys on the desk.

Just before I grudgingly selected Big Fish, I had checked the time--3:11. I had 19 minutes until Jeopardy. No problem. After making my last movie decision, I wandered over to the self-checkout. I have no idea why anyone would wait in line when they could use the self-checkout. For some reason, today there were lines in both places. After waiting, I scanned my card…and it couldn’t find my account information. I tried again. Success! I checked out one item. Good. I put the second item over the sensor. After a long delay, rather than continuing with my transaction, it printed my receipt. Bewildered, I gave it a quizzical look, scanned my card a second time, checked out one more item without issues, then it did the same thing again, so I switched to a different computer. The same thing happened. Frustrated, I separated my three already checked-out items and their three individual receipts from the couple other ones and awkwardly carried them to the regular check-out line. There were two ladies working. One was preoccupied with a family who was doing something long and complicated that involved both ends asking and answering an absurd number of questions. The other woman was in the process of checking out an enormous stack of children's books. I glanced at the clock on the side of the counter--3:20. The latter finished first, the mom and her three daughters walked away, and I proceeded. Before I made it to the counter, the alarm beeped, and the mom returned. She and her girls had three bags of books, so two of the daughters had to separately walk to the sensor and back to see whose books it was that set off the alarm. With children that are respectively about three and four years old, this is never a quick, simple task. Once they figured out whose bag it was, the contents had to be emptied on the counter and counted. 3:25. I'm normally not impatient about these kind of things, but this was Jeopardy that I was nearly missing.

Once it was my turn--for real this time--I explained to the lady what had happened, and she figured out the item giving me problems was none other than my Johnny Depp movie. Darn you, Johnny Depp. She checked out everything with only minor difficulties. While waiting, I realized I didn't have my car keys. As I frantically left to hunt for them, she called out, "Oh wait, did you know you have a CD on hold?" I had no idea, nor did I really care. I just wanted to watch Jeopardy. She made me check both sides of the reserve section, but my search was futile. As a last resort, she looked in the room behind the counters and found it, then had to check that out, too. Fortunately, I located and retrieved my keys quickly, as it wasn't the first time I had left them there. I drove home, making sure not to rush too much. Upon arriving at home, I discovered that Ethan had closed the garage door, forcing me to run around the house to get in.

And somehow, though it seems all forces were acting against me, I made it home in time for Jeopardy. 

Today's forecast

The weather is something typically discussed as the go-to subject in a desperate attempt to continue conversation or merely break awkward silence. Even the best of us fall subject to this. I catch myself mentioning the weather frequently, sometimes for this purpose, but more often because it's something I notice and either appreciate or abhor. Either way, I marvel at it. The frigid winds and abundance of snow of winter in western Michigan, the fresh scents and playfulness or torrentially depressing rains of spring, the scorching sun and suffocating stickiness of summer alongside the lake, or the crisp chilliness of autumn with an enhanced sound of rustling leaves in the winds due to their decay. On occasion, the world turns into a snow globe, a giant shower or sauna, or a desert. Perfect weather cannot be ascribed to specific conditions, but is subjectively based upon the individual--their preferences, circumstances, plans, and desires. For me, the weather was indeed perfect today.

It is supposedly 66* currently. I think it's warmer. Another thing about weather is it cannot be judged by the temperature. Factors such as humidity and the breeze alter the stated temperature considerably. I prefer to describe the weather by how it feels. Today, it's sunny with low humidity. It's warm enough to wear shorts and a t-shirt, but not hot enough to sweat profusely. A cool, light breeze ruffles the trees but isn't very evident when sitting still. That's the inexplicable wonder of the wind lately: when I move, it moves. When I'm still, it's still.

Thus far, I have loved today. I've spent a considerable portion of it outside, soaking up the much-needed vitamin D that is so lacking during the long winter months. Lately, I've been caught in quite the annoying situation. I have a substantial summer "to do" list that I'm excited to cross items off of, and I've been filled with ambition to accomplish some of this. Conversely, it's summer. I have little motivation to do anything. Usually, this results in me attempting productivity but achieving nothing, thereby crushing my aspirations while gaining little rest. Little else but frustration follows. Today, I decided to abandon productivity and just pursue relaxation and enjoyment.

The experience was delightful. I spent a few hours outside, first reading Psalms and Romans, then beginning to reread Life of Pi. I forgot how amazing that book is…more on that later. I wasn't quite as focused as I would've liked, though, due to the movement of the sun combined with the many trees in my backyard. If I want to stay in the sun, it forces me to migrate every few minutes as the shadows shift. I start first on the deck, then eventually move to the ground near the deck, then to the edge of the yard. It's a huge inconvenience. Once, I was driven inside by a shockingly large bee that took a particular liking to my face. Later, I took Winston for a walk, during which he stubbornly and persistently insisted upon thoroughly sniffing and showering every single tree we passed, as if some other dog has just marked it as his territory and it was Winston's noble duty to investigate and reclaim it.

My day concluded with a game of Scrabble at Starbucks, a Skype video chat with Jessie and friends, a terrible game of basketball with my dad and brother, a little more Life of Pi, some writing, and quite possibly a movie now. Overall, I'd say it was highly satisfying. I like it. 

Accidental witness

Today, I had to go get a drug test to be rehired for one of my jobs. It was annoying, but not a big deal. When leaving, I debated over which way to take to my next destination, the library. Option A: The more direct but more busy street with lots of lights that I avoid at all costs, or Option B, the indirect but slightly less busy street that I prefer. I had good music, the weather was nice, I wasn't in a hurry, and I was feeling patient, so I chose A.

I was driving along, one hand on the steering wheel and the other next to me, happily bobbing my head to M.I.A. from the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack, when a Jeep coming from the opposite direction made a left turn in front of me. He was completely justified in doing so--this affected neither me nor anyone coming from my direction. From the road he was turning onto, though, a black Suburban raced down at probably about 40 mph--fast for a commercial/residential street--and rapidly approached him. After seeing the Jeep pass in front of me, I did a double take as I saw what was coming. "She sees him, she's won't hit him...Oh shoot, she's gonna hit him."

The front corners of the two vehicles collided, the second sending the first spinning, its back end smashing into a concrete barrier, until the front finally hit another cement wall that prevented it from moving further. The driver's seat flew backward, and the man sitting in it wore a look of sheer terror as he spun in circles. About halfway between the initial impact and the halting collision into the wall, his eyes closed, and he looked almost peaceful. The other car swerved around the corner and stopped.

The next few moments consisted of a flurry of pulling over, jumping out of my car, checking on everyone, and calling the police. Everyone was alive and nearly unscathed, but really shaken up. Four terrified children were crammed into the back seat of the Suburban, with another young teenage girl in front with the driver, whom I assume was their mother. I stuck around until the police and firemen came, gave them my contact information, described what I saw, answered several questions, and went on my way.

It scared me, but that doesn't matter. I can't help but wonder how it affected the drivers and their families. Is this going to change how they view life, knowing that catastrophes can happen so unexpectedly? Where were they going? What was going through their minds at the time? Will they be more astute drivers? Do they have the money to repair their cars and pay for the ticket? Do they have insurance? Especially the lady with the five kids in the car...though she was going much faster than she should've been, I'm concerned about what's going to happen to that family.

It's so crazy how an incident at a small intersection, so minor in the grand scheme of the world, can dramatically change someone's life.

To write or not to write?

About half an hour ago, I wanted to write. I wanted to actually keep up a consistent blog about the multitude of my miscellaneous musings (maybe even including my love for alliteration...). Then I took my dog for a short walk around the block and lost most of that desire. I'm not sure what it was that drove it from me--maybe the fresh air helped clear my head of the absurd ambition, or maybe rolling my eyes and cringing at the way Winston yelps the entire time squelched my inspiration.

I don't quite know anymore. I don't want to start and not keep up with it--I'd just end up not writing any more than I do now, but feeling like a loser because of it. If I don't, though, I might wonder what could've come of it.

Thoughts?

Too much talking leads to a cluttered mind and a need to listen

Last week Friday, a week and a half ago, I returned from my missions trip to Mexico. I excitedly rambled about all my adventures to my grandparents, who picked me up from the airport. The following day, I had dinner with my other grandparents, whom I proceeded to tell about the trip. The day after that, Sunday, I met a friend at Panera and shared all my stories with her. When I finally came home, my parents wanted to hear about it. Wednesday night at church, several individuals approached me, asking how Mexico was. On Thursday, my third set of grandparents came to visit, and, at their request, I informed them of everything that happened. Friday, I talked via Skype to another friend about it. Yesterday, I gave a presentation during my church service of all that I did and learned. Today, I wrote thank you letters to all who supported me, narrating the many highlights of the trip.

I loved Mexico, but I am so tired of talking. Not just talking about my trip, but talking in general. I like talking--I do a lot of my processing verbally and I like telling stories--but I love listening. It's been a long time since I've just listened to someone else without having a discussion or contributing words of my own. I'm sick of hearing my voice (both out loud and in my head). I'm ready to hear someone else for once. I don't mean listening to music or a sermon, watching a movie, or reading a book. I'd like someone to talk to me. I want to get to know another person, hear their stories, understand their life.  

According to Rebecca West, an Irish critic, journalist, and novelist, "There [is] a definite process by which one makes people into friends, and it involve[s] talking to them and listening to them for hours at a time." I've done the talking. Now it's someone else's turn. 

Oh Mexico, how I miss you

Things I miss about Mexico:

-Speaking Spanish
-The best team ever
-Laughing hysterically many times per day
-Fantastic car rides
-Amazing food
-Sun and warmth
-My host family
-Z11s
-Sleeping in hammocks aka hamacas
-Daily conversations about who has pooped and who hasn't
-Great music
-Liturgical prayers
-Reflection times
-Rooming with Aleka
-Speed bumps
-Lizards
-Packed yet relaxed schedules
-Constant learning
-All the people from La Iglesia Bethel, especially Israel and Itsel, and also Victor
-Waking up early and journaling at the church
-Late-night futbol and voleibol games
-Singing
-Writing hate notes to team members
-Learning about the justice issues of Mexico
-Playing with kids
-Sharing and discussing what I'm learning with people who are experiencing the same things alongside of me
-Team games like Dixit, trivia, and Psychiatrist
-Being outside for most of the day
-Jordan's quotes
-Aleka's laugh
-Eric's sarcasm
-Banashak's wisdom
-Yolanda's songs
-Ben's excitement
-Chelsea's blonde moments
-Nikki's peace
-Josiah's insight

Things I love about being home:

-My coffee
-Wearing pajama pants
-Family
-Clean bathrooms
-Toilets that can handle flushing toilet paper
-Showers with normal water pressue
-The ability to communicate fluently with the people I'm living with

...And that's about it.

Can we please go back to Mexico?

Chinese poetry without the Chinese

I just finished the very last class of my sophomore year of college. Oh my goodness. The class was Humanities Seminar, in which we've spent the last two weeks reading Kenneth Rexroth's English translations of ancient Chinese poetry. It's really quite fascinating. It abounds with themes of seasons, changing, nature, sense of loss, longing, acceptance, darkness and light, all with an overarching sense of tranquility.

Assignment of the day: We had half an hour. We had to go outside and write our best imitation of the Chinese poetry in keeping with the themes and tones.

I wrote poetry. After Creative Writing my freshman year of high school, I vowed never to do so again of my own accord, unless it was intended merely in jest. Though I winced at the thought of this task, it ended up being almost cathartic. Here's what I came up with. It's a bit melodramatic, just as I perceive most poetry, but oh well.

Seemingly overnight dark red leaves
Sprung from bear branches outside my
Window, the window that provides
A glance into my home that has
Become so dear. The eviction is inevitable,
Mutually agreed, but still seems so cruel.
Within a week, everyone will flee,
Rejoicing, welcoming the escape from a
Place they claim to love. But I will climb
The sheltering limbs of the tree
Outside my window, and stop,
And respectfully mourn the death that comes
In this beautiful season of new life.

It's no masterpiece, but having read the poems in the book for class, I was able to replicate the general style and feeling. What's most important is the sense of accomplishment.

Why not Bob Jones?

I forgot to share a funny story from last night!

My church doesn't have a Good Friday service, so my family drove up to Wisconsin and went to the service at the church we attended when we lived there. Like my church now, it's Baptist and extremely conservative. The only difference is that my church now is tiny, and everyone is well aware of the fact that no one else is as conservative as them. My old church has over a thousand people--not enormous, but enough for them all to affirm each other in their conservativeness and never even consider more "liberal" possibilities.

Before the service started, we were talking with this darling old man who used to give all the kids candy when I was little. He asked where I was attending school. Though most would consider my school pretty conservative, he apparently didn't agree. He gave me this absolutely bewildered look and said, "Not Maranatha or Bob Jones?" I said no and proceeded to justify my reasoning with pathetic things like, "Well my grandparents live really close to this school..." Even after my lame explanations, he shook his head, still appearing utterly confused, and definitively stated, "But a pretty girl like you should be at Maranatha or Bob Jones!"

I just gave him a grim smile and tried my hardest not to laugh.

This is my life?!

Fashion...is not really my thing. I try to dress nicely. When I worked at Bakers, I really tried to be stylish. I will admit, few things are more empowering than being well-dressed and looking great at 5'11" in stilettos and being able to walk in them flawlessly. My time in the fashion world was short-lived, though. I'm much more of a flat boots and flannel shirt person. Although the ever-changing obnoxious world of trends is not for me, I have a secret love for reading fashion magazines because they bring out the tiny bit of creativity in me. That's why I'm writing. It probably won't be any good, but that's okay.

On the drive home from school today, I was thinking about my life. It's the beginning of April. The next month will be crazy with lots of schoolwork. The first week in May will be finals, packing, and moving out. Who even knows what the second week will be...just me wandering about enjoying seeing my grandparents (and hopefully friends, too) and having no homework. The third week in May will be spent on a missions trip to Mexico with a completely awesome group of people. The fourth week in May will be back home and working for Kraft. All of June will be work...and hopefully a good amount of it. A lot, so that I can actually make money, but not too much where I'm so exhausted that, like one night at the beginning of July last year, I literally go to bed at 7 because I have no desire to do anything except sleep. The first week in July will be work. July 8th, I start teaching English back at school! For five weeks, I'll be teaching Brazilian and Japanese students. I don't have an itinerary for the Japanese yet, but Brazil sent their the other day. Can I just say...it's going to be awesome! There's only an average of 2 1/2 hours of classroom teaching each day, then the rest of the time will be spent going to baseball games, going to the beach, going to the zoo, going to Cedar Point, going to Mackinaw Island, going to Chicago...and they pay for the teachers to do all these activities with them! I'm essentially getting paid to hang out and do fun activities with Brazilian students. How cool is that? That's through July 26 (I think), then the Japanese come. After they leave on August 11, I have about four weeks of "nothing." I'm sure they'll be crazy busy, though, because the first week in September, I leave for Ireland for thee months! Oh my goodness. Then, early to mid-December, I come back, go through Christmas craziness, and return to school.

I came to the conclusion that my life is ridiculous. Nothing about this is normal. For most college students, life right now is finishing school for this semester, working over the summer, then going back to school in the fall to resume everything as it was this year, just perhaps with different classes and living situations. Nothing too out of the ordinary. But me, I've got school, Mexico, work, teaching, and Ireland. I'll have been in three countries (including the U.S.) in the next six months, and probably even more by the end of the year...and I'll have lived in two of them. I'm totally looking forward to this, but it's kind of scary. It's an adventure, for sure, and adventures scare me.

This morning, I was supposed to play racquetball. Upon finding out that the gym was closed for the weekend, I decided to take advantage of the incredible weather. I walked around the campus pond a few times, then retreated to my new favorite place--a particular willow tree that hovers over the home of some small, furry creature. It's the perfect tree to sit in. It has four large branches (large being about a foot and a half in diameter) growing out of its main trunk. I think there used to be two more, but for some reason, someone thought they were bad and cut them off. Now, there are two stump-like things right around where the branches split off from the trunk, and they're perfect for sitting. There's nothing worse than having to awkwardly straddle a branch to stay in a tree. So I sat up there for a while and I talked to God about what it means to trust him and how I often have a hard time with it. Later, when I was driving home and contemplating the rest of my year and how much will be changing as a result of all my plans, God just kind of jumped in mid-thought and said, "...but I'll still be there. I'm the one thing that'll be consistent the whole time." I really liked that. For some reason, he suddenly seems so much more tangible. I've joked with my friends about hiding them in my suitcase and bringing them with me, but with God that can actually happen, and I don't have to worry about paying extra for the luggage being too heavy.

So I guess from here on out, it's Jesus and me on one crazy adventure...just pray that I don't forget he's there.

I love playing racquetball. It's the one and only time (aside form being in a very deep sleep) that I'm not thinking about twenty-seven things at once. It's mentally relaxing.

Just be...

It's spring break. How is this possible? This semester has flown by...that's how it always is, isn't it? I know it's partly because I love school, though it's sometimes overwhelming and it doesn't seem like I'm too fond of it. I think it is also because I have a goal and the deadline is in sight. What is that goal? I couldn't tell you. I'm not sure. So why am I fighting so hard to reach it? That's a really good question. I'd say it's due to a lack of contentment.

There are things all of us want. Specifically, as Americans, I think what most of us want is selfish, idealistic, and/or materialistic. I wouldn't consider myself very materialistic. I'm the person who asks for practical things for Christmas like windshield wipers and laundry detergent. Idealistic and selfish, though, could quite possibly be used to describe me, and I display that far more in my relationships than anything else. I want things to be as perfect as they can be (considering we're all human and are bound to mess up) and won't be content until they are. It's frustrating. And of course, frustration only makes it worse. I could take this in a biblical direction, but I don't want to preach--to myself or anyone else. Just looking at it practically has enough implications of its own. Why can't people simply be content? I don't think it's necessarily wrong to want more; lacking contentment until we have it is the problem. By desiring some ideal of which I'm not even aware, I'm setting myself up for disappointment, as is everyone who does the same. Why can't I just be, now, and not pay attention to what's lacking? Here's my plan I'm going to try: whenever I'm with someone or talking to someone, I'm not going to think about twenty-seven other things. I'm not going to consider my presuppositions of them--how they've annoyed me or let me down, characteristics I don't like about them, etc. I don't know what this will look like when applied, but we'll see. I want to be content with people. I want to finish this year having not failed in striving for some unrealistic goal...what good would that do? I want to finish it having enjoyed it with the people who contribute so much value to my life.

Go.

One of the most stereotypical questions posed to Christians is, "If God is so loving, why does he allow so many bad things to happen in the world?" I can totally understand where people are coming from when they ask this. Where is God in the Haiti earthquake? Where is God in North Korea? Where was God in Svay Pak, Cambodia before the couple dozen brothels were raided and the victims of human trafficking were rescued? Where was God in Darfur? Or Rwanda? I'm comfortable not having all the answers, just knowing that my God cannot be constrained or defined by events that happen here on earth. Other people aren't satisfied with that, though, and I can't say I blame them.

I never had an answer. I didn't know how to respond. I'd verbally run in circles, trying to make up some excuse that lined up with the Bible and sounded rational. It didn't often work, and I felt defeated. Well now I am quite thrilled to say I have decided on an answer. I don't think it's possible to ever explain God's sovereignty completely, but I find this to be enough for now. 

Remember the book I said I read, True Story: A Christianity worth believing in? The author made a good point. In Old Testament times, the temple was the place where the people of Israel could encounter God. It was where heaven and earth intersected. Where the temple was, God was. Now, since Christ came and we have the Holy Spirit, Christians have become the new temple (1 Corinthians 3:16). We are the physical embodiment of God. Where WE are,  God is. 

The question is not "where is God?" It's "where is the church?" I believe God works in a myriad of ways, but as Christians, we have no right to question God's presence (or lack thereof) anywhere, in anything, if we ourselves are not physically bringing it there. Go. Support someone else who's going. Quit asking and do something. Bring God to the hopeless. 

Long weeks lead to cranky contemplation.

"Now the curtain's coming up

The audience is still

I'm struggling to cater for

The space I'm meant to fill."

-(KT Tunstall, "False Alarm")-

As I said before, this semester is one of reconciliation--it's a time now to do things right. This week, I began to see how much pressure that puts on me. I feel like so many people are watching me--my family, my friends, my classmates, my professors, the people I live with, my Terra Firma group--and I don't know what to do. I don't know what they expect me to do. I feel like I'm fumbling around aimlessly in front of them.

At the same time, I'm having a really hard time answering the question of what I'm supposed to do, where this point in my life fits into the grand scheme of it all. It seems to me like all I've been doing at school is absorbing a wealth of information and doing absolutely nothing with it. People have told me that this is what college is for, this is what I should be focusing on now. I disagree. If that's the case, then no one would accomplish anything in their lives, ever, because we're always learning. Learning isn't an excuse to stop doing.

I'm confident that there will come a point where I'll apply (most of) what I've been learning in classes. I'll start using what I learned in last semester's Spanish class on Monday when I start Spanish 2. I'll use the knowledge from Intro to Linguistics on Tuesday in Sociolinguistics. I've learned a lot outside of classes, too. I've learned about myself, how I handle different situations, how I react based on circumstances, what I value, what I want, what I need, why I possess some of my odd qualities...but what has this led to? It's answered questions, but also created more frustration and generated new questions. It's led to doubt. As for my friendships, I'd say they've suffered. And all for the sake of learning?

J-term has worn me down. I'm exhausted. I get pretty self-defeating when I'm this tired, but it's shed light upon the fact that last semester's struggles aren't nearly over. The difference is I know now that I can't just focus on how I can produce the optimal situation for myself out of what I've been given. That just doesn't work. Being that self-centered, while natural and understandable in this situation, is still inexcusable and completely unfulfilling.

How can I benefit others? How can I improve my relationships? What do I have to do in order to make progress in life rather than sit here wallowing in an overload of information? I'm not really sure where to start. If I may end with another KT Tunstall quote...

"I need to be patient

And I need to be brave

I need to discover how I need to behave

I'll find out the answers when I know what to ask

but I speak a different language and everybody's talking too fast."

("Miniature Disasters")

True Story

I just finished reading a book. A book! I read something that wasn’t required for school! Despite my love for reading, this has been far too uncommon the past few years. It was called True Story: A Christianity Worth Believing In. It was about many of the questions that Christianity faces, to put it simply. I’m still processing, but I can say for sure it’s changed how I picture heaven and how I will present the gospel from now on. There was one thing that hit me especially hard. It wasn’t necessarily what the book said, but more what it made me think about. There was a section talking about forgiveness. Of course, I was confidently sitting on my high horse with a beaming smile, claiming that forgiveness comes pretty naturally to me; I don’t really hold grudges. After all, in general, the only people who hurt me are those whom I love, who are close enough to hurt me. And in most cases, I love them enough where, after some time, I have no problem forgiving them. They’re people who care about me in return, and having them in my life is worth sacrificing my pride enough to accept their apologies and forgive them. Essentially I was taking pride in the fact that I can set aside my pride in order to forgive, when I was faced with a realization.

I’ve heard the cliché phrase before, “I’m my own worst critic.” Or it may be “hardest critic” or something else of the sort, but either way, it’s most definitely true. Not gonna lie, I’ve put myself through a lot of crap. That’s what comes along with being a perfectionist—high expectations and a lot of letdowns. I was just reflecting earlier this afternoon on how I think I often appear more confident than I actually am…but do I really lack that much confidence? I don’t think so. I often feel like I know what I’m doing, at least to a certain extent—maybe not in the important things like life, but I’m pretty comfortable with knowing that I’ll never actually know that; what I need to know will come in time. I think the lack of confidence I so often experience is my distrust of what I’m going to end up putting myself through. I think I might be okay at forgiving others, but what about forgiving myself? I jokingly place the blame on others, even inanimate objects—like in racquetball, when I miss the ball because it was awkwardly close to the wall, it’s the wall’s fault. Or a joke between Sharon and me, “blame in on the Smurfs.” In reality, though, I blame myself for just about all of the negative things that have happened in my life. I overcomplicate, overanalyze, overreact…all to my detriment. Until my freshman year of high school, I couldn’t even laugh at myself. I’ve since learned to approach my downfalls with a little more of a sense of humor, but it’s still not easy.

This isn’t at all to say I should avoid responsibility for my faults and the wrongs that I’ve caused. Rather, I think I need to readjust my view. As a Christian, being forgiven is a huge part of my identity—why can’t I accept that? God expects me to take up my cross and follow him, entailing that I try (through his power) to become more like Christ and further the kingdom of God. Fortunately he doesn’t expect perfection from me, or even anything resembling it. When I screw up, it’s still wrong and I need to try not to, but it will be okay. Do I hold myself to higher standards than God holds me to? Something’s wrong with that. I need to stop, I need to forgive myself for the hell I’ve put myself through, for times I’ve hurt my friends and family, for saying hurtful things I don’t mean, and for the struggle that last semester was. Only then can there be reconciliation and reparation.

On another note, I figured out something else. Anyone who knows me well knows that I can often get somewhat jealous of my friends’ other friends. I’ve never been entirely sure of why. I think the reason is multifaceted, and I’ve speculated on many of the reasons and identified some, but I found another: I’m afraid the time a friend of mine spends with someone else will devalue the relationship that friend has with me. I had a hard time coming to terms with how ridiculous this was until I realize that it’s exactly what I do. When I go a while without seeing one of my friends, I still love that person (and always will), but they really do mean less to me. Even with someone I see on a regular basis, if I start spending my time with other people, I value my other relationships less. And here I am, afraid that my friends will do the same to me. It’s horrible, I know. I acknowledge that. I'm truly sorry to all those this affects. It’s something I need to work on.

So where does this leave me? I have no idea, but I’ve learned a lot today. I don’t know how this will affect tomorrow, but for now it’s time to stop thinking and sleep before my class tomorrow morning.

Humility: a puzzling subject

I found myself laying awake two nights ago praying, and I quite suddenly came up with the notion that I hadn't been praying very humbly lately. This thought surprised me a little, leading me to contemplate its origin. I concluded this: When I think of humility, I think of laying down my pride, sacrificing for others, resisting thinking critically of others, admitting my downfalls...none of which are easy tasks or processes. Therefore, I set humility on a pedestal as something unattainable that requires me to act entirely contrary to my natural character. To pray humbly, then, I assume I need to be constantly contrite, confessing the countless occasions on which I completely failed. When I was praying that night, I wasn't doing that. I was happy. I felt guilty for having an amiable conversation with God.

What's wrong with this picture? It's totally screwed up, but then how should one humbly approach God? With what level of respect should we address him? We epically fail on a daily basis; what degree of repentance is required? How can that be incorporated with everything else we need to pray about--requests on behalf of others, requests of our own, praise, and our thoughts that we want to share with our friend and creator? On top of that, how does true (not idealized) humility work in everyday life? Christians are called to deny ourselves, but I don't believe that means to give up who we're made to be in pursuit of a "humble" stereotype--to be humble I need to morph into someone who never exerts opinions or feelings, tiptoes around so as to avoid stepping on people's toes, always working in the background, quiet, never noticed, never outspoken, rarely enthusiastic. After all, Jesus' teachings are anything but stereotypes. In fact, these qualities aren't necessarily what Jesus advocates. How then do we deny ourselves but retain our individual qualities which are so integral to the body of Christ?

There's something in me that thinks I can't be humble and enjoy myself at the same time...humility looks different for everyone, but how does it fit into my personality and character? I think it's like a puzzle. No one is a whole, complete, put-together puzzle until they get to heaven. While on earth, following Christ is the act of putting together the puzzle--we're given access to the pieces once we accept Christ, then we connect the pieces of prayer, Bible reading, serving, all the fruits of the Spirit, humility, etc. to reveal the image of God. Everyone's picture is a little different, though, and their pieces are shaped differently. I guess then that I'm trying to figure out what shape and colors my piece of humility possesses. It's a fascinating thought. I'd love to hear feedback if anyone thinks they can add something of value--on your experiences, what you've found true in your life, how you might disagree, or whatever else you'd like to share.

The Return: Day 1

It would appear as if something were against me returning to school. First, the weather tried maliciously to stop me; ever-changing to foil my plans, then torrentially distributing snow, it desired greatly to keep me home. Fortunately, thanks to my dentist and his wise counsel, I won against the weather's wiles. I encountered no further problems until this morning as I was frantically packing so I could leave for church (and to school from there). My darling fish Ishmael, more fondly known as Ishy (the Fishy), decided to rebel. I was pouring him from his bowl into his travel container in the usual fashion. He normally tries to swim against the flow of water, but eventually surrenders. Today, he clung desperately onto the rocks at the bottom of his bowl, refusing to transfer homes temporarily, even once the bowl was completely drained of water--his second suicidal attempt in the past two weeks. I eventually got him to comply, but not until about three-fourths of his rocks were scattered all over my grandparents' kitchen sink. I was consequently late for church. Finally, upon my arrival to school, I rushed into my room, eager to get my milk in the refrigerator. During break, I had unplugged the refrigerator and put it in the shower so it could defrost. Little did I know, it had defrosted all right. What it hadn't done was drain. My suitemate, who had arrived the previous night, had drained it, leaving no evidence. With great difficulty, I moved it back into my room into its normal place and opened it just to discover the inside filled with mold. I've had quite the warm welcome back to the lovely, snow-laden state of Michigan, and I'm quite interested to see the new, ridiculous challenges I have to face soon.

(On a positive note, I'm glad to be back! It's wonderful to have a clean, organized, room to myself for a while! Plus I love unpacking, so this afternoon has been thoroughly enjoyable, and I consider my unfortunate setbacks as the humor to add excitement to my otherwise smooth, uneventful trip.)

So this is the new year...

...and I have no resolutions.

Resolutions and I don't do well together. I hold such high expectations for myself that any resolutions I've ever made have always been entirely unattainable. Yet each time, I'm shocked and immensely disappointed with my failure. Thus, I refuse to make them anymore. My dad thinks this means I don't have plans or goals. I do. My entire life is one gigantic series of webs, ever-increasing, spanning the back of my mind. Some people think webs indicate lack of use, like cobwebs; on the contrary, for me they are evidence of use. I guess that makes me a spider?

One thing I've been learning since the beginning of break is trust. Trust is like math--each lesson builds on the previous ones, and you can learn it your entire life and still never know it completely. This has made itself apparent in several situations that have really grasped my attention.

First, there is the issue of this summer. Since coming back to school, I've been trying to figure out what to do, where to be, etc. I wanted to be anywhere but living at home, working for Kraft again. It's something I constantly was dwelling on and bringing up in conversations. Finally, after being totally exhausted by it, I gave it up for a few weeks--probably from about the beginning of Thanksgiving break until the end of the semester. On the first Friday of break, though, I mentioned it to a friend, though not nearly as frantically as I had in the past. I believe there was even a deep breath that accompanied it. By that point, though I wouldn't admit it, I was already figuring I just needed to trust God with it. Later that night, I got an email from a professor asking if I'd like to teach English to Japanese and Brazilian students at my school for a month, July 8-August 11. Now I'm probably still going to be at home working for Kraft for the beginning of the summer, but how awesome is that?! I'll probably only be working for about 7 1/2 weeks. That's not too bad. Plus, it'll provide me with the money that I desperately need....which brings me to Trust Issue #2.

One night while at my grandparents' house, I became really concerned with my lack of finances. What college student doesn't need more money? I do tend to over-exaggerate how little money I have, but I figure it's a win-win situation: in reality, I'm not quite as poor as I think, but it keeps me from ever spending unnecessarily. Still, I have a car payment and I'm rapidly accumulating student loans, and I don't work very much while in school. The next morning, I just laughed at myself and gained consolation from the fact that my God WILL supply all I need. I'll admit I'm still having a tough time with this one, though--just today I found out that my already-few hours are being reduced by two each week. According to my calculations, cutting the Counselor Assistants' hours this much will save the school approximately $1100 this semester. For a college, that isn't a huge deal. For students, the loss of $60/month is. I was a little overwhelmed by this, but I'm trying to trust God that he knows what he's doing. My only concern is how I'm supposed to respond--do I do nothing? Look for an additional job or a different one that can give me more hours? That would probably mean sacrificing my completely open, three-and-a-half-day weekends. I don't want to do that, but should I? After comparing this to past events, I've concluded that I will intentionally not do anything, but be on the lookout for opportunities that might conveniently present themselves.

Trust Issue #3: school. I'm really ready to leave home, but I'm not ready to go back to school...at least not all aspects of it. I'm excited to once again have a routine, do something productive, and be around all of the people. I'm not so ready for homework or to return to anything even slightly resembling last semester. I am quite literally afraid to enter my room. Over break, I've gained some perspective, a LOT of perspective actually, and figured out much of what was wrong about the way I was viewing things last semester. I truly believe next semester will be better, but I can't help but be apprehensive. What if, when I go back, everything resumes as it was before? What if I screw it up again? What if all these plans I'm making to spend much more time with a few specific friends more often all fall through? This is my biggest one right now. I guess...I'll just keep hoping and praying.

I think that the opportunity to teach over the summer was God's way of saying, "Hey, watch, I'll take care of you," right before presenting me with other situations where I need to trust him. Just a thought.

Happy new year.