RUN WITH THE FREE

"You are not alone in this, but I can't move the mountains for you." -Mumford & Sons

2010-06-20T21:51:00.007-04:00

Goodbyes.

2010-05-02T09:15:00.004-04:00

I've been living in slow motion, making myself aware of every moment as it passes and reaching out and claiming it for my own. So this is a slow motion account of the last few days.

This was the last weekend of freshman year. (And what a weekend it was.) Two finals, dinner date with Shannon, stretching out on the Quad and talking with Morgan, Alice, Claire, and everyone else who passed by, techno party with the Delts, dancing one last time with Morgan and Taylor, art, ramen and coffee, watching the moon like it's a drive-in movie, taking a Saturday mini-road trip to South Haven, donuts and coffee, homework on the beach, onion rings from Clementine's, coffee and burgers, pulling off the road to watch the sunset, taking 25 minutes to get from Simpson to Olds watching the clouds and trees and wind and rain, talking with Anne on my floor for an hour, brushing my teeth with Roomz, tucking each other in and then my favorite thing in the world: "Goodnight, Roomz." "Goodnight, Roomz." "I love you." "I love you too."

(I love the whole concept of roommates. It's like automatic family. Married or not, I never want to live alone. Ever. I too much enjoy cleaning out the fridge and brushing my teeth with another human being.)

And this is the last Sunday morning of freshman year. Woke up early, prayed, stretched, made coffee for me and Roomz, brushed my teeth for forever, studied until Roomz woke up, hung out in the bathroom (in Olds this is a completely legitimate way to spend one's time) talking to Mabs and Mary, packed away the hundreds of notes that I've received and saved this year, watered the sunflowers on my windowsill. And I'm listening to the Avett Brothers and the wind's in my hair blowing through the windows and Roomz and I are drinking coffee.

And I love this.
I have loved freshman year, the newness, the new faces.
I have loved Olds.
I have LOVED my chill, funny, friendly, generous, cuddly roommate.

And I have loved living slowly.
I think Jack & Dorothy would be proud.

Art.

2010-04-29T00:41:00.009-04:00

I have a poster hanging up in my dorm room that I made a couple months ago which says: "MAKE ART as an outpouring expression of God's grace in your life." Tonight I turned my dorm room floor into an art studio: And made strong coffee: And made some sad art: And I made some happy art. Art like this: This one says "but you will find slowbreathing sleepyhappy REST." And more consolation art like this: Which says "And REAL God-breathed inspiration." And I made funny scatterbrained art for a friend. And I thought much about future art projects and the fact that people here constantly ask me why I'm a political science major instead of an art major. And I thought about self-expression and how "eros" means oneness and about two toothbrushes in a single cup on the sink. And I thought about The Republic and grace and words and Uncle Jack and Aunt Dorothy and ripples in lakes. And Megan sang me songs. And I defined myself in color.

Wednesday morning without classes.

2010-04-28T10:36:00.004-04:00

I woke up at 9, sun streaming through the windows, my little sunflowers growing toward it on the windowsill, tangled in a sea of white-and-orange sheets and blankets. I threw on my favorite roommate hoodie (Roomz and I are practically married and we share clothes like none other), made a huge pot of coffee, carted my Bible and weathered copy of The Republic and my laptop and my coffee down the hall, and snuggled up in the nook. All morning I've been digging deep into the 6 pages of The Republic that provide the basis for my entire philosophy paper. Sunshine + Coffee + Plato. I love it. Tonight, after dinner with Megan (every interaction with Megan feels like a visit to the New York City MOMA), Shannon and I are doing our collaborative art project: I make the art, she photographs the art, and our friends are the canvases. Pure magic. It's going to be beautiful.

I thank God for this day.

Confidence.

2010-04-26T14:54:00.009-04:00

"I like the way you see, the way you connect things and express yourself. I like your consciousness of 'man standing in need', how comfortable you are with human finiteness and the grayer areas and the commonplace and The Real. And I like what you're seeing in all of that. I know that all of this seems like a mess right now, but you know where you're going and what you want this to look like and where you want to bring it to rest. Just keep pushing it toward that point, toward your vision. You always have a great vision. Just be confident, Caroline," said my English professor this afternoon.

He was talking about my final English paper.
Or I think he was.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Either way: it meant a lot more to me than simple editing advice.

He said it again as I walked out the door: "Just be confident, Caroline. Just be confident in what you're doing. You know where you want this to lead."

"Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace in time of need." -Hebrews 4:16.

(I wish.)

2010-04-24T10:05:00.005-04:00

The moon and things.

2010-04-20T21:57:00.015-04:00

Tonight the moon swept me off my feet. I thought about my love for the moon and stars and my preoccupation with incorporating both into my art. It got me thinking more about what my art/words/relationships/daily life says.

There is a photographer whose work I really liked until about four months ago. Four months ago was when she started compulsively posting photographs of her and her boyfriend. Don't misunderstand: they are beautiful, envy-inducing photographs of their very sweet, deep relationship.

However.
(And that is a huge however.)
She used to photograph things: rainy days, grocery stores, homeless people, patterns of light on the floor, old radios, people jumping, little girls laughing in red wagons. She used to say things. Now all I see is the same pose, the same cute expression, the same hands holding the same hands. I don't get it. After all, I'm guessing that he fell in love with her for the same reasons I fell in love with her photography. Those photographs--before Boy took center stage--spoke of simple grace, deep wisdom, love of Christ, hope, joy, whimsy, everyday adventures. As soon as they started photographing themselves holding hands, her photographs stopped talking. Her art stopped saying the things that brought them together in the first place.

I want to say things. I don't just want to throw words and colors and emotions and actions out into the cosmos. I don't want to splatterpaint my feelings and impulses like meaningless abstract art. I want to do more than word vomit. I want to live with intention. And as much as I love holding hands, I don't want a single one of my relationships, platonic or otherwise, to stop saying things either.

I want my art to speak. I want my music to speak. I want the way I interact with strangers to speak. I want to say things worth the words I use to craft them. I want relationships (and, eventually, a marriage) rooted on a mutual passion for the real, the true, the bright, the bold, the meaningful, the brave, the lovely, the Cross. A relationship based on things.

Yes, someday I will likely make art influenced by my inloveness with someone. I'm not belittling that. But inloveness is not something worth dying for, worth living for, or worth photographing for four months straight. Hold hands, sure. But say things too.

And take a look at that moon.

I will appeal to this.

2010-04-19T15:50:00.007-04:00

After 4 hours and a restless night, I had already started to cry on the walk to my 8AM class this morning. Yesterday was filled with tough decisions and today was bound to be tougher. From the moment I finished breakfast to the end of my 10AM philosophy class, I read and reread Psalm 77:

I cry aloud to God, aloud to God and He will hear me.
In the day of my trouble I will seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted.
When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints.
You hold my eyelids open, I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
I consider the days of old, the years long ago.
I said, "Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart." Then my soul made a diligent search:
"Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable?
Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has He in anger shut up His compassion?" Selah
Then I said: "I will appeal to this: to the years of the right hand of the Most High."
I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.
I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds.
Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God?
You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples.
You with your arm redeemed your people, the children of Jacob and Joseph. Selah

Now I'm drinking chai tea with soy milk in a leather chair next to the fireplace and writing papers like it's my job. Funny how things can turn around without turning around: I still have just as much work to do but after meditating on God's faithfulness all morning I am determined to live this day fully. He has been faithful in the past to His people through war, through storms, through death and loss. Won't He be faithful in my life for the next two weeks? God works wonders.

Come away with me.

2010-04-17T10:08:00.003-04:00

My roommate and I escaped to the leather couch in the back corner of the lone coffeeshop in downtown Hillsdale. I needed a break, and she needed a break, and both of us have been struggling to minister to people because of profound restlessness and frustration with the fact that we're. still. here.

I need summer and I know it. I need my job back and my workaholic tendencies and I need to be uncomfortable in a place where I don't know everyone. I need to be stretched and I need to mature and I need the chance to be an adult. So I'm glad for summer and excited to see God's faithfulness through all the bleak spots. I crave perspective and distance and time and space and open air.

But right now, I need to be here. Here on the couch with Roomz listening to Norah Jones and thinking cozy, peaceful, sleepyhappy thoughts as term papers spill out of my fingers.

God give me the grace to keep loving this place for as long as I'm here.

Sister Winter.

2010-04-15T10:36:00.004-04:00

Shaped, Coloured from VsTheBrain on Vimeo.

"All my gifts, I gave everything to you /
Your strange imagination /
You threw it all away /
Now my heart is returned to sister winter /
Now my heart is as cold as ice."

Art.City.Speak.

2010-04-14T23:10:00.005-04:00

City has lately become its own language for me. In almost the same way that music can wordlessly express and define thoughts and emotions, I've been speaking and hearing more and more through cityscapes. If Plato was right, and city is the soul writ large, then all of this makes sense. This past weekend I took a walk by myself through Chicago and stood staring for long stretches of time at the angles of the streets, the curves of the crowds, the way buildings connect and disconnect. Sometimes I see emptiness in the city, sometimes light, sometimes all I see is hand-holding couples, sometimes all I see is people walking alone. Cityscapes are fluid and expressive. For this reason city has dominated my art lately. (More on that later?)

This one line from Scatteredtrees has been repeating in rhythm with my heartbeat lately: "You know I'm trying to love beyond my years / Saying no to things I was always meant to need / Like saying what we mean." My little lovable liberal arts college has me worded-out sometimes. City has become a new form of expression: a way to express what I'm too tired to say outloud.

Grow.

2010-04-12T13:21:00.004-04:00

I am growing sunflowers on my windowsill. Just now I discovered that two of them sprouted over the weekend. If that isn't an example of God's grace in our lives, then I don't know what it is.

Before I forget.

2010-04-06T00:35:00.003-04:00

Tonight was just beautiful. I watched the stars come out one by one, then watched my friends walk back into my life one by one. Every star and every hello caught me by surprise. After thinking about interpersonal grace and everyday beauty for an entire week, it was indescribably good to watch everyone click back into place like puzzle pieces. A single thought kept washing over me, each time I hugged another person back into my life: "You are worth every risk I've ever taken." Now I'm sitting in the dark with my roommate watching the lightning like it's our own personal fireworks show.

Could life get sweeter?

Oh the times, they are a-changing.

2010-04-04T14:11:00.002-04:00

As I think about next year and its future changes, and how this summer will change the people I love best, I am challenged to remember what’s most important. Yesterday I found this song by Katie Herzig that I like, but I started thinking over the implications of the refrain: “I pray no one will find you / Oh I’ll stay right where I am / Until you come back / Don’t let me lose you / Before we have a chance to begin.”

Hm.

How tempting it is for me to have this attitude. Change means risk. It means potential loss. It means potential awkwardness come late August when we all sit down and talk about how we’ve grown, explain our mistakes, apologize for long absences without any communication, rave about how our opinions have changed. It means (and I hesitate to write this because it makes me nervous) that I might come back to find that my friends have outgrown me. It is altogether too easy for me to wish that my friends not change over the summer, that everything stays easy. It’s too easy for me to pray for static relationships.

It’s clear where I’m going with this. “Speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.” -Ephesians 4:15-16. If I--my interests, my security, my emotions--were my primary concern in life, maybe I could let myself fear change. But because Christ is my primary concern, I am praying that my friends and I will grow this summer. Even if it means they outgrow me.

For this reason, I have lately been signing many of my notes of encouragement “love unconditionally.” After all: I don’t love you because of the promise that I’ll get something in return, or the promise that we’ll be together forever, or the promise that you’ll love me back. No, I love you for your own sake and for Christ. I want you to grow, flourish, learn from your mistakes, pursue Christ at all costs and direct your daily life appropriately.

Yes, it still leaves a lump in my throat to say goodbye and leave you to God’s unknown plan that, for the moment, doesn’t include me. But He is a skilled potter, and He will mould you into Christ’s likeness, and it will be a privilege for me to watch--even from a distance.

Therefore, friends: I pray that the loveliest of strangers will find you and steal your heart. I’ll run relentlessly after Christ until you come back and even if you never do. And I want God to take you places even if I lose you, and despite all the awkward conversations that might result.

(Love unconditionally.)

Take a deep breath and.

2010-04-03T11:36:00.005-04:00

After 11 weeks of school, I was subconsciously desperate for a break. Just a breather. To gain a little perspective. To reassess habits that I've been forming, intentionally or accidentally. To decide the right way to finish out the rest of the semester. To realize that I am unsure about a lot of things. To acknowledge again that I am finite, vulnerable, breakable, not in control, and completely--completely--able to get hurt.

Yet: I've been relentlessly flooded with inspiration. I visited Philadelphia, said hello to Baltimore, and spent 27 hours in DC, and ended up clutching a vision in my hands, sitting there restlessly and spilling through my fingers. It's a vision for post-college life. A lot of it is made up of things I've said before: City. Local church. Urban ministry. Job out there in the big world that takes passion and perspective. Fostering a deep marriage if it happens. Loving a couple of crazy roommates if it doesn't. Throwing my life at something--something big--with both hands.

I've also been filling in a lot of the outlines: What exactly I want to be doing. The kinds of organizations and companies I want to be working with. Who I want to be. What I want to declare with my life (Behold the man). And I've seen polaroid snapshots of what it can look like: Amy sitting outside Peregrine talking about her art firm and the stresses of the job search and her funny husband who doesn't like ethnic food and can't salsa. Lawyers talking shop, talking politics, talking grace, telling duck jokes. Banana-and-yogurt-and-lukewarm-coffee in the sunny kitchen. Devotions on the fire escape. Early morning runs when 5:30AM is the only time you can fit it in. Traffic that challenges your patience. Just a handful of stars splattered up above city lights. The grace-filled mundane. Beauty in the funk. Hope in the backalleys. The Gospel in the everyday.

And here's the thing. I want to forge my own vision. I've been doing it as an artist for years: taking a vision in my head, working at it with my hands until it is complete. It's never what I expect--it always surprises me--it always takes unexpected turns--but I like using my own hands to make it.

I want to use every day to declare something: For I deliver to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures.

Today.

2010-03-29T20:14:00.003-04:00

Open-faced fried egg sandwich. Grapefruit juice. Front porch. Porch swing with my coma blanket. Writing papers for American Heritage. Margo playing Coldplay on the piano. Justification through undeserved grace. Sending emails in code to Morgan. Telling the Gospel with my life. Cooking lessons from Shannon ("I'll make a kitchen woman out of you yet... Wait, actually no"). Homemade pizza. The Velveteen Rabbit. Writing out my testimony. Jumping into the creek. Twice. Massively cutting the top of my foot. Sitting with Shannon at her kitchen table drinking coffee. Grace and glory. An improv ballad on guitar and harmonica. .:Feeling alive:.

Oh what will tomorrow bring?

Life is one charming rouse for us lucky few.

2010-03-20T15:24:00.013-04:00

On Thursday afternoon Bond and I spontaneously had a picnic of banana pancakes and coffee in the courtyard of Olds. Every time a jet went by, cutting a trail across the perfect blue skies, we both started laughing. The beauty of it surprised us. That afternoon it was the same. I watched the ripples of water on the pond and started laughing. Yesterday morning I stepped outside, looked left at the sun rising over the IM fields and started laughing. Everything is glinting and sparkling and glowing and in motion. Even the planet that we're standing on is spinning, twirling in a lilting way through the universe. Even right this moment, on the floor in my messy wreck of a room drinking lukewarm coffee with cold feet looking out at white skies with Shannon and Wesley both sleeping on the beds. (side note: I don't know why, but people frequently show up at my door and ask if they can take naps in my room, and considering how strangely uncomfortable and self-conscious human beings are about falling asleep in the presence of others, I'm hoping that this trend is a good indication of my character. Or perhaps just a quirk. But in truth, odd as it sounds: I have always wanted to be the welcoming kind of person around whom people feel safe falling asleep.) Just think about the complexities and harmonies of human voices! Just the thought makes me laugh in surprise. This weekend I heard the testimonies and asked for the stories of a lot of girls on campus that I don't get to talk to on a regular basis. I wondered how many other stories, how many other souls I have overlooked. It reminds me of that Willa Cather quote: "Sometimes a neighbor whom we have disliked a lifetime for his arrogance and conceit lets fall a single commonplace remark that shows us another side, another man, really; a man uncertain, and puzzled, and in the dark like ourselves." The world is covered in people in a hundred different shades of pride and self-expression and ambition and conviction. More Willa Cather: "The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own." My floor is covered in paper and magazine clippings and pictures in a hundred different shades of color. I'm exhausted and haven't showered, yet life never ceases to be beautiful. Things are slipping into and out of place in perfect chaotic order, and every moment of this day has been written into it for all of infinity. Psalm 77 has been on my heart all weekend: "You are the God who works wonders." I heard frogs this week, and flew kites, and made art, and wrote papers, and scribbled in margins, and walked barefoot, and ran through mud, and watched stars come out one by one, and peeled oranges. God worked these things into existence and inwrote beauty and wonder in them. Therefore I never want to take for granted the way you laugh in surprise, the way your hands move, the way the sun feels on my face the second it comes out from behind a cloud. I never want to take for granted color and words and the underlying love and admiration that I can see in your face when you look at me sleepily. I never want to take for granted the relief in your voice when you say hello to me. I never want to take for granted the self-forgetting passion that rises in the voices of my professors when they start ranting on the importance of a single sentence. Grace has taught me to laugh in surprise. I hope to heaven that I don't miss another second of this life. "My hair smells of the wind and I move about this earth with a healthy disbelief." God works wonders.

.

2010-03-16T23:14:00.004-04:00

Life continues to be:
Strawberry popsicles.
The sound of frogs.
Sidewalk chalk.
Waking up this morning to see the sunrise even though I went to bed at 1.
Red fire hydrants.
Jet trails.
Frisbee at Lake Baw Beese.
Wind.
Lessons about encouraging others even when I am not encouraged.
Reminders about choosing joy.
Thursday morning 7 o'clock peanut butter surprises.
Kites.

[Clumsily] Growing into grace.

2010-03-15T15:18:00.019-04:00

"She loves life and she lives it well / Her Savior shall proclaim Himself forever / I watch her, how she lives her life / So different from how I live mine / No equal in intensity / No rival in her passion / She is different / That smile wins me every time / Her laughter echoing with mine, eyes closed / Good day, bad, I can love her always / Never knew a love like this that never fluctuates." (Megan Moss)

I've been watching and learning from my mentors Sarah and Shannon throughout their senior year: little me walking in their huge footsteps. We've been involved in the Hillsdale Christian Fellowship together, I've had countless coffee dates with both of them, we've prayed together, I've cried with them, we've shared testimonies, they've kept me accountable. I once spent four hours on Sarah's roof with her spilling out my guts and listening to her talk about sovereignty in disbelief. These women have fought me--relentlessly--on every attitude and opinion I ever thought I held. They've challenged me to pursue Biblical womanhood since before I knew what that meant.

It startles me how far God has brought me from the place where I was six months ago. From barely attending church to genuinely thirsting after the Word. From resentment and indignation about Calvinist theology to this newfound humility and acceptance of God's sovereignty. From indifference about marriage and family to actively preparing my heart for my future responsibilities as a wife and mother. From scrambling to figure out "where I stood" on marriage and manhood and womanhood to pursuing the Biblical model that I stubbornly rejected for so long.

I could go on and on and on. I am definitely not the person I planned to become. On the contrary, I still have selfish moments when I wonder whether this is really "me." And, to be honest, it's not. It's not me. It's Christ. But, weighing all my options, I'd rather be like Christ.

Today I realized something: at the close of my freshman year, after six months of watching Sarah and Shannon live their lives, they are now watching me. This afternoon, as I brought Sarah up to speed on everything I've been thinking, out of the blue she told me to start praying for girls that I can disciple next year. She said that God has answered all her prayers for me, that I have exceeded her expectations, and that I inspire her. It blows me away. It's impossible to me that Sarah thinks I'm ready for this. Even after getting to know me and all my faults she still thinks I can fill her role on campus? Impossible.

Suddenly I have found that this mantle of Godly womanhood--something I barely realized only a few days ago that I even want--has already been thrown over me. I'm covered in grace that doesn't fit right, grace too big for me, a reputation too good for me, wisdom too wise for me, grace-filled footsteps that don't make sense when you understand that I have two left feet. I don't know what to do with what I've been given. I don't know how to fill Sarah and Shannon's roles. I don't know how to be like Christ. I am startled to realize who I am suddenly preparing myself--who Sarah and Shannon have been preparing me--who God has been planning for me all along--to be. I am dumbfounded when it comes to how that will look like in my life.

God's about to show me.

"Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." -Hebrews 4:16

("She loves life and she lives it well / Her Savior shall proclaim Himself forever")

Be Engedi.

2010-03-08T23:26:00.012-05:00

I was reading Song of Solomon this weekend, when the woman refers to her lover as Engedi.

Engedi is an oasis.

That single verse, that single word, knocked the wind out of me and captured my imagination. I want to be that. I want to be a fresh, secure oasis even when the rest of life is a desert. Especially in the context of marriage. I want to be that one safe place, overflowing with grace and laughter and restfulness and respect and wisdom and encouragement and inspiration and joy and and risk and wonder and surprises and adventure. By the grace of God and as much as humanly possible, I want to be his Engedi.

In the meantime, I've been throwing my heart at Christ. Recklessly. Relentlessly. And that is what I want to do every hour of every day for the rest of my life.

What I Thought I Wanted.

2010-03-07T15:53:00.000-05:00

A lot of my plans have gone askew these past 10 days. Papers didn't work out so well. A piano performance opportunity that I wanted so much it hurt went to someone else. I got a job as an RA in a dorm that I had never even really heard of before I stepped inside for my interview. Just things like that.

And I will make no pretense that I have been enduring all of these mild disappointments with perfect joy and contentment. I wish I could say that, but I am not sanctified gracefully. However, I've been praying for joy and inspiration and God has given it over to me in abundance. I am genuinely excited for the rest of this semester, my sophomore year, and even this summer. I keep finding myself excited about the challenges ahead, the setbacks that will humble me, and experiences that will test and refine my dependence on Christ. That attitude is all God. Not me. Today I can say: I am thankful for everything that God has handed me these past few weeks. Truly thankful.

Make me aware.

2010-02-28T21:19:00.006-05:00

I've been stripped of all distractions.
I am rooted in The Now.
Now I am knowingly and willingly compelled to pour myself into the needs and opportunities and people whom God has carefully and uniquely grafted into my life.
This week, I want to be aware of the beauty, joy, brokenness, wretchedness, opportunities, needs, wonder, deficiencies, abundance around me.
I want to sing and shout the Gospel at everything life throws my way.
Luke 19:40 has been screaming at me all week: "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out."
Seriously, with all the talent and blessings and personality and opportunities that God has spontaneously handed me these past 18 years (and these past 6 months especially), when it comes to worshipping God I am not about to be outdone by rocks.

So be louder than the rocks.
Tell the Gospel with your life.

Storms, storms, & being still.

2010-02-26T18:19:00.009-05:00

I've been thinking about my fight-or-flight tendency.

Something about me has been really missing thunderstorms. One of my favorite things to do--ever--is run outside in the middle of a really fierce, windy, relentless thunderstorm. I love the wildness of it all. It's untamed and brutal and all it's own. Thunderstorms don't care about you; they rush on in a fit of self-expression. My thunderstorm crush spills out into my everyday life too. I love the struggle. I like solving problems and manning up in the face of challenges. I feel alive when there's a battle to be won, a person to be won over, a problem to be fixed, brokenness to address. But in my prayer life I've noticed how fiercely God's teaching me how to be, not just to do. There's a time and place for fighting, but it's not at the foot of the Cross. God's teaching my heart peace. And I'm learning. Not gracefully, of course. I never learn gracefully. Peace isn't settling in slowly; it's ripping apart huge parts of my life and attitude and rebuilding it into something I've never seen before, at least not up close. I think I've seen this joy in other people's life--this joy dependent on Christ alone and not my own particular brand of happiness--but have never seen it in my own heart. It's there. Tiny, but growing. God's teaching me how to stay, and to fight the battles he gives me without feeling the need to go out and look for new ones, and also a little something about which way I'm running.

Here it is: I want to run toward things, not away from things. I don't want to run from commitment. I don't want to run from the easy path. I don't want to run from security. I don't want to run from consistency. I don't want to run from stability. I tend to, I think. And, yes, God will continue to call me away from those things. But if He's not, it's not my place to reject it. It's not my decision to run away from everything that looks remotely like it could last.

Even at my most unsure, I want to always be running toward the arms of Christ. Toward grace. I want to run into a deeper understanding of the Gospel.

Clementines, finger-painting, inside jokes & baloney sandwiches.

2010-02-24T16:10:00.003-05:00

That sums up my entire Wednesday afternoon. :)

Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

2010-02-23T14:30:00.011-05:00

Every time someone else's life falls apart, I go straight to Psalm 61. I've been praying through it a lot, thinking about last semester and this summer and all the challenges that it will hold for my trust and my ego:
"Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer; from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy. Let me dwell in your tent forever! Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings! For you, O God, have heard my vows; you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name. Prolong the life of the king; may his years endure to all generations! May he be enthroned forever before God; appoint steadfast love and faithfulness to watch over him! So will I ever sing praises to your name, as I perform my vows day after day."

This is going to sound childish: For a long time it frustrated me that we, as Christians, are only called to love God and obey His commands. Actually, it still frustrates me. Every time my dad goes on a business trip he says the same thing: "Goodbye. Be good. Use your time well." Once after I read through the Epistles I threw my Bible across the room and yelled "THAT'S IT? BE GOOD AND USE MY TIME WELL? THAT'S CHRISTIANITY?"

I wanted something flashier. Something dangerous. Something adventurous. Saving the world. Martyrdom. Something challenging. Something that suited my personality and fed my ego and made me strong and showcased my tenacity and didn't challenge my pride in any way.

Waiting on God is the hardest thing that my little, gritty, embittered self will ever do. Yes, I still want to get my hands dirty and minister to the people up Capitol Hill and in the backalleys of Chicago. I still want to lead. I still want to fight. I still want to take big personal risks for the sake of something bigger and more exciting than me. But ultimately, my life is not about how much I can handle. In fact, the Gospel itself is about the sin and brokenness that I could not, cannot, and will never be able to handle without the grace and sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Every time I hear about more grief, more brokenness, more disillusionment, more despair, I think: "I want to fix this. Yet I'm helpless." And Psalm 61 reminds me: "Duh. That's the point."

Behold, I am of small account.

2010-02-21T14:29:00.005-05:00

So often it catches me off guard to learn, once again, that I'm not in control. I'm not in control of the brokenness in the lives around me. I'm not even in control of my own heart. There is a distinction between not being a slave to my emotions and being completely in control of them. I am certainly not the latter. No one is. Yet every single day, I react as though I should be. With me it's always a textbook case of lack of trust in God: I react like a normal person, overreact to the fact that I just reacted ("holy CRAP, I'm human!"), and then slap myself in the face for the reaction and the overreaction. But the real deal is, beneath the insanity of how that just sounded, I need to trust my heart to God. Not just my future. Not just my faith. Not just my education. Not just my relationships. My emotions too. I really get Job in chapter 40: "Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no further."

God, I'm all Yours. Including my painfully dumb way of reacting to things on a daily basis.

I'm being taught the art of promise-making.

2010-02-16T06:17:00.009-05:00

(should you be blown back /
know that I will always run to greet you /
still surprised to catch you /
every time.)

When you get out of bed at 6AM after a night of insomnia thinking "Oh well, I'm too cool for sleep" you know you have a pride issue.

2010-02-11T11:02:00.005-05:00

Last night I looked through my journal from highschool and found a 7-page list entitled "Why Insomnia Is A Blessing." It helped calm my heart. Here are some the best ones.
- Have you ever heard silence so deep?
- Ample time to create playlists.
- God is keeping you awake for a reason.
- Time enough to pray for every single person in your life. By name: first AND last. Probably time enough to pray for their moms too.
- Most people live their lives without any appreciation for the art of common things. They rush, rush, rush until the last moments. Only at that final hour do they pause to look at their life and replay conversations and embed faces and memories in their minds. Right now you get 6 extra hours of remembrance that no one else gets.
- After the days most steeped in pride, God's giving you this humbling thought: sleeping is one thing I can't do.
- Your restlessness speaks of dependence.
- In this infinite sleeplessness I am finite.
- O weary head, lean on Christ.

.count it all joy.

You know I'm trying to love beyond my years.

2010-02-10T23:10:00.003-05:00

Saying no to things I was always meant to need.
(Like saying what we mean.)

Stay.

2010-02-09T09:45:00.002-05:00

photo by Kristin Manson. flickr.com/rocketequalslove.

Today.

2010-02-08T16:57:00.006-05:00

(I've been writing mini cop-out posts because I'm still writing out the REAL one. I know...)

Insomnia happened last night.
I didn't sleep even a little bit and read 1, 2, 3 John all night long. My alarm went off at 6:20 and I prayed for joy. I've been praying for joy every morning this semester and I love seeing it grow in my heart. I skipped breakfast to read Plato, and prayed for Jack, Sam, Elena, Shannon, and Mary on the way up from Olds. There was an index card signed "love" at the bottom and a lemon poppyseed muffin sitting on my desk in Heritage. I postponed lunch to have a long imperfect conversation with Travis. I think it will lead to good things. I called my mom to talk about some worries and just to hear her tell me to chill out. (Mom, I love you.) I walked under blue skies to Central Hall to pick up Shannon and found Shannon, Eric, and Jack instead. Jack gave me an orange. Shannon and I had a lunch date and held hands. I waited outside of Mary's class to make sure I got the chance to talk with her. We read 1 John together and were ridiculous all the way back to Olds, where I did a little papermaking. My entire hall has been in and out of my dorm room all afternoon.

I like days like this. Everything happens all at once and everyone is around and I'm doing everything at the same time. I don't have time to second-guess myself or doubt or be tired or take a nap: I only have time to live, and pray, and speak truth, and confess oversights, and make beauty in coffee mugs and envelopes, and then trust the rest to God's sovereign will.

Sometimes I daydream about sunflower fields.

2010-02-05T13:25:00.003-05:00

Oh my talking bird, I'll love you all your days.

2010-02-04T21:12:00.006-05:00

Somehow I don't think that this--this way that I am living--is what trust in God is supposed to look like.

I'm afraid of losing the people I love. I'm afraid of being broken again. I'm afraid of becoming complacent. I'm angry at myself for my lack of trust. I'm discouraged by this constant. struggle. This. constant. tension. Yes, yes, I know: it's just human nature. My inability to trust God and other people is in-born. Trust and selflessness and love only come through grace. I know all that, but there's a little bitter part of my heart that's telling God that He isn't working fast enough on my stubbornness, on my pride, on my doubt.

Tonight I walked out of Unite, completely out of character, and went to sit in the westernmost stairwell to read some Psalms (46, 55, 61, 62, 86, 130, 131) and think: God, I am not my own.

I am not my own. I'm Christ's. Yours, all Yours. I'm Yours. I'm all Yours. I don't belong to my past or my present or my future. I don't belong to my friends or my family or my future family. I am not owned by my emotions, doubts, fears, worries, concerns. I am not owned by my frustration with my own sin and humanity.

I am not my own.

And I want my heart to know that. I want my feet to know it when I walk and my lungs to know it when I run. I want my hand to know it when it's holding someone else's. I want my soul to know that I am not my own. I want the world to know it too.

All Yours.

My cactus is dying.

2010-02-03T16:42:00.002-05:00

This does not bode well for my future kids.

This speaks of permanence.

2010-01-31T21:50:00.006-05:00

I will heal their apostasy. I will love them freely.

2010-01-30T19:30:00.006-05:00

(Can't get it out of my head.)

2010-01-28T13:43:00.001-05:00

My mom mailed me a cactus.

2010-01-28T10:43:00.004-05:00

I got it today. It has a few casualties: some missing spines. Jack gave it to me from the top shelf of the mailroom. He knew it was probably my cactus because the box was covered in, and filled with, dirt. Shannon and I had an emergency rescue mission for it. I convinced her to steal some dirt from the poinsettia on the window sill in the Union. There were still gracefully uneven lines of snow on the window panes. She walked up to me with a fistful of dirt and the most sheepish look I've ever seen on her face. The cactus is sitting in its little clay pot on the coffee table next to my feet. Out of all the people who have stopped by my couch to talk to me, not one has asked why I have a cactus on the table. I was holding the cactus in my hand when I ordered my hot chocolate. I always feel as though I'm admitting how childish I am when I ask for whipped cream on my cocoa. I wink at the barista every time I do. It's sunny today, and the light is making patterns in creative angles all over the floor and bookshelves in the library. I like how the snow sparkles like stars.

Did you see all this beauty today? Or am I the only one?

*Revised: Samuel Ashmore asked me about it.

Notice these things.

Solace.

2010-01-26T21:34:00.003-05:00

And everybody's falling apart,
You said it doesn't haunt you like it haunts me
That everybody's falling apart.
But you said: 'I'll be there when you wake up from this dream,
When you turn your life into a story.
And I'll tell every ghost, everyone that I see
I'm waiting here, I'm ready for you.
I'm waiting here, I'm ready for you.'

.
(I'll tell you how the sun rose
A ribbon at a time.)

Snap your fingers.

2010-01-25T17:48:00.018-05:00

Sometimes it unsettles me when things click into place: when no fighting is required.

When your heart is tuned to calamity, stillness can throw you off. I learned a lot about brokenness in high school. Now I am learning a lot about wholeness. But it's not easy. Contentment scratches against something deep inside my heart. And every few days, I get the itch to run. To purposely fail when things get too easy. To distance myself from people for fear they'll walk out on me. To abandon friendships that are growing too close.

I don't know why.

Lately I've been instructing my heart to pay attention to the little still moments of the day, reminding myself that, yes: I like this life I'm living. Doing laundry. Making coffee for my roommate. Editing papers. Checking off assignments. Studying alone and paying careful attention to the words strung together like a spiderweb. Better: studying with a good friend in a quiet library at midnight, punctuating the silence with low-voiced questions and answers. The silence between our individual prayers on Wednesday afternoons in the basement of Lane. Falling asleep to the sound of my roommate and a friend of ours laughing on the floor of our dorm room. Meticulously peeling oranges and the lingering citrusy smell on my hands. Index cards signed "Love" at the bottom.

All these things tell me to stay.
All these things keep me from running.
After all, perhaps God is holding me in this peaceful place for a reason.

I've been learning how to see.

2010-01-21T22:34:00.009-05:00

How to see stars in cloudy light-polluted Chicago skies. How to see God's glory in my own suffering. How to see love in other people's criticism of me. How to see beauty in the funk. How to see grace in daily life.

(I was born blind.)

On Saturday night I walked through the streets of Chicago with a song in my head, keeping a conversation running about love and marriage and purpose and grace. And I started to have a vision of what I want my life to look like. I've never invested much time or energy or trust in my future, but everything that I have learned since August has given me something foreign to my skeptic's heart: hope.

So now I'm figuring out what I want my life to look like. Who do I want to be? What kind of woman? What kind of wife? What kind of servant? What kind of leader? I'm also figuring out how best to prepare my heart to become all these things.

I don't know what's in store. I know it will be challenging, full of loss, and full of pain more often than not. That's how life is. But I know that God is sovereign. And I know that He whispers grace to us in order to shout His glory. So I know that life will be good.

And I want it to be beautiful. .photos by shannon mckendrick odell.

This is it.

2009-12-30T22:34:00.001-05:00

I recently found this little gem when I was making an art book for a friend. (Sadly, I don't remember where it's from.)

Life?
Sometimes it moves quick.
So react. Now.
Now is for living.
Just live.
Get out into the thick of it.
Roll down your windows.
Listen to it.
Make some noise. Be part of it.
Put your hands in it - Deep.
Break it open. Drink it up.
Run with it until your legs give up and you can't move or breathe or shout.
Chase it down a city street.
Swim in it.
Race it to the edges of the earth. Let it win.
Make it happen.
Give it away.
(This is it.)

Bacon and domesticity.

2009-12-28T23:18:00.003-05:00

We crafted all afternoon, my little sisters and I. We drew, we colored, we made collages. I like taking songs or poems or phrases and turning them into something visual - something colorful. I cut triangles out of a hundred different colors of paper in magazines and newspapers and pasted them together to make an exotic bird sporting a condescending expression. I learned today that I enjoy making pointless art. I like making art that exists for no reason but to be itself. I read today that animals howl to declare their existence. That's what my art does, I think.

All afternoon I made art that howls. Paper birds declaring their existence.

We only took one break, to make BLTs. Wheat toast, sliced tomatoes, fresh lettuce, and bacon. I like BLTs because they're bacon disguised as sandwiches. If we just sat around making art and eating bacon, my mom would probably protest. But if we're sitting around making art and eating BLTs, my mom can say "Oh, I'm glad you got some lunch. Isn't that lettuce great?"

I sat there planning out my paper bird and eating my incognito sandwich and thought: "Huh, there is so much grace in this afternoon." And there was. One of my favorite Hillsdale professors, Dr. Schlueter, said in a stand-alone lecture that domesticity is grace manifested in daily living. Chores. Slow afternoons. Paper art. And bacon sandwiches.

Now I think that I will go make myself another mug of hot chocolate with nutmeg and cinnamon. And maybe make a paper elephant.

Songbird.

2009-12-27T00:17:00.003-05:00

We’re walking on a thin string
But I know the Lord's got the whole thing in his hands
We’re strangers in this land
But together we could make our way home
Make our way home

.:Josh Garrels:.

Bon Iver and La Blogotheque.

2009-12-25T23:41:00.004-05:00

I've been exploring La Blogothque (blogotheque.com), a collection of take-away shows with some very unique musical artists. I like musicians who never play a song the same way twice. On this site there's a video of Bon Iver playing "Lump Sum" on a toy piano and melodica in an empty apartment in Paris. Life doesn't get any better than that. Or this: "Do you like Bon Iver?" is my primary question to a determine whether or not a person and I are soul mates. I would marry a man with the emotional maturity of Justin Vernon. One day in the spring of my junior year my sister brought me home his album: For Emma Forever Ago by Bon Iver. In my opinion, For Emma is the greatest album of all time. Of all time. Some artists slap together a dozen singles and call it an album when it's really just a means to a paycheck and an excuse for a photoshoot. Harsh, yes, but true. Bon Iver, on the other hand, was just a lucky mistake. Justin Vernon got dumped and escaped to a farmhouse in Wisconsin. He came back with this album. It's perfect because it's one man singing out loud about his brokenness. I'm going on 2 years with this album, and we're going strong. If you haven't heard it yet, do it. If you haven't learned to love it yet, get going. (And check out the EP: "Blood Bank." And the singles: "Winsconsin" and "Roslyn.")

I ache to see Bon Iver in concert.

Portland, Michelle Ramin, Beat Kitchen, Manifest.

2009-12-24T22:11:00.007-05:00

The more time I spend on my tiny college campus, the more obsessed I become with big cities. I dream about public transportation. I talk about light pollution in Chicago as though it's a friend of mine. I. love. cities.

Lately I've been particularly excited about Portland, Oregon and the talented artists who live there. I've never actually been there, but I have a little collection of maps and things from Portland that my dad brings back for me when he visits. One of my current favorite Portland artists is Michelle Ramin (www.michelleramin.com). I love her art. Art like this: More about art&cities:
Beat Kitchen (www.beatkitchen.com) is my favorite music venue in Chicago. It's classy, it's affordable, it's eclectic, it has delicious portabella mushroom sandwiches, and it does a stellar job showcasing native bands. I'm going to a show in January and I.can't.wait.

Oh! One more thing. Manifest, a sweet urban arts festival that Columbia College students create, has announced its designer for 2010: Landry Miller. Is it condescending to say his art is "cute"? Because it is: Hopefully I'll get back in time from my friend's wedding to see what else Miller comes up with!

Lessons from my 1st semester.

2009-12-23T11:37:00.013-05:00

-pray without ceasing.
-use saturdays wisely.
-organize & condense notes from the very beginning of the semester.
-nothing in the dessert corner of SAGA is worth the calories. promise.
-work out regularly.
-never drink 9 cups of coffee in one sitting.
-call your mom.
-admit it when you’re stressed.
-3AM discussions about grace are always worth the lack of sleep.
-seek community even at your rawest, guiltiest, sleepiest, & least sure of yourself.
-don’t lose sleep over anything that’s outside your responsibility.
-trust that God is working out the details of your redemption.
-look for grace.
-live in a way that others see it too.

Give thanks for the common things that glow with an uncommon grace.

2009-12-20T14:47:00.007-05:00

Life continues to be: White paper stars and star-shaped Christmas cookies that make up for the starless polluted skies of Chicago. Piles of half-folded blankets scattered around my house (cuddle kiosks!). Five sheets of paper on my desk entitled 'CRAFT IDEAS' I, II, III, IV, and V. The sweet, sweet sound of Seth Avett playing banjo. Marathon conversations with Roshini over coffee and hot chocolate. Snuggling with my golden retriever puppy.

In other news, is it possible to already miss friends from college? Because I already miss Mary, Shannon, Bond, Eric, Travis, Jack, and Ben and my roommate. I miss late-night talks in Upper Left, and long sessions of hand-holding and prayer, and laughing constantly. I am so blessed by my friends at school. I'm especially blessed by the presence of these dearest eight.

I've been obsessed to the point of distraction with expressing all this grace given to me in as many ways as I possibly can. I make art, I make music, I write, I talk (a lot), I pray, but I still get the itchy feeling that I'm not expressing enough. When and only when I get to the point where even my heartbeat tells the story of the Gospel will I be satisfied.

And life itself is grace.

2009-12-10T10:48:00.004-05:00

Call me naive, but I honestly did not realize how tough these last two weeks of the semester would be. Hillsdale students are really awful about being overly competitive. We compete about grades, extracurricular activities, sports teams, dorm reputations, and who did a better job eating healthy at Saga. Lately we compete about even more trivial things: who got less sleep, who has more papers, who is more frustrated, who is more stressed.

Enough.

A decade from now, if we're wise in any way, all 1300 of us will look back at college and miss the heck out of it. Knowing this, I've made it a point to live now with the perspective that I'll have then. For example:

I like writing papers. I really do. I like creating and supporting an argument. I like picking apart each sentence and pummeling it into what I want to say. I like finding the right word, not just the best one. I like the precision of editing. I like editing other people's papers. I like seeing how other people think. I like reading Jack's papers and Eric's papers only to find funny little overemotional phrases that I'd never expect them to use (like "incessant beacon of immortal glory"). I like using my favorite (ORANGE) pen and covering the entire page in question marks and word choice suggestions. I like printing off finished papers.

I like winter. I have never SEEN winter like this. The snow is clean; completely free from all the black dirt of Chicagoland traffic. It's powdery instead of slushy. It actually covers the grass. It blows across the sidewalks in little drifts. I like seeing all the bootprints of my friends and fellow students. I like wearing mittens and holding hands. I like running to the fireplace in the Union to warm up before meals. I like Jack's candy cane scarf. I like how, every night, girls in Olds walk around wearing leggings, knee socks, oversized sweaters, and scarves.

I like how cozy my room is. I like it when Bond and Megan and Mary and Claire and Shannon and Autumn and Celia flit in and out, doing homework, telling stories, asking for colorful mugs filled with coffee. I like how Megan thought that I'm an RA in Olds because of the "liberties that I've taken with my Christmas decorations." I like bringing my coma blanket with me everywhere and cuddling up in it while I study.

I like school. I like learning. I like being wrong sometimes. I like investing in people. I like running all over campus to find my roommate in order to read Isaiah 43 to her. I like running up the hill at midnight just to bring Mary a piece of chocolate to encourage her to keep working on homework. I like passing off notes to Jack on the walk from calculus to western heritage. I like cracking up with Eric in English. I like studying. I like striving for academic excellence.

So, Hillsdale College, I'm not going to complain. I'm foiling your plan to discourage us with an impossible workload, little sleep, and freezing weather. I like where I'm at. I like all the little moments that make up life. Life itself is grace.

You will be SO happy again.

2009-12-08T19:25:00.002-05:00

Fear not, for I have redeemed you: I have called you by name and you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you; and when you walk through water you will not be burned; and the flames shall not consume you. Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life. You are the evidence of who I am.

Who can unmake what I have made?

[Isaiah 43]

Pinned to the Cross.

2009-12-05T18:16:00.004-05:00

This semester has been one long conversation about what strength really is. I am one small part of an endearingly loud, stubborn, opinionated family. I am one of five self-reliant daughters. I've buffaloed my way through many situations. I've proven resilient through a lot of pain. I am by no means weak. Yet for some reasons it has always bothered me when people call me strong, sometimes even the strongest person they know. Because, in the depths of my heart, I've always questioned whether what I have is really strength of character, or strength of personality. Am I strong or am I just too proud to give up?

That question has come into focus since I got to college. I go to a very conservative, very classical, very traditional school where father knows best and intellectual arrogance is not allowed. Suddenly I have had to reckon with boys who want to be men instead of just drink every weekend. These are boys who won't repeat dirty jokes to me even though they know I'd laugh at them. These are boys who open doors for me even though they've seen me take people out in every game we've ever played. These are boys who just carried me from the Union to my dorm because I sprained my ankle.

Please understand: I am not good at letting people help me. Next to God Himself, my family has always been my #1 support system. We were taught (and rightly) from an early age to have low expectations when it comes to people. Yet I now find myself surrounded by boys who hold themselves to higher standards than I have ever held anyone to in my entire life.

I came back from my little venture home over Thanksgiving feeling very raw. "Like a sea urchin," as I told Shannon. Rough around the edges. A little weathered. A little weary. Spiny. Taken off guard. Maybe even a little betrayed. I found myself being very self-conscious around these dear souls, worried that they would notice how sea urchin-y my heart is right now.

And God did the thing He does best: He brought me to my knees.

Literally.

This morning I made myself a piece of artwork as a reminder. It's a girl who looks a lot like me facing the water. At the top it says in really small writing: "who do you think you are?" And on the side it says: "BE STRONG ENOUGH TO LET PEOPLE HELP YOU."

I know that I can trust God with my sea urchin-y heart. And I know now that I can trust Jack, Eric, and Ben to carry me, humiliating as it is, whenever and wherever I need it just because they don't want me to get hurt. So I'm beginning to wonder... If I can trust them with my that, maybe I can trust them with my little spiny heart too.

Confession. (I love Scatteredtrees.)

2009-12-03T13:22:00.007-05:00

Jesus, help me now: I'm writing songs that I didn't plan to write until I conquered 22... or maybe 23. I bring these to You now with hopes to sort them out somehow with words now placed into a melody. (You know exactly what I mean.)

So I'll drown desire for I musn't lose composure. I won't stoke the fire because You're my only resolution.

Accept God's grace.

2009-12-02T12:48:00.006-05:00

Take the time to start anew
Maybe it's in front of you.
Take the time to walk down your street
Heaven knows who you might meet.
Take the time to be okay
And laugh a bit along the way.
You could take me for a ride
We could just drive all day.

And we could breathe again, step outside our front door, and gaze upon the stars, and know we're not alone.

So run into the fields and scream louder than you can.
It's good to be alive and breathing air again. I want my life to be marked by grace, and wonder, and resilience, and joy.

I want to live free.

Hello there, December.

2009-12-01T13:09:00.011-05:00

At 7:30 this morning, I was already studying in the library. I let all my books and papers and pens and things scatter over the table. It was wonderful. Classes were fine, nothing exciting. Every time I walked outside the blue sky and the cold, COLD December wind shattered all lingering sleepiness. Like Shannon says every three-and-a-half minutes nowadays: Winter makes you feel so alive.

I spent yesterday afternoon making little art projects for my friends to encourage and inspire them during these stressful weeks. It was a good (long) study break, and I enjoyed crafting visual artwork from dozens of conversations and prayers sessions. Shannon and I are already planning large-scale art projects for next semester.

Of course, Eric and I spent nearly a half hour this morning talking about how we would decorate Hillsdale's campus if given the opportunity. Garlands, trees, wreaths, lights, candles, bows, paper chains, tinsel, ornaments, scented candles, paper snowflakes... If only! But it's true: the lobby in my dorm looks like Christmas morning.

Tonight I'm FINALLY having a dinner date with Autumn, one of my favorite girls on campus, and then bringing blankets and a hot pot into the library to have a paper-writing session with Jack and Eric.

Eric:

Jack:

Hopefully the Avett Brothers will make an appearance too: I like my little campus and my big-hearted friends. It's good to be back.

Keane & Kristkindlmart.

2009-11-28T15:39:00.009-05:00

"I don't want to be adored,
Don't want to be first in line
Or make myself heard.
I'd like to bring a little light
To shine a light on your life
To make you feel loved

Will you see me in the end
Or is it just a waste of time
Trying to be your friend?
Just shine, shine, shine
Shine a little light
Shine a light on my life.
Warm me up again.

...Say a word or two to brighten my day." :)

Ready or not.

2009-11-27T14:37:00.000-05:00

I have 2 more weeks of classes before FINALS, and then, finally: Christmas.

I just got back from a Christmas-infused Starbucks date with this one... (Skim pumpkin spice latte for me, peppermint mocha for her.)
Now: I think I'm ready for these next 3 weeks. I'm readying my mind for the 4 cumulative finals that are staring me down. (Cross your fingers.)

I'm readying my heart for caroling in Howard while Travis plays the piano, wearing mittens to classes, trudging through the snow, watching Christmas movies on weekends, listening to Josh Groban's Christmas album non-stop, spending Christmas Day with these two...
And I'm readying my heart for the coming of Christ. I'm ready to celebrate Advent. I'm ready to put this uncertainty behind me and get in on the joy of Christmastime.

Caution: Life moves fast.

2009-11-26T21:17:00.005-05:00

Tell me when you hear my heart stop.

2009-11-25T23:43:00.005-05:00

I'm in Chicago listening to Lykke Li and expressing my thoughts through Wordle:
(There’s a possibility that all that I had was all I'm going to get.
There’s a possibility that all I'm going to get is gone with your step.

So tell me when you hear my heart stop.
You’re the only who knows.
Tell me when you hear the silence.
There’s a possibility I wouldn’t know.

Know that when you leave,
By blood and by mean you walk like a thief.
By blood and by mean I fall when you leave.

So tell me when my sigh is over.
You’re the reason why I’m close.
Tell me when you hear me falling.
There's a possibility it wouldn’t show.)

What does this mean? I'm not quite sure yet. But despite that familiar aching loss, I'm feeling safe in the knowledge that God is good.

Give thanks, O weary hearts.

2009-11-24T00:20:00.006-05:00

I'm thankful for:
Shannon Odell.
Black coffee.
Art.
Mary Wiggins.
Cozy sweaters.
My western heritage reader.
Chocolate milk.
Empty practice rooms.
Eric DeMeuse.
My amazing roommate.
Studying next to windows.
Philosophy with Schlueter next semester.
Theological discussions with AOD.
Taylor Gage's hugs.
Travis Lacy.
Ben Maddock.
Dr. Stewart's yellow couch.
iChatting with my little sisters.
Shelby Kittleson.
Jack Hummel.
Upper Left.
Anna Wilke.
A new perspective.
Christ my Redeemer.
A holy God worthy of our praise even if He didn't save us.
HOME.

This is grace: an invitation to be beautiful.

The disconnect.

2009-11-19T14:18:00.005-05:00

Sometimes I get caught in the disconnect. That's when I throw my heart at the one Absolute.
"Trust in the Lord with all your might."

Tuesdays.

2009-11-16T23:09:00.003-05:00

Aren't my favorite days.

So tomorrow, this is going to be on my heart:

Leap.

2009-11-14T00:27:00.023-05:00

Row away, row
O'er the waters so blue
Like a feather we'll float
In our gum-tree canoe.

Today is the one-year anniversary of the day I found out I don't have cancer. One year today. And I couldn't be happier.

Happier about being alive for this:

Or this:

Or this:

Or this:

But especially this:

Tonight, I'm just happy to be alive.

Hello, wide world.

2009-11-12T13:53:00.000-05:00

I love it.

Blessed by a bad day.

2009-11-10T21:06:00.005-05:00

Today was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

It was raining when I woke up.
The apple that I had at breakfast was icky.
I forgot to bring my Spanish homework to class.
I literally walked into my favorite professor and mumbled an apology, only realizing later who it was.
I got a little bit discouraged and intimidated by calculus. (I study so much and memorize so much, and then on tests I make THE stupidest mistakes.)
I accidentally fell asleep when I had wanted to go for a run.
I have a headache.
I'm arguing with a friend.
Deadlines are looming.

But, from the beginning, this day had nothing to do with me. Today had nothing to do with how I was feeling, how well I performed, how well I enjoyed it, how satisfied I am at the end of it. It does not. God loved me as much today as He did yesterday! And tomorrow He'll love me just as much. Even when I don't feel it, even when I don't want to admit it, God is worthy of my wholehearted praise even on the bad days.

So for now: I'll put on my favorite sweater, make chai tea in my favorite .:yellow:. mug, turn on some Whitley, pray for my friend Jack as he crams for a test, get some instruction from some saints on loving my friend Anna better, talk to my roommate Sarah about her day, do a little yoga, and try to remind myself who I belong to.

Who I belong to.
Who I'm living for.
Who loves me more than anyone.

Even on days like today.

Be kinder than necessary.

2009-11-08T22:11:00.006-05:00

This week I've just been overwhelmed by the weight and beauty and disconnectedness of this mass of souls with whom I'm living here. I want to love them as I ought.

Sometimes love is:
A full pot of strong coffee.
Making paper snowflakes.
Post-it notes on a window.
Sharing a secret study place with a friend.
Prayer 3 minutes before you go up to speak.
A pinky swear.
Your favorite photographs.
An oversized coloring book.
Breakfast at 2 in the morning.
Asking "You okay?" when you know they're probably not.
Cereal.

Be kinder than necessary.
For everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

"Do you believe in Providence?"

2009-11-05T11:45:00.009-05:00

Every day, Hillsdale is becoming more and more of an adventure. Getting to know and getting close to the people here has been one of the best parts of the past 9 weeks. Last night Mary and I talked for a long time about who we want to be in 4 years. We talked about what we want to look like, what we want our college careers to look like, what we want our relationships to look like. We thought about our friends, and how little we know them now, and how much we'll love them in 4 years. We don't love each other yet, but we will. Mary and I sometimes get impatient about that, but I reminded us both that love is patient. There are so many conversations, road trips, late-night food runs, all-nighters, struggles, prayer sessions, jam sessions, shopping trips, runs, long walks, favors, arguments, introductions, confrontations, interventions, break-ups, misunderstandings, reconciliations, apologies, questions, and discoveries between us and the brotherhood we'll have by the time we graduate.

So I thank God for those little moments with people where I stop and catch my breath and laugh a little bit and think "Oh friend, if you can believe it, one day I will know you so well and hold you so dear."

Last night gave me one of those moments.

I ended up talking and praying with a friend of mine about some heavy stuff until 2AM. We said "Amen" and he rested his head on the table and asked: "Do you believe in Providence?"

I leaned back and thought and answered: "Not before I came to Hillsdale, I didn't."

"Yeah," he said. "Is it just coincidence that we both have tests tomorrow that we had to study for tonight? Or that we both hate Taylor Swift so we sat at a separate table from everyone else and talked about theology? Or how about the fact that today's mass in the Magnificat told you the one thing you needed to hear? Interesting stuff, huh?"

And I don't know if God really did perfectly orchestrate those details, or else maybe He just was very intentional about giving my sincere, wise, prayerful brother a heart for me and my struggles. Either way, I honestly do believe that God had a hand in last night. Oh friend, if you can believe it, God does work all things together for our good and His glory.

Preparation

2009-11-02T14:24:00.003-05:00

Usually it just hits me out of nowhere: "This is not where I want to be." That doesn't mean that I don't enjoy being here, but if I let myself think about it long enough it does start to frustrate me that I of all people am here of all places. I love Hillsdale's mission statement and its purpose and its staff: Hillsdale as an abstract. Yet, at the same time, Hillsdale in practice so often goes across the grain of who I am. That's not a criticism or a complaint; it's just a fact.

Sometimes I can't wait for grad school. A school so huge you get dizzy looking at the maps. A school so famous people cower at your resume. A school so prestigious, so historic, so busy, that I'll get nostalgic for my teensy-weensy undergraduate college. I can't wait to take classes that plumb the intricate depths of political science and economics. I get excited about writing papers with theses so specific that "what's your paper about?" becomes food for an entire dinner conversation. I get excited about being a scholar, not just a student. I get excited about digging into my field of study. I get excited about internships, real-world jobs, and new experiences where I doubt my ability. I get excited about awkward transition-to-adulthood moments where I excuse myself from important meetings to call my mom and ask her advice on what to do. I get excited about paying my own rent, even if I can't always afford it, so that I actually feel like a real member of society instead of an 18-year-old with a college dean for babysitter.

Adults tell me that the 4 years of undergraduate education were the best years of their life. I consider that a logical impossibility because undergraduate education is not real life. Freshman drama, free t-shirts, frat parties, parent-professor conferences... this is no where near what I know of real life.

But here is the thing. I am convinced that I am here for a purpose. And yes, I am going to struggle with frustration, discouragement, restlessness, indignation, and outright anger for the next 4 years. I will. But there are great professors here who refuse to let me coast through my default logical arguments. There are professors here who tear down my best work and make me work harder than I'd ever thought I'd have to. And there are PEOPLE here who pray for me. I told a friend of mine last night that I'm just. not. used to this: so many people are consistently praying for me, and praying with me, and keeping me accountable, and loving me. He leaned against my shoulder and looked me in the eye and said "Well get used to it." I'm going to go out to live fully, and learn to the best of my ability, and pursue, and invest, all with the hope that I will reap a harvest at the end.

Through God's grace and by God's will, I study to change the world.

To what end? For whose sake?

2009-11-02T06:56:00.004-05:00

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecution, and calamities; For when I am weak, then I am strong." -2 Cor. 12:9-10

Maybe Christians are supposed to be really bad philanthropists. Perhaps we are supposed to only give what we are able, give it joyfully, and then, with joy and a sense of relief, let God take over. Yes, we are supposed to suffer for the cause of Christ, but that does not mean that we need to be crucified too. Suffering for the cause of Christ and suffering for the sins of man are very different things. The first is faith, the second is pride.

I need to repent when I start thinking I can save the world. I need to repent when I start thinking it's my responsibility to direct the pursuits of the people around me.

I can do nothing.
But God has already done everything.

Listen. [Repeat.]

2009-10-29T17:16:00.002-04:00

I've been listening to this song on repeat for the past 41 hours. It goes like this:

I can tell by your eyes you're not getting any sleep
And you try to rise above but feel you're sinking in too deep.

But I believe you'll outlive this pain in your heart
And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart.

And when some time has passed us, when the story can be told,
It will mirror the strength and the courage in your soul.

And for 41 hours, I've been trying to believe it.

In all things, God is love.

Blow me a kiss and I'll be happy the rest of my life.

2009-10-27T00:13:00.003-04:00

Cereal Monday is heaven-sent. I say this in part because the tradition was my idea. It goes like this: every Monday, Shannon and I bring a different box of cereal (if we remember) to Simpson and sit in the lobby with our bro Travis (cinna-mon) and...

We. Eat. Cereal. If other Simpson residents ask us about it, we invite them to eat cereal with us. (Oh, your roommate has Frosted Flakes? Go get them! Sharing is caring, after all.)

I'm crossing my fingers that Cereal Monday will become a Simpson legend. I'm crossing my fingers that other Simpson boys will get wind of the tradition and maybe start bringing some cereal of their own to share (Yes, I'm talking to YOU). And I'm praying that, even through these silly habitual times of fellowship, we are building strong relationships.

On that note, I'm very thankful for today. Lately I've been discouraged about relationships here on this campus. There is no easy solution to the problems I have dealt with, but today was a little light that I needed desperately. So I'm thankful for today. I'm thankful for puns, for surprises-for-no-reason, for coloring books, for inside jokes, for man-hugs, for our friend Jack Attack and his perfect sense of humor, for nicknames, for Laura Golden, for a box of 120 crayons, for music, for intramural football games, for blue skies, for Applejacks and 0% milk, for photographs and the creative souls who take them, and most of all for grace shown through the simplest things.

Chicago is 196.19 miles too far away.

2009-10-26T09:21:00.000-04:00

Today all I want is to wear a yellow cardigan and drink a pumpkin spice latte and people-watch on Michigan Avenue.

Gimme

2009-10-22T23:31:00.002-04:00

Please indulge me for 2 seconds in a little fit of selfishness. There are so many things I took for granted while I was growing up in Chicago, which means: there are SO many things that I miss, even sometimes ache for now. So here it is:

gyros
African-Americans
Mexican-Americans
Asian-Americans
non-Americans
non-Anglo Saxons
rap music
those sick drummers who always play at Millennium Station
Starbucks
Thai food
commuters
cinnamon-sugar toast (and toast in general... why can I not find toast on this campus?)
REAL pizza (i.e. Chicago-style pizza)

The End.

Let x = why?

2009-10-20T01:05:00.000-04:00

Why do chocolate chip pancakes taste so much better at midnight than at any other time of the day?

Two muffins are sitting in an oven.

2009-10-19T19:21:00.000-04:00

The first muffin says: "Man, it's getting hot in here."
The second muffin looks at the first muffin and screams: "AHH! You're a talking muffin!"

Fourteen years later, jokes like these still crack me up.

I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly.

2009-10-18T12:03:00.000-04:00

Today, do yourself a huge favor and check out the band Owl City. Check out their songs. Check out their music videos. Check out their lyrics. Even, if you're brave, check out their Twitter.

They're just pure happy.

So run into the fields; scream louder than you can.

2009-10-13T18:57:00.002-04:00

All this classroom work tends to numb the soul. Sometimes I catch myself walking from classroom to library, or library to union, or union to dorm completely engrossed in my mental to-do list. It's not wrong that I'm focusing on academics. After all, that's what I'm here for. It's okay that I'm here in the present. But sometimes it's good just to be a dreamer for a while.

It's especially good to dream about things like honeycrisp apples, some new cute rainboots, living in a tiny apartment in the heart of a city somewhere someday, and everything I'll do when I'm home tomorrow. Mostly I'm preoccupied with the fact that winter is fast approaching, and that means: hot cocoa, twinkle lights, fir trees, colorful scarves, pumpkin-flavored everything, carols, candles, and non-stop Christmas music for 2 straight months. Can't wait.