It's the storm of the century. Well, maybe not quite, but it was raining so hard when I finished with class tonight that I had my roommate come pick me up. She's a saint. It's also storming on other fronts--I'm feeling sorry for my cousin who is in the path of Hurrican Ivan. I'm getting assailed by financial woes--hail on my parade--my car is in the shop and will be expensive to fix, if indeed I do get it fixed. What a conundrum. It's things like this that always start to stress me out, that right when all my bills are due, then I get hit up for more money. I suppose that's why we're supposed to save and not spend it all, but I'm supposed to be saving for a new-to-me car, not pouring money down the endless hole that is Big Bertha. That's when I'm reminded by that persistant, still, small, ever present voice that says, "Trust me. Aren't I big enough to handle this?"

But then I wonder, "Haven't I been a bad Christian lately? You probably won't take care of this out of spite." Naughty me. I imagine the Holy Spirit looking shocked, and then laughing that I would think Him/It? spiteful. Oh yes, I think. That's right. You love me. I forgot.

Inside,
I had been
broken
as with a
sledgehammer.
But
You found
a
piece
of me
that I had
missed
as I fit
myself
back
together,
putting it
just the
right
place,
making me
whole.

It seems like sometimes news organizations can get it just right, and then other times, they can completely foul out. Look at today's news. The coverage of September 11 commemorations is poignant. We should remember. We should think of those people every day, and remind ourselves that it could have just as easily be us. But then look at this mess with the George Bush memos. There's more doubt than belief, even though Dan Rather staunchly backs his story. Something like this pollutes the presidential race; Americans can't vote based on the truth about each candidate. Instead, they're voting based on the way news coverage sways their opinions. I would venture to say that most of the people who will be voting in November haven't even taken the time to understand either Bush or Kerry. They rely too much on what everyone else is saying. We can't trust the media anymore. But what else is there? We could toss out the media, but something else would fill the void. We live in biased times.

School's got me all worked up and panicky. Okay, I'm drifting out of the panicky stage, but I still may hyperventilate if I forget even one more thing for class. I was explaining my absent worksheet to my advanced grammer prof, telling her that when I get busy, I get panicky. And when I get panicky, I get forgetful. Fortunately, she admitted to suffering from the same syndrome and told me I could bring my grammar exercises to class on Friday. It's not that I didn't do them--I actually, in a masochistic sort of way, enjoy doing grammar exercises--I left them in another notebook, and as I raced off to class, I left the worksheet behind. I think part of the reason for all the fluster is that Clint is coming to visit this weekend, and I'm trying to get everything done before he gets here so that we can have some quality time. Quality time is something we are lacking, due to the distance and general hectic nature of both of our lives which prevents us from spending time together. In any case, I've been forgetting so much lately--my worksheet this afternoon, an appointment in the evening, 4x6 notecards for a class, a reading assignment. I'm exceptionally blessed because my profs love me in spite of my flaws and are willing to give me some leeway. This wouldn't happen just anywhere, I realize. Thank the Lord for Dordt College and its great sense of community. But I keep telling myself that I just need to get a grip, that I need to sit myself down and get organized. I've got a break now for a couple hours. I think I'm going to do just what I need to do--no dawdling, no TV watching. Just focus, get the job done, and be rewarded by going to bed on time tonight instead of 1:30 in the morning. And I have to remind myself to breathe. I forget to do that sometimes too.

I just finished watching Love Actually and, as far as love stories go, this one was pretty good. I was a little disappointed because out of the eight or so different threads, one was left totally unfinished and another didn't exactly seem to end on a totally "in love" note. But I liked the way they all strung together somehow, as well as having so many quality actors and actresses in one film: Emma Thompson, Liam Niesen, Colin Firth, Hugh Grant, Laura Linney, Roan Atkinson. The music wasn't bad either. But mostly, I liked it because it had shots of all my favorite places in London--the Thames River walk, the Millenium Bridge, Big Ben, Trafalger Square, St. Paul's. I felt like I was there again. Admittedly, there's some language and nudity (although that part is pretty strange), and sometimes I couldn't figure out how all the different people knew each other--somehow they all did. And the idea that love is all around us, particularly at the airport seemed a bit desperate...but I was entertained. And that's the point, right?

spotted: one interim campus pastor on a porch, looked embarrassed after setting off the fire alarm by burning a piece of bacon. as for the crispy pork, he ate it before coming and standing in the rain with the rest of us.

I am missing the newness of spring. These flowers were floating like rosey snow in May. Now the world is full of bolder colors.
Posted by Hello

I'm in my apartment RIGHT NOW-- and it's awesome. I'm in the process of trying to move in; it's amazing how much stuff a person needs once they're not living with five other people. I have so many books. Too many. Shelves and shelves. I hope my roommate doesn't need too much shelf-space...

Well, I must be off. I have to re-pot a couple plants.

I will be so glad when I have the internet at my apartment. That's all I have to say.

I slept in today until 11.  That's a new record for the summer.  It didn't help that I was up until 2:30 talking with Clint.  It reminds me of the line from Train's song "Drops of Jupiter"--"can you imagine...a five hour phone conversation"--  I don't think we've ever talked so long.  By about 2 it was getting silly.  One of those moments when everything is funny, even when there's nothing to say.  It's just that I never want him to hang up, as if once we're disconnected, I lose something.  I think I've been living too long alone.  I notice all the small things, the noises, the stillness.  Like the fly buzzing in the light, its last flutters.  The hum, the white noise of the office.  The sound of gnawing in my bedroom wall.  It makes me feel enclosed. 

bored at work.

it's that nebulous time of day-- lunchtime-- when no one is around to tell me what to do next. i'm waiting around for a professor to return from his lunch break and give me more work to do. in the mean time, i suppose i will just stare at the computer and try to think of imaginative ways to kill time. i've debated going home for lunch myself. could i count that as part of my work day? i normally have things that i can do on my own. however, i've recently reached that point where i'm done with my projects, and all that remains is whatever busy work they choose to give me. is it going to be like this for the rest of the summer? i may as well move home and babysit. i could at least see my boyfriend that way. i think my problem is that i'm too efficient. they give me work to do, but i get it done too quickly. sometimes, i try to take as long as i possibly can to finish whatever task is at hand. but it still only takes me a few minutes. maybe i type too fast. who knows.

weekend snapshots--

-me standing under a giant strawberry in the rain. it's raining so hard the streets are flooding.
-some guy's jaw dropping as he exclaims "d---! what's up!" upon seeing us five hot women drive past on our way through backbone state park.
-jasmine and me singing "the love of God" at her church in strawberry point.
-the two of us jamming out to Tonic on interstate 90 and speaking in spanish accents at the barn-shaped rest stop.

I surprised Clint this weekend and showed up at church right before the service started. He looked at me like he didn't really believe I was there but would play along anyway. Then, as I grinned and wrapped my arms around him, he laughed and called me a punk. He still looked stunned after I had taken my seat in the pew. I felt satisfied and happy--more so than I thought I would. He told me later that he was glad he saw me before preaching. "Otherwise," he said, "there would have been a lot more awkward pauses, and everyone would have wondered why I wasn't making any sense." It's nice to know I have that effect on him.

in third person

"They're beautiful, by the way," he said as he grabbed his bag from the back seat of her van. "Your eyes. I thought about them the whole way home from church." Her breath caught in her throat as she felt something flutter under her ribs.
"Thanks," she said softly, and he smiled as he walked away.

in third person

she hung up the phone, her boss's voice still gravel in her ear.
--you plug away on it, then.
the rain was falling steadily, reminding her of heart beats and drum rhythms. her stomach growled, and she eyed the peach. i would need a napkin, she thought, remembering the feeling of the juice dribbling down her chin. staring at the computer, she wondered what to say. writer's block. those words made her think of her sister, of her sister's gift. how can we both be writers, she thought, when we're both so different. the answer, she supposed, lay in the words they wrote, the unique voice they each heard in their head as fingers clicked across keyboards. simple. visual. electric. that was the word her professor had used to describe her sister. that was her, all right, she thought wryly.
--can i be electric too?

Taking a brief pause from work, I am dreaming about tomorrow, when I get to go home for the weekend-- an extended weekend really. I can picture myself driving down the highway, music turned up and the windows rolled down. I get a small thrill just thinking about it. I met a husband and wife in my small group Biblestudy last night who were from Lincoln. It was great to play Dutch bingo with them (even if we're not Dutch) and see all the people we had in common. I don't get to do that very often. Mostly I watch other people connect the dots, laughing outloud because Carol is Bob's second cousin, and graduated with Helen's sister, who is married to Kevin's son. Most of our time with host families on choir tour is spent trying to see if somehow we're all related. Well, now I get to go home and pow-wow with my people for once. The distinction between outsider and insider is very interesting, I think.

Yesterday evening, I was remembering last summer, and the slow, relaxed pace of the days and nights. It was blissful, and I got a bit nostalgic. I miss being in my territory, nannying from 6am to 3 in the afternoon, and taking the rest of the afternoon to read in a coffeeshop or lay on a blanket in the grassy park near my grandma's house. Coming home and watching Wheel of Fortune with her, making a noodle casserole and eating defrosted Christmas cookies for dessert. My parents were only five minutes away, not three and a half hours. My sisters and I could go to movies together; my best friend was just down the road. My memories seem closer now than the people who mean the most to me. I wish it could have worked out to live in Lincoln again. My ideal summer. Although the ideal probably wouldn't have matched the actual experience. The hard bitter truth of life.

Sometimes I think that some of my best moments with God come when I'm not saying anything. I had that this morning as I sat on my bed in my pajamas, listening to Steven Curtis Chapman's "Be Still and Know". I sat and just thought about the immensity of God, and tried to open my heart to hearing him. I felt as if a big blanket of peace surrounded me, and I was able to simply worship him. It was magnificent.

And then I went outside into the cold, and all the golden warmth of my experience was shivered away by the wind. My fingers trembled, and as soon as I got inside again, I dreaded going out into the world again.

Isn't that the way it works though? We have an inspiring moment and we feel amazed and lit up from the inside. But then an encounter with the darkness around us, and suddenly we're afraid. Where has the shining light gone? Where is the warmth that filled us before? I don't think it's gone anywhere. I think that we need to carry it bravely and refuse to let the chilling wind extinguish it. Sometimes during the winter, I would leave a door open in the house on accident, and my mom would ask me if I was trying to heat up the whole outside. Yeah, Mom, I think I am.

My brain is dead. I just finished writing a two hour American Literature exam. I have never taken such a hard test. It's not that the information was difficult; I didn't even study that much. Probably only a couple hours, and that was in front of the TV, during commercials. The simple process of recalling all of the information was not difficult in the least. Rather, writing two full length essays and six shorter essays drained my mind of all useful processing and synthesizing skills. I'm devoid of the ability to write essays on William Faulkner or Tennessee Williams. There is relief on the horizon, though. Now that I've written this test (all six pages front and back) I'm done with American lit. until I have to teach it myself one day. Don't get me wrong- I actually loved all of the pieces we read in that class. We read My Antonia, The Sound and the Fury, A Streetcar Named Desire, Kate Chopin, e.e. cummings, Robert Frost, Sarah Orne Jewett--- some of my favorite authors. But my professor is tough. She expects a lot, which is also good. It is also exhausting. I think I'm going to pack for a little while and maybe take a nap. I still have two more tests to prepare for. And then I will say goodbye to studying for a short while. An abbreviated rest.

Birthday

My birthday was last Saturday, and I have to say, it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. My mom came up to school and we spent the whole day in Sioux Falls shopping and hanging out. Since we rarely get to do this, it was such a treat. My roommates gave me a beautiful card, hand-crafted by Amanda-- who makes amazing cards, by the way. And on Sunday, we had lunch with Sarah's parents. They had a cake with both of our names on it (Sarah's birthday is today) and when Sarah opened her presents, they gave me one too! It's one of the sexiest picture frames ever- partly because there's a picture of Sarah and me in it. It was a wonderful day. Twenty-two is a great age.

"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."

-T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"



I feel as though this has been sort of my mantra this year. A lot of exploring... subject matter, self, relationships, God. I'm starting to recognize this yearning inside myself to go back, all the way to the beginning. We've been talking a lot this year, my roommates and I, about the Big Change that's happening in about two and a half weeks. Because even if we're not all graduating, everything is changing. Nothing will be the same afterwards. And while that's wonderful and completely fine, it stirs something within us. A little melancholy, a little wish that we could keep going on in our relatively comfortable ways. And yet, there's still that strong urge to push forward. We have to keep on going, because if we tread water here, we will surely drown.

tired My vision is starting to blur... I think my contact is drying out. Yeah, I only wear one contact. And after studying for my big Curriculum and Instruction test tomorrow, I think I deserve a good night of solid sleep. I'm dreaming of crawling under my blankets, pulling them up to my nose, and curling into myself. Hopefully I can have a nice dream of spring or something equally lovely. I took a study break earlier tonight and finished watching the last hour of An Affair To Remember. A completely sentimental film, but something about it just makes me fall in love with it every time. Deborah Kerr is enchanting, and who can beat Carey Grant? (Except maybe Gregory Peck... Maybe that's why I can never be satisfied by any of the guys I date. They're too modern.) (Warning: Complete Subject Change) I just want to be done with all the stress and agony of school work. I'm feeling oppressed. How many papers can one student be expected to write in a semester?? ARGH! *sigh* Okay. Well, I can barely see; I'm going to go remove my contact and makeup and brush my teeth and put on my pj's and head to bed. Goodnight budding world.

Easter
I wish that I'd thought about Him more today. I have been so busy this weekend just preparing for Easter that I've forgotten why we're having all these special services and chapels. Tonight we're having an Easter GIFT (Growing In Faith Together-- an on campus worship service), and I want to make sure that my mind is meditating on the sacrifice of Christ. I've been on the worship team for awhile now, and so often I allow myself to get frustrated with the leadership or the timing or the extra rehearsal time. I lose sight of the fact that we are leading people to worship God. What a rare and amazing privilege. And so often I think of it as an inconvenience. I know I did this week. I was so angry that they would schedule an Easter GIFT and keep me from going home. It's bad enough that we have classes on Good Friday, but to force me to stay on campus and have rehearsals when I would rather be thinking about Jesus' death and resurrection? (Yeah, how likely is that?) How inconsiderate. Actually, my anger was inconsiderate. I have been blessed with the opportunity to come together with the body of Christ to worship Him and bask in the beauty of His presence. And all I can do is moan and complain. I feel a close kinship with the children of Israel. Hopefully, a forty-year sojourn in the desert is not in my future.

It is snowing today. Snowing in April. It made me remember my fourth birthday, when we were living in Rapid City, South Dakota. My birthday is April 24th, and for my party we had ice cream, and swam in the little blue plastic pool we kept on the deck. It was over 80 degrees. The next day, I went sledding. Four feet of snow had piled up during the night in the last blizzard of the year. The flakes today were perfect; I could see the intricate points like lace against my black coat. And yet, a quote from T.S. Eliot ran through my mind:

"April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire"