When the World Stands Still

Snow has hit Seattle and not in a small way.  No, not small at all, for I am looking out my window at an entire foot of snow covering every surface.  The snow has been building up for a week now and the more that piles up, the quieter the city becomes.  At night, there are not cars speeding up and down the streets.  Instead, there are couples out walking their dogs and children inside drinking their hot chocolate.  I personally found myself sitting on the couch, curled up in a blanket and reading.  I, of course, didn't get very much reading done, but instead found myself staring out the window at the world around me that has been moving at a much slower pace.

The snow has forced us all into a much simpler lifestyle.  We are walking to where we need to be, we are spending time together when we would normally be running around town and we are forced away from malls and and the holiday stress that they cause.  What a blessing to be able to live in peace during this season and to be at enough peace to remember the true meaning that this holiday brings.  

Our Sunday church service was one that I will remember forever.  I trudged through the snow for a mile with my pastor father and we arrived at church very early to see if anyone was there.  No worship team showed up, no advent readers, no one to prepare the service as usual.  It was a Sunday for improvising and dad went to the shiny grand piano and began to play Christmas carols the way he often does at home.  A long time family friend sang along with him and it was worship where the meaning of the song lyrics resounded quite clearly in our heads.  What made the service even more beautiful was staring out the wall of windows in our new building and watching the snow fall freely.  The usually bustling street was quiet and all you could hear was the sound of our own voices.  This is what Christmas should be about: Coming together with our family and friends with nothing standing in the way of it.

 

When I moved out of my dorm a week ago, I was sad to leave it, but there is nowhere else in the world that I would rather be right now than in the comfort of my true home.  Here in my seat by the window, I am able to watch the passers by and watch their happiness.  I was sick the entire week and the snow cancelled work all week, so I was forced in this position, but I am so thankful for it.  Yes, I've lost my voice and no, I didn't earn any money this week, but I have been able to slow my life down for an entire week.  

Now, as the rain begins to defeat the snow and it will all melt away soon enough, I will remember the peace that it brought.  I will keep this peace of mind throughout the rest of the holiday and not forget that it is about Christ and the love that he brought us two thousand years ago.  

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

Luke 2:14

Giving Thanks for Thanksgiving

It has been an exhausting and emotional past two weeks, but scattered with bits of joy here and there.  Now, I am settled down at home (that is, my true home, not my dorm home) and I am at peace for the first time in a long time.  It's quiet here and all the familiar sounds make my heart at ease.  All the stress and fears of yesterday are diminished as I hear my parents voices coming from the kitchen.  I am happy when I realize that so many of my friends who have been going through so much more than I have are also feeling this peace.  They are on their way home now as they read their books on the train or plane and there are those who have found themselves in the cars of newfound friends.  

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and it is an answer to prayer for so many of us.  We started the year off strong, but it progressively got more difficult.  As soon as mid-terms hit, we all lost touch with reality and were suddenly caught in a whirlwind of homework and events and our only moments of peace were found in the few hours we slept.  As we prayed together and cried together, the only thing we could think of was that Thanksgiving was on its way.  And now, it's finally here and we are finally home.  I don't live far away, only three miles, but there are times it feels like there is an ocean between us.  Times when I realize that I can't cry in my mother's arms and need to face it on my own, but this is the way that we grow.  

It's been a big year for me full of tears and troubles, but my blessings outnumber those trials a million to one.  I have a family who loves one another and enjoys to spend time together every Sunday.  I graduated high school with honors and achievement.  I have a group of friends who will support me in anything I take on.  I have gone to a wonderful college for two months and have already grown so much.  I have Christ by my side every step of the way.  When I look at all of these blessings, why do I have reason to cry?  

It is so easy to get caught up in our troubles and forget what Christ has done for us.  He has given us hope in hopeless times and it is selfish not to accept that hope.  We are intended to carry out Christ's love and hope, not dwell on the things that make us unhappy.  As I sit here listening to my music in my warm bed, I can't believe I was ever so unsatisfied.  Tomorrow I will be among the ones I love and that is enough for me.  That's what Thanksgiving is about to me: It's about being with the ones you love.  That's what the entire holiday season should be about, not stressful shopping and gifts, but Christ's love and the ones that we care about.  

So, thanks for Thanksgiving, it's already been a wonderful time to catch my breath before I head in for the push to the finish.

It's a Ben and Jerry's Kind of Day

The past few weeks have been hectic as I suddenly realize I am done with my sixth week of college.  I wonder where those weeks went and what I have done with all that time.  It didn't disappear into thin air, but here everything seems to fly by and it is hard for me to even remember what I did yesterday, much less two weeks ago.  This week was a week to top it all: the election, mid terms and a steady downpour.  These things all put together in one week resulted in a Thursday afternoon sitting in a chair curled up in a blanket with a pint of Ben and Jerry's in one hand and a spoon in the other while watching old FRIENDS episodes.  All of these things were intended to make my mood a better one.  

Did my mood get better?  No, of course not, no one actually feels great when the ice cream runs out and you must go back to the real world, but I did and as the evening unfolded, it slowly got better.  It got better through little things: Balsamic vinegar back at the salad bar, warm embraces, a disney movie, and scripture shared with friends.  It's odd how these are the things that made it better, but I am often surprised to see what makes me feel better.  When I came to college, some of the special things that made me happy have now become regular habits and it was time to find new things.  Let me share how the tiny and some seemingly insignificant things have contributed so much to this dreadful Thursday and my past weeks at college.

First is the balsamic vinegar, the one deliciously healthy alternative to actual salad dressing.  When I try to eat healthily in the cafeteria, it often results in a scrumptious piece of greasy pizza and a plate of lettuce with caesar dressing and goldfish crackers.  The one thing that was healthy was the lettuce, but it's health factor has been scratched out by the dressing, so I discovered the olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  Four weeks later, it disappeared and I was back to my unhealthy salad habits, which resulted in me feeling unhealthy no matter what I ate.  Then tonight, on one of the hardest nights so far, the healthy alternative was back and I was overjoyed.

Then there are the hugs.  Hugs from old friends and new friends alike.  Some in passing, others as greetings or farewells.  Sometimes simply a shoulder to lean on when I'm feeling especially alone.  Such a simple action with such a significant meaning.  Hugs are very important to me and fill me up inside.

Of course, where would I be without the Disney movies, an age-old medicine for when you're feeling low.  Tonight, it was "Monster's Inc." and every time you heard that little girl talk, my heart leapt a little bit with joy.  To be in a college dorm room, I assume that no one would find it cool to like Disney movies as much as me, but it's really brought us together on many occasions.  An escape from the broken world we exist in to the happy endings that occur in all Disney movies.

Fourth, scripture has never felt so important to me as it did tonight.  We were studying Hebrews 1-3, but my flighty eyes wondered across the page to chapter 4, verse 7:

"Today, if you hear his voice

   do not harden your hearts."

This one tiny sentence brought me hope to last forever.  Today, if I hear his voice, I will not harden my heart.  That was my trouble, I was not listening for His voice and my heart was hardened, saddened and simply ready for the week to be done.  It is so easy to forget in the fluster of our days that Christ is always there, always with us, even if we don't realize it.  Reading this verse was a much appreciated slap in the face for me and I am so thankful for being able to share these thoughts with my friends every Thursday night.

In the end, all it took to heal my painfully long week was reading a sentence in a book.  I didn't truly need the balsamic vinegar or "Monster's Inc."  All I needed was eleven words giving me hope for a healed today and a better tomorrow.  Essentially, that's what we all need isn't it?  Hope.  Just one tiny glimmer of encouragement that we can make it.  Thank you, Lord, for being with us in our darkest of times.

Down By the Sea

I am sitting under a tree whose leaves are falling all around me.  The sounds of the world around me grow louder as the thoughts in my mind settle down.  I've been at school almost a month now and the entire time since I moved in has been a whirlwind of events.  There have been people to meet, lectures to listen to, boxes to unpack, meals to eat and a hundred other things rushing around like mad.  I have been so desperately searching for a moment of peace amidst the madness and I have finally found it.  

I found it by the side of a canal full of ducks and boats and crew teams, each one making a different size of wave that crashes in front of me.  Those are the things that lie in front of me.  Behind me is a path scattered with various people walking their dogs, going home or perhaps they too are searching for some quiet.  Where I find the most peace, though, is above me in the beautiful blue sky scattered with puffs of white.

The sky is perfect today and I am at peace because I know that those people who I miss are all under this very same sky.  This sky has brought no rain, but instead a lovely sun that casts shadows across the sidewalk and creates a perfect reflection in the beautifully still water.  This sky was an answer to my desperate prayers for a place to pause and be silent.  Unfortunately, I must leave this wonderful place now to finish out the day, but I'll be back.  Yes, I know I'll be back.

It's Good in the Hood

I moved into a dorm two weeks ago and already it feels as though I've been there for an eternity.  There are so many things I enjoy about this new way of living like the feeling it's a sleepover every night or walking into the rooms of people who you barely know and have conversations about nothing of consequence, but what I enjoy most is the community that has been created so quickly.  The theme of our floor is "Welcome to the Neighborhood" and the purpose of this theme is for us to realize the importance of living together in community.  Yes, Fourth Hill has been living like this, but I've noticed so many beautiful moments since I entered "The Neighborhood" and it has always put a keen smile on my face.  

I came home last night (home to my parent's house, that is) and I was downstairs, but as soon as my father touched the keys of the piano that has been with him for 29 years, I ran up the stairs to grab my viola as my sister grabbed the other.  We played together, the three of us, as we always have, but there was something on this night in particular that made it so much more meaningful to me.  It was this music that made me feel like I was really coming home, not the house, not my bedroom, not the dishes, but the music.  As we were playing, I looked out the window and watched the neighbors outside.  Some coming as others were going, greeting each other sometimes with a casual wave, other times with a friendly embrace.  One greeting stood out to me above all others and that was the return of my neighbor who is in college in California.

She left in August and her absence has been very present in our lives as she broke our group of five 66th St. girls into a group of four 66th St. girls.  A month and a half later, I broke it into a group of three 66th St. girls and it felt like I was no longer one of them.  In my prayers the night before I came home, I said a prayer for each of them, myself included, not to lose ourselves as we separate from each other.  It was no mistake that she drove up from Chico on the first weekend that I came home, it was all intended.  She came back while I was watching the neighbors through the window and I saw the neighbors run across the street to her and hugged her as soon as she stepped foot out of the car and it was so beautiful to me.  Fourteen years we've all known each other and it all seemed summed up in this single embrace.

Another moment was while I was riding the bus with some of my floor mates.  An elderly woman got on the bus and a few stops later, another elderly woman walked onto the bus.  They saw each other and instantly I saw each of their faces light up.  They knew each other by the bus and their conversation continued until we got off the bus.  I don't know their story and I'll probably never see them again, but it is so touching to see these connections.  There was also an elderly woman who used to enter a bakery (that I frequent on Saturdays) and she would collect a bag of day old bread to feed to the birds.  A small gesture on the part of the bakery, but for her, it is her life.  Now, she it is hard for her to come in, so she sends someone else to get the bread for her, but we all know it's for her to give to the birds.  Such a small thing, but so meaningful at the same time.

My feelings are embarrassingly yet perfectly captured in the lyrics of an ABBA song called Slipping Through My Fingers and here they are: 

"Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time"

 

That's exactly how I feel about each and every one of these moments.  I wish that I could always see my neighbor in the warm embrace of others, the women meeting on the bus and the lady coming to get her bread, but the picture is not frozen and never will be.  She will go back to college and we'll pick up where we left off.  The women on the bus will have to stop riding the bus eventually and the lady with the bread is already slowly leaving us.  It is hard to move on when we see these beautiful moments and it just seems that it would be so much easier to freeze time in these moments rather than force it all to go on.  That's not the point of the neighborhood, though.  The point of the neighborhood is to form a community and that means supporting each other in the times of joy and sorrow alike.  It's going to be a good year, even if it's hard at times, but that is life and life goes on in the neighborhood.  

And Then It Was Autumn

I am sitting at my desk in my new room that I will call home for the next nine months.  It is cozy here and I like it, but it's not quite the same as home.  I am writing this as I hopelessly try to avoid the sociology paper that awaits and I am daydreaming and letting my thoughts drift through the rain that falls outside my window.  Fall is finally upon us and this fall is unlike any other I have ever experienced.

The leaves started to change weeks ago, yet I have only been in school for 10 days.  I now eat waffles and chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast instead of the usual bowl of Rice-Krispies.  At some points, it all feels so perfectly wonderful, but at other points I find myself crying because of all that is changing so fast.  Nobody likes change, even good changes have their own set of struggles.  Even chocolate chip pancake change.  So now, as things become more regular and the rain falls more steadily, I stare into space and wonder what lies ahead.

I wonder what I'll be thinking when the brightly colored leaves are no longer on the tree outside my window.  Will they be thoughts of peace, of excitement, of joy or of uncertainty?  I so often think "God only knows..."but I so wish he would tell me what lies ahead right now because I presently have absolutely no idea.  When people ask me my major, I clench up with fear of the unknown or the fear that what I choose will decide the rest of my life.  Yet I look at my pastor father and his education in architecture and it puts my mind somewhat at ease.  Ease that tells me I can do what I love and that I'll end up doing what I'm meant to do, all in due time.

  

I am confident that I will learn what I am meant to do because my faith in Christ has grown profoundly in the last ten days.  Through the past week, I have prayed to God more times in a day than ever before and this huge adjustment to college has caused me to grow so much deeper in my faith...and it's only been one week.  It is so amazing to be able to go to college and pray before you build a set and discuss the role that Christianity plays in the subject you are studying.  It's refreshing and it is helping me to look at the world differently.  This new feeling towards Christ is helping me so much and I am so excited to see where it will take me.

Sunrise, Sunset

My mom and I were cooking dinner tonight and listening to Fiddler on the Roof.  As she was stir-frying the chicken and I was doing my best to cut up a pineapple the song "Sunrise, Sunset" came on.  The words feel like they're about me.  About my parents.  About our lives and how they are changing.

"Wasn't it yesterday when they were small?  Sunrise, Sunset.  Swiftly go the days.  Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers, blossoming even as we gaze...Swiftly fly the years, one season following another, laden with happiness and tears."

I am moving out on Thursday and my parents will be alone for the first time in nearly 24 years.  How much it seems we've been through together, yet there is still so much ahead of us.  It feels like yesterday that I was starting first grade with a fearful smile and when people ask me if I can believe I'm starting college, I frankly tell them "I'll believe it when it happens."  Even then, it will be hard to believe that I am eighteen and starting this ridiculously big chapter of my life.  In the blink of an eye, highschool was over and in the next four years I'll blink again and I'll be graduating from college.  How does it happen so fast?  How can 18 years be just an instant?  To be honest, I never thought this day would come and there is a nervous feeling inside me telling me it's not actually happening.  

I looked through my memory box recently and found relics of the past.  Drawings for Fathers Day, paper hearts from Valentines Day, elementary school projects, report cards, Sunday school books, programs and awards.  Everything came back into mind so vividly and there were tears and laughter as I went through it all.  Finding funeral programs from too many who died too young.  Finding paintings from the first grade that look just as good as anything I've done lately.  Photographs from my first steps to receiving my diploma.  It's all there, 18 years of memories put into one big, purple, rubbermaid box. 

There have been many seasons of life for me, but they have all looked relatively the same.  I start something new, I fear the change, I find the good in it and I smile.  Repeat.  That has been my life and now I am starting something very new.  Newer than starting high school.  Newer than learning how to tap dance, than learning how to act.  Thanks to those 18 years behind me, the fear is gone.  I am starting something new for the first time with courage rather than uncertainty.  These will be good years, like the songs says, "laden with happiness and tears".

Whatever Way Our Stories End

Song lyrics have started to mean so much more to me lately.  I feel like they are expressing my feelings better than I ever could, so I am sharing them with you. 

"I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason bringing something we must learn.  And we are led by those who help us most to grow if we let them and we help them in return...It well may be that we may never meet again in this lifetime, so let me say before we part: So much of me is made of what I learned from you...and now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend."

--"For Good", Wicked

I first heard this song on my last day of high school and it was shared with me by my dear stand partner and friend.  She told me that it was a story about me and her, which is true, but it is also the story of me and many others lately.  There are so many people who have been in and out of my life, yet they have all been so important in shaping it.  Without them, I wouldn't be listening to these showtunes and letting them touch my life so deeply.  It is so true to me that people come into our lives for a reason and though that reason is sometimes not seen until those friendships are over, it was still a reason.  So when I have been saying good-bye to my friends as they head off in separate directions, I realize that some of them I may never have the same relationship with them.  Even though those friendships will not be the same, I will still never forget them and they will still be so important to me.  As we head off and our paths become more clear, with a few clouds along the way, we will not forget the things we learned from each other.  No, we will take the lessons with us and we will never forget the impact we had on each other's lives.

  

A Summer About Life

"This is how it works

You're young until you're not

You love until you don't

You try until you can't

You laugh until you cry

You cry until you laugh

And everyone must breathe

Until they're dying breathe

No this is how it works

You peer inside yourself

You take the things you like

And try to love the things you took

And then you take that love you made

And you stick it into some

Someone else's heart"

--Regina Spektor, "On the Radio"

For me, what was meant to be a relaxing summer before the college plunge has proven to be one of the most difficult yet.  It has been a summer of feeble attempts to do everything I can and in turn, has been a summer of the reality that I can't do it all.  I listened to this song and the words seem to jump out at me as a message of how to live my life.  It told me I can't do everything...a crude realization, but an utterly true one.  It told me I can't be friends with everyone, that some friendships will last and others will fall.  It has told me things I desperately don't want to hear, but things that are necessary to hear.  It told me I must go on and spread my love through my world.  Not the whole world, that's what I want to do and can't do.  No, for now, I need to spread love through my world.

There have been beautiful moments this summer and also moments that have made me sad.  If I want to really live life, I must experience both.  I put on a play this summer with 10 friends in six weeks and, exhausting as it was, it was a wonderful way to spend my time.  I have spent many hours in the company of old friends and new friends alike.  There have been evenings spent in tears, tears that show our concern for what lies ahead.  There have also been times of pure laughter, living in the moment and not letting anything get in our way.  It's been a summer unlike any other and as I prepare to go to college, I wonder if there will be more summers like this one.  Summers of joy, but of uncertainty.  Of love and of irritation.  Of the realization that some things will come to an end, whether we want them to or not.  

The next year will be full of the same feelings, but this difficult summer is something for me to be grateful for.  It has taught me things that were important to know before I approached my entirely new world of college.  In the end, though it has been harsh and tearful, this summer was a blessing for me.  Blessings come in many forms and this is one I don't often like to see, but as I grow older, I realize how important it is to hear the painful truth in the times you desperately don't want to.  I am thankful for the tears and the laughter and they will go with me into the next year where there will be even more.

Block Party!

To the cast of my play, I seemed crazy when I asked if we could have an earlier rehearsal so that I could go to my block party. "Why would you want to go to that?" they ask me and I simply responded with "Because I love my neighbors!" There were so many more reasons that I didn't want to explain to them because I wasn't quite sure they would understand how two simple hours of my summer could possibly mean so much to me. For me, the block parties have often been a wonderful time of coming together and getting to know those people who I see every single day. I watch them get into their cars every morning and we all return home around the same time. I know them by their dogs and the house they live in, not by their name. I have lived in the same house for 12 1/2 years and it has been a joy to watch this neighborhood grow up.

I've watched the houses grow higher, the trees grow taller and recently have noticed the children grow up. When I appeared at the caucus a few months back, I scared all my neighbors when they realized that the little five year old who they met is now old enough to vote in this presidential election. Just like me to them, the younger kids on the block are a joy to watch. There are three little kids on our street around the age of four and they were so fun to watch at the block party. They were taking advantage of the street that was closed off and riding their bicycles in it. When the party truly began was when the boy splashed some water on the girl and she retaliated by dumping a huge cup of water all over him...the fight had begun.

They were chasing each other with big red cups in hand and they were a joy for me to watch. Three of the girls who I grew up with on this street were watching too and we were loving it. Not so long ago, we were running around the block party too, but now rather than being the performers, we were the spectators, sitting in lawn chairs in our pretty dresses eating pesto pasta. We were talking about going to college for two of us, trying out for the high school soccer team for the other two. We've grown up since the water fight days, but that "grown-up" facade could only last so long. Hayden and I looked at each other, jumped up and joined in the water fight.

My dress was getting soaked as I was dumping cups full of water all over her head and chasing these two little kids up and down the street. I was getting tired and cold, so after I chased Hayden to the other end of the street, we called a truce and changed into dry clothes. When I went back to join the party, Shannon and Chelsea were now involved and looking even worse than I was. Then the fight turned neighborhood wide and everyone was either wet or holding up their cellphones as a type of shield. It was just so fun to watch the college bound Shannon in running down the street in her soaking wet party dress with mascara running down her cheek. To me, it was a sign that things will not change entirely.

Even though we're going separate directions for school and our lives are completely different, when it comes down to it, we'll always be there for each other. We went to the movie store after the party, picked up the fifth neighborhood girl and piled on to the couch for our final movie night before the big college separation. The five of us have grown up together and have all changed so much and will continue to change as the years go on, but for those few hours, it was as though nothing had changed. And it was beautiful.

Bits and Pieces

I've started the dreaded task of cleaning my room. No, I don't mean just putting clothes in their drawers and books back on the shelf. No, the cleaning I'm talking about is FAR worse. It's the deep I'm-going-to-college-in-three-months type of cleaning. Empty the contents of every drawer and decide what to keep and what to toss. Stand on a stool and inspect the top of the bookshelf and underneath the bed where lost items have been rediscovered. With every item I find, there is a story and a memory that flies back into my head. Good memories, bad memories. The ones that make me laugh and the ones that make me cry. This is what the next three months will be for me: an uncovering of the years past and an uncertain anticipation of the years to come.

It started with the dresser. I opened each drawer pulling out hings that were once adorable and over the years, have evolved into a horrible fashion statement. I pulled out all the T-shirts from all the clubs and events throughout high school, the ones that at one point were purchased to be pajama shirts. I soon realized that one can only have so many pajama shirts and they have become significant enough that they will be turned into a quilt that will journey with me into the dorm. The dorm, the dorm...what else will go with me there and what things will be left behind?

I started to look at all the picture frames, which are so hard to get rid of. I found one with six different squares, each one filled with a photo of someone who has made an impact on my life. Grandpa is in the first square and I realized at this moment how much I truly miss him. Then there are friends, siblings and youth leaders who have all been there for every play, all the tough times and countless times filled with laughter and joy. Then I began to uncover pictures and treasures from my middle school days. Pictures of old classmates and crushes and the box of poetry written in the seventh grade. The poetry brought to mind an unforgettable story.

I came home after school one day with the poem in hand. It was about pets and it rhymed, but I learned that day that just because it rhymes, that does not make it a great work of poetry. My mother, in an odd attempt at being humorous, read the poem and said it was crap. I began to bawl because the pride of my work had just been ripped to shreds. It seemed horrible then, but after reading the poem five years later, she was right: It WAS crap (and, to be fair, she was quoting a movie. I didn't realize that at the time.) And, like most cases where she is right, I will try my hardest to forget about it.

Very few things went beyond middle school, except for a few school projects from my elementary years, which will be added to the memory box. But the memory box is full of even more stories that must be saved for another time. If I uncover all the treasures right away, it will all be over to fast, and I can't have that, now can I?

New York, New York

When I first stepped out of the train from New Jersey to New York, I wasn't thinking about New York, I was thinking about where I could find the closest restroom. In New York, the closest one was certainly not close and I was not happy with the busy city the first moment I arrived there. "Will the whole trip be like this?" I thought to myself. Then I responded to myself "No, it couldn't." And it wasn't. The trip was wonderful from the first taxi ride to the last Broadway show.

I went to New York with two friends, Lisa and Lindsey, and we had been planning on New York since our freshman year. Lindsey is our mentor, you see. She is the one who has met with us every Sunday for four years and given up her own free time to help us grow into who we are right now. Lisa has been my closest friend since the age of five and our friendship has stood the test of time. So, when we wanted to go on a trip and we each started a coin jar to create spending money from loose change, we decided on New York. New York is the place to be, with its bustling crowds and busy streets. It's the city that never sleeps, and we are the girls that never sleep, so it seemed a perfect match. What we all quickly discovered is that it was a perfect match...for all of us, each with our own reason. Now, I cannot speak for the other two, but I can definitely speak for myself and I could give you a hundred reasons why New York truly is the place to be. I won't give you a hundred, but I will at least give you a few.

For me, of course, Broadway is an obvious one. The lights of Broadway were as bright as I imagined and there was a theatre on every corner, which, for me, was heaven. Although the theatres were smaller than I had built in my mind, the shows were more extraordinary than anything I every pictured. They were overflowing with talent and artistically, I haven't seen anything so remarkable. The actors were able to draw me into the story from the very first note they sang and I laughed and cried through the entire story. That is when theatre is truly amazing, when you are transported into another world and you entirely forget where you actually are. Broadway did exactly that and it was absolutely amazing.

The diversity of New York was so interesting to me. Everywhere we went, you could never see an obvious racial majority. You could sit on the subway and the people across from you were speaking french while the woman next to you was wearing a sari. We ate dinner in Little Italy and as soon as we crossed the street, we were in Chinatown. There were people everywhere and you could always have an interesting conversation with anyone (who was willing to share....) So, between the people we met and the food we ate, we experienced at least a dozen different cultures all in one place.

All in all, New York was a wonderful place, but, like the end of all journeys, it was nice to come home. The one thing that New York City lacked was peace. That is why Seattle will be the place that I call home and the place I always have a hard time leaving: It is a place where even the most stressful day can end in peace and peace is what every person looks for, but not every person can find. So, thank you Seattle, for the peace you bring to my life.

Clean Out Your Lockers, Turn Your Tassels and On To the Next

The final week of school was short and bittersweet. I cleaned out my viola case and turned in the instrument. I took the pictures and magnets out of my locker and shut the door. I wrote my thank you notes to the teachers who have meant so much to me throughout the last four years. I kissed the stage good-bye and I walked out the doors of the school on Tuesday and realized that I never needed to go back. And before I knew it, I was waiting in a long line of students to walk onto the field of Memorial Stadium to participate in the ritual that has always seemed 18 years away, no matter what age I was. This was it, this was the moment I had been waiting for all my life and now the tassel has been turned to the other side of the cap and I am ready for the next adventure.

As I sat in my seat at graduation, the memories of high school began to fly through my head. Good memories, bad memories, ALL memories. I remembered my very first day of school when I felt more out of place than I had in my entire life because I had entered a class of 400 from a class of 12 and I knew 3 people in the entire school. First semester Freshman year was the hardest, but after making it through those 5 months I knew that the rest of high school would be possible. Now, I am on top of the world and have made more friends, students and teachers alike, than I ever thought I would. These are the people who have changed my life and helped me discover more and more who I truly am.

I distinctly remember auditioning for "Crazy For You" and wondering what exactly I was getting myself into. I know now that I was getting myself into a family that would stick with me forever and grow bigger each year as I tried out for seven more plays. That funky drama crowd that looked so strange from the outside changed my life from the very start. From the night we went to Dennys at midnight to critique a different production of "Crazy For You" to the night that the curtain fell for the last time in "Guys and Dolls", I have been creating lasting relationships left and right. This crowd of people taught me not to judge too quickly or too harshly, because even though they wear strange clothes and have pink hair, they all have huge hearts that are made of gold.

The person who truly changed my life is gone now, but she showed love to me when nobody else did and without her, I would not have been who I am now. She gave me the confidence it took to be myself and that is exactly what I have done. She taught us all to love everyone who came into our lives, regardless of whether or not we considered them our friends. To her, everyone was a friend and that is exactly how we should live. We should live life loving those around us and spreading that love throughout the world. She also taught me that we should not live life with regret, that we should grasp all the opportunities we can. Truly, without her, I would not have lived the life that I did in high school.

The stories are endless and that makes it very difficult to put high school into only a few words. But in the end, all I have to say is that it was perfect. It had its share of good and bad, but I have no complaints. I got through the first semester of Freshman year and the last semester of senior year, the two hardest. Sandwiched between those semesters are dozens of memories and friendships that will stay with me for the rest of my life, but now it is time to move on to the next adventure. College is waiting for me and I will enter with a newfound confidence that, without high school, would be non-existent. So, here's a "thank you" to high school and all that it brought to my life.

The Northeast Wing

My final orchestra concert was on June 3, but it took until now to finally be able to find the words to say about it. The orchestra has been the most significant part of my high school career and playing that final, drawn out note on the C-string of my precious viola broke me up inside. Four years full of the best of times and worst of times, but for the most part full of absolute joy. Playing that note meant it was all over and I didn't want that. No, I didn't want that at all. My territory in Ballard High School is the Northeast wing. Nobody knows where the northeast wing is, but I do; it's the band room and the black box theatre. In other words, my home away from home.

It is impossible to calculate the number of hours spent in this area of the school because I have been in 8 plays, 16 concerts, 2 dance recitals and have only actually watched a concert one time. Sitting in the ridiculously uncomfortable auditorium seats was new to me when I watched the spring choir concert this year. It felt strange not to be on the stage, because a huge part of me is in that stage. There are too many stories and memories to share. There was the year we ate lunch on the stage everyday. There are the dance parties on the stage. The last day of junior year when I just laid on the stage for an hour staring up at the fly. Whitewashing the sets and painting the drops. The Tri-M concerts. Playing Christmas carols on the stage during sectionals. Playing hide and seek during sectionals. Early mornings with the chamber orchestra. Every one of these events was filled with enthusiasm and friendships that are unforgettable.

That is why when Mr. James put his baton down for the last time, a tear came to my eye. It was the last event on the stage. The last time I would look out into the crowd of the Earl Kelly Auditorium. It was over. So, now, I have said my farewell to the orchestra and will never be able to play with them again. It is a pity, but it's the truth, and the truth means that I must move on. So I will move on, with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. A song played by the orchestra of BHS.

The Final Countdown!

There are seven more days of school until I will walk out the doors of Ballard High School for the last time. There are a lot of "lasts" associated with this countdown and it is completely unbelievable. I know that many people say "a last is just making way for a new beginning", but to avoid an incredibly overused cliche, I will, for the time being, simply focus on the lasts.

Today was the last assembly and last night was the dinner for the seniors. Tuesday will be the last time I will play in a concert with the orchestra and on Thursday, I will walk across the same stage to receive the awards that I have earned. These are the same things I have watched my closest friends do year after year and I remember how jealous I was that they were finally done. Now, the jealousy has been passed down and I am the one they envy.

Finally realizing that I am sitting in the highest seat in the school has made me wonder where the time went. I'm not sure where it went, but one thing is for sure: the high school days are nearly gone and will soon be but a memory. A very good memory, but still just a memory nonetheless. There is a something surreal about the whole situation and I still can't believe that it will be me walking across the stage in a bright red cap and gown in two weeks (that no doubt will fly by).

But I will save the stories for after the graduation. For now, I will try my hardest to find a sense of peace in the hectic blur of the final countdown.

A Good Bye to the Ballard Stage

It was 6:15 PM and I quickly grabbed a can of Aqua Net Hairspray and sprayed it over my completely unnatural curls. The smell is awful and it destroys my hair, but it brings back an amazing memory from my freshman year of high school. That memory was getting my hair done on the first day of the first big show I had ever been in: Crazy For You. The smell of Aqua Net surrounded me and the smell stuck with me forever. I would, over the next four years, use at least 3 cans of it. Crazy For You was what made high school truly begin for me. Not the first day of school, not homecoming week, but Crazy For You. I will never forget my audition and the absolutely sickening feeling in my stomach wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into. And that is when it all began.

At 6:45, we go through a strange ritual where we rub a Chevron patch that is safety-pinned on an old hat. I've done this dozens of times, it's tradition, it's good luck. The hat belonged to someone whose name I don't even know because it was before my time, but his hat is famous and I have no doubt that the tradition will continue. But tears well up in my eyes as I rub it this time, it's the last time I'll rub it. I will never have a reason to rub the Chevron again, there are no more shows.

Then it was 6:55 and Lilah called "places." It was "places" for the last time and I sneak offstage to listen to the overture. Oh, all of the overtures! An overture is always the first part of the show, it excites you, it makes you ready to give it your all. There are even memories associated with the overtures. Dancing to them behind the curtain and lip syncing with all your might because no one can see you, and even if they could, why would any of us care? We are drama kids who don't care what anyone thinks of them. We are our own person and no one can change that.

7:00, the show begins and everyone hugs me and kindly reminds me that this is my last show. I am well aware that it is my last show, but I find it sweet that they feel the need to remind me. It shows me that they care about me and will miss me, I will miss them all just as much. But no tears now, there is a show to put on!

I finally make my first appearance in the show half an hour later and wear the same ridiculous gold dress that I wore in Crazy For You. It still fits quite nicely, which goes to show that nothing has really changed that much. I run onto the stage laughing and smiling a genuine smile: This is what I was born to do. From the shuffle-steps I learned freshman year to the kick line, the dance is perfect and I love every minute of it.

And on and on the show goes until the curtain call. This is what I have been dreading since I started in the drama department: The last time I take a bow on the Ballard stage. But I take that bow proudly and find that there is a smile stuck on my face. I'll miss the curtain calls, I'll miss it all.

So now, 36 performances, 3 cans of Aqua Net, 27 hangers, 100s of bobby pins and 8 scripts later, it's all over. I've loved every minute of it and I will be sad to leave it, but this is not a bitter end, I am ready to move on to something new and exciting. So, to any person who was in a play with me at Ballard High School, thank you for the memories, they have been such a blessing and have truly changed my life.

The Stories They Might Have Told

For a photography project, it was my job to take pictures of things that represented the word "old". So, I started on a treasure hunt searching for anything in my house that was vintage or retro. I found all sorts of things: games, clothes, photos, toys, you name it. But what was most exciting to me was finding the two hats from WWII that belonged to my grandfathers, one army and the other navy. These hats have been around for 60 years and they were worn by very amazing men.

I never knew my Grandpa Romaine, but I have heard stories about him and seen pictures. I have heard the stories of him playing baseball with my dad and I've seen the scrapbook he made for my grandma, but I never heard the stories from him. He passed away when my father was in highschool, but that made me wonder what kind of stories he might have told me. Would he have told me romantic stories about how he fell in love with Grandma Nadine or teach me about the war? I'll never hear those stories, but from what I know, he was a part of a whole world that I will never know.

Looking at the navy hat of Grandpa Ed was a whole different wave of emotions. I have heard the stories first hand from Grandpa. Stories from around the world-- from Italy to Pearl Harbor, there were stories to tell. He was there, he was living the life of a sailor (a seabee, technically, but just as honorable) and he would always have stories to tell. But, like all things, the stories didn't last. He developed Alzheimer's and those stories began to fade and then he passed away. When that happened, the stories disappeared into history.

I still have both of my wonderful grandmothers in my life and they have their own stories to tell. They were women who worked during the war, not quite "Rosie the Riveters", but just as important. I could hear them talk about their lives in the 40s forever and I would be happy. But it's just not quite the same as hearing your grandpa tell you about "the old war days".

I would like to hear the stories again, but I can't. But that's alright, it's a part of life. Some of the stories last forever, and others are just there for the moment. Either way, they are remarkable and I will never forget the stories that I did hear. Above all, I will never EVER forget how these men did their part to change the world.

A Security Blanket of Clouds

My father recently shared a story in a sermon about a very perfect moment in time. It was a beautiful summer day when I was seven and we were lying on the trampoline watching the clouds role by against a beautiful canvas of blue. It was a moment when time stood still and none of the terrors and fears in the world existed. It was just me, dad and the clouds with nothing else around us.

I hadn't thought about this day for a long time, but as soon as he mentioned it, the memory was vivid in my mind. I could practically smell the summer air as he told the story and feel the sunshine burning my fair skin. I remember lying there and telling him that I was going to live with him and mom forever, but that is no longer the case.

I am off to college in seven months. I am no longer a seven-year-old on a trampoline, I am a seventeen-year-old who has experienced more than I knew existed ten years ago. I have had a friend commit suicide, known many people who have battled with cancer -some who made it and some who did not- and I have watched the world as it slowly crumbles.

The world is no longer still. In fact, it seems to be moving faster everyday. I am very aware of what America is facing, how students are feeling and how life cannot be perfect. It can seem quite grim, it really can. But when I look at those clouds fly across the sky, I am transported into a world where nothing is wrong and the world is beautiful. The clouds will always be there and no matter where I end up, my father and I will be able to look at them and remember the day on the trampoline. And then time will stop.

The Final Sunday

Yesterday was the last Sunday church service in the church building that I have grown up in. On the first Sunday I attended Bethany Community Church, I was five years old and it was to be my home for the next twelve years. Little did I know that over those twelve years I would have performed in seven children's musicals, participated in three different choirs, be baptized by my own father, light candles at the Christmas Eve service, be knocked out of my chair by a Sunday school teacher and make lattes for dozens of people every Sunday. A lot has happend, but now it is time to move on. Attendance has hit 1300 people a week and that space which has been home to so many memories will become a memory in and of itself.

Attending the last service in that building brought back so many memories. I sat in the balcony with my friends for the last time and I watched the sun shine through the stained glass behind the cross for the last time. But it was not sad for me. Instead, it was quite beautiful. It was amazing to think of all of the people who have been involved in making my memories at Bethany. 14 Sunday school teachers, dozens of youth leaders, 1 choir director, 2 small group leaders, and countless friends. So much effort is put into making your church experience a memorable one and it feels as though Bethany should win a prize.

I'll never forget the Sunday school classes and choir rehersals. I won't forget hiding in a closet with a friend to avoid children's church and I won't forget playing Sardines with the youth group when one boy clung to the underside of a car so it was impossible to see him. Of course, there was the time that every sixth grader experiences when Greg Collins knocks over tables to represent Jesus destroying the temple. And the two year olds who dress up as angels and sing "Away in a Manger". The list could go on forever, but there is no need for that.

The building is still there, but these memories are not so much about the building, they are about the church. More memories will be made in the new building and old memories will not be forgotten. Next Sunday will be an important one. Perhaps there will be someone there who will make Bethany their home for the next twelve years. And that's what it's all about. It is about creating a place of shelter and a home for anyone who will come. That is Christ's love working through us.

Unexpected Friends in Unexpected Places

One of the most difficult parts of high school for me was saying "good bye" to the friends I made who graduated before I did. I went to graduation every year, cried every year and said "farewell" every year. It was always bittersweet and disconcerting not to see them in the hallways the next day and wonder "well, who will I be friends with now?" It was always the grade ahead of me who I became friends with and the fact that there would be no class ahead of me someday was something I preferred not think about. Well, once that brutal fact did approach, I tried to find a group of friends who I could have fun with senior year.

Now, halfway through senior year, I find myself hanging out with three people who, at the beginning of freshman year, I never imagined I would find myself with. They were bold and flamboyant and I was shy. I watched from the corner while they stood in front of the class without a care in the world. But, somehow, I emerged from my little spot in the corner and realized just how amazing they are.

Spencer is in the orchestra with me and will listen to just about anything you have to say and always have a comforting word of advice. Adrienne is the nicest person I have met in my life and has love for everyone around her and dedication for anything she does. And Dan is the most talented actor I have met in my life and brings entertainment to any and every situation. Why I wasn't friends with these three all along is a mystery to me, but I now find myself quite attached to them.

So, now I will cry at graduation once again and be surrounded by people who I love so very much. My own life has proven that life is one big surprise and I absolutely love it!

The Tables are Turning

Today I auditioned for my last high school play ever. No, the audition process is not over, nor is the anticipation, but there is still that lurking feeling that it's the last one. And with every thing this year that is "the last one", I am continually realizing that I am the old one now.

When I was a freshman, I was scared to try out for the plays, but I can still name those upper classmen who made it all okay. They assured me that I was making the right choice, they told me the things to do that would make me a better actress and they took away any insecurities I might have had. These were "the old ones". And now I am one.

I was in the hallway where we waited to audition and the newbies around me were asking me about this and that. It sounds ridiculous to be talking like this, but I remember when I was one of them. One of the freshmen, scared of auditioning and feeling knots in my stomach, but I grew up and they will too.

Seeing how I've grown is continually reminding me that I will be in their same position in less than a year. I will be a scared freshman all over again, wanting to know how it all works. It is all part of the endless circle of life I suppose; this idea that once you finish something, you'll just begin all over again.

So now, I treasure the last few months of high school and being the old, respected one because I won't be that person for another four years.

Through the Lens of a Camera

I am taking photography this year and it has proven itself to be quite wonderful. Although it can be quite stressful at times to get this roll done and find enough hours of daylight to shoot more that roll, it is such a wonderful art. You see, I am not an artist. Yes, I most definitely wish I could sketch and paint, but it's simply not in the cards for me. But photography does not require me to use certain brush strokes or perfect shading. Photography allows me to use my eyes and create a picture that is completely beautiful.

It is an art that I own entirely. I put the film in the camera and I fire away. I look through all the trees and find the lone leaf that made it through autumn and is now covered in snow. I can change the speed of the shutter so that I can capture the flowing movements of a fountain and it looks as though you can see every drop of water. Then, I take those photos and spend a monotonous 30 minutes developing the film. Developing, although it is a royal pain, serves a greater purpose to me. I cannot be distracted by the things around me when I develop because I must keep an eye on the clock, so that concentration forces me to be alone with my thoughts. In my chaotic life, it is hard to find a time like that, so the 30 painful developing minutes are actually a blessing in an irritating disguise. But my favorite thing, above all, is that moment when I create the actual print and see all the hard work pay off.

When I make prints, I don't throw the paper in the developer and walk away. I drop the paper in and stand there intently watching and waiting for the picture to appear. And that right there is what makes all the work worth it. I have taken a blank negative and turned it into a picture. It is a perfect art and never again will I be able to look at the earth without wishing I could capture it on film.

A Fond Farewell to 2007 and a Warm Welcome to 2008

2008 approached me before I was ready. Those four numbers have always seemed quite far away to me and now they have arrived. I can hardly believe that I will start college in the fall and that I only have 6 months until high school will quickly fade into something from the past. But before I fear 2008, I find it only fitting to reflect on the beauties of 2007.

2007 was a year full of ups and downs, just like every year before it. The ups were friendships that, at one time, seemed impossible. The downs were deaths of two people who meant the world to me. Those two people were my grandpa and a dear old family friend.

Ed Michaelsen was the only grandpa I ever had and he most certainly lived up to that role. He was full of energy for most of his life, and full of love until the very end. He was the best grandfather the world could ever have and I will miss him. Although it is so hard for him to be gone, it is such a comfort to know that he is now somewhere where he can remember things again. He is in a better place and I just know that he must be smiling and full of life, thanks be to God. I love him very much and I will never forget all that he did for me and all of the joy he brought to those around him.

The second death the year brought was that of Scott Becker, a friend of our family, who died entirely too young. It is hard to lose someone earlier than is natural, but it always turns out that there is a purpose for that timing. Scott was a pastor at our church for years and it seemed that he was a huge influence on the whole world. He was a man who never let anything be dull. He brought excitement to everything and I'll never forget him. He gave the perfect Kermit the Frog impression and he sang "The Rainbow Connection" many a time, so now I can never forget him. He was a joy, he truly was.

Thank goodness the year was not entirely made up of heartache, though. I made friendships this year that are perfect. These friendships are what keep me going, and without them, I would never be able to get through the hardships of the year. God put them in my life for a reason and I am so thankful for that every day.

I am not entirely sure of what 2008 has in store for me, but I can guarantee that it will be an adventure. It is a big year and I am excited to see how it turns out. This year will most definitely be a year in which I will simply need to trust in God and believe that he will look out for me. So, good luck, and happy New Year!